NEVER TOUCHED ANOTHER’S LOT
Back in school, Martha always scorned and yet secretly envied Nancy. She looked down on the girl because Nancys parents were notorious drunkards, scraping by on odd jobs, constantly skint. Nancy would shuffle into school, stomach hollow, wearing battered hand-me-downs, forever looking subdued. Her father would beat her for drinking too little, for drinking too much, for anything, really.
Her mother never stood up for her. She too was scared of her husbands heavy hand. Only Nancys grandmother shone a warm light in the girls dreary life. Once a month, out of her modest pension, Gran would hand out a little wage to her darling granddaughter for good behaviour. Though Nancy knew, even if she did something wrong, Gran would simply turn a blind eye and still give out the wage. Five pounds! For Nancy, that was the happiest day imaginable. Off shed dart to the corner shop, buying a tub of ice cream (one for herself, one for Gran), a slab of fudge and some boiled sweets.
Nancy longed to make the sweets last all month, but in a couple of days, somehow, they were all gone. Then Gran would fetch her own secret ice cream from the freezer and say,
Have mine, sweetheart. My throats been acting up today.
Nancy silently puzzled, Funny how Grans throat only seems to hurt the day the sweets run out And yet, she always quietly hoped for Grans share.
Marthas home was the very opposite. The house was always brimming. Her parents were well-off, doted on their daughter, and bought her the latest fashions each season. Classmates borrowed her things now and then for school events, and Martha lacked for nothingwell-fed, well-dressed, and smartly shod.
And yet, Martha envied Nancy her enchanting beauty, the sort of gentle spirit that drew people in, and her knack for getting on with everyone.
But Martha considered herself above even speaking to Nancy. When they met in the corridor, Marthas glance would send a cold shiver down Nancys spine, as if shed been doused in ice water. Once, right in front of their classmates, Martha sneered,
Youre so pitiful!
Nancy ran home, crying, pouring her pain out to Gran. Gran sat her granddaughter down gently, stroking her hair.
Dont cry, darling. Tomorrow, tell her, Youre right, I belong to God. Immediately, Nancy felt lighter.
Martha herself was attractive, but it was an icy kind of beautyaloof and untouchable.
There was someone everyone liked in their yearMaxwell. A bit of a rogue, always getting detentions, but a cheerful soul and joker. He never let a failed exam or another telling-off get him down; he was always positive and light-hearted. Teachers, for all their grumbling and scrawling red marks in his report, couldnt help but like him for his jovial spirit.
By sixth form, Maxwell had started walking Martha home after lessons. Mornings, hed wait by the school gate so they could go in together and everyone would joke,
Here comes the bride and groom!
Even the teachers knew that something tender was growing between Martha and Maxwell.
Then came their last day at school, followed by the prom. The young men and women fluttered out in all directions like birds. Martha and Maxwell married in a rushthe evidence of their love was already clear, no gown however lavish could hide it. Five months later, Martha brought a daughter into the worldSophie.
Nancy, after finishing school, had no choice but to start work. Gran had passed away. Nancys parents waited for her wages to help keep them going. There were offers of marriage enough, but something never quite clicked. She didnt want to hurry it, and besides, felt ashamed of her drunken parents.
Time rolled on; ten years passed.
Outside the addiction clinic stood two couplesNancy with her mother, Maxwell with Martha.
Nancy recognised Maxwell at once; hed grown into a well-set, handsome man. But Martha was a sight to break your heartso thin, hands trembling, eyes dim and haunted, a woman aged far beyond her twenty-eight years.
Maxwell flashed Nancy an apologetic look.
Hello, classmate, he said, clearly embarrassed to be seen here, especially by Nancy.
Hello, Maxwell. Looks like youre having a hard time. How longs Martha been like this? Nancy was quick to grasp the scene.
A long time, Maxwell said quietly, shame-faced.
A woman who drinks is a disaster. I know from my own mum. And Dad, well, he drank himself into an early grave, Nancy said, hurting for both herself and Maxwell.
After the appointment, Maxwell and Nancy swapped numbers, just in case. Misery, after all, loves company. Before long, Maxwell took to visiting Nancy, seeking her adviceshe, after all, had years of bitter experience.
Nancy gladly shared what shed learnt the hard way: how to handle a drinking family member, which treatments worked, and what you should never, ever do. She understood better than most how more men drowned in the bottle than in the sea.
In time, Maxwell revealed that he and his daughter Sophie had been living alone for ages; Martha had moved in with her parents. Maxwell had shielded Sophie from her mothers unpredictable bouts.
The last straw came one evening when Maxwell returned home to find Martha, drunk, sprawled on the floor, while three-year-old Sophie was teetering on the edge of the fifth-storey window. That was the end. You never really know what goes on inside anothers heart. Martha refused treatment, convinced she could stop whenever she choseher life spiralled ever deeper.
Their marriage crumbled.
Some months later, Maxwell invited Nancy out to a restaurant. There he admitted that hed loved her since their school days, but had always feared rejectionand when Marthas pregnancy happened, life swept him up before hed had the chance to say anything. Meeting her again at the clinic seemed like fate. Speaking with Nancy was like tasting honey.
Eventually, Maxwell proposed. Hed finally unlocked her heart. Truth be told, Nancy had liked him for a long time too, but would never have dreamed of getting between Martha and her husband. But now everything was differentMaxwell was free and loved Nancy dearly. The path was clear. Her love was finally wanted and safe.
Nancy and Maxwell married quietly, without fanfare. Nancy moved into his home. At first, little Sophie eyed her warily, suspecting shed now have to share her fathers affection. But Nancy enveloped her in such warmth, kindness and care that Sophie soon wanted to call her mum. Two years on, Sophie welcomed a baby sister, Mary.
One day, the phone rang. Nancy answered; standing at the door was Martha. Only her voice gave her away. The reek of gin and her dishevelled state told the whole story.
You viper, you stole my husband and daughter! I knew Id always hate you! Martha spat.
Nancys face didnt twitch. She stood tall, confident, cared-for and serene.
Ive never taken what belonged to another. You left your family of your own accord, never once understanding what you truly had. I have never once spoken ill of you. Truly, Martha, I only feel sorry for you
With that, Nancy quietly closed the door against the unwelcome visitor.
