
Lilian hurries across the park on a beautiful August day. Out of breath, she pauses and surveys the park. Memories of Jean flood her brain: their first meeting, lazy afternoon strolls, and stolen kisses beneath the beech trees. They’ve spent three blissful years together ... and that’s about to end.
Pain stabs Lilian’s chest and she feels nauseous. Has she overheated or is this guilt? Lilian dithers, uncertain what to do. Jean’s waiting in the rose garden and she’s already late. To delay further is rude. But Lilian is heartbroken, torn. How can she walk away from the love of her life? How can she let society dictate who she loves?

Hidden Among the Roses By Mags Hayward Lilian dabbed her brow with a folded linen handkerchief. Her chest hurt, and, lightheaded, she wished she’d stopped for a glass of iced water or cooling lemonade at the café inside the park entrance. Too late now. There was no time to turn back. She was already tardy. Stowing the handkerchief in her purse, she hurried onward. She laboured in the heat, her limbs leaden, chest constricted as if elastic bands were stretched across her ribcage, winding tighter and tighter with every step. Gasping, she halted and leaned forward, hands on hips. Her legs buckled, and, for a moment, she feared she was falling, crumpling to the ground, sharp gravel digging into her knees and hands, making them bleed. Then the feeling passed. Still woozy, she clutched her he
