**The Return**
“Emma! Where are you? Emma!” Katie burst into the house, scanned the empty room, and rushed back onto the porch, her heels clicking, the door slamming behind her. “Where on earth is she?” Frustrated, she stamped her foot.
From around the corner of the house appeared a petite girl holding a plastic washing basin.
“Finally! I’ve been shouting for ages…” Katie hurried down the steps toward her friend.
“Was hanging the laundry. What’s the matter?” Emma set the basin down.
“Something’s happened.” Katie’s dark eyes sparkled beneath her thick fringe. She toyed with the idea of teasing her friend, withholding the news, but couldn’t resist. The words tumbled out in one breath:
“James is back.”
“Really?” Emma’s eyes flickered between disbelief, joy, and back to suspicion.
“Would I lie? Saw him myself. Doubt his mum’ll let him out of her sight—she’s missed him too.”
“Come on!” Emma laughed and dashed off the yard first.
The sun bathed the village in golden warmth, the river wound lazily through the reedy banks, and the world seemed impossibly beautiful. But Emma noticed none of it. Her heart drummed a single name: *James! James!*
“Look, there he is!” Katie grabbed Emma’s arm.
Walking toward them was James in his army uniform. Spotting the girls, he broke into a run.
Joy surged in Emma’s chest. She flung herself forward, crashing into his arms, trembling against him.
Katie lingered to the side, envy tightening her throat. She’d fancied James too, but he’d never noticed anyone but Emma. He’d left school two years early to help his parents—their farm thriving on crops, milk, and meat. Then the army had called him away.
*What does he see in her? I’m prettier. Why does everything go her way?* Katie bit her lip, blinking back treacherous tears. She fled home, threw herself onto the bed, and sobbed into the pillow.
“What’s wrong?” Her mum appeared from the kitchen.
“Nothing,” Katie snapped.
“Mm. Jealous? Think there’s no one else for you? What about Liam? Good job, handsome, his own house—”
“Mum!” Katie wailed louder. “I’m leaving. Soon as I finish school. Moving to Manchester.”
“Don’t be daft. Who’d want you there? No, love—home’s where you belong. Leave, and they’ll stay…”
*No.* Katie lifted her head. *I’m prettier, better figure. Emma’ll balloon after kids. I’ll think of something. Just can’t leave them alone.* The tears dried.
“Exactly,” her mum said approvingly and returned to the kitchen.
Later, Emma arrived, glowing. Katie’s stomach twisted, but she forced a smile.
“Why’d you leave so soon?” she asked, unable to hide the bite.
“Family’s gathering for a welcome-home do. James is coming to the dance tonight. Oh, Katie, I’m so happy! Why the long face?”
“Didn’t want to intrude. And nothing to wear—you know Mum won’t spare a penny for a new dress.”
“Take mine—the one you liked. It’s too tight on me now, but it’ll fit you perfectly.”
Katie barely stifled her glee. She twirled before Emma’s mirror, admiring herself. The dress clung like a dream.
“You sure?”
“Absolutely.” Emma hugged her. “Keep it. I’ve got dinner to cook.”
“See you tonight!” Katie pecked her cheek and dashed off.
At the dance, Emma searched for James.
“He’s not here. Let’s dance.” Katie swayed into the centre, arms raised, stealing glances at the door.
When the music paused, she stepped outside, fanning her flushed face. June evenings were still cool. She shivered. Nearby, Liam smoked.
Katie squinted into the dusk until she spotted James. Recognising his uniform, she sauntered to Liam, looping her arms around his neck. Her pale dress stood out in the dim light.
“What’s this?” Liam chuckled.
Instead of answering, she kissed him. He kissed back. When she pulled away and glanced over her shoulder, James was striding off. A grinning Liam tugged her close again.
“Piss off!” She shoved him and ran inside.
*Perfect.* The dress had tricked James—he’d think it was Emma kissing someone. No wedding now.
