Ethel, come to the club tonight, Ive got something to talk about, says Harold casually as she steps out of the corner shop, already hurrying off to somewhere else.
Ethel watches him go, nods, but hes already turned the corner behind the shop.
She thinks, *Harold always looks so serious. Maybe its because hes six years older than me.* She walks the narrow lane back to her cottage, the evening air cool against her skin.
Shes sure shell be at the community hall later, but she cant guess what Harold wants to discuss. Mabel always circles him, never letting any other girl get near. In the village everyone knows Mabel wont let Harold slip away; she clings to him like a shadow. Ethel has even seen Harold dodge Mabel when she asks him to dance at the hall.
Leave him alone, she hears Mabel shout, laughing rather than being offended.
Dont think you can run, youll fall in love and marry me, and Ill still be yours Mabel sings, teasing.
*If a bloke said that to me, Id walk the tenth road away in shame,* Ethel thinks.
She spends the evening getting ready; her heart thrums for a reason she cant name. Shes nineteen, with a whole life ahead. Shes always dreamed of marrying a good, kind man and having two children.
*Harold is a decent fellow, even if hes six years older, but his gaze sends a chill down my spine,* she muses, looking at herself in the mirror. The new dress fits her perfectly. *Hes walked me home three times, always politely, never taking my handunlike other lads who try to hug and grab.*
The hall is already bustling when she steps in. Harolds eyes lock onto hers the instant she walks through the door; hes been waiting, and he rushes over. She scans for Mabel, but the friend isnt there yet.
Hey, Ethel, Harold says, leading her to the centre of the room. Lets dance, he adds, and they sway to the tune of My Bright Little Star.
Before she can even look around, theyre already moving together. Harold stays as serious as ever, a faint smile curving his lips now and then. The closeness makes her pulse race; his hand grips her waist firmly. They spin a few more times when Mabel finally appears, glaring at the pair. Harold stays close to Ethel, constantly inviting her onto the floor.
The music hasnt ended when Harold leans in, Ethel, lets get out for a walk.
Alright, she agrees, and they slip out of the hall while Mabel keeps dancing.
Outside the village, the night is quiet except for the chirp of crickets and the cool breath of the river. A thin mist drifts over the fields, and the scent of wildflowers hangs in the air, perhaps heightened by Harolds presence.
Ethel, Im not going to beat around the bushwill you marry me? Harold declares.
She freezes, not expecting a proposal; she thought he might simply confess his love.
Why are you so quiet? Harold asks, his voice a little nervous.
Oh, Harold, I didnt see this coming but Im happy to say yes, she whispers, giggling. He pulls her into an embrace and kisses her.
The wedding is a cheerful affair, a true love ceremony. Afterward, Ethel moves into Harolds family home, sharing the house with his parents. She quickly settles in; his parents welcome her with kindness. Though shed heard the old tales of troublesome mothersinlaw, her relationship with them turns out to be wonderful.
Ethel respects Harolds opinions, trusting him because hes older. She lets him lead the family, and he never mistreats her, always supporting her in hard times. Soon they have a son, and Ethels motherly duties fall on her shoulders. The grandmother helps with the baby, even staying up at night to soothe him.
Three years later a daughter arrives; the grandparents adore the grandchildren. Ethel isnt overwhelmed with the children because her own mother and the grandmother often lend a hand.
Ethel, well build a house together, Harold says one day. Every man ought to have a home of his own. She agrees, and he gets to work.
Their son is five, their daughter still little, and Ethel cant stop smiling at the news. Shes longed for her own place, a home where she can run things her way. She dreams, In my own house Ill do everything as I like, a separate room for the kids, a bedroom just for us. Harold listens and makes her wishes reality.
At last the new house stands, and they move in, all thrilled. Harold plays with the children like a youngster, chasing them around. They even bring a kitten home, and the little cat darts through the rooms.
Ethel, perhaps we should think about a third child, Harold suggests one evening.
Why not, she laughs, We have plenty of space now, look at this beautiful house.
But fate intervenes. Harold suddenly collapses after breakfast, clutching his chest. Ethel helps him onto the sofa and rushes for an ambulance, but by the time the paramedics arrive, hes already gone.
Grief overwhelms Ethel. She cries, If only I could keep living, maybe have that third child She wonders why good men are taken away so soon. She is left a widow with two children.
At first she mourns day after day, remembering Harold, but she knows she must carry on for the sake of her children. Im the only one they have now; I must endure this trial and not give up, she tells herself.
She takes two jobs to provide, while her inlaws continue to help. Slowly she regains her strength and looks presentable again. Men start approaching, even proposing marriage, but she cant entertain the idea while her children are still young.
What if they dont accept a stranger? What if he cant be a father to them? What if he hurts them? countless questions swirl in her head. She decides to wait until the children are grown.
Eventually the son graduates from university, the daughter finishes college, both start families of their own, and Ethel, now fortyeight, enjoys visits from her grandchildren. One weekend her son says, Mum, youre still young and lovely. Dont stay alonefind a decent man and marry again. We wont mind, we know loneliness doesnt suit a life.
Son, Ive thought about it, but I dont know if Ill ever meet a man like Harold. I turn down suitors because most of them drink, argue, or wont work. I have my own house and my own responsibilities; everything seems to be going downhill anyway. At least youre handy with your hands, she replies.
A neighbour later introduces Ethel to a widower from a nearby village, Gregory, a respectable man. He drives over in his car, even bringing a bottle of wine his son had fetched from the city.
Ethel welcomes him, bakes a couple of pies, sets the table, and pours the wine. Although the neighbour says Gregory doesnt drink, he uncorks the bottle and fills two glasses.
While they chat, Ethel notices Gregory drinking the whole bottle himself. She doesnt touch his glass, but he says, What a lovely wine, Ethel, where did you get it? Ive never tasted anything like it.
The son brought it, she answers, noticing his eyes turning glassy.
Gregory, emboldened by the drink, blurts out, Ethel, lets live together at my place. My house is as good as yours, and I wont abandon it. Ive spent half my life there and will keep on. So pack up tomorrow, well move in. We could even sell this housewhy would you need it?
My children live here, and the house belongs to them. It was built by their father, she protests.
Then why are you coming to me? Not emptyhanded, I presume, Gregory snaps.
Ethel stands, replies, Gregory, life wont work for us. Go home. Were different, we wont get along.
Youve only known me two hours and already say we wont live together? he retorts.
Ive made up my mind. No more men in this house. Ill stay alone. It may be lonely, the garden will be a chore, but I dont need any more husbands, she says, laughing to herself as she closes the door firmly.
She tells herself, Better not to think about men now; theres no one like Harold. Ill live alone for my children and grandchildren. Loneliness doesnt colour a life, but neither does living with just anyone. Life goes on.
