Three Shattered Fates
Well now, lets have a look. Theres bound to be something fascinating here!
It all began with a typical Saturday clear-up. Hazel was sorting through forgotten bits and bobs in the loft while her mother, Margaret, rustled up a roast in the kitchen. Amidst the dust and jumble, Hazel unearthed a battered old photo album shed never laid eyes on before. Unable to resist, she curled into her favourite armchair and started leafing through its pages.
First came the happy snapshots: a young Margaret and her girlfriends by a fountain, a merry picnic by the riverside, a gleeful girl in a field of wild daisies. Then a series with a tall, dark-haired man. In each, Margaret and the chap looked blissfully content, constantly holding each other, gazing with unmistakable fondness. Hazel squinted at the scenes: the two at a cafés pavement table, then strolling by the Thames, laughing hand-in-hand. How curious! Who was this dashing fellow? Why did he look at Mum that way as if she hung the moon?
Her curiosity burning, Hazel traipsed into the kitchen. Margaret was just pulling a Victoria sponge from the oven and the kitchen was thick with the sweet scent of vanilla.
Mum, Hazel began, gripping the old album, whos this man in the photographs? Ive never seen him before.
Margaret turned, and Hazel noticed her mothers fingers tremble for a moment as she pressed the tea towel against her palm. But Margaret quickly composed herself and placed the cake on a cooling rack.
Oh, thats Jonathan, she answered, the words feigning nonchalance, though Hazel sensed tension lurking beneath. We went out years ago, before your father and I ever met.
Why have you never mentioned him? Hazel sidled closer, flicking through the albums pages. You both seem so happy together! What happened? Why did you split up?
Margaret wiped her hands on her apron and lingered by the window, staring out at the back garden where the neighbours children spun cartwheels across the lawn. Clearly, shed rather bite her tongue, but Hazel was never one for leaving stones unturned.
Its not easy to explain, love, Margaret finally replied, turning to Hazel. We loved one another, but things fell apart. All my fault, really. The only culprit in our ending was me.
Hazel took a seat, her gaze glued to her mother. She could see how much these ordinary-looking photographs hurt. Already she half-wished shed left the album buried with the rest. Yet her curiosity pecked and clawed away at her thoughts. Even with a pang of shame, she wanted particulars.
Tell me everything, she whispered. Please. I want to understand. You and Dad youve always seemed so distant with each other, like you never truly cared for him. Why did you stay? I can see hes my dad and I accept him, but, lets be honest, hes not exactly easy-going. Hes strict, jealous, and rather cold-hearted. Was he always that way? Why did you pick him over Jonathan?
Margaret went still, her hand hovering over her teacup, trembling minutely. At last she sat silently, then let out a long, weary sigh gathering her nerve.
Its no simple thing, darling, she exhaled, quiet and bitter. I never loved your father. Not even a sprinkle of it. Truth be told, I almost hated him.
Hazel shuddered. Shed expected such an answer, but hearing it aloud from her mother cut deeper than imagined. She hunched her shoulders, struggling to settle her nerves.
I dont understand! she cried, her voice unsteady. Were you forced? Did Granny pressure you?
Margaret lifted her gaze, a bitter, fleeting smile flickering across her lips so swiftly Hazel barely caught it.
The opposite, in fact, Margaret murmured. They were dead set against it. Mum simply couldnt understand why her clever daughter would so hastily marry a man shed always ignored. She was desperate to stop me, particularly since Jonathan was courting me at the time. And he truly was a remarkable suitor, anyone could see that.
Margaret absent-mindedly traced the rim of her cup with her finger, still lost in recollection. Speaking about it was no easy matter, yet something tonight spurred her to finally let her tongue wag. Perhaps it was the photos, or maybe just the cold sting of memory.
I have a dreadful flaw, you see, my dear: I despise being told what to do, she said at last, her words low and careful. Plant your foot down with rules or ultimatums, and Ill go against it, even if its to my own detriment. Mum and Dad knew as much, so they never pressed, always gave me a choice. But the man I loved he never understood or didnt want to.
She paused, staring out at the slow swirl of soft snowflakes beyond the window. The regret of that mistake haunted her still. If only shed cooled off if only shed slept on her decision she might not have let her stubborn pride wreak havoc. But, in the end, shed proven her point: no-one would dictate her lifes course. And shed paid for it with her own ruined future.
Her decision devastated not merely her own fate, but that of the man she cherished, and the poor soul who became her husband. Their marriage was doomed before it began, and the writing had been on the wall for anyone willing to see. Margaret had known, even as she walked down the aisle. Yet her impossible disposition
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Margaret sat at the kitchen table, head resting in her hand, unable to look away from Jonathan. He moved about the kitchen with such smooth, confident ease that he seemed more a seasoned chef in a top London restaurant than a young man in a modest terraced house. His knife worked deftly, vegetables became perfect dice, and the air was delicious with mingling herbs and roasting chicken.
