The fate that is written will be fulfilled
As James stood in his uniform, ready to be sent to the army, Emily pressed her cheek against his shoulder, her head resting there like a fragile blossom. In her bright blue eyes a tide of tears glistened; the thought of parting from the boy she loved cut her heart in two.
Emily, love, dont let the sorrow swallow you. Time will fly, youll see. Ill be back, and well have a future together, James whispered, trying to meet her gaze. Nothing will happen to me. Just wait for me.
Of course, James. Ill wait. At least well have the telephone now to hear each others voices now and then. Mum always says that in her day they wrote letters that sometimes got lost forever, Emily replied, smiling weakly.
Then well call as often as we can, James said.
A sharp bark from an officer cut through the farewell.
Line up! he shouted. The recruits shuffled forward, then another command: Take your seats on the bus.
James, seated by the window, waved at his parents and at Emily. Beside him sat Lucy, a girl who had spent every school day trying to push him aside, always hanging on his sleeve. She smiled sweetly, her eyes locked onto his with a knowing glint.
Whats she doing here? James thought, glancing at Emily as she turned and walked away. Probably crying again, he muttered, remembering how hed never liked seeing Emilys tears.
Emily knew Lucy was there to shadow the boy she was sending off, so she left early, lest Lucy stir up another scandal.
Nothing will change. Im still at college in the market town, and my parents live a mile away in the village. I go home every weekend and catch the last bus back on Sunday night, James said, his voice a mixture of resolve and longing.
James had left school straight into a job at the local factory and was waiting for his call-up. Every weekend he met Emily at the bus stop and saw her off with a kiss that lingered longer than it should.
Their love had begun in Year Ten, in parallel classes, while Lucy, a former classmate, tried at every turn to break them apart, spinning lies about Emily. The whole town knew Lucys meddling ways.
Emily was a striking girl with a radiant smile, sapphire eyes, and honeyblonde hair that turned heads wherever she went. James, a tall, fairhaired youngster with soft grey eyes, was just as popular. In the school corridors they were inseparable; whispers floated around them, halfenvy, halfadmiration. Lucys friends, swayed by her, openly despised Emily.
Lucys gossiping again, muttered Iris, Emilys deskmate, Can she ever be quiet? She cant stand that James isnt hers.
It doesnt matter, Emily replied, James knows who I am. The rest can talk all they want.
At the schools graduation night everyone popped champagne. James and Emily sipped only a splash. Later they wandered the riverbank, guitar in hand, singing loud enough to drown out the world, declaring they were grownups now. Some lads, drunk on the night air, fell asleep on park benches.
The party swirled around Emily, James, and the other students. Lucy, whod never touched alcohol before, finally let a glass of bubbly slip to her lips. In a bold, drunken moment she slithered onto James, clinging to his neck, then pressed her lips to his. The room fell silent. James strained against her grip, finally pushing her away.
Lucy, what are you doing? You cant just lunge at people, he snapped. That champagne has done a number on your head, he added, trying to keep his voice steady.
Dont think youll ever leave me, James, she whispered, turning away with a cruel smile.
James grabbed Emilys hand and led her toward the rivers edge.
Dont let her get to you, love, he said, his voice low.
No, Emily replied, her eyes bright behind a soft, skyblue dress that matched her gaze. Nothing can pull us apart. We trust each other.
At dawn James walked Emily home, then headed to his own house. She soon passed her entrance exams, earned a place at the local college, and from then on James met her each day after work, escorting her to and from her studies.
Lucy, hearing that Emily would be studying nearby, saw her chance to win James. She schemed, even befriending his mother Margaret, who lived just two doors down, slipping into the garden when James wasnt around.
Margaret, you hear? Our sweet Emilys found herself a rich lad in town. Shes trying to spin Jamess head, Lucy cooed.
Lucy, that cant be true. Emilys goodnatured, and James and she have something solid, Margaret replied, frowning.
Margarets own mother, a notorious figure in the village, had spent a lifetime of gossip and infidelity, yet she held her husbands hand like a prized trophy, calling him my dear. The whole hamlet knew the stories.
One afternoon, Lucy went to Margarets door and begged for Jamess address, claiming his school friend Vick wanted to send a parcel.
Give me his address, Lucy demanded.
Margaret, wary but obliging, handed her a slip of paper. That night Lucy drafted a letter to James, dripping with falsehoods about Emilys supposed betrayals.
James will believe me, she smirked, Ill drip poison into his mind, and water will wear stone down.
For three weeks Lucy sent letters to the front, each one painting Emily as a temptress. James, desperate, even asked his mother if the rumors were true. She brushed it off, warning him to ignore the gossip.
No one in the village suspected that Lucy had snuck onto the base to see James in person. She had convinced herself that he trusted her, and that was enough.
One night James called Emily from the barracks, his voice flat, almost robotic.
Hey, Emily how are you? he asked, his tone cold.
Fine. Why do you sound like a stranger, James? Are you playing games? she shot back.
Of course Im a stranger. Youre turning right and left, and I cant talk to you like this. Dont call or write again. Youve betrayed me, I know everything, he snapped, then hung up.
Emily could only whisper, Is this Lucys doing? before the line went dead.
Emily returned home for the weekend and locked herself in her room. James never came back, and rumors swirled that Lucy had gone to the base pregnant.
When International Womens Day arrived, Emily spent three days back home, heart heavy with the loss of James. Her grandmother and mother set a modest table, while her younger brother, Steve, now sixteen and about to finish school, brought fresh tulips from the garden.
Emily, may everything turn out better for you. Youll find happiness, Steve said, his voice gentle.
Thanks, little brother, Emily replied, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
The day turned bleak, a fierce snowstorm blanketing the village in thick, wet snow that threatened the roof of their cottage. The slate began to creak under the weight.
Steve raced outside, eyes scanning the white sea, then back at the house. He called for help, knowing the roof could collapse any minute. Their father had left years ago, leaving Steve as the only man in the house.
Soon a lanky stranger appeared, his coat heavy with snow. His name was Greg, a friend of a neighbour whod stopped by while delivering gifts to Aunt Vera.
Greg, we need to shore up the roof before it caves in, Steve shouted over the wind. The snows too heavy, and todays the womens day. Can you help?
Sure, Greg replied, pulling on warm gloves. My mum sent me to the village to see my aunt, but Ill lend a hand.
Greg climbed onto the roof, his fingers numb, while Steve called out for warm mittens. Emily emerged with a pair, her cheeks flushed from the cold, and handed them to him. Greg chuckled.
For a girl as lovely as your sister, well do everything right, he said, eyes lingering on Emily.
The women in the house watched, cheeks blooming, as the boys worked. When the roof was secured, Steve invited Greg inside.
Come, have a drink. Weve set a table for the ladies, he said.
Around the kitchen table, laughter bubbled. Greg couldnt keep his gaze off Emily; she returned the look, her eyes sparkling, cheeks pink with a mixture of cold and excitement.
Emily, fancy a walk later? Greg asked, his voice soft.
Yes, she replied, her breath catching, Lets go.
Their smiles were bright enough to melt the gloom outside. Steves mother beamed.
Bless the heavens, our girl is alive again, she whispered.
Steve added with a grin, Like they say, one bad apple makes the whole bunch sour.
Six months later, Emily and Greg stood hand in hand at their wedding, the village buzzing with joy. Aunt Vera, watching the happy pair, chuckled, I always said whats meant to happen will happen.
Emily finished college, stayed in the town with Greg, and they built a life together, their love a quiet promise that destiny had finally fulfilled.
