For Better, For Worse
Margaret was widowed young, at forty-two. By that time, her daughter, Alice, had already married a good lad from the neighbouring village and moved up north with her new husband, in search of higher wages.
Alice would call occasionally, reassuring her mother not to fret. She had settled in wellnew friends, steady work, and a host of in-laws. In those moments, Margaret felt the distance between them acutely. Her daughter was now as good as gonecut loose and drifting away.
Work in the village soon dried up; the only school where Margaret was listed as a kitchen assistant had been shut down.
Left jobless, Margaret didnt despair. She got into the habit of taking the bus to the next village twice a week, where she sold milk and soft cheese to her regular customers. The money she made just about covered her living expenses, but Margaret didnt complain. She lived alone, sustained by the same milk and cheese she sold, and the vegetables she grew in her own garden.
She barely had time to feel lonely. The yard was bustlingfull of hens, geese, and ducks. Daisy, her cow, mooed from the shed, and her cat, Buttercup, curled about her feet. By the time shed fed everyone, tended to them and done the chores, another day had passed.
Every afternoon, usually after lunch, Margaret took her place by the window. Shed sit on a favourite old stool, quietly admiring the gentle English countryside outside.
The view was worth a pausea pale blue sky and tranquil birch trees forming a delicate backdrop.
Behind those birches, a clear spring bubbled up from the ground, filling a small pond with icy, sweet waterso pure and delicious, it drew more than one admirer over the years.
Little wonder, then, that on one chilly morning, Margaret was woken by the roar of machinery driving up to her house.
Yawning, she wrapped herself in a well-worn dressing gown that had belonged to her mother, and stepped out onto the porch.
She peered at a cluster of people standing about, surveying the land, and walked up to a tall man in a smart wool overcoat.
Morning, then! May I ask whats going on here? Margaret inquired plainly.
The man turned smartly, casting a glance over her humble home.
Do you live here? Ive just bought this plotthought I might build a house. So I suppose well be neighbours.
Neighbours, is it?
Margaret returned home, unsettled. She only knew this muchshed have to find out who this new neighbour was, and she was determined to get the details. She dressed swiftly and headed for the little village shop.
Outspoken Maureen, who ran the counter, knew all the local gossip: turns out, a wealthy businessman from the city had bought up the land near Margarets.
Hes planning a house, but not for himselffor his twin brother, you see. Sickly sort. Doctors told him to move out of the city for some fresh air. And what better, eh? Clean woods, proper English countryside, proper springs.
A businessman, then, Margaret mused. Well, perhaps hell like the place, loosen up, and maybe even open a shop. This village could do with some jobs, she added hopefully.
Oh, you and your dreaming, Maureen chuckled.
As Margaret left the shop, she crossed paths with Gavin, the bread delivery man.
He was hefting an enormous tray of loaves, his cheeks pink with cold.
Morning, Margaret. Be a dear and hold the door, he asked.
She smiled and obliged.
Gavin paused, looking her way. Where are you off to in such a rush? Grab a fresh loaftheyre right out the oven.
Margaret blushed deeply, grabbed a roll and called inside, Maureen, put it on my tab, Ill settle up later!
Blushing wasnt unusual: Gavin had been courting Margaret for years, but shed always shied away.
After all, Gavin was six years her junior, and idle tongues had whispered she was too old for him. So Margaret had forced herself to keep her distancebetter he found someone his own age!
And yet, Gavin was in no hurry to wed. He kept watching Margaret, sometimes shyly bumbling his advances until she firmly stopped him.
Hed only sigh, keeping his distance.
***
The builder-who-would-be-neighbour wasted no time.
Soon, a fine manor shot up in the midst of the meadow, its windows glimmering warmly at dusk. Margaret could not resist the lureshe baked up an apple pie and marched right over.
Pushing open the gleaming new door, pie in hands, she called out: Anyone in? Neighbours, good afternoon!
The scent of fresh timber and paint hit her. Margaret hesitated, pie trembling in her hands.
Two men poked their heads out from behind a partition, and two women in overalls followed.
Yes? one of the women asked.
Oh, Im your neighbourlive right next door, just there. Brought over some pie.
Thank you, the woman nodded, taking the tray.
Margaret cleared her throat. I dont suppose you need a bit of help? I can paste up wallpaper, do some plastering or whitewash the ceilinganything?
One of the workmen shook his head. Not likely. Weve a full crew, here for all the finishing. Try the ownerhes due in a couple of days.
