From the lofty heights of her life experience, Emily was utterly convinced that nothing in life happened by accident. Every encounter, every meeting was written in the stars.
“Say what you will about coincidence or chance—it’s all nonsense,” she’d declare with conviction. “Some reckon you can cheat fate or bend it to your will, but mark my words, no one ever has. Everyone’s got skeletons in their closet—buried deep, mind you, where they belong. I’ve got mine too, of course, but I’d rather keep them under lock and key.”
Gazing out the window at the wild apple tree in full bloom, she was reminded of another May just like this one. The scent of lilac hung in the air as young Emily and Grace walked home from school, both in their final year. Back then, Year 11 was the last hurdle before adulthood, and the girls were knee-deep in revision. They’d been inseparable since childhood—neighbours, classmates, keepers of each other’s secrets. Grace was the shy one, cheeks always pink as peonies, soft-spoken and tender-hearted. Emily, on the other hand, was all fire and wit, forever leaping to her friend’s defence.
“Grace, honestly, if you don’t learn to stand up for yourself, they’ll never leave you alone! Just whack that wretched Tommy over the head with your textbook next time he ties your plait to the chair!”
Grace had the longest plait in school, and Tommy, seated directly behind her, took great delight in looping it round the back of her seat when she wasn’t looking. The moment she stood up—whump!—straight back down she went, much to the class’s amusement. Naturally, no one suspected Tommy was secretly smitten, though his methods left much to be desired. Grace, however, wanted nothing to do with him—too much of a scallywag for her taste.
“Em, I couldn’t possibly hit him! Poor Tommy—he deserves it, but still…”
“Suit yourself. Next time, I’ll handle him,” Emily vowed.
“Oh, never mind him. Best ignore it,” Grace murmured.
After school, the pair enrolled in college, both opting for retail management. Their friendship only grew stronger, though Grace did shed some of her timidity along the way. Emily started seeing a lad named Greg from another class, dashing off to dates while Grace kept to her books.
“Grace, come on, let me set you up with Greg’s mate! He’s a right laugh—jokes for days. Fancies a double date, actually!”
“No, Em, I’d rather wait. You know I want the real thing—love at first sight and all that.”
“Oh, you’ll be waiting forever for Prince Charming! Come to the pictures with us tomorrow!”
Grace, ever the considerate soul, didn’t want to intrude. Third wheels were awkward, after all. Besides, she held firm to the belief that fate would bring her love when the time was right.
Then one evening, Grace noticed her friend sulking.
“Everything alright, Em? You seem down.”
“Greg and I had a proper row. Went to the cinema, and the moment we got there, he spotted two other girls and swanned off to chat them up! Left me standing there like some poor relation. Ten minutes later, he remembered I existed. Spent the whole film craning his neck to gawp at them. Gave him a right earful afterwards.”
“What’d he say?” Grace pressed.
“What do you think? Told me to get lost—said I was a bore. Well, I told him where to stick his nonsense! That’s that. If he thinks I’ll ever speak to him again—”
Greg didn’t try. Emily moped for a bit, then moved on. Months later, as their studies neared an end, the girls took a stroll in the park. Spring was just warming up, and they chattered away, Grace clutching a book. Then—whack!—a passing lad bumped her arm, sending the book tumbling.
“Blimey, sorry about that!” He scooped it up, flashing an apologetic grin. “Honest mistake.”
“Alright, no harm done,” Emily chimed, while Grace stayed quiet.
The lad—tall, fair-haired, with startling blue eyes—locked gazes with Grace. Something sparked between them instantly.
“Fancy that,” Grace thought, cheeks flushing.
“George,” he said, recovering. “But everyone calls me George.”
“Emily,” she said, thrusting out a hand. “This is Grace.”
“Pleasure. You two in a rush?”
“Just out for a stroll,” Emily answered.
George was smitten—not with Emily, though she did most of the talking, but with Grace, who stood there quietly, pink as a rose.
“Strikes me as proper special, this one. Exactly my type,” George mused.
“Mind if I tag along?” he asked, eyes on Grace, who finally smiled and nodded.
“Course you can!” Emily said. “Where do you work or study?”
“Just started teaching physics at a secondary school.”
“Couldn’t do it—kids these days are proper terrors!”
Emily prattled on while Grace listened, George stealing glances at her.
“Grace, why so quiet?”
“Just listening,” she said, blushing harder.
Emily clocked it instantly—George fancied Grace, and Grace fancied him back.
“Right, then. He’s not like Greg—proper serious, this one,” Emily thought.
Grace, meanwhile, was wide-eyed with realisation.
“Blimey. Can you really fall this fast? But Em won’t let him slip away. Oh well—what will be, will be.”
The next evening, the trio went to the cinema. George sat between them. Mid-film, Grace felt his hand brush hers—then hold it. She didn’t pull away, heart hammering so loud she feared Emily might hear. She knew then: he’d chosen her.
Afterwards, walking home, Emily chattered while Grace glowed silently, that invisible thread between her and George pulling taut.
At their doorstep, George turned to Grace.
“Fancy a quick word?”
Emily’s head whipped up. “What, should I just vanish?”
“Sorry, Em. Need to ask Grace something.”
Emily stormed inside, fuming.
“Cheek of her! Snagging him right under my nose. Well, we’ll see about that…”
George and Grace talked for hours, neither wanting to part.
Emily grilled Grace later, who—bless her—spilled every detail.
Once, Emily cornered George alone, spinning lies about Grace’s supposed wild past.
George listened, then asked, “Why tell me this? She’s your best mate.”
“Because I love you,” Emily blurted.
George walked away without another word.
Two days later, Grace burst in, ecstatic.
“Em! George proposed! We’re getting married!”
“Brilliant,” Emily forced out, seething.
Three days later, a letter arrived in Emily’s postbox—just a few words from George:
“Don’t tempt fate. You’ll only hurt yourself.”
Now, years later, Emily often thinks back on those words. Maybe it was destiny. Maybe fate repaid her spite in kind. Either way, happiness eluded her—two failed marriages, no children, just solitude.
Emily knows better than most: you can’t cheat fate.
