The Secrets of Midwives by Sally Hepworth

But apart from one letter, which did little more than detail the strangeness of living on a rural property, I didn’t hear from her. Not a dicky bird. Evie thought she’d be busy getting settled into married life. I expected she was right.
    The world kept ticking along. Babies were born. Evie and Jack got engaged. A month passed, then another. When I still didn’t hear from Elizabeth, I began to worry. What if Bill had told Elizabeth about what happened the night of the wedding, but twisted things to make it look like I’d been the one to try it on with him? Had I been the one to try it on with him? The whole thing had been so strange. Sometimes I wasn’t even sure it happened at all.
    Finally, I decided to ride out to their property on my bike. Even if the worst turned out to be true and Bill had told untruths to Elizabeth, it couldn’t be more terrible than the torture of not knowing. On my next day off, I was wheeling my bike down the front path when I passed Evie. A wad of envelopes was tucked under her arm and she waved a sheet of cream stationery under my nose.
    â€œElizabeth is coming to my engagement party,” she said. “So you needn’t worry your dear head about her anymore.”
    â€œOh,” I said. “That’s … wonderful news.”
    It was wonderful news. And I was certainly relieved that she was all right. But I was confused. If Elizabeth had responded to Evie’s invitation, why hadn’t she got in touch with me? Still holding the bike, I hesitated, then returned it to the shed.
    The engagement party came around before I knew it. Evie’s family was from East London, so the celebration was a good deal less formal than Elizabeth’s pre-wedding functions. Everyone was ready for a good time. The room was decorated with nothing more than balloons and streamers. The food was good and hearty, not an hors d’oeuvre in sight.
    â€œFloss! There you are.”
    Before I saw her, I was choked by a faceful of auburn hair. “Don’t hate me,” she said into my ear. “I’m a terrible pen friend. I got your letters. I’ve just been so busy, you know, getting settled and all. I’m so sorry.”
    In her arms, I blinked, then softened. “Of course I don’t hate you, Elizabeth. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
    â€œI am,” she said. “I’m fine.”
    When she pulled away, I did a visual assessment. She certainly looked fine. In a pretty white sleeveless dress with a wide, red sash and a full skirt, she looked demure and fashionable. Her lips were fiery red and her hair, which had a tendency to become flyaway, was thick and shiny. She gave me a sheepish smile. With it, I realized how much I’d missed her.
    â€œSo tell me,” I started. “—Oh, goodness!” A whirl of air went by, and suddenly I was flying. I was in Bill’s arms—I recognized his scent: booze and smokes and country air. He spun me in a little circle. “Floss, old girl. Long time no see.”
    He set me back on my feet and I patted down my blouse, which had become untucked. “Hello, Bill.”
    â€œLook at you.” He whistled. “A sight for sore eyes. Are you well?”
    Bill smiled as he awaited my response. Most of the people I’d spoken to that night had the curse of the wandering eye—continually glancing over my shoulder for someone better to talk to. Not Bill. His gaze didn’t waver. I felt a surge of warmth toward him, and in an instant, my worries melted away. “Very well, thank you.”
    â€œAnd there she is … the beautiful bride-to-be.”
    Bill greeted Evie in the same way he’d done me, swinging her about in circles. Elizabeth raised an imaginary glass to her mouth. He’s full, she mouthed.
    I chuckled. “What can you do? He’ll be embarrassed tomorrow.”
    â€œIf he remembers,” Elizabeth complained. But her