**A Trial Meeting**
“Life’s full of surprises, isn’t it?” thought Sophie to herself. “People live together for years, then—poof—they split up just like that. Honestly, it’s baffling. I know so many who’ve gone through it, and I’m no exception. Didn’t stay long with my tyrant, but still, that’s my past.”
Recently retired and living alone, Sophie’s daughter was married with her own family in the city. She’d left their village after school, went to college, met someone, and settled down. Now, visits were rare—both she and her husband worked, and their daughter was in school.
Back when Sophie was still working, her colleagues would pester her:
“Soph, love, why stay single? Plenty of decent blokes out there—widowers, divorcees, ones whose marriages didn’t work out. Check the personal ads in the papers or online!”
“Bit daft, innit? Me calling a bloke first?” she’d brush them off. “And if a man’s divorced, there’s usually a reason. Good husbands don’t get left, and the good ones are already taken. Can’t trust ’em.”
“Nobody’s forcing you to marry ’em, Soph!” Vera, who’d met her own husband through a newspaper ad, insisted. “Just have a chat—if you don’t like ’em, don’t ring back. Simple as that.”
**Meeting Through an Ad**
Eventually, Sophie gave it a go. The first call was nerve-wracking, but then she thought, “What’s the harm? Just a chat—if it’s rubbish, I’ll hang up.”
After a few calls, she noticed patterns. Some blokes were clearly not worth a second chat. Slowly, her perspective shifted.
“Maybe it’s not always the man’s fault in a divorce. Women can be just as difficult. And let’s face it—you never really know what goes on behind closed doors.”
She kept trying, though none really clicked. Divorced men still made her wary, but fate had other plans. One day, she rang Stephen. Instant warmth in his voice. They talked for ages.
Stephen lived in the next village—a proper house, well-kept. Soon, he invited her over.
“Why don’t you come round, Sophie? We’ve talked enough. If you didn’t fancy me, you’d have stopped calling ages ago. I’ll meet you—deal?”
“Alright then,” she agreed.
She liked his manners, how respectful he was. Never bad-mouthed his ex. Said they’d split after years together, kids grown and flown the nest.
But something nagged at her.
“Stephen, do your kids visit?”
“No. They side with their mum. Don’t ring, let alone visit.”
That bothered her.
“Whatever happens between parents, kids should stay in touch,” she thought. “If they’ve cut him off… there’s a reason.” But she kept that to herself.
**The Visit**
Nervous on the bus, she steadied herself by the time she reached the stop—a crossroads near a big transformer. Stepping off, she spotted a tall, pleasant-looking man grinning at her.
“Sophie?”
“That’s me,” she smiled.
“Stephen, then. Come on—my steed’s over there,” he said, nodding at a glossy black SUV.
She liked that he’d brought flowers, that he hadn’t kept her waiting.
His place was impressive—a proper two-storey house, spotless garden. Inside, everything was tidy, homely.
“Must keep himself neat,” she noted. “Been divorced years, but still cosy.”
As he showed her around, doubts crept in.
“His wife left all this behind? Why? After pouring her life into it…”
**Tea and Truth**
“Sit down,” he said. “Tea’s ready.”
She offered to help—politely—but he refused.
Out came the fine china, cake sliced neatly. He even offered wine, which she declined.
“Good call,” he chuckled. “I only drink at weddings, really.”
Over tea, she complimented the house.
“Lovely place, Stephen. You’ve kept it up well.”
**The Test**
Suddenly, he dropped the act.
“Right, Sophie—time for your test.”
“Pardon?”
“Clear the table, wash up, mop the floor. Then we’ll head to the shed—see if you can milk the cow.”
Stunned, she stared. Even if he’d asked nicely, she’d have tidied up. But this?
“I’ll wash the dishes, but I’m not mopping floors on my first visit. And I’m definitely not milking your cow. You could’ve just said, ‘Make yourself at home,’ but no—you had to stand there inspecting me like some drill sergeant. Not on.”
He tried to laugh it off, but she wasn’t having it.
“Fine, I’ll be blunt,” he said. “Any woman moving in with me brings her own livestock—cow, chickens, sheep. Sell ’em to your family? No chance. I’ll fetch ’em myself.”
She burst out laughing.
“Oh, you’re a right one! I’ve not even said I fancy you, and you’re already divvying up my farm? No, thank you. You want a free caretaker, not a partner. Hard pass—on you, your cow, and your lovely house. God save me from men like you.”
Grabbing her bag, she added, “Don’t bother seeing me out.”
**The Walk Back**
Walking to the bus stop, her mind raced. A local woman caught up, recognising her.
“Oh, you’re one of Stephen’s ‘guests’? Bloke’s had half the county round—cleaning, cooking, never satisfied. Drove his wife mad with his orders. When she left, he wouldn’t let her take a thing—not even her houseplants. Dunno if she got anything in court, but good riddance.”
Now Sophie understood: good husbands don’t get left. And Stephen? Far from good.