Oh, well, Margaret murmured, disappointed. Never mind. Ill be off, then.
So, there was no chance of work.
Margaret trudged home, eyeing her own tired house. It needed repairs, and, to be honest, would still be shabby even if she did them. More than anything, she keenly felt how unwanted she was by these new neighbours.
It hadnt always been this way. In the old days, newcomers used to make it a point to get to know the people next door.
Nownothing. Throughout the build, the owner had never so much as knocked, let alone introduced himself. Strange sort, she thought.
***
Soon, things changed. The new neighbours house was decked out in festive Christmas lights, and removal vans rumbled up.
Margaret pressed her nose to the window, watching as sturdy men hauled furniture and crates inside.
From one of the vans stepped a self-assured young woman in a chic pale coat, who strode inside without a glance.
These sorts, thought Margaret. Probably a beauty queen. Who else would a city businessman bring out here?
She didnt catch sight of the sickly brother Maureen had mentioned, no matter how long she watched the window.
Strangely, the young woman rarely left. Once a week, she would pop out to the shop, but she always hurried in and out, never exchanging more than a curt, clipped hello with Margaret.
Margaret felt dejected, realising the new neighbour clearly had no wish to befriend her.
She must think herself far too grand for the likes of me, Margaret told herself sadly.
A year passed. Margaret gave up trying to connect and ignored the steady stream of visitors to the neighbours homea shiny car arriving each week, a well-dressed man lugging bags inside.
But then, everything changed.
A knock at the doorher neighbour herself.
I see youve got a cow, hens, all sorts. Would you sell me some meat? Ill pay. And if youve eggs, butter or potatoes, Id take those too.
Yes, of course, Margaret said, brightening, and bustled about gathering her wares.
Shop meat just isnt the same, her neighbour explained apologetically.
Margaret pulled a good cut of beef from her freezer, the result of recent butchering.
This is qualitywont need long to cook, either.
How long? the neighbour asked timidly.
An hour and a half, perhaps.
That long?
Oh, my dear. Some cuts need longer still. Dont you know your meats? No matterlet me help you.
What if I just fry it? the neighbour ventured, confused.
You could
Ive never done it, though. Afraid Ill just burn it. Would youcould you cook it here, with potatoes, and Ill collect it ready?
Margaret sized her up. The woman looked young, carefully groomed with delicate hands that had never done hard work.
Can you cook at all?
Her visitor shrugged. Of course not.
Whats your name?
Charlotte. And you?
Margaret, but you can call me Maggie. I could cook for youlunches and suppersfor a little pay.
Id be ever so grateful! When can you start?
Right away, if you like.
Without needing further urging, Margaret packed up ingredients, locked her door, and set off for the new house.
The neighbours house was a tour de force, handsome and tastefully furnished.
In the front room, a dour man was reading. He looked Margaret over irritably.
And whos this? Whats happened now?
Charlotte rushed to him in delight. Darling, look, Ive found us some helpits Margaret, shell do the cooking.
Im actually your neighbour, Margaret said, just living next door. Pleased to meet you.
He barely nodded.
This way, Charlotte said briskly.
She showed Margaret to the kitchen and with faint frustration gestured: Cook something for us.
Again Margaret was taken aback at the directness, but there was no time for hurt feelings. She rolled up her sleeves and set to work.
Within an hour she had a hearty meal of beef and potatoes on the table.
So began the job Margaret had longed for.
The master of the house, Alexander, a taciturn man, paid her wages weekly. Over time, he warmed to Margaretdelicious food does wonders.
She soon noticed Charlotte never tidied up. The bed was never made, the floors never washed.
One day, Margaret fetched a bucket and mop and cleaned the whole place top to bottom.
Charlotte pouted, and Alexander frowned:
And who asked you to clean? he demanded.
Its justso grimy, I couldnt bear it. Thought Id give it a scrub.
If you think Ill pay you for your generosity, think again. We dont mind a bit of dust. Ill only pay you for your kitchen work, and groceries, mind.
No trouble at all
Margaret took it to heart but finished mopping. Then she noticed the city businessman brother had stopped visiting. Charlotte now rarely went shopping, glancing at Margaret with something close to contempt.
Eventually she snapped: You neednt wash the dishesleave them, Ill manage. And dont bring more meatjust potatoes, eggs, and milk, and cook with only those.
Margaret studied her mistresss drawn face: Has something happened?
