Dear Diary,
Tonight I watched Mark march off to his callup, and I clung to him, resting my head on his shoulder. In my bright blue eyes the tears glistened; it was painful to part from the boy I love.
Emily, dont fret, he whispered, trying to meet my gaze. The weeks will fly by and Ill be back. Everything will be fine. Nothing will happen to me, just wait for me.
Of course, Mark, I promised. Its a comfort that we can still speak on the phone now and then. Mum used to tell me that in her youth there were no phonesonly letters that sometimes vanished.
Then well keep in touch, he said.
The sergeants voice boomed over the recruits:
Line up! Then the roll call, followed by another shout: Take your places on the bus!
Mark waved at his parents from the window, and I saw Claire squeezing in beside him, a girl who had always tried to steal his attention back in school. She flashed a coy smile and stared straight into his eyes.
Whats she doing here? he thought, glancing back at me as I turned to leave. Shes probably crying again, he muttered, not liking the sight of my tears.
I knew Claire was there to see Mark off, so I slipped away early; otherwise she would have found some fresh excuse to bother us.
Time will pass, I told myself, Im busy with college, theres little free time, Mark will finish his service and return. Then happiness will finally be ours. I study at a furthereducation college in a small market town in the West Midlands, while my parents live in a nearby village. Every weekend I travel home, returning on the last evening bus on Sundays. Mark never went to college; after leaving school he took a job in our village and now waits for his conscription. Every Saturday he meets me at the bus stop and sees me off.
Our love started in Year 10. We were in parallel classes, while Claire sat in his class. When Mark and I began dating, Claire did everything she could to thwart us, spreading every rumor she could think of about me. Everyone knew her.
Im a pretty girl with a radiant smile, blue eyes and light hair, and many lads liked me. I fell for Mark, a notsotall blond with warm grey eyes, a sweetlooking lad. During school breaks we were always together, the girls whispered, some watched us with envy. Claires friends in her class hated me outright, and that was Claires doingshe turned them against me.
Emily, Claires gossiping about you again, said my seatmate Iris, a friend. She cant let go. She sees she cant pull Mark to her side, so she gets angry.
It doesnt matter, I replied. Mark knows who I am, and I dont care about anyone elses opinion.
At the school leavers party everyone popped a few glasses of champagne, Mark and I included, though we only had a sip or two. Afterwards we roamed the riverside park all night, singing with a guitar and shouting that we were grownups now. Some lads got so drunk they fell asleep on the benches.
Initially we were all together, even Claire, who had never touched alcohol before, took a sip for the first time. She slipped onto Marks neck, then leaned in to kiss him. We all froze; I stood nearby while Mark tried to free himself from her grip. At last he pushed her away.
Claire, what are you doing? You cant just lunge at people, he snapped. Champagne must have hit you on the head. She laughed loudly.
Youll still be mine, Mark, she cooed, then walked off.
Mark took my hand and led me down to the river.
What about that wild girl? he asked, halfjoking. Are you upset, Emily?
No, I said, I know nothing can tear us apart. We believe in each other. I wore a softblue, floorlength dress with a large bow on the shoulder, matching the colour of my eyes.
At dawn Mark walked me home. Later that day I sat my entrance exams, passed them, and enrolled in college. Since then Mark has been picking me up after my lessons and seeing me off again.
Claire was thrilled to hear that I would study locally.
Finally Ill have time to win Mark over, she muttered, plotting to split us. She was cunning and determined, even befriending my mother Margaret, who lived just two houses down. She would catch Margaret on the road or drop by the garden while Mark wasnt home.
Mrs. Margaret, have you heard? Our dear Emily has found a wealthy lad in town, and theyre all cosy, Claire whispered to the neighbour.
Claire, that cant be true. Emily is honest, and her relationship with Mark is solid, Margaret replied, surprised.
Margarets own past was messy; shed left her husband early, had other affairs, and now called her lover my little sprout a nickname everyone in the village knew. Women at the shop would gossip, Sprout is home all day while shes off gallivanting with the lads.
Mark and I talked on the phone occasionally, and I even wrote him letters. Three months after his enlistment, Claire decided on another scheme.
Aunt Margaret, could you give me Marks address? Hes not answering my calls, she asked.
Why do you need it?
Viktor, his schoolmate, wants to know. Hes at university and hardly visits his hometown, Claire replied. Margaret handed over a slip of paper with Marks address.
That same day Claire mailed a letter so vicious that even she felt uneasy.
Mark will believe Emily is lying to him. Ill drip poison into his thoughts, and as they say, water wears away stone, she wrote, smiling maliciously.
For three months she sent eloquent letters to the camp, describing how Emily is bewitching him. Mark even asked his mother if it were true that I was seeing other boys. She told him Claire was probably fibbing and to ignore the gossip, but he kept listening.
No one in the village knew that Claire had snuck up to the army base to see Mark, and that they had been together. Mark seemed to have swallowed her lies.
One night, Mark called my dorm room.
Hey, Emily, how are you? his voice sounded strange, almost mocking.
Im fine, but why do you sound like a stranger, Mark? Are you turning left and right while Im trying to talk to you?
Exactly. Dont call or write again. Youve betrayed me, I know everything.
I managed only one question: Is this Claires doing? before he hung up.
I spent the weekend at home, locked in my room. The Mark I trusted never returned from the service. Rumours swirled that Claire had gone to the base pregnant.
Then International Womens Day arrived. I visited home for the threeday weekend, feeling low and hollow over the breakup. Grandmother and mother laid a table for the celebration, and my younger brother Tomnow sixteen and about to finish schoolbought tulips for the ladies early that morning. He knocked on my door, beaming.
Emily, I hope everything turns out better for you. Youll be happy again.
Thanks, brother, I kissed his cheek gratefully.
The weather was dreadful. A heavy, wet snowfall fell, clinging to the roof and making the tiles creak. The weight threatened to collapse the ceiling. Tom rushed outside, then back in, looking for help. He was the only man left in the family; Father had abandoned us long ago.
Soon a stranger named James appeared, a friend of a neighbours aunt. Hed come to deliver flowers to Aunt Vera, who couldnt make the trip from the city.
James, can you help? We need to prop up the roof before it caves in, Tom shouted.
Sure, James replied, grabbing warm gloves. He climbed onto the roof, his fingers numb. I hurried to fetch a pair of thick gloves and handed them to him, blushing as I did.
James, for a beauty like your sister, well do anything, Tom joked. Grandmother laughed, rubbing her cheeks red from the cold.
When the men finished shoring the roof, Tom turned to the kitchen.
Thanks, James! Come in, the tables set. Lets toast the women of the house.
We all gathered around the table, laughing. James kept stealing glances at me, and I found my cheeks heating up as I returned his look.
Shall we go for a walk? James asked later.
Lets, I replied, my blue eyes sparkling.
My mother sighed, Thank heavens shes alive again.
My brother added, A stitch in time saves nine.
Six months later we were at our wedding, celebrating our union. Aunt Vera, watching us, smiled and said, I always said whats meant to be will happen.
After college, James and I settled in the town together. We are happy, having found each other. And somewhere, fate whispers in my ear: Ive brought you together; hold on to this love, for no other gifts are promised.
