The Return
“Lottie! Where are you? Lottie!”—Katie burst into the house, her eyes sweeping the empty front room before she dashed back out, her heels clicking down the porch steps, the door slamming behind her. “Where on earth is she?”—Desperate and impatient, she stamped her foot.
From around the corner of the house, a petite figure appeared, carrying a plastic basin.
“There you are! I’ve been shouting my lungs out,” Katie huffed, rushing to her friend.
“Just hanging the washing in the garden. What’s happened?”—Lottie set the basin down on the porch railing.
“Something has.”—Katie’s dark eyes flashed beneath her thick fringe. She had meant to tease, to draw out the moment, but excitement got the better of her. The words spilled out in a breathless rush.
“Johnny’s come home.”
“Truly?”—Lottie’s face flickered—disbelief, joy, confusion, then disbelief again.
“I’m not lying. I saw him myself. His mum’ll hardly let him out of her sight—she’s missed him just as much.”
“Come on then,” Lottie said, laughing, and she was off before Katie could react.
The village lay bathed in golden sunlight, the river winding lazily between its banks, the whole world glowing with a quiet beauty. But Lottie noticed none of it. Her heart pounded a single name—Johnny! Johnny!—as she raced toward the long-awaited reunion.
“Look, there he is!”—Katie caught Lottie’s wrist, pointing.
Up the lane strode Johnny in his military uniform. He spotted them and broke into a run.
Joy flooded Lottie’s chest. She tore free and sprinted to meet him, flinging herself into his arms, trembling against his chest.
Katie lingered at the edge of the lane, watching with an ache in her throat. She had fancied Johnny for years, but his eyes never strayed from Lottie. He’d left school two years early to help his parents on their farm, selling crops, milk, and meat at market. Then came conscription.
“Of all the girls, why her? I’m prettier. Why does she get everything?”—The bitterness gnawed at her. She nibbled her lip, blinked back hot tears, then fled home.
She threw herself onto her bed, muffling sobs in the pillow.
“What’s the matter?”—Her mother’s voice from the kitchen doorway.
“Nothing,” Katie snapped.
“Hmph. Jealous, are we? Think there won’t be any other lads for you? Take Tom Hardy—can’t keep his eyes off you. Good job, handsome, owns his own cottage.”
“Mum!”—Katie wailed louder. “I’m leaving. Soon as I finish school. Straight to London.”
“And what’ll you do there? They won’t be waiting on you, girl. No, love, where you’re planted, that’s where you bloom. You go off, they’ll stay right here…”
Katie lifted her head. “No. I’m prettier, my figure’s better. Once Lottie has a baby, she’ll go all soft. I just need a plan. Keep them apart, that’s the thing.” The tears dried.
“That’s my girl,” her mother said approvingly, disappearing back into the kitchen.
Not long after, Lottie arrived at Katie’s door, her face glowing. Katie forced a smile past the jealousy gnawing at her ribs.
“Finished your reunion so soon?”—She couldn’t hide the spite.
“His family’s gathering tonight for a welcome-home feast. Johnny said he’d come to the dance after. Oh, Katie, I’m so happy! Why the long face?”
“I won’t stand in your way. Besides, got nothing to wear. You know Mum won’t spare a penny for a new dress.”
“Take mine—the one you liked. It’s snug on me now, but it’ll fit you perfectly. Come try it on,” Lottie offered.
Katie barely stifled her glee. She twirled before Lottie’s mirror, admiring herself. The dress hugged her curves.
“You’re sure you don’t mind?”
“Not a bit,” Lottie said, hugging her. “Keep it. Now, I must get supper on.”
“See you tonight!”—Katie pecked her cheek and dashed off.
Evening fell. Lottie collected Katie, and together they walked to the village hall. Light and music poured from the brick building’s windows. Inside, a handful of girls already danced, while lads shot pool in the corner. Lottie scanned the room for Johnny.
“He’s not here. Let’s dance.”—Katie spun into the centre, arms raised, stealing glances toward the door.
When the music paused, she stepped out for air, fanning her flushed face. June evenings still held a chill. Nearby, Tom Hardy leaned against the wall, smoking.
Katie squinted into the dusk until she spotted a familiar silhouette—Johnny’s uniform. Without hesitation, she strode to Tom, looping her arms around his neck. Her pale dress stood out in the dim light.
“Since when are you like this?”—Tom chuckled.
Instead of answering, she kissed him hard. He pulled her closer. When she broke away and glanced back, Johnny was already retreating up the lane.
“Oi, get off!”—She shoved Tom aside and hurried back inside.
It had worked better than she’d hoped. That dress had tricked Johnny completely—he must’ve thought it was Lottie kissing another man. No wedding now!
“Seen Johnny?”—Lottie asked when Katie returned.
“Saw him. He hung by the door, then left. Dance with me?”
“He left?”—Lottie bolted outside.
Katie joined the dancers, humming to herself.
Lottie caught Johnny at his gate. “Wait! Why did you go?”—She grabbed his sleeve.
“So you waited for me, did you? Picked out that dress special? Might as well wear it for whoever you were kissing,” he snarled, wrenching free.
Lottie stood frozen, arms limp. Then she turned and walked home.
Next morning, she went to Johnny’s house.
“Morning, Aunt Mary,” she greeted his mother.
The woman scowled. “Whatever you did, Johnny came home in a state last night. Says there’ll be no wedding.”
Lottie ran to Katie’s. Who else could she turn to? Sobbing, she spilled everything.
“Let’s visit old Agnes. She reads fortunes. Just a look at someone, she knows their soul. Maybe Johnny’s got a girl back at barracks?”
“No.”—Lottie shook her head. “He wouldn’t. I know him…” She wept harder.
The girls approached the crumbling cottage on the village’s edge. The porch steps groaned underfoot. Lottie froze.
“I’m not going in.”
“Why not?”—Katie reached for her, but Lottie twisted away and fled.
Katie moved to chase her—then a rasping voice stopped her cold.
“Changed your mind?”—Plump Agnes filled the doorway, apron straining over her belly, wild grey hair escaping a floral scarf. Her black eyes bored into Katie. The girl shivered.
“Come in, since you’re here.” Agnes vanished inside.
Katie followed into the dim, herb-scented room.
“Sit.” Agnes nodded to a stool.
Katie perched on the edge. Agnes lowered herself opposite, the chair creaking.
“Your friend ran. Scared, was she?”
“I… She…”
“Quiet. I see it all. Jealous, are we? Steal her sweetheart? No happiness there. In ten years, you’ll die—they’ll end up together anyway. But you can still choose different.”—Agnes’s gaze burned.
Katie fled, trembling.
“What did she say? You’re shaking,” Lottie asked, waiting by the road.
“It’s fine!”—Katie bared her teeth in something like a smile.
Johnny stayed away. Lottie avoided even Katie. She withered like an untended fire.
“I’ve rung your Aunt Rose. Finish your exams and go stay with her in London. Else you’ll fade to nothing. Barely eating—it’s consumption waiting to happen. Rose’ll find you work. Out of sight, out of mind,” her mother said, worn thin by her daughter’s grief.
So Lottie sat her A-levels, took her certificate, and left. She never visited, though she ached to. Her mother phoned with news—Johnny and Katie had married.
Aunt Rose got her a receptionist job at a salon. In quiet hours, Lottie learned the trade.
Meanwhile, Katie bore a daughter, then a son. Johnny strayed—village gossip never lies.
Her mother begged her home. Lottie missed the countryside dearly. Surely she could face her old friend and lost love now? So sheShe stepped off the bus years later, the village air sweet as memory, and there he stood at the riverbank—waiting, as if time had folded just for them.
