When Fate Gets It Wrong
After graduating from teacher training college, Marianne returned to her hometown, a quiet village in the Cotswolds. She taught at the very school she had once attended, surrounded by familiar facescolleagues she admired, streets she knew by heart. Most of all, she missed the warmth of her parents’ house whenever she was away.
Since childhood, Marianne had been inseparable from her neighbour, Juliethough they couldnt have been more different. Marianne was calm and thoughtful, while Julie was reckless, sharp-tongued, and never hesitated to speak her mind, even to her elders. They shared a classroom, and Julie was always being unfavourably compared to her well-behaved friend.
“What do I need Marianne for? Ive got my own head on my shoulders,” Julie would retort.
“A heads no good without a brain in it,” the headmaster, Mr. Thompson, had snapped at her once in Year 11, after yet another incident landed her in his office.
“Whats it this time?” he sighed.
Mrs. Higgins, their elderly form tutora respected, veteran teacheranswered tearfully: “Julie told me I smell like a grave and should retire before I embarrass myself trying to teach anyone.”
Mr. Thompson was speechless. He tried to shame her, but Julie widened her eyes innocently. “I never said that. Shes making it up.” Defeated, he let her gowhat else could he do?
After school, Marianne went on to university, while Julie scraped into nursing collegea last resort, given her grades. Shed coasted through school copying off Marianne.
Julie was strikinglong dark hair, a flawless figurebut her bedside manner was appalling. She worked in geriatrics, treating elderly patients with contempt.
“These old codgers belong in the ground, not wasting NHS money,” shed scoff to colleagues, who recoiled at her callousness.
“Why even become a nurse if you hate it?” theyd ask.
“None of your business. I took what I could get.”
Complaints piled up, until the ward manager overheard her reducing an elderly woman to tears. He fired her on the spot.
“Julie, youre done. Nurses healnot torment. Ill make sure no hospital touches you again.”
Back in the city, Julie hunted for a wealthy husband, but her luck was rotten. Men lost interest the moment they saw her true colours.
Guilt was foreign to hershed been raised without it. After three years, she slunk back to the village. A stint at a supermarket ended in boredom.
“Hey, Marianne,” she called her childhood friend one evening. “Just ringing to say Im moving back. Your mum works at the clinic, right? Put in a word for me?”
The moment she arrived, Julie barged into Mariannes cottage.
“Spillhows teaching those brats in our old school?”
Marianne changed the subject, pouring tea, setting out biscuits and jam.
“Tell me why youre back. I thought you hated the village.”
Julie shrugged. “Changed my mind. What about you? Not getting married, are you?”
“I am, actually,” Marianne said softly. “Tom proposed. Were getting married in two months.”
Julie smirked. “Whos the lucky man? A geography teacher? Or some local farmer?”
“Tom owns a farmlivestock, machinery, workers. Hes doing well.”
Julie burst out laughing. “The only decent bloke in the village, and hes yours? Bet theres a catch.” She eyed Mariannesoft, curvy, nothing like her own razor-sharp beauty.
Just then, a deep voice cut in. “Evening, Marianne. Whos this?”
Julie froze. In the doorway stood a tall, handsome man in designer sportswear. Her chest tightened with envy.
*This cant be her fiancé.*
Smiling sweetly, she introduced herself. “Julie. You must be Tom. Mariannes told me *so* much.”
Toms gaze lingered on Marianne. “Dont oversell me.”
They chatted, but Julie barely listened. *He should be mine.*
“Mum,” she hissed later, “did you *see* Mariannes fiancé? Why didnt you tell me someone like that was here? He belongs with *me*.”
Her mother patted her cheek. “Darling, of course youre the better match. Well make sure he sees it.”
The opportunity came at a birthday party. Marianne, pale and unwell, stayed home. Tom arrived aloneJulie pounced.
She plied him with drink after drink, spiking each one. When he swayed, she “helped” him outside, flagging down a friendly driver.
“Take us to mine.”
Morning brought a pounding headacheand horror. Tom jolted awake to Julie beside him, smirking.
“No. This didnt happen.”
“Oh, but it did.”
He fled. At Mariannes, her mother barred his way.
“How *could* you? Shes gone. And you sent her *photos*?”
Bewildered, he checked his phonea picture of him and Julie, asleep. Shed staged it.
He smashed the phone against the wall.
Days later, Julie cornered him. “Hate me all you want, but our babys innocent.”
*What?*
“Im pregnant.”
Trapped, Tom married herno ceremony, no celebration. Their marriage was ice.
Then came the truth. Tanya, a mutual friend, took pity.
“Did you know Marianne had a son?”
Toms heart stopped. “Whose?”
“Yours, you idiot.”
He raced to the countryside, skidding to a halt outside a cottage. Marianne hung washing; a blue-eyed toddler played nearby.
“Anton,” she whispered.
Tom knelt. “Forgive me. Ill never leave you again.”
She did. Years later, with two more children, they were happywhile Julies lies crumbled to dust.
