Dear Josie

1 Conversation

A couple drinking red<br/>
Wine

Dear Josie

Quite an inconspicuous beginning to a not-so-ordinary letter. Dear Josie. Not 'My dear Josie' or 'Darling Josie' but 'Dear Josie' like you're writing a note for the milkman. I wiped away a tear and started to read the first line. 'I'm sorry...' but then tears pricked my eyes again. I gave up, folded it and put it back in the drawer. Try again tomorrow. One day I will read it through without all this unnecessary emotion!

Strange word, tomorrow. Who knows what tomorrow will bring. I certainly never dreamed, the day before she arrived, how the whole world would change by tomorrow. We were OK then. Well, as OK as you can be when you know everything about each other. I mean, how can there possibly be anything left to discover, after 40 years of marriage? You don't expect...overnight, almost, someone to change. That much. Not really. I remember the day she moved in next door like it was yesterday. The old man was hardly cold before his relatives sold off his house. Then there she was, smiling and waving to us as she paraded down her new drive like a homecoming queen.

Bill seemed quite nonchalant at first, barely mentioning her, but her lack of a husband spread round the WI like wildfire. Apparently she was newly divorced, with no kids. Watch your husband, I was warned. I sniffed and dabbed my nose. I had no worries about my Bill, confident in the way only long-marrieds can be. His head wouldn't be turned by a young piece of skirt, he was far too sensible.

Our sex life had dwindled but as the occasions had got less and less it hadn't worried me, it meant I didn't have to keep dreaming up new excuses. If you don't stoke the fire, it'll eventually go out. And it did. I couldn't recall any meeting in the middle after Bill retired. He retreated to his greenhouse like it was his own private castle, I was happy to leave him be. Anyway I was really busy with the WI meetings and charity fundraising, there was so much organising and planning to do!

The next day I opened the letter again. This time I read as much as I could before tears blurred my vision. 'Dear Josie, I'm sorry but I can no longer live without Sue. I tried to forget her but even my roses weren't enough. What is a flower without scent? My life went from colourful to dull and grey. You were so busy I always felt like an interloper and tried to keep out of your way. The years stretched out ahead like a lonely road'. I wept and refolded the letter, putting it away until tomorrow.

But that night I couldn't sleep, I lay there in our bed, tossing and turning, going over things in my head until everything swam. I remembered how the light returned to your eyes after doing some gardening one day, you told me 'Sue' had asked your opinion on some flowers she wanted for her garden. I was annoyed when you offered to give her some of your roses, but instead of saying so, I told my friends at the next WI meeting about the men I'd seen coming and going, at such odd hours too.

Suddenly Sue's antics became the main topic of conversation. I started embellishing and all sorts of speculating went on, well, it passed a few minutes, it was better than eternally discussing the weather! It got to the stage that several ladies were waiting for me to arrive, I'd no sooner be dropped off by Bill than they were round me like bees circling a honey pot. I was quite happy to feed them the nectar they craved.

The first I knew about the poison pen letter was when I saw Bill's face, like thunder it was, I couldn't recall seeing him that angry before. When I asked him what was wrong, he said some interfering busybody had sent Sue an anonymous letter calling her a whore, basically telling her to leave the village if she knew what was good for her.

I watched the vein in Bill's temple throb under his skin. He kept his eyes looking downward but when he looked up he scanned the room then looked out the window. He stepped forward and stood at the kitchen sink, in the same stance I use when I'm washing up. He leaned on the sink and sighed heavily. 'It's not you, is it?' My mouth went dry and I barely croaked out: 'Me what? Writing poison pen letters? Of course not!' I didn't wait for his reaction but fled to the bathroom to splash my flushed face with cold water.

After that I made a determined effort to get along with Sue. At first she seemed surprised at my sudden interest, but eventually she started to relax and got quite chatty. Once she even asked about the WI but I told her she would find it too boring, and anyway she was far too young! She didn't mention it again, but one day when I arrived home from a meeting she was waiting in the garden. Without a word she handed me a piece of paper on which was written the foulest language I'd ever read. I glanced straight at her face and very slowly widened my eyes and let my jaw drop just enough. She was completely taken in, and then I heard her say: 'I've had enough, I'm leaving'.

A little voice inside me yelled 'Yes!' but I reached out my hand and placed it on her arm. 'Whatever you think best, dear', forcing out a smile. I turned and went in, almost skipping with triumph. I didn't tell Bill, nor, apparently, did Sue, so when the estate agent's board appeared next door he was astonished. He went off to his greenhouse without a word and didn't come back for hours.

Now all of a sudden there were lots of people coming and going at Sue's house, but they were viewers; one couple, the perspective buyers. I smiled and waved every time Sue appeared outside her house, which wasn't often. Then one day the removal van came and she was gone. My victory complete, I had hardly noticed the change in Bill, how quiet he'd gotten. I tried to be chatty but nothing piqued his curiosity and that year for the first time he said he was too tired to attend the annual village FĂȘte.

I went to set up my jam and preserves stall calling for my best friend, new next door neighbour Jean, on the way. We had a successful day, raising hundreds of pounds for the Vicar's charity. The sun was just dropping behind the house as Jean and I turned into our road. At first sight the police car parked across our drive didn't register any alarm in me. It was Jean who grabbed my arm when her husband walked towards us and told us he'd found Bill. From a distance I could hear someone screaming, then I felt someone grab me tightly, someone else said something about a doctor, and then everything went black.

I opened the drawer and took out the letter again. Maybe today will be the day, maybe then... I tried to read just from where I left off yesterday. 'The years stretched out ahead like a lonely road. I loved you but as a companion, for all the years we'd shared. Sue I loved because she made me feel alive, a new person even. I felt like the luckiest man in the world, I had everything, a wonderful wife and a lovely friend who added sparkle to a dull day.

The only kiss we shared was when I wished her a happy Christmas. She reached forward, I started moving towards her as well. Like a moth to the flame, I knew when our lips met that it would be so easy to take things a step further. But the thought was only fleeting, just as quickly dismissed. I was perfectly happy with the way things were, with two lovely ladies in my life.

When Sue left, it was like I'd been stripped of that bit of borrowed happiness. I thought things would go back to the way they were before she arrived, but they didn't. My roses held no appeal, it was like I couldn't smell them any more. I knew I would never be the same and that I'd just make you miserable. That was the last thing I wanted, you deserve to be happy. So I hope in time you'll forgive me and move on. Goodbye, Bill'.

I folded up the letter and put it back in the drawer.

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