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Copyrights reserved by the author. If you are in doubt, please click on 'Copyrights' and read the details. Anniversary Blues by Ruth Houston Alan picked up the sports bag, planted a quick kiss on Margie's cheek, and opened the front door. "I'm just off to the gym, put my supper in the oven, love. I won't be late, I promise." He turned and disappeared into the evening. Margie scowled at the door and sucked in her breath. What had got into him? This obsession with getting fit. He'd never been interested in getting in shape before. It worried her, if she had to admit it. She'd begun to wonder if there was 'another woman' somewhere. Margie mentally ran down the women in his office, it couldn't be any of them. They were all known to her, a few of them even friends, and none of them likely to lust after her husband, until lately of course. He had lost a considerable amount recently, she reflected. She suddenly felt guilty of the pounds she'd put on, but then told herself it was only natural; 'middle-age spread' her mother had once called it. "Margaret, you just wait till you turn forty. You'll never worry about being thin again." Her mother had joked about it, but it wasn't a joke anymore. It had happened! Of course having three children hadn't helped matters either. She looked at herself critically, in the hall mirror. Drawing in her breath, she sucked in her tummy, made a face, and let it out again. Then she ran her fingers through the shoulder-length dark hair, yes, she was sure there were more grey hairs than last time she'd checked. The phone broke the silence and she reached for it. "Hi, mum, it's Linda, how's things? You'll never guess, I was in Mitchell's dress shop at lunch-time. Saw this gorgeous dress, a pale peach colour, perfect for you. Why don't you treat yourself for your twenty-fifth anniversary?" "Linda, I've got something to wear, in fact I've got dresses that I've hardly worn. I really don't need to buy anything new." but, she thought, I can't even get into some of them. "But mum, it's your twenty-fifth, it's special, you have to get something new!" Her daughter wailed down the phone. "Promise you'll just go and look at it, please, please." Linda begged. Margie made a face at the phone. She knew Linda's nagging tone and she would ring her up day after day until she agreed. Margie sighed to herself and promised her daughter she would go and take a look, but just a look though! When Alan got back, Margie was watching her favourite programme, 'Bromley Court' and eating the remains of a chocolate bar. "You know I never thought working out could make you feel so good. My body tingles all over and I can feel the blood coursing around my body - invigorating" he said, pumping up his biceps and admiring them in the mirror. Margie pulled a tongue at him and said sharply,"Don't be flexing your muscles at all those dolly-birds at the gym, or I'll make your body tingle with something hard and flat." "Now would I do that, love of my life?" Then peering closely at the screen, he gave a wolf-whistle, as a leggy blonde rose from her desk. "Nice bit of stuff she is, don't you think so?" He turned and gave his wife, a cheeky grin, then as she aimed a cushion, left the room quickly. While cleaning the lounge the next morning, Margie picked up their wedding photo. Tears pricked her eyes as she looked at a younger, slimmer version of herself; she was smiling at Alan, smart in his dark blue suit. His lean regular good looks, topped by thick fair hair. Where had all the years gone, she wondered? It was a week until their anniversary, but why did she feel so depressed? She should be feeling proud that their marriage had survived to see this milestone. After all, it hadn't been without its troubles; there had been hard times. Alan had experienced some unemployment, but she'd managed to keep the house running by offering a child-care service from home. Her nursing qualifications had assured her of the approval from the local council and her own children had learnt to share with others very quickly. Their house had been filled with laughter and tears, good times and bad, but they had weathered the storms. Upstairs she went through her wardrobe, taking out each dress and holding it against herself. She hadn't bought anything really special for years and now nothing would fit, she'd put on too many extra inches. Opening Alan's cupboard she took out his wedding suit and gazed at it fondly. She remembered him trying it on only last week, satisfaction on his face, now that he could fit into again. Had he been trying to tease her, purposefully making her feel bad, now he'd succeeded in shedding the extra weight? The ringing of the telephone broke into her misery and she hurried down to answer it. "Hello, can I help you?" "Can I speak to Mr --- " the voice trailed off, there was a pause, then "Sorry, I've got the wrong number" and the receiver was replaced. Margie's heart gave a lurch and thudded in her chest. She'd once read in a magazine how the 'other woman' always said wrong number if the wife answered the phone. She felt sick and sat on the stairs, her head reeling with disturbing images. The voice was educated, soft, but confident; someone he'd met at that last seminar perhaps? The company had taken them away to a hotel in the Lake District; a group dynamics course Alan had said. She was probably some top insurance broker and had impressed him with her