The Other Woman

Neither of us really noticed the old woman, save that white hair hung in greasy strands over her wrinkled face. Sue and I sat in the coffee area of the converted church as she shuffled past, opening a door into the worship area.
Apparently Sue’s husband had been seeing an office girl at his work – “twenty years younger, plain-looking but big-chested.” I noticed Sue’s wide green eyes were wet.
“Don’t worry, she’ll get fed up. She’ll want a lad of her own age.” I squeezed her hand.
A slim brunette in a smart red outfit, carrying a small case, entered the building. She too entered the worship area.
“D’you think I should confront the bastard?”
Suddenly the old church was filled with ethereal flute-like music.
“That must’ve been an instrument case,” I remarked.
“It’s beautiful,” said Sue.
The tune ended suddenly. Silence fell.
The old lady, half-obscured by a large bouquet of fading white lilies, came out and exited the building.
The brunette followed.
“That was beautiful,” I said, “what were you playing?”
She laughed, “Oh, I’m just changing the flowers. That old lady took the old ones. She had a little recorder. Wasn’t it lovely?”
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