Back in the 1970s, I married a woman with three kids when no one else would lift a finger to help them.
Andrew, are you serious? Marrying a shopgirl with three children? Have you lost your mind? Vincent, my flatmate in the boarding house, nudged me with a grin.
Whats the big deal? I muttered, not even looking up from the pocket watch I was tinkering with.
Our little town back thensomewhere in the Midlandslived at its own slow pace. Me, a bachelor in my thirties, stuck in the same loop: factory work, draughts, telly, and the odd pint with mates.
Sometimes Id glance out the window at kids playing in the courtyard, and itd hit mehow Id once dreamed of a family. Then Id snap out of itwhat kind of family could a bloke have in a boarding house?
Everything changed one rainy October evening. I popped into the corner shop for a loaf. Same as alwaysexcept this time, behind the counter stood *her*. Rosemary. Mustve walked past her a hundred times, but now her tired yet warm eyes caught me, a quiet light in them.
White or brown? she asked with a faint smile.
White, I mumbled, like Id forgotten how to speak.
Fresh from the bakery, she said briskly, wrapping it up.
When our fingers brushed, something sparked. I fumbled for shillings, stealing glances. Plain clothes, early thirties, worn out but alive somehow.
Days later, I spotted her at the bus stop. Rosemary was wrestling with bags while three kids hoveredThomas, the eldest at fourteen, hefting the heaviest, Emily keeping little Simon in line.
Let me help, I offered, grabbing a bag.
No need, thanks she started, but I was already loading them onto the bus.
Mum, whos that? Simon blurted.
Hush now, Emily scolded.
Turned out they lived in a crumbling terrace near my factory. Thomas, Emily, Simontheir dad died years back, leaving Rosemary to shoulder it all.
We manage, she said, smiling tiredly.
That night, sleep wouldnt come. Her eyes, Simons voice, something long buried stirringlike life had more in store.
After that, I needed milk a lot. The lads at work ribbed me.
Andrew, three trips a day? Smitten, arent you? my foreman, Pete, grinned.
Fresh goods, Id grunt, turning away.
Now were in our own flat, listening to the kids laugh, knowing this familys the best gift I ever got.
