Woman’s Weekly UK – 06 August 2019

22 womansweekly.com

SHORT STORY

asidebranchesandfronds,

ignoringcutsto herlegs.

Theyseemedto climb

forever,but finallythe

lilachousecameinto

viewandtherewas no

signof theboys.

Mandyled the final charge

to thegateandplantedher

flag in the dirt by the fence.

‘Ha,beatyou!’shetaunted

as Alan,MarkandIandrew

up,breathlessandred-faced.

AlanShortcameright

upto herandsnarledin

herface.‘It’snotfair. You

gota headstart.’

‘I callit beingclever,’

Mandysaid,smilingin the

faceof hisdismay.‘Girlsare

clevererthanboys,afterall.

Youdidn’tthinkwe’dhave

thegutsto comeallthis

way,butwedid.’

‘Hey!What’sgoingon

here?’Thefrontdoorof

thehouseopenedand

a kindlylookingolder

womanappeared.‘You

boys,leavethosegirlsalone!

Andwhatareyoudoing

outsidemyhouse?’

Mandyblushedand

explainedabouttherace

to reachit and

howshe’d

alwayslovedthe

lilachouse.

‘Oh,I see.’

Thewoman’s

facesoftened.

‘Well,afterall

thatexertion

perhapsyou’d

liketo havea cooldrinkand

somebiscuits?’

‘Nothanks,we’renot

stayingwiththem!’Alan

cried.‘Comeonboys.’

MarkandIanlooked

asif theymighthave

enjoyeda cooldrink

andsomebiscuits,but

followedtheirleader back

downthelane.

Theladybroughtout

refreshmentsandMandy,

RosieandJillsatona

benchoverlookingthevalley

andmunchedonchocolate

chipcookiesand drank

apple juice.

‘I wantto livehere

oneday,’Mandy told

thewoman.

‘Well,maybeyouwill,’

shesmiled.‘Myhusband

worksin forestry,but

whenheretires,we’ll

wantto movedownto

thevalley.Now,what

aboutthoseboys,will

theybeokaywithyouin

school?Theylook like

bulliesto me.’

‘Probablynot,’Mandy

said,butit didn’tmatter.

They’dwonandnothing

wouldeverchangethat.

TheLilacHousewashers.

AlanShortnever

mentionedit again.

✿✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

Mandydroveupthe

laneto thehouse.It was

strangehowit wasjust

overa mileto thevillage,

yetto herchildisheyesall

thoseyearsagoit had

appearedto bepartof

anotherkingdom,andto

gettherehadinvolvedan

expedition.Norwasit as

secludedasit hadonce

seemedto be.Therewas

a farmhouselessthan

500 yardsaway

throughthetrees

andsomeone

hadbuilta

chalet-style

bungalowjust

downthelane.

Shegotoutof

thecarandtook

theshopping

fromtheboot.Thehousewas

stilllilac– shecouldn’tbear

forit to beanyothercolour.

Thenshenoticedtherewas

a manstandingat thegate

lookingupat it. Fora

momentshefeltvulnerable.

‘Hello,’shesaid,sounding

moreconfidentthan she felt.

‘CanI helpyou?’Ashe

turned,sherecognisedthe

curlyhairandthefreckled

face.‘It can’tbe!AlanShort?’

‘Hi,’hesaid. ‘It’s been a

longtime.’

‘Whatareyoudoinghere?’

‘I washomefora visitand

heard you’d bought the

place.Youalwayssaidyou

weregoingto.You’vewell

and truly plantedyour flag

herenow,haven’tyou?’

‘Thechancecameforusto

buyit a coupleof yearsago.’

‘You’rewithsomeone?’

‘I’mmarriedto Chris.

He’sa GPin thenext town.

Whataboutyou?’

‘Divorced.Twokids.’ He

smiledpolitely.

Shewonderedwhether

sheshouldinvitehimin,

buthesooninterrupted

herthoughts.

‘I justwantedto reminisce,’

hesaid,lookingupat the

houseagain.‘Rememberthe

expedition?Yougirls beat us

fairandsquare.’

‘Yes,wedid.’

‘Goodonyou.You’ve done

wellforyourself.’

‘Thankyou.Yes, I have.

I’ma lawyer.’

‘Youalwayswereclever.’

‘Listen,doyouwantto

comein fora cuppa?’She

softened.It hadbeenmore

than 30 yearsago,afterall.

‘Nothanks.I’vegotto get

backto seemyparents.Mum

needshelpwithDadnow.I

saidI wouldn’tbegonelong.

Just to say, sorry for all the

ribbing.Wewerejust

kids,youknow.’

It hadfeltlikemorethan

ribbing,Mandyrecollected,

butit wasin thepast.She

noddedacknowledgement,

thenwatchedhimwalkaway

withhishandsin hispockets.

Oncehewasoutof sight,

shesurveyedtheviewover

thevillage,locatingthe

school,rememberingthose

dayswhensheusedto sit

onthewallanddream.

Thenshelookedoverat the

distanthillsthatneverfailed

to thrillanddelighther.

Sheopenedthedoorand

steppedintothehouseshe’d

dreamedof owningallher

childhood.Therewasa

feelingof deeppeaceand

satisfaction.Sheturnedto

lookat theframedartwork

encasedin glassandhanging

overthemaindoor.

‘Ha!Ha!Ha! Got

here first!’

She’dlearntthenwhat

it meantto standupfor

herselfandit hadbeenworth

it. Afterall,she’dalways

knownthatonedayshe’d

live in theLilacHouse.

THEEND

Susan Sarapuk, 2019

Asheturned,

sherecognised

thecurlyhair

andthe

freckled face

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