Life Has a Way of Changing Plans
Margaret grew up in a modest household in a small terraced house in Manchester. Her parents, both engineers, struggled to make ends meet. She often envied the other girls at school who wore pretty dresses, while she had little beyond her school uniform and a couple of old frocks.
After finishing school and enrolling at university, she made herself a promise:
«My home will be different. My life will be different.»
And she made it happenthough not overnight. For a while, she taught English and literature at a local school, then moved to the education department. Later, an old university friend offered her a position at a foreign-invested firm.
«Come on, Maggie, youve got nothing to lose,» her friend said, mentioning a salary that made Margarets jaw drop. «The teams brilliant, and I know youyoure sharp and capable.»
«Thanks, love,» Margaret smiled. «Ill take it. We could all use the money.»
By then, she was married to Edward, and their son, Tommy, was four. They lived with Edwards parents, which was cramped, and they depended on them. Edward worked as a dental technician.
The new job exceeded all Margarets expectations. She loved the work, earned handsomely, and soon bought a spacious flat on a mortgage. Then came the luxury car. Her dedication didnt go unnoticedbonuses followed, and before long, she was promoted to deputy director.
Success changed her. She grew a bit haughty, especially around Edwards family. After all, they lived far better than his sister, Lucy.
«Maggie, hurry up, well be late,» Edward urged as they prepared for Lucys birthday. «And please, try to be kind. I want this to go smoothly.»
Margaret nodded. She meant to be on her best behaviour, though she wasnt keen on visiting Lucy and Simon. «Everything about them is so dull,» she thought, adjusting her makeup. «Old-fashioned sandwiches, cheap wine, no elegance. And that tiny flatthree kids, a little greengrocers shop, barely scraping by.»
Finally ready, she swept out in a stylish dress. Edward and Tommy, waiting on the sofa, jumped up. «About time!»
The walk-up to the fifth-floor flat soured her mood. The narrow hallway, the crowded table, the children shriekingLucy herself wore faded jeans and a checked shirt. «Couldnt she dress up for her own birthday?» Margaret sighed, sitting beside Edward.
She handed Lucy an expensive perfume. «Oh, Maggie, thank you. You always know what to pick.»
Margaret glanced aroundpeeling wallpaper, worn furniture. It all needed replacing. Simon, Lucys husband, had always irked her with his smirks. She assumed he was jealous. Lucy, after all, never bothered with manicures.
«Hows work, Maggie? Nearly director yet?» he asked, grinning.
«Fine, nearly,» she forced a smile. «Youve quite the crowd tonight.»
«Lucys well-liked. Thats why theyre here.» Simon cast an adoring glance at his wife.
The evening passed without incident. Back home, lounging on their plush sofa with Spanish wine, Edward remarked, «Well, that went alright.»
«It was tolerable. We dont like each other, so lets drop it,» Margaret said, swirling her glass.
Edward agreed.
The next morning, Margaret announced, «Ive a salon appointment tomorrow, so you two will have to manage. Its the weekendtake Tommy out for lunch. The fridge is nearly empty. Youll cope?»
«Like weve a choice,» Edward sighed. «You couldve asked first. Fine, go ahead. Well sort something.»
Come Monday, whispers of layoffs spread at work. The director was leaving, and everyone assumed Margaret would take his place.
«Maggie, youre surely next in line,» a colleague said over coffee.
«Ive heard nothing,» she replied.
Then came the summons. The CEO called her in. She strode down the corridor, certain of a promotion.
«Margaret, take a seat,» he began politely, then shifted tone. «Youre brilliantyou know that. But heres the problem. The directors leaving, and his entire teams being let goyou included. Its not performance. Just cuts. Youll get a generous severance.»
She left in a daze, collected her things, and went home. Tommy was at school; Edward was at work. She sank onto the sofa and wept.
«All those late nights, thinking I was indispensable. And nownothing.»
«Dont fret,» Edward soothed that evening. «Youll find something else.»
«Edward, where? Nothing pays like this!»
«Well manage. Im working, weve savings. Itll sort itself.»
«Youre wonderful,» she murmured, clinging to him. «But that doesnt help.»
For weeks, she sent CVs, scoured adsnothing. The silence gnawed at her.
«Edward, we must cut back,» she said one day. «Severance wont last forever. No more eating out. Ill cookthough Im rubbish at it.»
«I prefer home cooking,» he smiled. «Youll learn.»
A call finally camean interview. The man across the desk wore a crisp white shirt, a sharp suit, a polished smile.
«Your CV is impressive,» he said.
«Ive climbed every rung at my old firm.»
«Except the top. Your sons grownno more children planned?» She stiffened.
«Thats hardly relevant,» she snapped.
«Just ensuring commitment. Now, salary expectations?»
She named a figure close to her old one. His eyebrows shot up.
«Thats steep. We offer half, partly bonus-based. Jobs like that dont grow on trees. I see our terms dont suit you…»
She left fuming. At home, she ranted about undervalued experience.
January and February brought snow and frost. They sold the Mercedesa shame, but necessary.
«Youll miss it,» Edward said, stroking her hair. «Well buy something smaller. Tough times pass.»
Then Lucy called.
«Maggie, can I pop round? Need to talk.»
Over coffee, Lucy offered, «I need help at the shop. Simons starting a tiling businesshes good at it. I cant run the place alone. Stock, shelves, the lot. Supermarkets pinch our trade, but we manage. Fancy it?»
Margaret was speechless.
«You want me hauling potatoes?» she finally choked out.
«Ill handle deliveries at first. Youd pick it up.»
She didnt refuse outright, but later, she vented to Edward.
«How dare she? Mea shopgirl? Its humiliating!»
Edward snapped.
«Enough! You whinge about no job, no money, yet turn your nose up? Lucy means well. Stop wallowing. If life changes your plans, adapt.»
Two days of silence followed. Then Margaret met Edward at the door.
«Ill work with Lucy. Starting tomorrow.»
«Brilliant! Your skills will shine there.»
A year and a half passed. The first month, she cried over rough hands and ruined manicures. Rude customers tested her patience. But by month three, shed found her rhythm.
Then Lucy broke her leg. Margaret, alone, drove the van, fetched stock, hired help. They closed briefly, revamped the shop with her savings.
She drafted a business plan, devised ways to compete. Profit followed.
One day, Margaret caught her reflectionjeans, checked shirt, trainers. No Mercedes, fewer salon trips. But she smiled. Life had settled. They even toyed with opening a second shop. And they would.