sparkling wit and intelligence. No wonder he was pumping iron! She could just hear her mother's voice, resigned as she had been, when her husband walked out on them. Her mother had given up without a fight. She pulled herself up off the step and braced herself. Margaret Elizabeth Thorpe you're not giving your man up to some executive hussy. Even so, Margie felt a dull ache in her stomach. Had they come through twenty-five years, only to have their marriage destroyed, on the brink of it? Should she confront Alan now, or wait until she had some proof? What would she tell the family? That their father was tired of her and had found a 'new model', a thinner one no doubt? Margie couldn't settle to anything and counted the hours till Alan's return home. She waited until the evening meal was over and they were washing up the supper dishes. "I had a strange phone call this morning, a woman. I'm sure it was for you. Then she decided it was the wrong number and rang off." She stole a quick look at him and saw the colour rise in his face. He picked up some plates and turning his back on her, began packing them away in the cupboard. I knew it, he's ashamed to face me, because I've found out. 'So it's true', Margie thought. She picked up some cutlery and threw them violently into the sink. Alan looked around, a question on his face. "What's going on, Alan? Do you think I'm stupid? All this working out at the gym and now strange women phoning the house?" Her lips trembled and she fought to hold back the tears. Suddenly he had his arms around her, making soothing noises. She could faintly smell his aftershave, the one she'd given him for his birthday. Remembering the way they had danced all night, surrounded by friends, she held him tightly. "What are talking about, love? I don't know any strange women and surely you're not jealous of the time I spend at the gym? I'm trying to keep fit and make sure I'm in good shape for the next twenty-five years", he said, taking her by the shoulders and planting a kiss on her cheek. "Look, dry your eyes and put your feet up. I'll make us a nice cup of tea." **** The next morning Margie took stock of herself. She had to admit that she was really over-weight and something had to be done, but she also knew that a slimmer version of herself wouldn't appear overnight. What could be done in the meantime to give her the boost she needed to face Saturday and the fact that she was reaching middle-age? Two hours later she emerged from 'Studio One', taking quick frequent looks at her reflection as she walked down the high street. Her next stop was at 'Mitchells', where with the help of an assistant she soon found a number of dresses her size, along with the peach one, Linda had recommended. When she tried it five minutes later, a new Margie looked out at her from the full- length mirror. A dropped waistline hid the spare tyre and the glistening new bob with dark tint took years from her face. It complimented the peach of the dress perfectly! 'Way to go Margie!' she thought, as she confidently strode out of the store clutching her new purchase. However, when Alan failed to arrive home at the normal time, Margie's confidence began to take a dive. Why had she bothered making the effort? Then a horrible thought struck her, if she had made the effort before, maybe she wouldn't be going through this crisis now. She spent a miserable hour trying to concentrate on a new paperback that she'd picked up at the library, but all she could see was Alan, in the arms of 'the other woman.' She was probably a blonde, with immaculately-styled hair and one of those suits that hung perfectly, with not a crease to be seen. When she walked down the corridor, wafts of heady perfume would engulf everyone within breathing distance! Margie jumped at the sound of the front door opening, then muffled voices in the hallway. Who was he talking to out there? Surely, he wouldn't have the nerve to---. Margie marched to the door, just as Alan opened it and they collided mid-way. "Who is that out there with you? What's going on Alan?" She wanted to get angry and to shout at him for making her feel insecure and unhappy but he was looking at her with admiration in his eyes. She hadn't seen that look for far too long! She swallowed nervously and did an awkward half-turn, conscious of his stare. "Well what do you think?" He reached out, cupped his hand under the bob, and then took her into his arms. "I think it's lovely and do you know you are too --- oh and by the way, will you marry me again!" "What!" Margie was looking mystified and feeling that now she really didn't understand what was going on; it made her feel foolish. She stared wide-eyed at Alan then tears pricked her eyes and she began sobbing with relief. He took a breath and sinking down onto his knees, he said earnestly, "Margaret Elizabeth Thorpe, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife again." "Yes!" She replied faintly, brushing away the tears. Just then the door opened a second time and in stepped a dark- haired woman wearing a dog collar and an enormous smile. "Hello Margaret, we thought that it might be best if we discussed the arrangements with you now, for Saturday. We didn't think you could handle too many more surprises!" Now, as Margie recognised the mysterious voice from the telephone, a light began to glow and it seemed to be shining right into the next twenty five years!! The End
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