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Childhood romances are often seen as incredibly romantic when others look back on how you met and how the relationship evolved, and then when that final leap into the unknown is taken.

It also makes a great conversational piece when talking to others particularly if it is for the first time or on your typical holiday when talking to the person next to you on a plane, or you are on a two-week cruise with nowhere to hide and nothing else to talk about.

The only downside is that you have to listen to their story, and it’s never as exciting as yours.

But as the years go by, it’s where you begin to finish each other’s sentences, then start bringing up everything bad about the relationship, followed by talk of divorce when things start to go downhill.

People say it’s healthy for a marriage to argue, but really, it isn’t.  What you do learn after twenty years is that compromise is the only way to survive.

Janine and I had a rocky start.  I’d known her forever, but she had always been my second choice.  It had always been a competition between her and Margaret Bennet, and Margaret would have one if she had not dumped me at the last moment.

Even then, it took a few years before I could get my head above water, Margaret had broken me so badly.  I had often wondered why Janine cared that much because others had treated her much better.

It was one of those mornings.  The last child had finally finished school and was university-backed, the other two having already left and worked on becoming captains of industry, or perhaps something less lofty.  Both bots, they were more interested in girls to set themselves up with a good education.

Alive, the youngest, was going to take after her mother and become a doctor or lawyer, having finished at the top of her class.  She was taking a gap year first and going to see the world.

It meant that in less than a week, we would be on our own for the first time in nearly twenty-five years.  We both were planning to take a step back from our jobs to spend some time together.

I could, but I had the feeling Janine would not.  She was one of those micro-managers, and since the business was hers, she was always reluctant to leave, and our holidays tended to see her on the end of the phone, unable to relax.

I’d just run through the overnight work emails and jumped to my personal one.  Usually, there was nothing there, except if the boys needed money which was pretty much invested a week.  This morning there was one from someone rear I never expected to hear from again.

Margaret Bennet.

Only it was Margaret O’Hara now.

I had taken an interest in what had happened to her after she left me, the luckier man being William Barkerfield, the son of a Lord, and the heir to a fortune.  Wealth won, and love lost.  It showed me what her true character was, and at the time, it surprised me.

William Barkerfield was a snotty self-entitled fool who was popular only because of his heritage.  Those who pandered to him got to stay at the castle.  I never pandered to him, but Margaret had several times.

And like the fool I was, I never wanted to believe she cheated, but after she left, I had to suspect that the rumours were true.  It only made the parting so much more painful.

That first marriage to the Son of a Lord only lasted five years, William had not changed his younger days behaviour and was often seen with a bevy of beautiful women.

I think for a short time I felt sorry for her, but she went on to commit an even bigger folly by marrying one of his friends, equally as seldom entitled, who, if the divorce papers were true, beat her.

There were three more attempts to get it right and as O’Hara, I’d just read that her fifth husband had died of a heart attack k and left her comfortable lying off, but I was guessing not comfortable enough.

I had expected a call after each of the disasters ended, but there wasn’t.  Janine was as interested in Margaret’s trajectory, and I knew for Janine’s part it would eventually land her in a cesspool, but there was no love lost between them.

I was in two minds whether I could read it, and in the end, curiosity got me.

It was long and rambling, the sort of missive written by someone very drunk.  It was an apology, but she knew it was too late, and too much water had gone under that bridge.  She wanted to meet and would be in London next week.  It was up to me if I wanted to see her.

I was not sure I did.  Just reading it made me feel a variety of emotions.

Janine saw straight away something was wrong.

“What’s happened?”

“I got an email from Margaret.”

“It’s a little late for an apology.” Ever practical, or was that pragmatic.  “What does she want?”

“Meet up.  She’s in town next week.”

“You going? She has no right to expect anything from you.”

“Don’t know.  I don’t really want to drag up all those old memories again.  I hope it’s not to tell me about all the bad luck she’s had.”

“She’ll want something, Harry.  You can be sure of it.  You can also bet she knows the success you have in your life.  If you go, be careful.”

It surprised me she was so blase about it, given how much she hated her.

“You know me better than that.”

“You know what I mean.”  It was accompanied by that look of hers, the warning that wasn’t meant to look like a warning.  The fact I’d never done anything wrong the whole time I’d been married to her obviously counted for nothing.

I went, if only out of curiosity.

We were dining at the poshest restaurant in the city, and I knew I would be paying for it.  Margaret was that sort of woman. She had been before when I knew her, and nothing would have changed.

She looked elegant, a woman of substance.  She didn’t get up when I arrived and earned her first black mark.  I’d set the bar at three.

She smiled when I sat, but it was a fake smile.  Was meeting me so beneath her?

“It’s been a long time, Harry.”

“So Janine tells me.”

A wrinkle of her nose at the name.  I mentioned it to annoy her.  Now I knew it would I would do it again.

“How are you?” She asked.

“I got over you, and as you can see, I didn’t die of a broken heart.”  It wasn’t said with malice, but malice was what I felt.

“I’m so sorry about what happened.  William had just assumed l would marry him, and it was an impossible situation to get out of.”

“Was it worth it?”

It was clear she was not here to rake over the coals.  The fact that she was tolerating my questions told me Janine was right.  She wanted something badly enough to swallow her pride.

“With the benefit of hindsight, no. I was young and naive back then. I saw you married Janine, so there was no point calling you when it all fell apart.”

“Still married, too,” I said, rubbing a little salt into the wound.

The look she gave me would have killed a lesser mortal stone dead, but it was interesting to realise I felt nothing for her anymore.  It was her loss, not mine.

The waiter delivered the menus, and there were no cheap options.  One course was about the same it cost to feed our family of five.  Both Janine and I would agree was an unnecessary extravagance.

She picked the dearest items on the menu.  I did, too, just to see what it was I was missing.  The champagne was almost an average worker’s weekly paycheck.  Even broke, she knew nothing about being humble.

A silence set in for a few minutes after the waiter left, and another arrived with the champagne and poured it.  Wine was one of those subjective things. Some reckoned expensive wine was no better than cheap plonk.  I tended to agree, but individual taste made the bad sometimes good and good often bad.  I doubt Margaret would understand that personal taste trumps expense.

I had a sip, then put the glass down.  Served properly, and at the right temperature, it was exquisite.  I could tell the difference, and I liked it.  But, although I could easily afford it, I chose not to.

“I saw your last husband died of a heart attack.”  I did wonder if she had something to do with it, but then I remembered she never really wanted to participate.  It was no surprise she had no children.  And possibly no wonder her husbands went elsewhere to pursue women who would willingly give them what they wanted.

“Too lazy.  I told him to go out and exercise to lose some weight.  Then he did.  Died the first day in the gym.”

“Did you inherit the castle?”

“No.  The bastard left me a small annuity and left everything to his kids.  It’s like I never existed.”

“You didn’t think the aristocracy would protect itself from someone like you?” OK, I’d had enough of this wretched woman.  I would have given her the benefit of the doubt, but after picking this place and those items off the menu, she wasn’t worth the effort.  “You really never knew me, Margaret.  And if you think this is what I am,” I waved a hand to take in the whole restaurant, “You’ve greatly miscalculated.  I’m done here.  You can finish your lunch, I’ll tell the maitre’d I’ll pay for it, but don’t call me again.”

I stood, took a last look at the bullet I dodged, and walked out.

What I would never tell either Margaret or Janine was how heartbroken I was, seeing her again, of even thinking that there might be something there, even if I didn’t act on it, or the fact the hurt really hadn’t gone away.

The trouble was, I knew it was not going to be the last time I would see her.

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©  Charles Heath 2024

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