Margaret realized her happiness was boundless. She decided to spend the weekend visiting her ageing mother and sister in her hometown village. Living in the city as a cardiologist at the hospital left little time for trips back home.
At forty-five, Margaret was an attractive woman who had been married long ago and had a daughter. Her daughter had since graduated, married a university sweetheart, and moved to his hometown. Margaret’s own marriage lasted seven years before they amicably parted ways—too different, they agreed.
“Three days off—finally!” Margaret rejoiced. “I’ll stop by the supermarket for a few things for Mum and Helen.”
Margaret came from a village called Joyful, though there was little joy left in it. Most folks had left for work elsewhere, the young moved to the city, and only the elderly remained. It was bleak in autumn and winter but briefly brightened in spring when the fields came alive with greenery.
Now, in late June, she gazed out the bus window at the passing countryside. “It’s been two months since I’ve seen them,” she mused. “At least Mum has Helen with her. Otherwise, I’d have to visit more often—three hours each way isn’t easy.”
Helen had stayed in the village, married a local lad, and settled there. Their father had passed early, so Helen and her husband, Harry, lived with their mother. A skilled handyman, Harry had renovated the house, adding an extension with a separate entrance. Helen had twin sons who’d left for college.
“Unlike me, Helen always wanted village life,” Margaret told her friend Veronica once. “I couldn’t wait to leave.” Veronica had adored her visit, charmed by the fresh air and scenery.
“You’re a city girl,” Margaret laughed. “Come back in autumn when it’s all mud and rain—see how much you love it then.”
This ride passed swiftly—she dozed off and woke as the bus turned onto the dirt road leading to Joyful. Wobbling over bumps, it finally stopped. Stepping out, Margaret smiled. “Nothing ever changes.”
The sun warmed her skin, birds sang, and the air was crisp—home.
“Hello, dear,” came a frail voice. Granny Lucy, their neighbour, stood before her. “Visiting your mum?”
“Yes, Granny Lucy. I’ve missed her.”
“Good girl. She’s been waiting. Off to the shop now—pension came in.”
“How’s your health?”
“Same as ever, love. Same as ever.” With a wave, the old woman toddled away.
Margaret pushed open the garden gate. Empty. Inside, the cat, Whiskers, wound around her ankles. “Hello, you,” she cooed, scratching his chin.
“Oh, ‘little one’?” Helen laughed from the kitchen. “He’s a proper barrel these days! Hullo, frog-traveller. Hungry?”
“Starved.”
“Dining outside?”
“Absolutely. Sun, fresh air—where else?”
Helen grinned. “Mum’s in the garden. Oh—look, she’s brought you strawberries.”
“Hello, Mum!” Margaret rushed to embrace her, taking the bowl. “Missed you.”
“Hello, love.” Her mother beamed—both daughters home at last.
Over lunch, Margaret caught up on village news—happy, sad, mostly about the dwindling elderly.
“Where’s Harry?”
“Away on a job. Two weeks gone, two to go. Good money now—see the car?”
“Lucky you. A proper husband, unlike mine.”
“You looked in the wrong place,” Helen teased. “Should’ve married a local, like me.” Their mother nodded.
Later, the postwoman, Mary, arrived with a notice.
“Helen, you’ve ordered something again. Post office for you.”
“I’ll fetch it,” Margaret offered.
Mary agreed, and Helen handed over her ID.
“Why the sudden urge?” Helen asked.
“Fancy a walk. It’s at the far end.”
“Take my bike—relive your youth!”
Margaret laughed. “Brilliant!”
Cycling through the village, she admired the gardens until—”Look out!”
A man on a bike swerved, nearly colliding with her near a pothole.
“Sorry! Got distracted by Auntie Gladys’ flowers.”
“No harm done.” He grinned—tall, handsome, in a pale T-shirt.
Margaret flushed. “I must seem so careless…”
“First time I’ve seen you here,” he said.
“Visiting my mother and sister,” she admitted, surprising herself.
“I’m just riding around—been years!” His brown eyes sparkled. “Here for the weekend, seeing Auntie Anne.”
“Anne? Her son’s Steven Griggs—we were classmates!”
“His cousin—Stephen.” He grinned. “Fancy a detour by the river?”
“Let’s.”
By the water, they chatted, switching to first names. He was a surgeon at City General—she at Royal Infirmary. Shared colleagues, shared laughter.
At forty-nine, Stephen had divorced three years prior. His wife had left him for a younger man, promising a seaside paradise that crumbled within a year.
“When do you leave?” he asked.
“Tomorrow evening, by bus.”
“Stay another day. I’ll drive us back.”
He picked her a vast bouquet of wildflowers, honey-scented. At dusk, they returned.
“Where’ve you been?” Helen eyed the flowers. “Left your phone!”
“Out… running errands,” Margaret smiled.
“Errands with bouquets?”
“A gift.”
“Well then!” Helen laughed. “Only just arrived and already charmed!”
“Took a ride around the village for my luck,” Margaret teased.
“Stephen Griggs, eh? Good man—a doctor too. Now I see.”
They met again the next day, walking, laughing—the spark undeniable. Margaret felt girlish, certain she’d found boundless joy.
They left together in his car, the boot packed with homemade jams and veggies. Her family beamed, seeing her glow. Stephen couldn’t take his eyes off her.
They seldom parted after that village summer, knowing they were two halves meant to meet in Joyful. Married now, they live in happiness—just as the name promised.
