The Prank
Guests danced before a small stage, led by the guest of honour himself—the sixty-five-year-old supervisor of William. “Goodness, what a man…” the women murmured in scattered harmony with the lead singer of the modest ensemble.
Grace and her husband, weary from the festivities, wine, and rich food, remained seated at the disordered table. At the far end, two colleagues argued over some trivial matter, while a third dozed, his head resting on folded arms.
Grace leaned closer to her husband and whispered into his ear, “Shall we go home? Everyone’s had too much to drink—no one will notice us slip away. My head aches from the noise.” For emphasis, she pressed her fingertips to her temples.
William glanced around the hall beneath furrowed brows. “You’re right. There’s nothing left for us here. Let’s go,” he muttered.
They slipped out of the restaurant unnoticed.
“Ah, that’s better!” Grace inhaled the crisp night air deeply.
“Shall I call a cab?” William asked.
“No, let’s walk. It’ll do us good.” Grace looped her arm through his, and they strolled slowly down the shadowed streets.
“Won’t those heels tire you?” William asked.
“Then you’ll carry me, just like twenty years ago. Remember? I wore new shoes and blistered my feet. We walked home from the cinema because we didn’t have a car yet, and the buses had stopped running. You carried me all the way.” Grace sighed wistfully.
William squeezed her arm against his side, confirming he remembered.
“Oh, how young and in love we were. Twenty years have passed like a single day. It feels like only yesterday we married, when I was expecting Alice, and we were so happy…” Grace sighed again.
“I’ll be promoted soon, which means new opportunities and a higher salary. Alice is about to give us a grandchild, and this autumn we’ll celebrate my fiftieth. We’re healthy. Isn’t that reason enough to be happy?” William asked.
Grace had no time to answer—they’d reached their doorstep.
Grace showered first, washing away her makeup. She emerged from the bathroom, her damp hair loose, wrapped in a plush terry robe. William couldn’t help but compare her to Angela, recalling his mistress’s smooth skin, youthful figure, captivating eyes, and thick, luscious curls. “What time does to a woman. Would Angela look like Grace in twenty years? No—she’ll always be young to me, because I’ll always be twenty years her senior. If only she were here now…”
The memory of his passionate mistress stirred him so deeply that he stepped under an icy shower to cool his thoughts.
The next morning, he retrieved a freshly pressed shirt from the wardrobe, faintly scented with fabric softener, and selected a tie from the hanger. Grace always paired them in advance. The kitchen beckoned with the scent of freshly brewed coffee.
“I’d like to visit the cottage today. The apples must be falling—I’ll gather them, make compote, bake a pie,” Grace said, setting a steaming cup before him.
“Why not wait? We could drive up together on Saturday,” William remarked between bites of toast.
“That’s three days away. The apples will spoil. Besides, I’d like to check on things.”
“Suit yourself.” William drained his coffee and set the empty cup down.
“I’ll stay the night. I won’t make it back by bus, and I don’t fancy driving in the dark. I’ve left dinner for you in the fridge.” Grace’s words followed William as he left the kitchen.
He froze and turned back. “You’re truly staying overnight?”
“Yes. Why does that surprise you? Or did you have other plans for me?” Grace smiled sadly.
“No. Just—be careful, that’s all.” William stepped into the hallway. The door clicked shut behind him.
He settled into the car and turned the ignition. Before pulling away, he dialed Angela.
“Hello. Did I wake you, my sunshine? I’ve good news—Grace is heading to the cottage tonight, staying over. That means we have the whole evening together,” he cooed into the receiver.
“Understood, darling,” Angela’s melodic voice replied, followed by an exaggerated kiss.
“My clever girl. I’ll see you tonight. Already missing you.” Tucking his phone away, William turned up the radio and drove off.
Everything was falling into place. His spirits lifted. “It’s time to talk to Grace, tell her everything, and put an end to this charade. Angela’s been pestering me about when we’ll be together.”
