Past Love and a New Union
Hope and her husband, Albert, sat at the dining table in their cosy cottage in the village of Oakendale. Suddenly, a knock echoed at the door. Standing on the threshold was Faith, an old schoolmate of Hope’s. The hosts exchanged glances, their faces betraying surprise. Faith rarely visited, and her appearance now was unexpected.
“Come in, Faith,” said Hope, masking her bewilderment. “You’ve certainly caught us off guard.”
“I won’t beat around the bush,” Faith began, barely over the threshold. “I reckon you, like me, want what’s best for your children—happy and close by…”
“Spit it out, then,” Albert frowned. “Sit down. Hope’s made a proper beef stew. Have some.”
“My son’s decided to marry,” Faith blurted, her gaze steady.
“Blimey! What’s that got to do with us?” Albert set his spoon aside.
Hope and Albert were lost, the tension thickening like fog in the room.
Earlier that week, Hope and her daughter, Lily, had walked through the village lanes. Two neighbours huddled by the roadside, gossiping. At the sight of Hope, they fell silent, straining for news of her trip to visit her eldest son.
After pleasantries, Hope and Lily paused, exchanged brief words about the neighbours’ affairs, and mentioned the grandson and his mother. Just as they turned to leave, a woman passed by. Smirking, she called out, “Well, if it isn’t my old schoolmate! How are things? In a hurry, are we?”
Hope met her dark, lash-fringed eyes with a faint smile. “Got to get back. Haven’t seen Albert in three days—miss him.”
Faith’s mocking glance raked over her. “Love comes and goes. If you ever need a shoulder to cry on…”
Hope’s smile stayed light. “Your pity’s plain—but I’ll pass on your kindness.”
She and Lily walked on.
“Mum, why’s she so snippy?” Lily asked. “Always got something sharp to say.”
“That’s just her way,” Hope replied, though she knew the truth behind the bitterness.
“She needles you every time. And you always know how to answer. Why does she hate you?”
“Want the truth?” Hope chuckled. “Faith fancied your dad. He chose me instead.”
Lily froze. “Really? He loved you both and picked you? Why?”
Hope laughed. “Ask your father.”
That evening, after supper, Lily curled beside her father on the sofa as he watched telly. Nestling close, she asked suddenly, “Dad… why did you pick Mum over Aunt Faith?”
Albert blinked at his daughter, then glanced at his wife.
“Go on, then. She’s curious,” Hope smiled.
“Long time ago, but clear as yesterday,” Albert began. “Our school’s Christmas play. Your mum was the Snow Maiden, and my mate Jack—tallest lad in class—played Father Christmas. That blue dress matched her eyes, hair in a braid down her back… My heart just went.”
He chuckled. “Too shy to say anything. Then I left for basic training—thought she’d forget me. But once, on leave, I saw her in the village shop. Told her I was shipping out. Thought she’d shrug. Instead, she cried.”
“‘So I won’t see you for ages?’ she said. Near leapt for joy. Hugged her, whispered, ‘Two years’ll fly. Write me, yeah?’ She nodded, kissed my cheek, and ran off.”
Albert grinned. “Those letters got me through. Came home, proposed straight off. Done.”
“Dad, that’s proper romantic!” Lily sighed.
“Oi, none of that yet,” he teased.
Lily giggled and bolted upstairs.
Faith and Hope had shared a classroom. Sturdy where Hope was delicate, Faith had sharp features, while Hope’s quiet strength came from growing up with three brothers. Their father had drilled them all in exercise—Hope could chin a bar as well as any lad.
Once, in gym class, she’d stunned everyone by matching the boys’ pull-ups. After, the lads respected her; the girls seethed behind snide remarks.
Kind and quick-witted, Hope answered barbs with proverbs or sharp retorts.
By sixth form, most girls had beaus. Faith fancied Albert—slipped him notes, begged dances at the village hall. But after service, he’d proposed to Hope. From then, a quiet war simmered.