It has! Charlotte exploded. Im fed up with this village. No shopping! No café! Nothing! Theres nowhere to go!
A few days later, Margaret found the door to the big house ajar. She stepped into a scene of chaosclothes, candlesticks, trinkets strewn everywhere, a battered bookcase with volumes jumbled on the floor.
Oh, whats happened here? Charlotte! she called anxiously.
Shes not here, a voice replied from the kitchen.
Margaret hurried in to find the place in a shambles, dishes flung on the floor, curtains down from the windows.
Alexander sat at the kitchen table, awash in bottles, drinking.
What on earth happened, Mr Alexander? Did you argue with Charlotte?
Dont mention her name again. Charlottes left me. She left a note: village lifes not for her.
He sighed, looking up at Margaret:
Maggie, fetch me some beef, will you? Youve got some, I knowfry it up for me.
Fine, Ill fetch some.
Margaret did as he asked, thinking it best.
While she cooked, she picked up the kitchen and the lounge.
As the aroma of sizzling meat filled the house, Alexander, whod dozed off at the table, roused and wandered to the skillet, forking meat out straight from the pan.
Whatever are you doing, eating it from the knife like that? Sit at the table and Ill serve it properly.
He slumped in a chair, mumbling, Youre wonderful, Maggie. I adore you.
Margaret frozeshe could barely remember the last time shed heard such words.
Dont leave. Sit with me, have a drink.
I dont drink.
She realised he was drunk already and ought to leave, but Alexander suddenly embraced her.
I never realised what a remarkable woman you are, Margaret, he purred.
Married Life
Margaret became the object of much speculation around the villageshe could feel the stares when she came into the shop. There were whispers, but no one dared to say much.
Maureen smiled slyly: Maggie, who are those fags for then? And the sausage and cheeseyou never touch them yourself.
For the neighbour, who else? Margaret replied. Told you I was working for him.
Maureen leaned over, whispering, So when did you start staying at his place, and eating at the same table? Oh, Maggie, why bother with him? Hes not your match. Hell just use you and drop you.
Margaret stiffened, glancing round at the other shoppers straining to listen.
Are you spying on me now?
I hear whats said. The village talks.
Margaret sighed: So let them talk. Im not hiding. Alex and Iwe love each other.
Maureen kept up her knowing look: Is it really love? The minute the other woman left, hes all over you! Wake up, Maggie! Dyou believe him?
Margaret gathered her groceries, chin raised. Anything else? Give me my change, quickly. Or Ill write a letter to the council.
She swept out, fuming inside.
People! Cant they mind their own business?
As she left the shop, she nearly tripped over Gavin with his bread crate. She didnt hold the door, and he didnt ask her to. He just gave a quiet grunt, nudged the door open, and went on.
Him too, Margaret thought wryly. Doesnt even say hello now. Fine by me.
Still, her heart twinged.
Back when Gavin had blushed and stammered at her, Margaret had felt a strange gladness, as if her soul could fly.
Now, Gavin barely looked at herand the silence was disquieting.
***
Turning into her lane, Margaret went not to her house, but next door.
Alexander had promised to marry her, making that fine house hers, too.
Shed started to settle in as lady of the house, though she had to pop back to her cottage each morning to light the fire and tend the animals.
Minor hardships, temporaryAlex said hed build a pen for all her animals once they wed.
Alex was good to his word. On the appointed day, he hired a taxi and took Margaret to the registry office, where they married.
He slipped a ring on her finger.
My, how lovely. Is it gold? she asked.
Of course. Dont go losing it.
After theyd returned, Margaret laid the table for a wedding tea. Alexander immediately started drinking.
Arent you a bit too fond of the bottle lately, my dear? she asked, admiring the ring.
I drink out of happiness! Now, go fetch some meat and fry it up. Need something to go with.
Theres none leftonly a salad today.
What do you mean none? Your cows still in the barn, isnt she?
But Daisys the breadwinnerI sell her milk. We live off her.
Her new husband scowled: Forget those pennies. Youve got a rich husband now! You cook chicken every day, but I want beef.
But butchering a cow is no small thing
Alexander slammed his fist on the table. Didnt I make myself clear? Get me meat!
Meat
Margaret searched the whole village for a butcher, but found none willing to helpno one fancied that job in the freezing weather.
Finally, Gavin agreed.
He looked at her with troubled eyes: Why are you getting rid of your cow?
Margaret hung her head, unable to admit Alex just wanted beef.
