Grace had always been the other woman. Luck had not favoured her in marriage. She had waited until thirty before finally seeking a manonly to learn, too late, that Paul was already married. He hadnt hidden it once he realised she was truly attached to him.
Yet Grace never reproached him. Instead, she blamed herselffor the affair, for her weakness. It gnawed at her, this feeling of inadequacy, as if time itself mocked her for failing to find a husband when she should have.
Still, she wasnt unattractive. Not a beauty, but pleasant-looking, slightly plumpthough the years had begun to show.
The relationship went nowhere. She didnt want to remain a mistress, yet couldnt bring herself to leave. The thought of being alone terrified her.
One evening, her cousin Simon dropped by unannounced. He was in London on business, stopping for just a few hours. They sat at the kitchen table, chatting over supper like old times. Grace, emotional, confessed everything about Paul.
Then, a neighbour called Grace over brieflyjust long enough for the doorbell to ring. Simon answered, assuming it was Grace returning. Instead, Paul stood there, frozen at the sight of a broad-shouldered man in a vest and joggers, mid-bite into a sausage sandwich.
«Grace in?» Paul managed.
«Shes in the shower,» Simon lied smoothly.
«And you are?» Paul stammered.
«Her husband. For now.» Simon stepped closer, gripping Pauls collar. «You wouldnt be that married bloke she told me about, would you? Listenshow your face here again, and Ill toss you down the stairs. Got it?»
Paul scrambled free and fled.
Grace returned, distraught when Simon told her.
«You ruined everything! He wont come back now,» she sobbed, burying her face in her hands.
«Good,» Simon said firmly. «Enough of this. I know a decent manwidowed, back in the village. Women chase him, but he keeps to himself. After my trip, well visit. Youll meet him.»
Grace protested. «Just turn up? Its embarrassing!»
«More embarrassing than sneaking around with a married man? Come onits my wifes birthday. No excuses.»
Days later, they were in the village. Simons wife, Lucy, had set up a garden feast near the shed. Neighbours and friends gathered, including the widower, Alfie. Grace had never met him before.
After warm conversation, she returned to London, quietly noting how gentle Alfie seemed. «Still grieving, poor man,» she thought. «Not many like him left.»
A week later, her doorbell rang unexpectedly. Alfie stood there, clutching a small bag.
«Was in town for errands,» he mumbled. «Thought Id stop by.»
Grace, stunned, invited him in for tea.
«Get everything you needed?» she asked.
«Ah, yes. Thisthis is for you.» He pulled out tulips, handing them over with nervous fingers.
Her eyes lit up. They talked of trivial thingsweather, market pricesuntil tea was gone. As he lingered by the door, he suddenly turned.
«If I leave without saying this, Ill regret it. Grace, Ive thought of you all week. Had to see you.»
She flushed. «We barely know each other.»
«Doesnt matter. Do you dislike me? Andmay I call you Grace? Im no prize, mind. Got a little girleight years old. Shes with her gran now.» His hands trembled.
«A daughter? How lovely,» Grace murmured. «Ive always wanted one.»
Encouraged, he took her hands, drew her close, and kissed her.
When he pulled back, her eyes were wet.
«Did I upset you?»
«No,» she whispered. «Its just I didnt expect to feel this way. Its sweet. And right.»
They met every weekend after. Two months later, they married. Grace moved to the village, working at the nursery. A year on, she bore a daughter. Two girls grew in their homeboth cherished, both loved. Grace and Alfie only grew happier with time, their bond deepening like aged whisky.
At gatherings, Simon would wink at Grace.
«Not bad, eh? Told you Id find you a proper husband. Look at youglowing. Always trust your cousin. Grace would laugh, squeezing Alfies hand under the table, her heart full. The years had finally caught up with her in the best wayno longer marked by regret, but by quiet joy, by mornings filled with childrens laughter, by a love that asked for nothing but the truth. She never spoke of Paul again, not even to herself. The past had been a shadow, but now, at last, there was only light.
