THE PROCEDURE

For years now, she had thought of doing this.

It was early afternoon.  The window was ajar, and Sarah could hear girls singing and laughing in the distance, revelling in the innocent pleasures of youth.  Beyond the garden wall, there was a school. She had been a pupil there herself; not because she was wealthy like the others, but because her mother taught music there.

She took one final, lingering look in the mirror, pushing her cheeks up with her fingers. The mirror was set in a gold frame, and she remembered the day he had bought it for her.

‘You’re so beautiful, Sarah’, he’d said, as she first looked into it.  Marriage followed, and more presents.  On the Wednesday she’d found out about his affair, he’d arrived home with flowers and a book.  Sarah had thrown the book out of the window, and the flowers at Paul; how she wished now it had been the other way around.  On Friday, it was all over.  That was five years ago, and she hadn’t seen him since.

She recalled a particular phrase her mother had once said.

‘If he seems too good to be true, he probably is.’  Paul was.  Nine years of wedded bliss, and nothing to show for it – no children, no career – and all the time he’d been using his business trips as a cover for a double life.

Mum had been around for lunch yesterday.  Her dress was the colour of wet slates according to the catalogue; just a little treat for herself.

They’d had ham and eggs for lunch again.  When Sarah brought the subject up, her mother had refused to countenance it.

‘If you even think it, I’ll disown you.’ Mum had protested, throwing both arms up. ‘And stop calling it a procedure; it’s a face-lift.  Like any surgery, it can go wrong.’

Mum was right about one thing, though – Sarah’s fear of needles.  Bravery, she knew, was often underrated, but now was the time for courage.

The doorbell rang.

‘Taxi,’ a gruff voice called from the doorstep.  Sarah grabbed her overnight bag. Looking and feeling ten years younger, she might be able to reclaim something of what had slipped through her fingers over time.