Its too dear, keeping herhay and feed cost a fortune
But youre married nowyour husband wont help put up hay?
Margaret just pleaded: Will you help or not?
I will. Wait, Ill come round in an hour.
She returned home, stoked the fire, filled buckets with water to warm.
Her husband never once came out to see if she needed help.
Margarets heart ached when Daisy, innocently trusting, gazed at her.
An hour later, it was done. Gavin was dressing the beef, and Margaret was hauling in cuts of meat.
Why isnt your husband helping? he asked, almost angry.
Hes a town man, doesnt know one end of a farm from the other.
She passed Gavin a big bowl of meat, her eyes brimming: For you, for your help. Thank youif not for you
Thats too much, he objected.
He took the bowl, meeting her gazesteady and reverentand Margaret stilled, feeling the weight of that moment.
Just then Alex staggered onto the porch, drunk and shouting,
Oi! Whore you nattering with out here? Dont forget about me! Wheres my beef, eh? And you still owe me a wedding night, woman!
Gavin went cold.
So youve married him, then? he said quietly.
Margaret nodded, shivering, breathing into her numb hands. Yes.
Gavin dropped the bowl into the snow, picked up his tools and left.
Daughter
Married life soured quickly.
All Alex did, it seemed, was drink and eatand mostly, meat. He even learned to fry and boil it himself.
The yard, once lively, stood empty. Only Buttercup, the cat, mewed pitifully at Margarets feet.
Alex grumbled, That blasted cat. Whyd you bring it in? Out with him, let it live rough.
Alice came to visit, took one look at her mothers new husband snoring into his dinner, and scolded:
So this is your married life?
Dont nag, love. Alex is a good manhes just under strain, after moving from the city. Give him time.
Mum, dont make excuses for a drunk. Youre just his skivvy, not his wife.
But look at this house! I never dreamed Margaret protested.
Alice shook her head. Face factsits not even yours, and youre not the mistress here. You left your own home for a leech. If he throws you out, where will you go?
After a quick visit, Alice readied to leave.
Take some meat for your trip home, Margaret fussed, heading for the store cupboardwhere she found a padlock.
Margaret tugged at the locked door, puzzled, then went to wake her husband.
Alex, why have you locked the store? Wheres the key?
He frowned: And why do you need it?
To give some meat to Alice for her journey.
No kids, Maggie. Thats the deal.
What are you talking about?
Margaret stared at him in disbelief, searching his pockets for the keys. But Alice, having overheard, wrinkled her nose:
Well, thats that. Dont bother with the meatIm leaving, and Im not coming back.
Margaret was crushed.
By evening, Alex had sobered and slammed his fist on the table.
Listenmy brother died recently, and this house was in his name. Now, his widow claims it.
Margaret gasped, hand to mouth.
She calledsays I have to move out.
Whatll we do, Alex?
What do your lot do in the village, eh? Dont give inhave a child, or better, two, refuse to budge, lock up and fight for it. Tough times, but youve got to win the house.
Margaret shook her head.
I cant, AlexIm not that sort.
Alex poured another glass, knocking it back. Well, if youre too feeble, well move to yours.
He fished cold meat from the pot and ate it straight.
Charlottes a right cow, scarpered as soon as she learnt the truth. As long as my brother paid, she lived in comfort. But the second he died and the money stopped, so did she.
Margarets eyes widened.
So thats why you stopped paying me
Exactly. But with you, I just had to beckon, and in you cameright into my bed.
Margaret recoiled.
Dont talk about me like that.
Oh, dont act the wronged woman. Youre my wife, arent you? You said for better, for worse. Get your thingswell strip this house clean when we go, right to the lightbulbs. Well even smash the windows on our way out, with a bang! Reckon your mate the butcher will help with the furniture?
Margaret found sudden clarityhed only married her for the house.
Did you ever love me at all?
He just smirked.
Youre not so young yourself, Maggie. Surely you knew what the score was.
You never loved me.
And you? Didnt you only want this house?
Alex finished his meat, tossed the bone on the table, and pulled out another bottle.
How could I trust you I didnt even save poor Daisymy breadwinner, Margaret sobbed softly.
Her decision came instantly. She took the key to the store cupboard, opened it, and knew she must leave, file for divorce.
Why stay with a man who saw her as help, who never cared for her?
She was beyond exhausted by his endless demands for food and service.
The cupboard and meat barrel were almost empty.
Margaret searchedno meat left. She returned to the kitchen.
