Two friends, two destinies
Valerie Hughes stared at her reflection with a heavy heart.
Old age is a hard thing, she muttered, noting the sagging cheeks, double chin and a map of wrinkles across her face. At sixtysix she felt the weight of every year, especially after a life as hard as hers had been. She sighed, then tried to fasten the hair rollers her daughter had slipped onto her head that morning.
The rollers were a birthday gift from her daughter, Emma, for the villages golden jubilee fifty years since Bramley County Middle School first opened its doors. Valerie had been among the first cohort to graduate from that very school.
The school was being festooned with banners for the occasion; officials from Leeds were due to attend, and the whole parish would gather. Former classmates had promised to travel back, though most lived far away and few would actually make the trip. Many had already passed on, the years having taken their toll.
Buddy, the family terrier, began to bark in the yard. Valerie peeked through the kitchen window and saw a woman lingering by the gate. She slipped on her threadbare coat and went to greet the guest. At first she could not place her, but as the woman spoke, recognition dawned it was her old schoolmate, Gwen Harper.
I got the invitation and thought Id come home for once, Gwen said, her eyes bright with a mix of hope and melancholy. I have nowhere else to stay. My own family are long gone. Will you let me stay?
Of course, Valerie replied, and the two women embraced, tears slipping down their cheeks were they joy or sorrow?
You look wonderful, Valerie said, admiring her guests tidy dress.
Gwen laughed. Ive lived in the city all my life. My husband was a senior manager, and I had to keep up appearances. If Id stayed in a village, Id be just like you! Sorry if Im being presumptuous.
Its all right, Valerie assured her. Youre not offending me. I can see the difference you look at least fifteen years younger, even though were the same age.
That evening, the elegantly dressed women walked to the school together. Only eight people had managed to travel from the city, and many struggled to recognize one another after so many years. After the formal ceremony, tables were laid out, and glasses were raised in a toast to reunion what would a celebration be without a drink? Laughter and stories filled the room, and they stayed until just after midnight.
Gwen returned to Valeries cottage; neither wanted to go to bed. They talked until the first light of dawn. Gwen spoke of her city life: a good husband who had died three years earlier, and a daughter who lived in London, had graduated from university and married a childfree couple. Gwen pronounced the term childfree with a mix of pride and confusion. When Valerie asked, Gwen explained it referred to people who consciously chose not to have children.
Gwen admitted it pained her, but there was little she could do. Her daughter visited only a handful of times, always busy with a demanding career, and even missed her own fathers funeral. The daughters highranking job meant she could not easily travel, and she never invited her mother to stay, though she did send money. With that support, Gwen could afford a short stay at a spa and survive on a modest pension, the kind she had earned little of because her husband had kept her from working.
Are you also a widow? Gwen asked. I heard your husband, Nicholas, was a heavy drinker. Where are your children?
Valerie sighed. Its the same story for most of the village lads. When the local timber mill closed, work vanished and men turned to the bottle. My husband was sober most of the time, never a word out of place, but when he drank he became a monster. Anger flew from every crack. I was his greatest enemy then, fighting for survival. We kept a few piglets, two sows, selling the piglets when they grew. My own health suffered from the constant stress. He finally gave up drinking and smoking, but it was too late his body was ruined.
My children are all still in the village, Valerie continued. My daughter, Lucy, finished teacher training and now teaches at the primary school; her husband, the headmaster, is also a local councillor. They fought hard to keep the school from being reduced to just nine grades, even writing to London to secure funding. My twin sons serve together in the army, posted at a coastal base where the pay is good. I have six grandchildren, two from each child, and they all love having a big family. The lads dont drink much now, only on special occasions, after seeing what the old ways did to us.
The next morning Valerie walked Gwen to the bus stop, giving her a parcel of smoked ham with layers of fat and a jar of raspberry jam. Outside, the wind made Valeries modest coat look even more out of place beside Gwens sleek down jacket, fashionable fur hat and lowheeled boots. Valerie wore a longstanding overcoat, now out of style, woollen clogs on her feet, and a fluffy shawl over her shoulders.
The bus arrived, the friends hugged tightly, promising to call each other. Gwen hopped aboard with ease; Valerie shuffled home with a slow, heavy step.
Life had given the two women a similar start, yet their paths diverged wildly. Was it chance, luck, or some hidden force that steered their destinies? Perhaps the answer lies not in blaming fate, but in recognising that the choices we make, the people we hold dear, and the compassion we extend can turn even the hardest roads into journeys worth travelling. The true measure of a life is not where it ends, but how warmly we keep each others hearts along the way.