She kept trying to get up and help years of habit insisting that the kitchen was a womans realm. This is womens work, shed mutter to herself, reaching to rise. Every time, Jonathan would gently but decisively tell her, Just sit down, Margaret. This is my territory. Relax and enjoy it.
So she sat, watching as ordinary groceries became something magical. In their relationship, the kitchen was well and truly his kingdom. Jonathan didnt merely cook he created, investing a piece of himself in every move.
The restaurants our family business, Jonathan explained, laughing at Margarets astonished expression. With Mum as a cordon bleu, I had no choice but to learn! Honestly, I was a quick study as soon as I could reach the hob. Wait a moment youll be asking for more, I promise!
His eyes sparkled, his grin was wide. He was completely in his element and Margaret felt utterly at home.
Half an hour later, Margaret pushed away her empty plate and fought a shameless urge to lick it clean the food had been that marvellous. The flavours were full, unusual, in perfect harmony: every ingredient sang, yet all together produced something unexpectedly fine.
She leaned back, filled her lungs, and gazed at Jonathan. He looked especially pleased.
That was extraordinary, she murmured, caught off guard by her delight. Absolutely spellbinding. How do you turn simple ingredients into actual magic?
Jonathan beamed and took the seat opposite, admiring her clean plate with satisfaction.
Mostly love of it and a smidge of imagination, he replied, shrugging. And of course, the best produce. But your praise is a chefs highest reward. Im glad youre pleased. But you simply must come to the restaurant one day you havent seen anything yet.
Margaret chuckled, her face softening. She reached for her cup, savoured the first sip of fresh coffee, and let the warmth settle her bones.
Ill hold you to that! Splendid! Are you going to take over from your mother, then? Run the family business?
Jonathan paused, thinking, then shook his head; his reply was steady, quietly proud.
No, my dreams are bigger even than that. We’re planning to open a new place right by the coast, near Brighton. Weve already signed for a spot; builders are in as we speak. Ill be in charge. Believe me, itll soon be the most sought-after reservation for miles!
His vision was so vivid that Margaret found herself seeing it too: airy dining spaces with panoramic windows, happy guests, laughter and music, plates served with flair. Yet, as soon as Jonathan finished, an odd unease crept into her heart.
So youll leave? she asked, her voice barely steady. She absently twisted the gold ring on her finger Jonathans engagement gift. The metal was cool and strangely comforting, yet none of it stilled her nerves now. And what about me? Are you leaving me behind?
Jonathan blinked, genuinely surprised. How could she think that? Didnt she know she was his whole world, that every ounce of ambition was in service to them both? The entire project was about giving her about giving them a radiant, doubt-free future!
What makes you say that? he retorted, genuinely wounded. Youd come with me, of course! The flats already sorted lovely spot, youll adore it. We could get married by the sea it’s beautiful there. Dont fret about university: Ill help you transfer, and the one in Brighton is even better!
He spilled the words out in a rush, not wanting her to interrupt. In his mind, this was the happiest news in the world: a chance to start again together, a rare, dazzling opportunity not to be missed.
Margaret listened in silence, but inside she was in turmoil. She dug her fingers into the tablecloth, trying to steady the tumultuous feeling rising within. Logically, she knew it was an extraordinary offer a bigger city, a renowned university, a new chapter. Everything shimmered enticingly, but something stubborn dug in its heels.
So youve decided it all, then? Didnt bother asking what I thought? she said coldly, her voice trembling with the effort to rein in her emotions. Im just supposed to leave everything behind family, friends, my whole life to chase after your plans?
She lapsed into silence, the window framing slowly drifting clouds. In her mind she saw herself saying goodbye to her parents, explaining things to her friends, cutting loose every familiar anchor for the promise of something new, no matter how golden. The prospect just didnt sit right.
Jonathan opened his mouth, reached across the table for her hand, but she drew away. He didnt seem to recognise what hurt her in his mind, this wasnt an order but a wonderful surprise, sharing their future together. He thought shed be overjoyed, grateful he was thinking ahead for both of them.
Youre not listening! she spat. You think you can just decide and Ill trail along behind like a stray dog? Dont flatter yourself!
Margie, what are you on about? he replied, his voice rising in utter bafflement. I honestly thought youd be excited! Who wouldnt want to live by the coast? Youd love it, its like something out of a storybook!
He carried on, painting a glowing picture seaside cafés, salt on the air, a flat overlooking the Channel but all she heard was the sound of his certainty. She couldnt stomach that hed decided for her, as if her voice didnt matter.
She shot to her feet suddenly, striking the table. Her coffee mug toppled, brown fluid bleeding across the crisp white cloth.
