**The Prank**
Dancing before a small stage, the guests celebrated under the watchful eye of the guest of honour—sixty-five-year-old department head William. “Goodness, what a man…” the women murmured in uneven chorus, swaying to the singer’s voice.
Helen and her husband, drained from laughter, wine, and rich food, remained at the wrecked table. At the far end, two colleagues bickered while a third dozed, head slumped on folded arms.
Helen leaned close to her husband and whispered in his ear:
“Shall we go home? Everyone’s too tipsy to notice us slip away. My head’s throbbing from the noise.” For emphasis, she pressed her fingertips to her temples.
William cast a furtive glance around the room.
“You’re right—nothing left for us here. Let’s go,” he muttered.
Unnoticed, they left the restaurant.
“Ah, that’s better!” Helen inhaled the crisp night air deeply.
“Taxi?” William asked.
“No, let’s walk a bit.” She looped her arm through his, and they strolled slowly through dimly lit streets.
“Won’t your feet ache in those heels?”
“Then you’ll carry me, just like twenty years ago. Remember? I wore new shoes and got blisters. We walked from the cinema because we didn’t have a car yet, and the last bus had gone. You carried me all the way home.” Helen sighed wistfully.
William tucked her arm closer, confirming he remembered.
“Oh, we were so young then. Twenty years gone in a blink. Feels like yesterday we married, like yesterday I was expecting Alice—we were so happy…”
“A promotion’s coming soon—better pay, new opportunities. Alice is about to give us a grandchild. And my anniversary’s this autumn. We’re healthy. Isn’t that reason enough to be happy?” William countered.
Before Helen could reply, they reached home.
She showered first, washing away the evening’s glamour, emerging in a plush robe, hair still damp. William couldn’t help comparing her to Angela—his mistress’s smooth skin, youthful energy, molten eyes, cascading hair… *What time does to women. Will Angela look like this in twenty years? No, she’ll stay young to me. Always twenty years my junior. If only she were here now…*
The thought inflamed him so sharply he stepped under an icy shower to cool off.
Morning came. He pulled a crisply ironed shirt from the wardrobe, faintly scented with fabric softener, and grabbed the pre-matched tie Helen always hung beside it. The aroma of fresh coffee lured him to the kitchen.
“I’m driving to the cottage today. The apples must be dropping—I’ll gather them, make compote, bake a pie.” Helen set his coffee down.
“Why not wait? We could go together Saturday.” He bit into his toast.
“That’s three days off. They’ll spoil. Besides, I’ll check the place over.”
“Suit yourself.” He drained his cup.
“I’ll stay the night. No point rushing back in the dark. I’ve left dinner in the fridge.”
William paused mid-step. “You’re really staying?”
“Yes. Why? Did you have plans for me?” Her smile was thin.
“No. Just—be careful.” He left quickly.
The door clicked shut.
William started the car. Before pulling out, he dialled Angela.
“Morning. Did I wake you? Listen, love—Helen’s off to the cottage overnight. We’ve got the whole evening.”
“I see, darling,” she trilled back, a smacking kiss following.
“My clever girl. Tonight, then. Miss you already.” He pocketed his phone, turned up the radio, and drove off.
Everything was falling into place. *Finally, time to tell Helen everything. Angela’s been nagging—she wants more.*
After work, he bought an expensive bottle of wine and fresh fruit. Peering up at their flat, the dark windows confirmed Helen’s absence. He bounded upstairs two at a time, heart hammering in protest. *Age spares no one. Should join that gym…*
Rushing inside, he dumped the groceries in the kitchen—then froze.
A woman stood by the window, silhouetted against the evening light.
“You—you didn’t go?” His voice wavered. *Must call Angela, cancel—she’ll be here any minute.* “Why’s it so dark?”
“Surprise!” The voice was bright—but not Helen’s.
William’s jaw slackened. The woman turned.
Angela.
She’d pinned her hair up—just as Helen did. The resemblance in shadow had deceived him. He exhaled sharply, dropped the bag.
“Well? Did I shock you?” She laughed.
“I—you—how did you get in? Where are your keys?”
“Not happy to see me?” She embraced him, and all thoughts scattered.
Morning light woke him. Angela’s side of the bed was empty—then a clink from the kitchen, the scent of coffee… William grinned, stretching.
He showered, humming, then strolled out naked, towelling his hair.
“Good morning, dear.”
The voice wasn’t Angela’s.
William choked, clutching the towel. Helen stood before him, apron ruffles fluttering.
“You’re back?” His mind reeled.
“Covering up? After twenty years?” She smirked. “Dress properly and eat.”
Frantically, he searched the bedroom. No trace of Angela. *A dream? No—she was here. What’s happening?*
The wine bottle he’d left in the corner—gone.
Helen poured coffee, laid out toast. He bit in mechanically.
“Darling, you’re up?” Angela’s voice rang behind him.
William choked. Helen thumped his back.
*Hallucinating?* Too terrified to turn, he stiffened.
Angela strode in, sniffed the air. “How sweet—you made coffee.” She fetched a cup, unbothered by Helen’s presence.
Helen stood impassive, as if blind to Angela.
“You’re pale,” Angela remarked.
“Coming down with something?” Helen echoed.
“What is this?” William shoved his chair back.
“He’s delirious,” Angela sighed, resting a hand on Helen’s shoulder.
“It’s work time, love,” Helen said, smiling first at him, then at Angela.
William’s throat closed. “This is a prank. When did you two—?”
“Yesterday. After you rang me, gloating Helen would be away, I came to see her. You called her dull, frumpy, boring. I found a smart, elegant woman. No wonder you wouldn’t leave.”
Angela grinned. “At first, she wanted to throw me out. Then we hatched this little scheme. Worked brilliantly, didn’t it?” The women exchanged smiles like lifelong friends.
William sagged. “What now?”
“Traditionally, you’d pick one,” Angela mused. “But after meeting your wife? I’m stepping aside. No, don’t see me out—I’ll call a cab. Your number’s blocked. Don’t bother calling, though—I won’t hear it. The flat’s mine now—a new one. I want nothing from you. Sort things out with Helen. Though if I were her… Well. Her choice.”
Angela set down her cup and swayed out.
*Slam.*
Helen collapsed onto a chair.
“Helen, I—”
“Not now. Leave.” She turned to the window.
Numb, William drove off. *Played for a fool. Angela—fiery, young. But Helen? I never knew her at all.*
He’d expected screaming, smashed crockery. Instead, silence.
At work, he fumbled tasks. His phone calls to Angela went unanswered. *Blacklisted. Well, plenty more fish…*
By evening, he called Helen.
“Don’t hang up—we need to talk. It’s over with Angela, I swear—”
*Dial tone.*
Hope flickered—she’d heard him. But home was empty. The cottage? Locked.
“Lost your wife?” the neighbour chided. “Haven’t seen her.”
Next, their son-in-law. “Alice is in labour—why is it taking so long? I’m going mad—” *Click.*
No Helen there either. Where?
Memories flooded back: young Helen laughing, their runaway wedding…
*”Promise you’ll never let me down?” she’d teased.*
*”I’ll love you forever!” he’d roared, spinning her outside the registry office.*
Pulling over, William gripped the wheel. *How easy vows are to make. And break. Alice will side with her mother. A grandson coming… And I nearly threw it away for Angela? Was she worth it? Probably would’ve left me anyway.*
Now? No wife, no mistress. Just work. No one to iron his shirts, cook his meals…
The mirror mocked him: thinning grey hair. *Grandad.*
A lorry roared past,And as he sat alone in the silent house, the weight of his choices settled upon him like dust on an untended shelf.
