“Of course, I remember everything perfectly well.”
“I dont remember because it never happened!” said Gingerworth, looking at her with his honest, old-mans eyes.
The conversation died out abruptly, and they each went their separate ways.
“Why did he lie?” thought Margaret. “It was obvious from his eyes!”
“Would you like me to be your Kay?” proposed eleven-year-old Timmy Gingerworth to his classmate Margaret Sparrow, the girl he fancied.
“What kind of Kay?” she asked, surprised.
“Well, like in the story! Havent you read it? The Snow Queen enchanted him, and Greta saves him!”
“Greta saves him? Its Gerda who saves him!” Sparrow said with disdain. “Honestly, some expert on Hans Christian Andersen you are!”
“Whats the difference? Greta, Gerda?” Gingerworth waved it off, never one to fuss over details. “Im askingdo you want me to be your Kay?”
She didnt. Timmy was scrawny, with ears that stuck out, and noticeably shorter than her. Though, admittedly, rescuing someone that small mightve been easier.
But she was sturdy, half a head tallerhow embarrassing would it be to walk beside him after such a rescue? No thanks! Besides, her heart already belonged to someone elsethe class dunce, Billy Pudding.
As it happened, Billy was nearby, listening to their exchange with interest.
Straightening her hair ribbon, Margaret spoke loudlyBilly had to hear”Oh, please, Kay? Youre not even fit to play the reindeer! So, Kay, scram and dont come back!”
Billy burst into laughter, and Timmy, startled, glanced his way before bolting. The next day, in front of everyone, he retaliated by calling Sparrow “Margaret the Haggis”revenge is sweet and mine is bitter indeed!
Well, what did you expect, Sparrow? Not every man takes rejection lightly. And hed been turned down
Scrawny Timmy had brains, though, which more than made up for his lack of brawn.
But yesterday, stung by the slap from the girl he liked, hed frozenanyone wouldve.
Now it wasnt just Pudding laughing, but the whole classthe nickname caught on! It was hilarious, even if the word “hilarious” hadnt been in fashion back then.
Naturally, when Margaret complained at home about the cruel nickname, she was comforted and consoled.
But one day, her father was helping with algebra, and she just wouldnt grasp the basics. Frustrated, he snapped
“That Gingerworth boy was rightyour heads full of haggis!”
Then he added
“Give him my regards!”
Somehow, Timmy was to blame for this tooher father had never spoken to her like that before
By graduation, the drama had fadedchildhood grudges, crushes, and slights were forgotten. They even danced together a couple of times. Timmy had outgrown Margaret by then, turning into a tall, athletic ladhed taken up sports.
Billy got booted to trade school after Year 8back then, they didnt mess around. Long-distance romance wasnt easy either, so sorry, Billy-boy
After school, their paths divergedMargaret went into teaching, Timmy, like any bright lad, headed to Imperial College.
Theyd bump into each other occasionally, living nearby, exchanging a word or two.
Life eventually pulled them apartboth married and moved away. Visits to their parents street became rare, and reunions with old classmates grew awkwardbest avoided, really.
The years turned boys into balding, beer-bellied blokes, girls into hefty aunties with opinions. And Sparrow was no exception.
Never slim to begin with, shed grown even sturdiera proper country matron, like something out of a Constable painting. One wrong step, and shed flatten you!
All she lacked was a milk pail and a prize-winning cow in the background.
Sparrow was typicalbut Gingerworth wasnt. Hed stayed lean, almost unchanged since school.
By forty-five, Margaret had climbed to deputy headmistress. Peter Gingerworth worked as an engineerjust your average working life.
Then came the wild nineties. For Margaret-the-Haggis, it coincided with her daughter Zoeys marriageshed brought home a “horseless” groom. “Were having a baby!”
Between the chaos outside and now inside their home, it was too much.
The factory where the groom weldeddecent wages, state perkswas repurposed into a warehouse, rented out for self-help seminars. Because apparently, people couldnt grow on their own anymore.
Outside the factory, there was nothing to weld. The trade was suddenly obsolete.
So off to flog coats and jeans at the marketthose still sold! First, a seminar on how to sell them properly.
Johnny refused”Im a sixth-grade welder! What do I know about coats?”
Pregnant Zoey stayed home. Now they were both jobless.
Margaret and her husband, also an engineer, scrambledshe started importing coats from Greece. So much for education! Extra learning just brings extra sorrow!
Her husband became a courierengineering wasnt respected anymore. Capitalism, eh? Well, you wanted itnow live with it.
By the late nineties, things stabilised. Then the crash hit.
Clever Margaret and her husband had stashed some savings in dollars. That August dayinfamous for yearstheir money suddenly bought not a one-bed, but a two-bed flat!
Yesterday, they were paupers. Today, comfortably offwhat a financial twist! How many more of these twists were coming?
At last, they could move Zoey, her growing daughter, and Johnnystill scraping byinto their own place. Thered be no welding jobs for years
There was even enough left for a decent refurb. Zoey moved out, and Margaret returned to schooltough old birds like her were always needed! Welcome back, misssame old job!
They even nudged aside the current deputy”Youre too soft, love! Sometimes you need the stick, not the carrot!” And the kids these days? Different breed.
She hardly saw her old classmate.
At sixty, Margarets husband, Mike, left. On his way out, he said shed crushed him with her authorityhe was a person too!
Ah, greetings, self-help gurusyour legacy in full bloom.
The new century declared sixty-five the new active agewhoops, our mistake! But now were sureactive!
The worst part? Mike left for nothingnot even an affair. Just a friends spare room in a shared flatthe discomfort didnt stop him.
Zoey had long moved out. Margaret was alone.
Work didnt fill the voidcolleagues werent friends, just subordinates.
Pouring her heart out to strangers didnt appealtheyd only use it against her later.
People were so bitter these days! And with all these eclipses, Mercury always retrograde, the magnetic field thinningno wonder tempers flared!
Sometimes her grown-up granddaughter visiteda product of exams and ads, forever in headphones, phone in hand. The girl was nearly twenty.
They had nothing to talk about. Not that it matteredno one listened anyway.
At seventy, they “retired” Margaret. She didnt protestschoolyard troublemakers could overpower her now.
And so, her world shrank to the size of her old flat.
Occasionally, shed run into aged Timmy in the courtyardboth back in their parents homes, long since passed. So the reunions grew more frequent.
Peter lived alone nowhis wife had died. He enjoyed chatting with the plump Sparrow, reminiscing about school days.
Today, they met by the shop and wandered off to chat.
The conversation swung back and forthsilly, happy childhood moments.
Everything was happy then. Life stretched ahead, and the sun always shone.
“Remember when you wanted to be my Kay?” Margaret suddenly asked.
Theyd never brought it up before.
“Me? Your Kay?” Peter frowned. “When was this?”
“Year Five, I think!”
“Meas Kay?” He scoffed. “Have you lost the plot, Sparrow? Never happened! Look at my earsdo I look like Kay? And you? Couldnt even climb a rope! More a bandit than Gerda! Try harder!”
“So you remember the rope but not Kay?” Her tone sharpenedthe deputy headmistress resurfacing. “Selective memory, is it? Sit down, youve got an F!”
“I dont remember because it never happened!” Peter said firmly, meeting her gaze.
Maybe his mind had purged the memorynothing but embarrassment left.
Old age changes perspective.
Farted on a potty in nurserymortifying now! Sixty-five was fine, but seventy? The shame!
And if I dont remember it, it didnt
