Happiness comes to those who believe in it and wait.
In year eight, during the school Christmas party, Elsie sneaked off with Ronnie. They just wanted a quiet moment together, and suddenly, fat snowflakes began tumbling down—like someone up above had torn open a feather pillow stuffed with swan’s down. The snowflakes swirled and danced, and Ronnie took Elsie’s chilly hands, warming them against his lips with his breath.
They’d been friends since primary school, but lately, things had changed between them. They weren’t kids anymore—childhood had slipped away, though they weren’t quite sure where—but they still had each other. They hoped, with all their hearts, it would stay that way forever.
*God, that feels like a lifetime ago,* Elsie thought now, *and where’s Ronnie now?*
At thirty-two, she was still unmarried, never even close. Fate had played its part—and her mum, Valerie, had given it a nudge. If not for her, Elsie’s life might have turned out quite differently.
She’d been an ordinary girl, really—loved playing, running, climbing, always trailing after Ronnie and Tamsin. Since year one, Ronnie had carried her schoolbag, helped with maths, chased off dogs and bullies. He came from a rough home—his dad drank, often kicked his wife and son out, and they’d end up spending the night at Elsie’s.
Valerie would sigh, shaking her head at Ronnie’s mum.
“Jean, why do you put up with this? Leave him—this isn’t a life!”
“I do it for Ronnie,” Jean would mutter.
“Is this the example you want him growing up with? What will he learn from that man?” But Jean just shrugged, helpless.
After those talks, Valerie would sometimes turn to Elsie and say, “You really shouldn’t be hanging around with that boy.”
“Mum, Ronnie’s the best friend I’ve ever had,” Elsie would protest.
“Mark my words, when he’s older, he’ll turn out just like his father. There are plenty of other lads about.”
But Elsie never listened. Ronnie was her brave, loyal shadow—they’d tested their courage together, swimming in deep water (though he always stayed close—Elsie wasn’t the strongest swimmer), or standing at the edge of steep cliffs, one misstep away from disaster.
As they grew, their bond only strengthened. Their neighbour Tamsin often tagged along—a trio of mischief—though once they hit their teens, Tamsin started fancying a lad named Mike from another class and drifted away.
Then, in year eight, just after Christmas, Elsie took a bad fall and broke her leg. A nasty fracture—she was stuck in hospital for weeks.
Valerie wept. “Oh, love—what if you’re left with a limp forever?”
But Elsie was stubborn. She swore she’d recover, ripping off the cast the second she could. The doctor told Valerie, *Your girl’s got spine. She’ll manage.* And she did—first steps on crutches, then a walking stick.
Classmates visited, even their form tutor. But Ronnie? He didn’t just visit—he was there *every day*, smuggling in jam tarts, raspberry preserves, and her favourite books.
When she was finally discharged, her limp lingered. The doctor advised Valerie to relocate—warmer climate, sea air—so off they went.
“Love, we’re moving south—to Aunt Margery’s. The sea air will help.”
“Mum, I *don’t* want to! My friends are here—”
But Valerie wouldn’t budge.
Leaving was agony. Ronnie was gutted.
“Whatever happens,” he said, gripping her hands, “don’t forget me. I won’t forget you. We’ll write.”
Then he kissed her—properly, for the first time.
They settled in a quiet coastal village. Elsie dashed off letters to Ronnie and Tamsin—but they never got them. Valerie had made sure of that. No replies came, and Elsie, heartbroken, assumed they’d abandoned her.
New school, new torment. The kids—already year nines—were cruel. *Limpy Lizzie,* they jeered.
No friends. Just books, and the bitter ache of Ronnie’s supposed betrayal. She wrote again—nothing.
After school, Elsie went to university. When exams came, Valerie made a trip back home—just as Elsie couldn’t go along. *Convenient timing.*
“Drop that Ronnie,” Valerie announced upon return. “He’s married now, with a kid. Never liked him.”
Elsie was crushed. She buried herself in studies, graduated, became an English teacher—stick still in hand, convinced no man would ever want her.
“I’m not whole enough to be loved,” she’d tell herself, though she was lovely. “Plenty of proper women out there.”
Nights dragged, Ronnie haunting her dreams—they’d soar over cliffs, hand in hand, weightless.
Years passed. Classmates married. Elsie attended a few weddings, watching happiness slip further away. Then Valerie, ever meddling, took action.
They’d bought a fixer-upper—no man around for repairs—so Elsie placed an ad.
Stephen answered. Skilled, charming—and *very* interested in Elsie, limp and all.
Valerie nudged. “He’s got golden hands! Handsome, too—why not give him a chance?”
Elsie sighed. Maybe Mum was right. She accepted his attentions. He moved in, fixed things, proposed.
“Let’s marry,” he said. “Feels odd, living here on borrowed time.”
She said yes.
Then came the knock.
Stephen was out. The woman at the door held a marriage certificate—and three birth certificates.
“Stephen’s my husband. These are our kids.”
Turned out, he’d abandoned his family, “lost” his passport, and started fresh. His wife had tracked him down via her cousin—a police officer now cuffing Stephen in their hallway.
Elsie was *done*.
Then Valerie fell ill, guilt-ridden.
“Love… I need to confess.”
Elsie froze.
“I told Aunt Margery to intercept your letters. I never wanted you tied to Ronnie—not with his father’s example. I’m sorry.”
Elsie wrote to Tamsin—*finally*—and was invited to her wedding.
The reception was lively, packed. Elsie stepped outside for air—and there, striding toward her, was Ronnie.
“Elsie—bloody hell, it’s you!”
She couldn’t speak. Just buried her face in his chest.
“Tamsin said there’d be a surprise,” she breathed.
“Me too.” He grinned. “Mum and I live nearby. Always hoped you’d turn up.” He paused. “You’re not married?”
“No.”
“Good. Neither am I. Been waiting for you.”
After the wedding, they visited his mum—Jean blessed them. Valerie, seeing Elsie’s joy, finally relented.
Their own wedding was quiet—just them and both mums. Jean later sold her house and moved closer.
Now? They raise twin boys—fifteen, already helping on Ronnie’s farm. Elsie still teaches.
They’re happy.
Because happiness comes to those who believe—and wait.
