Everything Happens for the Best
Margaret Victoria considered herself the architect of her daughter Lydia’s character, fashioning the girl in her own resolute image. Lydia, for her part, took every suggestion, recommendation, and direct order to heartnot that she had much choice in the matter. Her mother viewed herself as the epitome of strength and success, and expected strict adherence to her carefully charted map for life.
Lydia, Margaret would declare with the gravitas of a Supreme Court judge, if you wish to achieve as much as I have, you must walk the path I show you. Not a single step astray! Is that crystal clear for all eternity?
Yes, Mum, Lydia would reply, as if she had signed a lifelong contract.
And so Lydia tried her very best not to disappoint her. Her mother wanted nothing less than Little Miss Perfection and, naturally, Lydia wanted to please her. Except, the older Lydia got, the harder perfection became.
Children will be children, so Lydia, despite best efforts, would scuff her school shoes, rip her uniform, and on occasion, create less-than-tidy messes. Yet at school she excelled, not so much because she was a natural prodigy, but because she knew a B on her report card would prompt a national crisis at home.
Lydia, its an utter disgrace. A B! Do you not respect your father and me? Quickly, put this right before we all suffer public embarrassment!
All right, Mum,” she would say, and sometimes try to protest, “But Mum, its just the one B, and only by accident
Nonsense, darling. You simply must be smarter and better than the rest.
Lydia, mortified, always brought the grade up to an A. She, of course, graduated from school with flying colours and perfect marksanything less didnt bear thinking about. Margaret was positively smug when Lydia slid into university like it was made for her.
Well done, my girl; I’m proud of you, Margaret conceded one day, looking as if she had single-handedly moved Stonehenge, and now keep the momentum going, you hear?
Margaret ran a construction businessnot exactly the most ladylike of trades according to gossip down the Rotarybut she wielded more authority than half the men in hard hats put together. It went without question Lydia would work at her side after university. Lydia, of course, had wild dreams of applying to Oxford, or at the very least, escaping to somewhere several train stops away from home, but this was swiftly nipped in the bud.
Lydia, youre to remain under my supervisionwhat are you thinking? Another city? As if! We have a perfectly good university right here in town, and thats where youll study.
Of course, Lydia didnt argue. During her third year, everything changed: she found herself hopelessly enamoured for the first time. Shed gone on dates beforesometimes surreptitiouslybut nothing serious had developed.
George, with his irresistible smile and charming blue eyes, bowled her over completely. He was in her year, though in a different group. Where Lydia conquered coursework with ease, George considered homework an ancient torture method. One day in the university corridor he stopped Lydia:
Lydia, Im swampedcould you help me with my coursework?
Oh, sure! she said, barely able to conceal her excitement. She rather fancied George.
From then on, Lydia wrote most of Georges coursework, and he paid her back in love and the pleasure of his company. They went on dates, wandered around the city centre, watched films, and sampled dodgy lattes in student cafés.
Naturally, Margarets sixth sense tingled. One evening:
So, Lydia, have you fallen in love?
How did you even guess? Lydia gawked.
Darling, youve got it written all over your forehead. Invite him for dinnerI want to see what kind of bird he is, and how high he can fly.
Lydia dutifully introduced George at Sunday lunch. The parents coped well enougheven Margaret refrained from cross-examining him. Once George had gone, she declared:
Honestly, Lydia, what sort of love is that? Hes using you, thats what. The boy isnt exactly dazzling in the intellect department, is he? What on earth do you see in him?
Thats not true, Mum, Lydia asserted, for the very first time. George has ambition, he reads loads, he likes history. Not everyone has your Einstein gene! Besides, hes young.
Darling, hes not in your league, Margaret insisted with finality.
Lydia dug in her heels.
Mum, I love him whether you like it or not, and Ill see him as much as I wish.
Margaret stared at her as though Lydia had just declared a desire to be Prime Minister.
One day youll see, George is just ordinary.
Lydia, determined, married George right after graduation. Her mothers dire warnings failed to materialiseat first.
