The Other Woman

“Mrs Johnson?”

The silence lingered. The park had a sparse human presence. It was Saturday morning, families and picnickers were yet to arrive.

“Hello ma’am, are you Mrs Johnson?”

“Please take a seat, Beatrice.”

Beatrice hesitated.

“Have we met before?” She asked.

Banke’s lips curved into a smirk. She had prepared for this.

“I have seen you, I know what you look like. Take a seat.”

Beatrice wrapped her dress across her slim frame and sat on the edge of the park bench. She took in the dark-skinned woman who was now only a few inches away from her. She looked to be in her mid to late thirties. Her face was unfamiliar, this stranger regarding her.