Faith married a classmate, settled nearby—just as Hope’s first son arrived. Years passed. Hope bore two sons, then Lily, while Faith remained childless. Doctors found no cause, though Faith suspected a terminated pregnancy in her youth had left her barren.
Watching Hope’s family grow twisted the knife. But at last, Faith bore a son, Andrew, mere weeks after Lily’s birth.
The boys became friends at school. At seven, Lily gained a baby sister.
Recently, Hope and Lily returned from visiting the eldest son. On the lane, they’d met Faith, still quick with a barb. She’d no idea Lily—now grown—would soon upend their feud.
Andrew, fresh from a raucous night with mates, spotted Lily returning from the shop. Head high, she ignored the rowdy lads.
“Oi, gorgeous! No ‘hello’?” Andrew winked at his friends.
Lily halted, curtsied mockingly. “Your Highness awakes! Deign to notice common folk?”
Laughter erupted as she walked off.
“What was that?” Andrew gaped.
“Put in your place, mate,” they jeered.
“Who is she?”
“Your mate Sam’s sister—Hope’s daughter. Firebrand, that one.”
“Sam’s kid sister? She’s tiny!”
“Not anymore. Second year at uni.”
From then, Andrew was smitten. Those green eyes haunted him. He tried chatting her up at the shop—she just smiled and walked on. Another time, he lurked by their garden, but her father appeared, sending him scurrying.
Dancing at the village hall was his last hope. But Lily wasn’t among the girls. His mates ribbed him mercilessly.
Then—“There’s Olive… and isn’t that your lass?”
Andrew’s pulse leapt—Lily in a sapphire dress. A slow song started. He strode over. She refused. Glowering, he watched. No one dared approach her.
He tried again—another rejection. His mates egged Lily on, but she held firm. Third time lucky—they swayed together.
“Making a fool of me?” he muttered. “Came just for you.”
“Testing you,” she said. “Three tries means you’re serious.”
Her smile left him dizzy. After, he walked her home—though she wouldn’t linger, fearing her dad’s wrath.
Next evening, Andrew vaulted their fence, hiding by the shed. When Lily appeared with a bucket, he swept her up. “Caught you, my dove.”
She wriggled free, fled inside. Heart pounding, Andrew slunk home, more determined than ever.
Come Sunday, as Hope, Albert, and Lily sat to roast beef, a knock came. Faith stood there—her second visit ever, the first being Hope’s mother’s funeral.
“Come in,” Hope said, masking unease. “Must be important.”
“It is.” Faith sat stiffly. “We both want our children happy. Close by.”
“Out with it,” Albert grunted.
“Andrew’s set on marrying,” Faith said. “Says if I won’t arrange it, he’ll leave—for good.”
“And?”
“He’s chosen Lily.”
Lily gasped, fled upstairs. Albert’s bread fell from his grip. “My Lily? You’re joking.”
“I’m here to see if you’ll allow proper courting. If so, we’ll do it right.”
“She’s too young!”
“Eighteen, love,” Hope said gently.
“You’d let her go so soon?” Albert’s voice trembled.
“Ask her. It’s her choice.”
Hope slipped out, put the kettle on.
“I won’t allow it,” Albert insisted.
“You married Hope at her age,” Faith said flatly. “Broke my heart, and now history repeats. Talk to Lily. Then decide.”
Hope returned. “She’s willing. Albert… it’s time.”
Two hours of arguing wore Albert down. Finally, he nodded.
Faith produced champagne, chocolates, and an emerald scarf. “For Lily—matches her eyes. Next weekend, we’ll come properly.”
After toasts and plans, Faith turned at the door. “Old grudges… don’t fret for Lily. Andrew adores her. He’s my only. I’ll make sure they’re happy.”
She kept her word. Till her last day, Faith stood by them, helping build the home she’d once resented.
They say mothers-in-law and daughters-in-law seldom getBut in the end, love built a bridge stronger than pride ever could.
