It was a chilly autumn morning many years ago when my former wife and my new companion happened to run into one another, and I still think back on that odd encounter with a wry smile.
Mabel and I had gone our separate ways a few months earlier, and I had taken a modest flat in a leafy part of South London, paying the rent in good old pounds. Though our marriage was over, we managed to keep things civil. About a month before the incident, Mabel turned up at my new place just after dawn, saying she needed to retrieve a file from the laptop we had once shared.
I wasnt alone that morning. Pippa, a lively young woman considerably younger than Mabel, was staying with me. We had begun seeing each other even before the divorce was finalised.
When Mabel stepped into the hallway, Pippa emerged from the bathroom, wrapped only in a towel, her slender frame still damp. She passed Mabel and, without missing a beat, said, Good morning, Mabel.
Mabel replied, Good morning, Pippa.
Both women froze for a heartbeat, then Pippa, looking a little embarrassed, muttered, Well, I suppose I wont be getting that mark now. They burst into loud, unmistakable laughter, while I stood there like a deer in the headlights, watching the two of them. The very next day Pippa, of all people, seemed to breeze through whatever test they were joking about and passed it automatically.
Now, as I sit and reminisce, I cant help but worry that those two might become friends, and that thought makes my stomach turn. Do I really need to fret, or will everything settle down in the end? I keep my fingers crossed that time will smooth over the awkwardness.