Wheres all the meat, Alex? When did you take it?
Never you mind. Traded it for something.
Ah, for those crates of booze you squirrelled away in the cellar, right? You selfish pig! That meat could have kept us for a year, and you got rid of it in a month! What are you going to live on now?
He smiled, palms up. Got you, havent I? Youll think of something.
Go to hell, Alex! Im doneIll file for divorce first thing.
Epilogue
The divorce went through, but it wasnt over.
With nowhere left, Alex tried another trickhe broke into Margarets home while she slept, creeping to her bedside.
Margaret woke with a start as someone fell into her bed, grabbing her.
Oh God, who is it? she shrieked.
Dont shout, Maggie, its only your Alex.
Dont touch me! she cried, bolting from the house in her nightclothes.
She ran barefoot through snow to Maureens house, banging at the window.
Whos there? Maureen called.
Its me, Maureenlet me in!
Margaret? What are you making such a racket foris there a fire?
Maureen opened the door and Margaret dashed inside, out of breath.
Worselock the door, quickly! In case that brute comes
Who?
My ex-husband. Oh Maureen, you were right. Hes no match for me. I should have listened
Margaret hid with Maureen for weeks, until Alex finally left the village.
Even then, Margaret was afraid to return home, dreading another uninvited visit. But nothing happened.
Her house greeted her in ruincupboards bare, not a morsel left, no barley or flour, no potatoes in the cellar, no jars of preserves.
Margaret sat at the filthy table, head in hands.
So thats marriage for you, she thought bitterly. Now Ive not even Daisy. How will I manage?
Just then the door creaked open and Gavin entered, Buttercup the cat in his arms.
Maggie, I spoke with Alex, told him to leave you in peace. And I took your cat in. Fine catcaught a mouse from my cellar every day.
Margaret hugged her cat, sobbing at last.
Oh Gavin, thank you.
Are those tears for me kicking him out? That swine was selling your firewood for next to nothing
Margaret wept harder.
Dont, Gavindont
For what?
For not being what you hoped. For looking down my nose at you
Ill go light your stove, andMaggie, mums fired up the bath at ours. Shes baked as well. Let me take you home for now. Why stay in this cold house, all alone?
***
After a while, Margaret and Gavin married. Alice forgave her mother, even visiting with her husband from time to time.
Alexander returned to London, where rumour had it he married an older widow.
Each summer, the wife of the late businessman whod built the fancy house returned for a holiday. She turned out pleasant.
She was the first to call at Margarets, bringing a pieneighbours at last.
They became friendly; Margaret asked, What exactly was Alexanders illness? The neighbour just laughed.
Alex, ill? Dont make me laugh. Fit as a fiddle, that oneexcept he drinks like a fish. Back in the city, he ran up huge bar tabs, but my late husband pitied him, let him have this house to try country life, hoping hed mend his ways. No chanceAlex never changed. He drinks to this day.Margaret smiled at thatreally smiled, with warmth that reached her eyes. As they sipped tea in the low sunlight, the season changed outside, and daisies dotted the grass where her cow once grazed. Life was not as shed expected, not as shed dared hope long ago, but it was hers.
That evening, Gavin returned from his round with a bouquet of wildflowers, gathered from the hedgerows. He set them on the table, and Buttercup nosed them curiously. The kitchen bustled again: a kettle boiled, bread warmed, a cake cooled on the sill. Gavin rolled up his sleeves without a word and set to mending a broken latch, whistling off-key, while Margaret kneaded dough, flour dusting her hands like soft snow.
As dusk fell, Alices voice rang out from the lane, and laughterlight, easy, genuinefilled the old cottage once more. Margaret lifted her daughters coat onto a peg and pressed a cup into her hands, feeling, finally, the weight in her chest lighten.
After supper, when Alice had gone to tuck her little ones in bed, Gavin reached across the scarred wood of the table, his hand covering Margarets. No more meat barrels, Maggie, he murmured. Well make do on milk, eggs, good bread, and what the garden yields. Out here, thats more than enough.
She looked at him, truly looked, and saw not what had been lost, but what had quietly grown in its place: trust, care, and the slow mending of old wounds.
Outside, a woodcock called and the moon rose, silvering the steam on their tea. Margaret caught her own reflection in the glassolder, yes, but unbowed. For the first time in many years, she felt safe in her own home. And when she finally slipped into bed beside Gavin, Buttercup curled behind their knees, she thought: for better, for worsefor all of itI am home.