After work, William stopped at a shop for an expensive bottle of wine and fruit. At home, he glanced up at their darkened windows—Grace had gone. He bounded up the stairs two at a time, his heart protesting the exertion, breath ragged. “Time hasn’t been kind to me either. I should join a gym,” he thought, unlocking the door.
He shed his coat in the entryway and carried the heavy bag to the kitchen—only to freeze in the doorway. A woman stood silhouetted against the window, her back to him.
“You… didn’t leave?” William mumbled, fighting to keep disappointment from his voice. “I should warn Angela—she’ll be here any minute.” He cleared his throat. “Why are the lights off?”
“Surprise!” Angela turned, beaming.
William’s jaw dropped. He nearly fumbled the bag. Flicking on the light, he stared. It was Angela, her hair pinned up just like Grace’s—why he’d mistaken her in the dark. He exhaled sharply and set the bag down.
“Well? Did it work? You should see your face!” Angela laughed.
“I nearly had a heart attack. I thought Grace was still here. How did you—how do you have a key?” William asked, recovering.
“Aren’t you happy?” Angela embraced him, and William forgot everything else.
The next morning, he woke and checked the clock—still time to lounge. The other side of the bed was empty, but the clink of china and the aroma of coffee from the kitchen made him smile. Energized, he rolled out of bed and headed to the shower.
He emerged, toweling his hair, still nude.
“Good morning, darling,” his wife’s voice chimed.
William froze, the towel slipping from his grasp. Grace stood before him in her ruffled apron.
“You?! You’re back already?” he stammered, covering himself.
“Why the modesty? After twenty years, I’ve seen it all,” Grace smirked. “Get dressed and come eat.” She turned back to the stove.
William fled to the bedroom. No trace of Angela remained—had she ever been there? Dressing mechanically, he struggled to comprehend Grace’s early return. Had he dreamed Angela? No, she’d been real. His eyes darted to the corner—he distinctly remembered leaving the empty wine bottle there. It was gone.
Grace poured coffee and set out toast. William sat and bit hungrily into a slice.
“Darling, you’re up already?” Angela’s voice came from behind.
William choked. Grace leaned across the table to thump his back.
Was he hallucinating? He dared not turn. Angela entered, sniffing the air.
“How sweet of you to make coffee.” She fetched a cup and poured herself some.
Grace stood impassive, as if Angela didn’t exist.
“You look pale,” Angela said sympathetically.
“Are you ill?” Grace echoed.
“What is happening?” William shoved his chair back violently.
“He’s delirious, poor thing.” Angela touched Grace’s shoulder.
“You’ll be late for work, dear,” Grace said, smiling first at him, then Angela.
“I see. You planned this. You’ve played me perfectly. When did you two conspire?”
“Yesterday, when you called to say your wife would be away overnight. I came to see her. You called her old, frumpy, and dull—I wanted to judge for myself. And what did I find? A lovely, intelligent woman. No wonder you hesitated to leave.”
Grace had meant to throw me out, but I proposed something better—a prank. It worked, didn’t it?” Angela and Grace exchanged smiles like conspirators.
“And now?” William’s voice faltered as he missed the chair.
“The script demands we ask whom you’ll choose. But…” Angela paused, “after meeting your wife, I’ll step aside.”
No, don’t see me out—I’ll call a cab. I’ve blocked your number, so don’t bother calling. Not that I’d answer. I’ll find my own flat. I want nothing from you. As for Grace… well, that’s your mess to sort. Were I in her place…” She set down her cup and swayed out, hips swinging.
“Ciao, darling!” she called from the hall. The door slam made William flinch.
Grace sank into a chair as if Angela’s departure had stolen her strength.
“Grace, I—”
“Not now. Just go,” she said, turning to the window.
William left, sliding into his car. For aWith a heavy heart, he turned the key in the ignition, realizing too late that some betrayals could never truly be undone.
