I HAVE NEVER TAKEN WHAT WASNT MINE
In those distant school days, Mary found herself both scorning and envying Annabelle. She looked down on Annabelle because her parents were hopeless and chronic drinkers, scraping by on odd jobs and never having a penny to spare. As a result, Annabelle always went about half-starved, wearing threadbare clothes and carrying an air of quiet sadness. Her father would strike her now and thenfor drinking too much, or too little, or simply for existing. Her mother never intervened, too fearful of her husbands heavy hand to stand up for her daughter. Only Annabelles grandmother shone as a bright spot in her otherwise bleak world. Once a month, out of her modest pension, Gran would press a wage into her granddaughters palm for being a good girl. Annabelle knew that even if she ever misbehaved, Gran would pretend not to notice and still give her the money. Five shillings! Those were the best days of Annabelles life. She would dash to the corner shop and buy an ice lolly (one for herself, and one for Gran), some Turkish delight, and a little selection of sweets.
Each time, Annabelle wanted to make the treats last all month. Yet, after two days, all the goodies had vanished. Then Gran would fetch her own ice lolly from the fridge and say, Come on, love, have minemy throats feeling a bit sore today. Annabelle always thought, How odd Grans throat only ever starts hurting when the sweets are all gone. Secretly, she always hoped for her grandmothers extra portion.
Marys family was the complete opposite. Their home overflowed with plenty. Her parents both had respectable jobs and pampered their only daughter. Mary dressed in the latest fashions, never went hungry, and her shoes never wore thin. Other girls in the class would borrow her things from time to time. Mary never lacked a thing, and her belly was always full.
Yet Mary envied Annabelle deeply for her striking beauty, the gentle kindness she radiated, and her knack for warming to anyone she met. Mary, on the other hand, felt above even speaking to Annabelle. If ever they crossed paths, Mary would glance at her with such cold disdain that Annabelle felt as though shed been doused with icy water. Once, right in front of their classmates, Mary sneered, You poor wretch! Annabelle ran home in tears, pouring her heart out to Gran, who sat her down, stroked her hair, and said, Dont cry, dearest. Tomorrow, just tell her, Youre rightI belong to God. Annabelles spirits lightened at once.
Mary herself was fair but seemed to carry an untouchable chill. In their class was the favourite of all the girls, a boy named Matthew. A dunce in school work but always full of jokes and mischief, he never cared much for grades or the teachers stern looks. Matthew gave off such joy and good humour that, despite the red marks and constant scolding, the staff couldnt help but like him.
In the older years, Matthew began walking Mary home and waiting for her at the school gate each morning, just to enter together and hear the other pupils teasing, There go the bride and groom! Even the teachers sensed something special was growing between Matthew and Mary.
The final bell rang; the school ball sparkled and faded. The boys and girls fluttered off in all directions.
Mary and Matthew were soon wed. Their wedding was a rushed affair, for it was clear that Mary was already expecting. Not even the grandeur of her bridal gown could quite conceal the signs. Five months later, Mary brought a daughter, Sophie, into the world.
Annabelle, meanwhile, finished school and had to go to work. Her grandmother had passed away; her parents depended on her now for financial help. Suitors came and went, but nothing stirred her soul. Annabelle felt no hurryshe was embarrassed by her parents drinking. So, she waited.
Time slipped onward, and ten years vanished.
It was outside a clinic, of all places, that two pairs met: Annabelle with her mother, Matthew with Mary. Annabelle recognised Matthew at oncehed become a fine figure of a man. Mary, though, looked a wreck; thin, hands trembling, eyes dull and distant. She was only twenty-eight but seemed much older.
Matthew offered a sheepish smile. Hello, Annabelle, he said, clearly hoping not to bump into anyone familiar, least of all her.
Annabelle looked him over quickly. Hello, Matthew. I see things are bad. Has thiswith Marybeen going on long?
A while now, he replied, unable to meet her eyes.
A woman taken by drink its dreadful. My father, too, with the bottle He drank himself to an early grave, and my mother never truly stopped. Annabelles sympathy was clear, for them both.
After the clinic, Matthew and Annabelle exchanged numbersmisery, after all, is easier shared. Matthew began visiting Annabelle for advice. Youve a lot more experience with this than I do, hed say. Annabelle shared all she had learned on managing drinkers, what to do and what to avoid entirely. She knew well enough that men often foundered in the drink as surely as in the sea.
Eventually, Matthew confided that hed been raising Sophie alone for some time, with Mary back at her parents. He wanted to protect his daughter from her mothers unpredictable ways.
It was a narrow escape: Matthew once came home from work to find Mary sprawled, drunk, on the floor, while three-year-old Sophie was teetering precariously on the open windowsill. After that, there could be no going backhed endured enough with Mary, but you can never truly see into anothers heart. Worse still, Mary refused any help. She claimed she had everything under control, that she could stop any time. The truth was, she was spiralling ever deeper, pulling herself under.
Their marriage was over.
One day, Matthew invited Annabelle out to dinner. Over the table, he admitted that hed loved her since their school days, but had been too afraid of rejection, and then found himself caught up in marrying Mary and expecting a child. The years had swept him along. Meeting again at the clinic, he now took as fate. After talking with Annabelle, he felt as though hed drunk honey.
He eventually proposed, and Annabelle found herself ready to accept. The truth was, she had long liked Matthew, too. But shed never dreamed of interfering with Marys marriagenow, though, everything had changed. Matthew was free and loved her. Nothing stood in their way. At last, shed found arms open to her love.
Their wedding was quiet, simple. Annabelle moved in with Matthew. At first, little Sophie was wary of this strange new woman in her home, knowing she must now share her fathers affection. But Annabelle smothered her in such kindness and warmth that soon Sophie was calling her Mum. Within a couple of years, Sophie had a little sister, Emily.
Then, one day, the bell rang at Annabelle and Matthew’s house. Annabelle opened the door, and there stood Marybarely recognisable, except for her voice. The stench of spirits was strong; every aspect of her spoke of someone long lost to the bottle.
You snake, you stole my husband and my daughter! No wonder Ive despised you all my life! Mary spat.
Annabelles face stayed steady, her gaze calm and confident. I have never taken what wasnt mine. You let go of your family on your own, never realising what you were giving up. I never spoke a word against you. I truly feel sorry for you, Mary. And with that, Annabelle closed the door on her uninvited guest.
