14October 2025
Dear Diary,
I still cant shake the memory of that ridiculous argument with Keith. How could you, Keith? We were both laughing at that unwashed village girl! I shouted, storming out of the kitchen, outraged by his careless remark. He tried to apologise, muttering that a devil must have led him astray, and that he still couldnt understand how he ended up in bed with Bun. He frowned, cursed under his breath and smoked a shaky cigarette.
A few months ago a new family moved into the flat opposite ours: Nigel, Lucy and their fiveyearold daughter, Vicky. Keith and I are both thirty, our son is six, and the newcomers are twentyfive. Living on the same floor made it inevitable that wed get to know each other well.
Lucy was a proper country girl, the sort whod grown up on a farm and loved nothing more than baking. Cakes, scones and pies had a place of honour in her kitchen, and shed often barreling through the doorway, arms full of trays. Keith and I, halfin jest, started calling her Bun because of her round, plump figure. Her kitchen was a shrine to jars of preserves and picklessomething I could never quite match.
I liked to think of myself as attractive and wellkept, while Lucy was forever in a threadbare housecoat with a tiny bun of hair atop her head. Nigel, thin as a reed, and his chubby daughter were always wellfed, which was perhaps Lucys greatest talent. Despite our differences, we became friends. Nigel was a longhaul truck driver, often away on the road. Hed met Lucy in some remote village shop while buying cigarettes; shed fixed her eyes on the lanky stranger, and he never stood a chance of slipping by unnoticed.
Nine months later Lucy gave birth to a daughter, a baby girl for that wandering trucker. Nigel brought Lucy and the baby to the city. When I introduced my sudden new family to my mother, she flatly refused to accept either the country lass or the newborn granddaughter. Nigel had to find a flat of his own.
Keiths comments about Lucys looks never stopped. How can you not love yourself? A woman should he would start, trailing off. Then my mother fell ill, a mild but persistent sickness. At first Nigel, my husband, and I took turns caring for her, but eventually we decided to hire a caregiver. Lucy volunteered. Ill help you out for a bit, and in return I need to buy my husband a rubber boat for fishing keep it a secret, let it be a surprise, she said, brightening at the prospect.
When I asked her not to force my mothers foodher illness left her without appetiteshe obliged. Soon after, work sent me on a longterm assignment overseas. I gave Keith, our son, and Lucy my instructions and left for another city.
A month passed before I returned. Keith avoided my gaze, and Lucy tried not to cross my path. My son, emerging from the hallway, asked, Mum, could you make the same tasty chips as Aunt Lucys? I loved her meatball. I asked, wary, Did Aunt Lucy serve you? He replied, She brought Vicky over, and dad took her away. My mind started piecing things together: Nigel was on a delivery, and I was away on a job.
That evening, after a hearty dinner, I confronted Keith. I know everything, dont try to deny it. Our son told me everything, I said, clinging to the hope that perhaps I was imagining things. He only sighed, Nothing happened. Lucy asked me to fix the tap. I tried to lighten the mood, Relax, youre not going to run off with Lucy. Yet, Keith began visiting his ailing mother more often, lingering there longer than before.
When I went to see my mother, she sat calmly, wellkept but alone. I searched for Nigel and Bun, and rang Lucys flat. A tired Lucy opened the door while my pale husband lay on a couch in the background. I walked back to my own flat in silence, my mind a swirl of disbelief. Keith, who had once called Lucy a slob, was now intimate with her! I never felt the pang of jealousy for the kitchen maid. When Keith rushed in after me, I pointed disdainfully toward the bathroom. Take a shower. Wash properly! Think youre funny? Ill tell Nigel everything. Hell have a word with you, I threatened, laughing to myself and picturing Nigels tiny fists jabbed at Keiths nose.
Lucy eventually confessed her affair to Nigel. I have no idea how his pride held up, but within a week the whole lot moved out. As they left, Nigel, spotting me, said proudly, No wonder it turned out this way. Who could resist my Lucy?
Time passed, and I ran into Bun one afternoon. Hey, love! Still upset? Dont be. In our village drama is everywhere. I havent lost a penny, and your husbands still happy. Youre always away on assignments you cant leave a starving husband for long, Lucy chided, teaching me the rural code of conduct. She held the hand of a little girl who looked uncannily like my own husband
I suppose some things never change, even when the scenery does.
