When it came to the local pub, The White Horse, on a Saturday night in the quite town of Bridgelough, there was a woman named Maggie Mae Coleman, who liked her ‘drop’ every Saturday at 8pm sharp – in her usual corner – only if it was free of course. Margaret was eighty years of age and had lived through many years of joy, smiles, happiness but also pain and heartbreak. Maggie stayed until 10pm sharp every Saturday – until the revellers appeared for a night’s session, or as she called it ‘The Young ones’ Social Interactions and Shenanigans’
One of these revellers was Margaret Mary Robinson. Margaret was eighteen, and had just experienced her first experience of joy and heartbreak – that being bought a car by her parents for her big birthday – only if she saved enough money for her own insurance and driving lessons – which of course she had, being a level headed young lady. The heartbreak of course, being dumped by her boyfriend of one year shortly after the celebrations!
Maggie and Margaret used to see each other quite a lot on Saturday nights, as they used to pass each other just as Maggie was leaving and Margaret was coming in, yet they never really engaged. But one night, as Maggie got up to leave form her ‘usual corner’ after her ‘usual drop’ – 4 brandy’s in – she dropped her walking stick and struggled to pick it up. Margaret, out of all of her friends rushed over to help a slightly embarrassed Maggie. As she handed her the stick, or as she called it ‘A useless annoyance of the more elderly lady’ Maggie smiled and replied in a calm polite tone ‘Thank you Child!’
‘No problem,’ replied Margaret smiling putting her Jägerbomb down on the table next to Maggie’s empty brandy glass.
‘I see you most nights when I’m out here, it’s a nice pub isn’t it?’ smiled Margaret sitting next to Maggie casually flicking her long beautiful dark hair.
‘Oh and I see you child, having fun and enjoying yourself – you are a gorgeous young lady my dear!’ said Maggie remembering fondly when she used to have such hair instead of the grey ones she had now, along with the ‘wicked wrinkles’ as she called them.
‘Ah thank you, you are very sweet, so do you girl, you look great’ smiled Margaret enjoying the compliments fixing her collar of her black leather jacket.
‘You remind me so much of my daughter’ said Maggie now putting on her elegant, perfectly fitted purple wool coat.
With that sentence, Margaret and Maggie, two perfect strangers, had a conversation on that Saturday night. It was like they had known one another for quite a while, yet of course they didn’t. Margaret spoke about how she was out with her friends, and had turned eighteen a few months back, and how she was heartbroken to loose who she thought was the love of her life, a fella called Barry, – and all this time, Maggie just smiled pleasantly and listened, – listened to the innocence of the young voice of today – to a lady who seemed to be quite level headed and mannerly.
Once she had stopped talking about herself, Margaret turned to Maggie and asked her had she ever experienced anything bad in her life, and if so how do you get over it. Maggie again looked at Margaret and smiled gently and pleasantly, ‘Only once child, when I lost someone very dear to me, that was true heartbreak!’
‘I’m sorry’ replied Margaret ‘Was he the love of your life like Barry?’ drinking into her Jäger.
‘No’ smiled Maggie with a tear in her eye ‘She was my daughter, and she was just your age when she passed.’
From that sentence, Margaret got a true lesson from someone who had experienced it all. It suddenly dawned on her that she never even experienced heartbreak yet – just part of life.
From that Saturday on, Margaret and Maggie met each other quite a lot, for a ‘quick drop’, and a ‘quick shot’, until one night where Maggie didn’t appear at all – again another lesson and realisation in life that Margaret took with her in hers.