On the day of our golden wedding anniversary, my husband confessed hed loved someone else his whole life.
“Not that one, Colin, not that one! Ive told you a hundred times!”
Margaret Anne waved her hand impatiently at the old record player. Colin, her husband, shrugged guiltily and went back to flipping through the stack of vinyl records neatly arranged on the carved sideboard.
“This one, then? ‘Moon River’?” He glanced at her uncertainly.
“What do you mean, ‘Moon River’? I asked for ‘Lavenders Blue’! The children will be here any minute, guests are coming, and its silent as a grave. Its our golden anniversary, for heavens sake! Fifty years! Do you even understand what that means?”
Colin sighed, his stooped shoulders slumping further. Hed never been much of a talker, and with age, hed retreated even more into himself. Margaret had long since grown used to his quietness, to that distant look in his eyes that always seemed to gaze right through her, past the walls of their cosy little flat in Brighton. Shed put it down to exhaustion, to age, to his nature. Fifty yearsit was no joke. You got used to things.
At last, the familiar melody began to play. Margaret softened at once, smoothing out the creases in her new champagne-coloured dressa gift from their daughter, Emily. The flat filled with the scent of pies and vanilla. The big round table, draped in a crisp white cloth, was already set with salad bowls, and the crystal glasses sparkled in the evening sunlight. Everything was ready. Ready for *their* celebration.
“Thats more like it,” she muttered, more out of habit than annoyance. “Go and put on your good shirt, at least. Dont embarrass me in front of the grandchildren.”
He nodded silently and left the room. Margaret was alone. She took in the fruits of her labourthe gleaming parquet floor, the starched curtains, the framed photos lining the walls. There they were, young and bright-eyed, in the black-and-white wedding photo. Herslender, laughing, a crown of daisies in her hair. Himserious in his sharp suit, staring straight at the camera. Then there was the one with baby James in his arms. And later, all four of themJames and Emily, grown up, on holiday in Cornwall. A whole life. Fifty years.
It felt like yesterday. How she, a city girl, had moved to that little village for her teaching job. How shed met him, the quiet, slightly awkward local engineer. Hed never been romanticno grand declarations, no bouquets of roses. He was just *there*. Fixing her leaking tap, meeting her after work in the snow, bringing jars of pickled onions from his mother. His steadiness had won her over more than any grand gestures ever could. And when hed asked her to marry him, shed said yes without hesitation.
The doorbell yanked her from her memories. The children stood on the doorstep, arms full of flowers, grandchildren laughing behind them. The house came alivelaughter, chatter, chaos. James, their serious doctor son, bashfully handed them a spa getaway voucher. Emily, their talkative daughter, read out a tearful poem shed written. The grandchildren proudly presented their crayon drawings.
Margaret glowed. She sat at the head of the table, Colin beside her, feeling like a queen. Her life had been good. A wonderful husband, beautiful children, a home full of love. What more could she want? She glanced at Colin affectionately. He sat upright in his best shirt, smilingbut the smile didnt reach his eyes. They were distant again.
The evening flew by. The guests left, the grandchildren were bundled off to bed, the children headed home. The flat fell quiet again, just the soft hum of the record player in the background.
“That was lovely, wasnt it?” Margaret said, clearing the dishes. “The children did us proud. And the grandchildren”
Colin didnt answer. He stood by the window, staring out at the night. She walked over, resting a hand on his shoulder.
“Whats the matter, Colin? Tired?”
He flinched at her touch, turning slowly. In the dim lamplight, his face looked strangehaunted.
“Margaret,” he began, voice trembling. “Margaret, I”
“What is it?” Her stomach twisted. “Are you feeling ill? Is it your blood pressure?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I need to tell you. I cant carry this anymore. Fifty years its too long.”
Her hands dropped. A cold dread settled in her chest.
“Tell me what, Colin? Youre scaring me.”
He took a deep breath, eyes fixed on the floor. His fingers fidgeted with the edge of the tablecloth.
“On our golden anniversary maybe its right. To finally be honest. Just once.”
He fell silent, gathering himself. The room was so still she could hear the clock ticking.
“Ive loved someone else my whole life, Margaret.”
The words landed like stones in a deep well. She stared, uncomprehending. It couldnt be. It was some cruel, absurd joke.
“What?” she whispered. “Who?”
“Lydia,” he exhaled, and the way he said itsoft, achinghurt more than a slap. “Lydia Carter. You remember her? We were in school together.”
Lydia Carter. Of course she remembered. The bright, laughing girl with the thick blonde plait and dimplesevery boys crush. Shed married some army officer and left the village straight after graduation. Margaret had hardly seen her since.
“But that was school,” she stammered, clinging to the thought like a lifeline. “Just a childhood crush”
“No, Margaret.” He gave a bitter laugh. “Not just that. I was going to propose after I finished my service. Wrote to her. When I came back she was already married. A month later, she left with her husband for Gibraltar.”
As he spoke, her world crumbled. Fifty years of marriage, shrinking into one great lie.
“Then why why did you marry *me*?” Her voice broke. Tears she hadnt felt spilled down her cheeks.
“I was shattered,” he murmured, as if to himself. “Mum said, ‘Stop moping, life goes on. Look at Margaretsuch a good girl. Clever, steady.’ So I thought why not? You *were* good. You *were* steady. I thought Id get over her.”
“And did you?” she choked out, voice raw with pain and rage.
Colin didnt answer. That silence was worse than any words.
She recoiled like he was diseased. This stooped, grey-haired man wasnt her Colinnot the quiet, dependable husband shed shared fifty years with. This was a stranger whod stolen her life.
“All this time” Her voice was barely there. “When you said you loved meyou lied? When our children were born you were thinking of *her*? When we built this home, went on holidaysalways?”
“I was grateful to you, Margaret,” he said dully. “I respected you. You were a wonderful wife, mother. I got used to you. In my way, I did love you. But not like *that*. Not the kind that makes your heart stop.”
He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a battered old wallet. From a hidden sleeve, he slid out a tiny, faded photo. Margaret peered over his shoulder. Lydia Carter gazed backyoung, radiant, wind in her hair.
“I carried it with me. Always.”
That was it. Margaret turned, stumbled to the bedroom. She collapsed onto the bed in that pretty dress and sobbednot delicate tears, but silent, shuddering gasps that wracked her whole body. The world lost colour, sound. Only emptiness remainedand one word: *fraud*.
She didnt know how long she lay there. Colin didnt follow. Maybe that was for the best. She couldnt bear to look at him. Fragments of memories buzzed in her head. Them planting the apple tree in the garden”Well feed the grandchildren with these,” hed said. Had he imagined doing it with Lydia instead? Their housewarming partyfriends shouting “Kiss the bride!” as he dutifully pecked her cheek, that same faraway look in his eyes.
She rose, faced the mirror. An old, tear-streaked woman stared back. She traced the wrinkles, the grey strands. Fifty years. Shed given him everythingher youth, her love. And hed just lived beside her, holding another woman in his heart.
That night, she didnt sleep. Just stared at the ceiling. Colin crept in later, lying on the very edge of the bed, careful not to touch her. The inches between them might as well have been miles.
Morning came. Margaret got up at six, automatic. Made coffee, buttered toast. She moved like a wind-up doll. When Colin entered the kitchen, she didnt look up. Just set his cup down and sat opposite.
“What now