As it happens, average students have a habit of outpacing the overachievers. George quickly secured a prestigious job, while Lydia stayed working with Mum.
George had his own flata wedding present from his parentsso Lydia tasted brief freedom from maternal tyranny, until she found herself employed at, yes, her mothers firm.
One evening, George arrived home with a triumphant grin:
Lyds, Ive been promoted! Head of department. Only on probation, but Ill prove myself.
And, after three months, he did. George, ever-pragmatic, didnt like that Lydia, diploma in hand, was still under her mums thumb.
Lydia, youll never get anywhere working for your mother. She controls your every move. Shes well, a bit of a battleaxe, love, and youre letting her walk all over you.
Lydia didnt relish being called a doormat, but couldnt disagree. George eventually quit berating her lack of backbone, but all that meant was he grew distant and grumpy. Still, Lydia counted her blessingsat least he wasnt nagging.
Then, almost a year later, George came home, voice quiet and serious.
Ive met someone else. I love her. Im leaving. Shes everything I wantnot like you.
For the first time, Lydia exploded. She shouted, hurled a plate, lobbed his phone at the wall, tore a couple of shirts, and then, spent, stood quiet.
George watched, bemused, then said, So you DO have a spark. Pity its too late. And with that, he left.
Rotter, rotter! she muttered, before packing a suitcase, letting a tiny flat, and leaving.
She didnt tell Margaret a word, knowing exactly what she would get. For weeksmaybe longershe managed to keep her new single status under wraps, but her mother, with the instincts of a sniffer dog, sensed a disturbance in the force.
Lydia, you look miserable, walking around like a Dickens waif! You and George having problems?
What? No, because George isnt my husband anymore.
Oh, for goodness sake! I knew that good-for-nothing would leave you. When did this happen?
Back in April.
And you never said a thing?
Lydia sighed, resigned to her fate as her mother unleashed a torrent of indignation about George, about her, and about life in general.
I told you he was no good. Well, no use crying nowat least youre not stuck serving him breakfast in bed, and thank heavens theres no child hanging about. In future, you might just do as I suggest. Do you understand?
Mum, everything happens for the bestit really does, Lydia said, standing up. And, by the way, I quit. Im done. She left the office, leaving Margaret gobsmacked.
Lydia knew she needed to get as far away from her mothers monologues as possible. She wandered aimlessly, her mind half on escape, half on everything else. Eventually, she hopped on a tram, got off at her stopand immediately fell, her foot landing in a pothole.
Marvellous, she thought grimly.
Are you alright? asked a young man, rushing over. Hed missed his tram, but seemed unbothered.
He helped her up; putting weight on her foot, she winced.
Does it hurt? he asked, concern in every word.
Like mad! she grimaced.
Right, hang on, arms round my neck, and before she could object, he swept her up and carried her to his car. Lets get you to the hospital, just in case its broken.
Im Jamie. And you are?
Lydia.
At the hospital, the verdict came in: no break, just a nasty sprain. They wrapped it up, gave her a quick pep talk, and sent her on her way. Jamie waited the whole time and drove her home.
Can I have your number? he asked, politely, in case you need anything.
Lydia gave it, why not? The next day he rang.
Can I bring you anything? Maybe some juice, fruitand bread?
A short while later, the doorbell rang. She hobbled over and opened up. Jamie stood there, arms full of shopping.
Heavens above, why so much? she laughed.
Were going to celebrate our meeting, he said, with an infectious grin. Ill do the cooking, dont worry. Can we ditch the formal you and just be friends?
Lydia laughed, delighted. Shed never felt so at ease.
Jamie busied himself in the kitchen, heating up a bit of roast in the microwave, pouring juice all round. No boozehe made it clear he didnt drink. The evening was a roaring success.
Four months later, Lydia and Jamie were married. A year after that, along came their daughter, Florence. When anyone asked how shed managed to snag such a fantastic husband, Lydia would laugh:
He picked me up off the pavement! Dont believe me? Ask him yourself!
Thanks for sticking with the story, and good luck dodging potholesliteral and otherwise.