“Seen James?” Emma asked when she returned.
“Briefly. Left right after. Dance with me?”
Emma bolted outside and caught James by his gate.
“Wait! Why’d you leave?” She grabbed his wrist.
“Waiting for me, were you? Picking out that dress for your other man?” He wrenched free and vanished inside.
Emma stood stunned, then trudged home.
The next morning, she went to James’s.
“Morning, Aunt Grace.” His mother glared.
“Don’t know what you did, but James came home beside himself. Said the wedding’s off.”
Emma ran to Katie. Who else could she confide in? Through tears, she told her.
“Let’s see old Martha. She reads fortunes. Maybe James met someone else?”
“No.” Emma shook her head. “Not him. I’d know…”
They approached the tumbledown cottage on the outskirts. The porch creaked underfoot. Emma froze.
“I’m not going.”
“Why?” Katie grabbed for her hand, but Emma twisted away and fled.
Katie turned—a low voice rasped behind her.
“Changed your mind?” A stout woman loomed in the doorway. Her apron bulged over her belly, grey hair wild beneath a floral scarf. Dark eyes pinned Katie. She shuddered.
“Come in, since you’re here.”
Inside, the air smelled of incense and dried herbs.
“Sit.” Martha gestured to the table.
Katie perched on the edge of a chair. The woman’s stare bored into her.
“Your friend ran. Scared?”
“I—”
“Quiet. I see it. Jealous? Want to steal her love? It won’t bring you happiness. You’ll die in ten years, but they’ll still be together.”
Katie bolted, trembling.
“What’d she say?” Emma asked outside.
“Nothing bad!” Katie’s smile looked more like a snarl.
James stayed away; Emma avoided Katie. She wasted away, hollow-eyed.
“Ring Aunt Rose,” her mum said. “Go live with her after exams. Else you’ll pine to death.”
Somehow, Emma passed her A-levels and left for Manchester. She never visited, though she ached to. Her mum called with news: James and Katie married.
Aunt Rose got her a salon receptionist job. Emma learned hairdressing in her free time.
Katie had a daughter, then a son. James strayed—village gossip spread fast.
Years later, her mum begged her home. Emma missed it too. Surely she could face them now.
Stepping off the bus, she breathed in the familiar air. Home.
Her mum rushed out, hugging her. “Look at you! Magazine-cover pretty.”
Emma *had* changed—sleeker, stylish. Men flirted, but she’d never moved on.
After tea, she strolled to the river, swatting at midges. Footsteps made her turn.
James. Her heart leapt.
He’d filled out, his hair thinner, but his eyes the same.
“Waited for you,” he said. “City suits you. Staying long?”
“Not sure. You?”
“Not well. Dream of you. In that dress.”
“Which?”
“The white one. Floral hem.”
“I gave that to Katie—years ago, when you came home.”
James froze. “So it was *her* I saw by the pub? Kissing someone? Thought I’d go mad. Bloody hell. I—I hurt you. You left, and Katie… comforted me.” His laugh was bitter. “Never loved her. Married for the kids. Emma, forgive me.” He reached for her.
She melted into him.
Then a voice cut through. “Knew you’d chase her.”
Katie stood there, clutching a tea towel. Hatred twisted her face.
“My husband. *My* children. Leave.”
“Katie—” James stepped toward her.
“Don’t! After *her*—” She backed up, then spun and ran, screaming to the gathered villagers about Emma stealing her husband.
She reached old Martha’s cottage—long dead—where a relative repaired the roof. A ladder leaned against the wall.
“You ignored me! She crooks a finger, and you run—” She clambered up, the wood groaning.
James sprinted after her. “Get down, you idiot!”
The ladder slipped—
Katie lay broken, blood bubbling at her lips.
“No ambulance here,” someone muttered.
Emma didn’t stay for the funeral. The village blamed herShe never returned to the village, but years later, when she and James walked their youngest to his first day of school in the city, she finally felt at peace.
