NEVER TOOK ANOTHER’S
Looking back now, I remember school days, when Margaret held nothing but disdainand perhaps a little envyfor Nancy. She disdained her for the unshakeable shabbiness of Nancys home life. Nancys parents were hopeless, hard-drinking souls, scraping by through odd jobs and stretching shillings to their limit. It meant that Nancy was often half-starved, dressed in worn, patched clothes, with a certain perpetual heaviness about her. Her father struck her from time to timewhether hed had too much or too little to drink made no difference. Her mother offered no protection, herself too cowed by her husbands violent temper. Only dear grandmother had ever been a ray of sunshine for Nancy.
Once a month, from her modest pension, Gran would press a wage into her beloved granddaughters hand for good behaviour. Of course, Nancy knew that even if shed misbehaved, Gran would pretend not to notice and still give her that precious pay packet. Five shillings! For Nancy, it was the happiest of days. Shed dash straight to the corner shop, buy herself and Gran a cone of ice cream, some halva, and a handful of toffees. Every time, Nancy swore shed make them last the whole month. But after only a couple of days, all the treats were mysteriously finished. Then, Gran would fetch her own ice cream from the freezer and say,
Go on, my girl, eat itmy throats acted up again.
Nancy always thought it odd that Grans throat started hurting just as the last of the sweets disappeared. Secretly, she always hoped for Grans ice cream on those days.
Margarets home was a world apart. The house was always welcoming and well-stocked; her parents had proper jobs and kept her in the latest London fashions. Margaret wanted for nothingwell-fed, well-dressed, and admired by her peers. The other girls sometimes borrowed her stylish things. Life was easy. The only thing Margaret envied in Nancy was the other girls enchanting beauty, the gentle charm that drew people in, the natural way she put everyone at ease.
Margaret, though, saw it as beneath her to even speak to Nancy. When their eyes met at school, Margaret would look at her with such coldness that Nancy felt like shed stepped under a freezing shower. Once, in front of their classmates, Margaret spat out:
Youre pathetic!
That day, Nancy fled home in tears and poured her heart out to Gran. Gran sat her down, stroked her hair, and said,
Dont cry, Nancy. Tomorrow, tell that girl, Youre rightI am in Gods hands!
Somehow, Nancy felt soothed.
Margaret was beautiful herself, but with a distant, frosty air.
Every girl in their class, however, fancied young Matthew. Bit of a dunce, always the class clown, but brimming with good humour and cheery optimism. Matthew never took his low marks or teachers scoldings to heart. The staff, though they grumbled at his antics and sent him out of class, couldnt help but be fond of him.
By their final years, Matthew had started walking Margaret home after lessons. In the mornings, hed patiently wait at the school gates to walk her in, grinning at the teasing calls from their classmates:
Oh, there go the bride and groom!
Even the teachers knew something sweet was budding between Margaret and Matthew.
The final bell rang. The leavers dance was a flurry of laughter and lace, and then the children of the school scattered after their own fortunes.
Margaret and Matthew married soon afternot that theyd planned it, but signs of love couldnt be hidden, not even by the brides sumptuous layered gown. Five months later, Margaret brought into the world a daughter: Sophie.
Nancy, once shed finished school, had to take up work. Her gran had passed on, and her parentsstill as waywardlooked to her for support. She had suitors enough, but none she cared for deeply, none who truly touched her soul. So Nancy decided not to rush into marriage, ashamed as she was of her drunken parents.
Time flowed onten years went by in a blink.
One day, in the waiting corridor at the addiction clinic, stood two pairs: Nancy with her mother, and Matthew with Margaret.
Nancy recognised Matthew immediatelyhe had grown into a fine man, though Margaret was almost unrecognisable: gaunt, hands shaking, eyes dulla woman of just twenty-eight, looking every bit a broken old soul.
Matthew glanced at Nancy apologetically.
Hullo, classmate. He clearly wished she hadnt been witness to his private sorrow.
Hello, Matthew. I can see things arent well. Has it been like this long? Nancy asked quietly.
Aye, a while now, he confessed, embarrassment in his eyes.
A drinking woman is disasterI know it too well, Nancy said, her own pain flickering in her tone. My mother still struggles, and my father drank himself into the grave.
After their appointments, Nancy and Matthew exchanged numbers. Just in casethey shared the same kind of trouble, and it felt easier to weather storms together. Matthew began calling on Nancy, seeking advice from someone whod been through similar hardship. She explained what it took to live with drinkers, what to do and what never to do. She knew too well: more men drown in the bottle than ever do at sea.
It turned out that Matthew and young Sophie had been living alone for some time; Margaret was back with her own parents. He’d shielded his daughter from her mother’s unpredictability. The last straw had come when Matthew came home from work to find Margaret dead drunk on the floor, and three-year-old Sophie tottering on the window ledge, just a slip away from a fatal fall. He had had enough. You never see the depths of a soul at first glance, and Margaret refused help, always insisting she had everything under control.
The marriage fell apart.
In time, Matthew invited Nancy out to dinner, and over the table, he confessedall these years, from their earliest days at school, hed cared for Nancy. At first, he feared rejection, then Margarets unexpected pregnancy swept life away with worry and duty. Now, meeting again at the clinic, he felt it was fate.
Matthew asked Nancy to marry him, and it was then that she realised hed always held a place in her heart. She had never wanted to step across anothers marriage, but now, with Margaret gone, nothing stood in their way.
Nancy and Matthew married quietly, with little fuss. Nancy moved in, and at first, young Sophie was wary of this stranger in her home. She understood, little as she was, that now her father must share his love. But Nancy enfolded the girl in such warmth and kindness that after a while, Sophie began calling her Mum. Two years later, Sophie had a little sister, Mary.
One day, the doorbell rang. Nancy opened the door to find Margaret on the step, though at first, it was the voice that gave her awayshe was gaunt, unkempt, and reeking of gin.
You wretched snakeyou stole my husband, my daughter! No wonder I always loathed you! Margaret hissed.
Nancy did not flinch. She stood tall, self-assured and composed.
Ive never taken what belonged to another. You gave your family up by your own hand, never understanding a thing. I’ve never said a bad word about you, Margaret… I do truly feel sorry for you.
With that, Nancy closed the door firmly against the past.
And so life moved on, as it must: proof, perhaps, that anothers life and heart are never truly ours to keep or to lose, but only ever to cherish, if given freely.