It doesnt matter how grand it is! You decided for me! she shrieked, shaking with indignation. No one gets to dictate my life! I choose for myself where I live, how I study!
Her voice was fierce and hot with protest. The detail didnt matter what mattered was being heard, being allowed her say. The specifics of the offer paled to nothing beside the stake of her independence.
Margie Jonathan stood quickly, trying to calm her, to draw her back into his arms. He still didnt understand the true source of her anger. Maybe, in time, they could talk it through? Hed only wanted to make her happy
Ive said all I need to! she bit out, her words slicing the air.
In one sharp movement, she slipped off the gold ring the very one hed given at their engagement. She held it a moment, almost testing its weight, then hurled it at the wall. The ring clattered on the skirting, spinning and shuddering to a stop.
That evening, back in her own armchair by the window, Margaret could barely breathe at first. She closed her eyes, forced a few slow breaths, willing her hands to stop their trembling. At last quiet crept in, and with it, a bruising clarity: shed made a colossal mistake. Not just a misstep a whopper. In her heart of hearts, she knew Jonathan hadnt meant to trample her feelings. His whole plan was for them both. He was right this really was a once-in-a-lifetime chance. So why all the fireworks?
But any time she replayed those moments, aggravation returned in force. The fact that hed made decisions without her, even out of love, felt like a warning: if he started now, when would he ever stop? First its where we live, then my whole life handed over, she thought darkly, clinging to her armrests. Better suffer now than spend her years feeling caged. She tried convincing herself that her pain would fade with time, and shed again be captain of her own fate
A few months limped by. Margaret was still reeling from the break when she ran into Graham, an old friend with a quiet sort of interest in her never forceful, always gentle. Once hed heard about Margarets split with Jonathan, his attentions subtly intensified. He could never hide how much satisfaction it gave him to show up Jonathan, and Margaret, fragiled by heartbreak, accepted Grahams advances as her chance for a fresh start to prove to herself and the world that happiness was hers alone to claim.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So I went and married the first man who asked me, Margaret said softly, gazing into the middle distance. Your father never thought far into the future, let alone what our life together would be like, she finished with a sigh. Within a year, the arguments began. Turns out, under that polite smile, he was stubborn, sometimes outright harsh, never one for compromise. After seven years, we divorced simply couldnt go on sharing a roof without tearing each other down.
Hazel listened silently, all empathy, but needing to understand.
Why do you say your mistake ruined three lives? she asked, hesitant. Jonathan, did he never get over you?
Im not sure if he ever did, Margaret answered low. But he suffered. We both did. And Graham He was miserable too. Thought marriage was an answer, a salve to his own wounded pride, but all he was left with was disappointment. So you see three people, each mourning what could have been.
Margaret spoke matter-of-factly, as though carefully weighing every word. There was no bitterness only the settled resignation of someone who made peace with her own past.
Jonathan left and made a success of things, she said, eyes on the dusk growing outside. Hes got a chain of restaurants now, quite respected. But the cheerful, open lad I knew became shut-in, exacting. In business, maybe that works. Im not so sure about life.
She paused, picturing those rare, awkward updates about Jonathan over the years: a tall, fit man with a grimmer set to his jaw and a cold gleam in his eye so different from the boy who once made her laugh.
He married twice, Margaret added, but neither lasted more than a year. All his tenderness seems to go to his son, and with the boy hes someone else patient, attentive, soft. With women, it just never fits.
A silence, then she added, almost not looking at Hazel:
Curiously, both his wives looked just like me same build, same colouring. His friends told me Jonathan still loves me. But its not my place anymore. Far too much time has slipped by
Hazel kept mum, mind swarming with thoughts she dared not voice. Everything might have been different better. Her mother, so clever and passionate and full of feeling, could have found true happiness. And Jonathan, too, the man whod never let go. Yet Hazel knew her mum would never make the first move. That indomitable pride, which once sundered them, still kept her from ever confessing regret. Margaret, even if she admitted her wrong in secret, would never voice it to Jonathan. Not from malice, but because she simply could not bear to appear weak.
Margaret stirred, as if shaking off a cloak of memory, and met her daughters eye.
You know, she said, a lighter note to her voice, I cant honestly say I regret it. Yes, it hurt. Yes, things didnt turn out as I once dreamed. But its my life. And I have you, and youre the best bit of all.
Outside, darkness fell like velvet. Warm light spilled through the little house, wrapping Hazel in contentment. She stood and went to her mother, wrapping her in a soft embrace. Margaret stilled, just for a moment, before hugging her daughter tightly in return.
In that odd, soft, golden moment, both knew the past was behind them, firmly sealed away where it belonged. And ahead, only the future one theyd make together, step by step, with their own hands.
