Belated Valentine

Copyright Oggbashan February 2021

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

Margaret and I worked in the same office room with twenty other young people. We were all young because it was a new department and we had all been recruited at the same time. Only our supervisor, not in the room, had about a decade of experience.

It was the morning of April Fools' day and we expected something to happen.

When I sat down at my desk this morning's mail had arrived in the in-tray but there was something odd. Most of my mail was either with mail markings or if internal was in multi-use brown envelopes. But this was a square white envelope with nothing other than my first name, Robert, typed on it.

I suspected that it would be a joke. I opened it carefully.

It was a Valentine card. But this wasn't February, this was the first of April. I was cautious as I opened the card. But there was no joke squeaker or noxious substance, just a typed message:

"This is a belated Valentine. Although it is late, the message is meant. Robert, I love you. Please will you take me out on a date for a restaurant meal? Margaret."

I stood up and walked across to Margaret's desk. She was staring at the inside of an identical Valentine's card.

She looked at me and smiled.

"This is someone's idea of an April Fools' joke, isn't it, Robert?"

We swapped cards. Hers read:

"This is a belated Valentine. Although it is late, the message is meant. Margaret, I love you. Please will you come with me out on a date for a restaurant meal? Robert."

"Yes, Margaret, it must be. It wasn't sent by me."

"Nor did I send the one you got, Robert," Margaret said.

Margaret and I had both been dumped recently by former partners, for the same reason. We were both studying hard at evening classes to get accountancy qualifications that were necessary if we were to be considered for promotion. Our exes had objected to the amount of time we had been spending on the classes and the study.

These cards may be a joke, Margaret, but..."

"But..." She interrupted.

I swallowed. How would she take my next words?

"But whoever sent them has the right idea. Please, Margaret, will you come on a date with me, to a restaurant? Whichever one you choose."

"You'd let me choose, Robert?"

"Of course. I would want you to enjoy the evening. Whichever you choose would be fine with me."

I didn't expect Margaret's reaction. I had thought she would reject the idea out of hand. She didn't. She burst into tears, stood up and came around her desk to hug me, sobbing against my shoulder. One of my arms went around her. I stroked her hair with my other hand.

"Why, Margaret?" I asked quietly.

"He wouldn't..." she said.

"He wouldn't what?" I asked.

"Let me choose anything or decide for myself."

I swore under my breath. That was no way to treat Margaret. She has brains, intelligence and a great sense of humour. The belated Valentine card had been right. I loved Margaret. Only our previous entanglements had prevented me from acknowledging it. Unlike Margaret's ex-boyfriend, my recently parted girlfriend had been good to me. She had been just frustrated that I couldn't give her enough of my time. We had parted as friends.

"But I'm offering you a choice, Margaret. Where?"

She stopped crying at looked up at me.

"How about Suzanna's family restaurant?"

Suzanna is another member of the office. Her father is Italian; her mother English. The family had recently bought a large former public house at one end of our high street with many accommodation rooms and the whole extended family had moved in from Italy. The reviews had been great.

"OK, Margaret. That restaurant. When?"

"Not during the week. We're too busy with classes and homework. Not Friday or Saturday either. I don't like crowded places. Sunday evening/"

"Sounds good to me, Margaret. I'll take you to a restaurant, the Italian one, on Sunday evening. But I'll see you at tonight's class?"

"Yes, and this time, I'm going to be sitting beside you, Robert."

She waved the Valentine card at me.

"After all, this says you love me..."

"It might have been sent as an April Fools' joke, Margaret, but what it says is true..."

Margaret kissed me.

"And so is the one I am supposed to have sent to you. I love you, Robert."

I couldn't reply because Margaret was kissing me again. When we parted, there were ironic cheers from around the room. It seemed that everyone else knew the secret of the belated Valentine's cards.

We didn't mind being April Fools. We had found each other...