CANT WAIT TO WALK DOWN THE AISLE
Ella was positively itching to get married again. Shed already tested out the unsuccessful version once, thank you very much. She had a twenty-year-old son, Adam, to show for that particular experiment.
Once, ages ago now, shed caught her husband in the most classic of betrayals. Ella had come home a day early from a conference to discover her husband halfway through making the bed in just his underwear, while her (now former) best friend brewed coffee in Ellas dressing gown. Textbook.
The divorce that followed was swift and merciless. The she-devil friend was erased from every contact list, social or otherwise, and Ella didnt bother with any drawn-out drama. There was guilt, and there would be retributionhusband and suitcase were forcibly exiled. She banned her son from seeing his father. Back then, Ella wasnt even thirty.
More than a decade has passed since then. Ella managed to earn not one but two degreesa PhD, then a professorship in English literature. She made it as the head of the English Department at the university. Peerless, respected, solitary.
For all those ten years as a single woman, Ella never lost hope of meeting a proper companion. She considered herself far too young to be clicking knitting needles or wielding a cross-stitch hoop just yet.
Applicants for her affections werent lacking. But somehow, no one dropped anchor in the harbour of her heart. One suitor, after their very first date, proposed marriage. He promptly borrowed fifty pounds (Were practically family, after all!) and vanished without a backward glance. Then there was the widower on the hunt for a mother for his tribe of kidsthree of them, each smaller than the last. He immediately invited Ella to his house and asked her to whip up a nice dinner for the whole lot. Ella wasnt prepared for such a red-hot reception, but she made dinner, fed the children, got a thank you, and then went home for a good old British cry. Pity for the man and his little ones, sure, but Ella knew she wasnt signing up for that circus. Perhaps Im selfish, she reasoned.
Prospects slimmed with each year. Just when Ella decided to put a definitive full stop at the end of her romantic sentence, He appeared. Capital H.
Oliver was 28, a former student of hers. In Ellas English class, hed been keen and brilliantforeign, yes (from sunny Morocco), but so charming it nearly counted as a superpower. He stuck around Oxford after graduation, opening a little café that sold the best flat whites this side of London.
By chance, Ella found herself at Olivers petrol station, desperately needing a top-up and a cup of tea. There he was, owner and resident charmer. They fell to reminiscing about university days and sharing a laugh or two. Oliver handed over his business card, Just in case. Next thing you know, Ella was visiting the café every week, car in need of a refill or not.
Oliver began rather pointedly inviting her outdinners, orchestra concerts, the full works. Ella was flustered, refusing everything, convinced no good could come of dating an ex-pupil. But Olivers polite persistence was harder to shake than an annoying cold.
She remembered back when Oliver had gifted her a carved box with a note inside. Ella opened it, turned crimson, then went as pale as over-steeped tea. In the note, he had written: Professor EllaI love you! Convinced she was the butt of a student prank, Ella had foisted the box back at him and fled.
But next day, Oliver had knocked quietly on her office door: Professor Ella, I didnt mean to offend you. I really do like you. Graciously, shed forgave himAlright, Oliver, get along to class. Lessons about to start. Oliver didnt approach her again after that, but occasionally, shed catch him sneaking a glance at her from across the lecture hall.
Now, here it all was again, but different. She debated: accept his attentions, or shut him down once and for all? Were just man and woman now. Stranger things have happened, she mused.
In the end, she let fate have its way.
A short but sparkling romance ensued. First date was a triumphOliver was funny, gentle, and romantic in ways Ella had only read about in books with flowery covers. The age gap bothered neither of them. With him, Ella was a giddy schoolgirl, and Olivera thoroughly charming grown-up.
She began to call him Ollie, and he called her Ellie. Bliss! For the first time, Ella felt truly desired. It was all a bit addictive.
But Oliver wasnt proposing. He had plans to return to Morocco, and wasnt about to cross his mother (who had already lined up a perfectly suitable Moroccan bride17, demure, and from a good family, name of Khadija, naturally). And in truth, Ella had no intention of moving abroadAdam, her mother, her whole life was here. It wasnt exactly likely that Olivers strict family would be falling over themselves to welcome an older Englishwoman with a grown son. Not quite the done thing.
Better the devil you know than the devil you dont, as the saying goes.
So, Ella decided shed lavish all her affection on Oliver while she could. After all, how much happiness did she have left to squander? Ill love him so much, hell barely be able to breathe! Ella confided to her mother.
Her mother, naturally, was having none of it.
Ellie! Why on earth are you getting mixed up with that foreign chap? Arent there enough Ollies in England? I absolutely cannot give you my blessing for this. Your ex-husband is still mooning after you. Hasnt he shown enough contrition? Why not forgive him and move on? After all, youve a son together! came the tirade.
Mum, David cheated on me, remember? Ella bristled.
Hes apologised a thousand times! Besides, who was it that got so absorbed in writing dissertations she neglected her husband? Leave a man unattended and some woman will snap him up. And as for standardshes a man, what do you expect? her mother sniffed.
Well, Mum, Ella countered, why didnt you forgive Dad when he did the same?
Not the same at all! Your father left before you were born, and he had three other children by the time he showed his face again. What was I supposed to do with a man and three extras in tow? At least Davids been around, waiting for you to let him back in. Adam adores him.
Oh Mum, Im not marrying Oliver. Im far too old for him. Ill wait till he calls it off. Cant see myself ending things. Well see Ella sighed.
Dear, even an old mare fancies a lick of the salt! her mother laughed, shaking her head.
Three years later, Oliver took his leave. Ill stay in touch, love, he said, sadly but with that signature smile.
Ella had half-expected it, but it still stung to hand over Oliver to young Khadija. At parting, he gave her the same carved box from long ago. Inside this time was a delicate ringtwo little angels holding a heart-shaped diamond.
My heart stays here with you, Ellie, Oliver said, kissing her hand before flying off to Morocco.
A year later, Oliver sent a wedding photo: My wife Khadija. The next year, another photo, another bride: My second wife Maryam. Apparently, polygamy was perfectly legal in Morocco.
Ella looked at these status reports with not a hint of envy. What do these little spring chickens know about true love? she thought. Olivers sad-eyed look offered some comfortperhaps he missed her, even loved her still? Or maybe old love simply goes rusty when a fresh wind blows.
So, the fairytale ended. Page turned. In the meantime, Adam got married and, to Ellas delight, gave her a granddaughter. Ella calmly lobbied for the baby to be named Ellie. She wanted her fiery love story to live on, in memory if nowhere else.
In the end, Ella forgave Davidout of pity, perhaps, or simply the tick of time. His crimes, it seemed, had reached their sell-by date. With her mothers relentless persuasionHe regrets everything, dont we all have our faults? Temptation is for mortals, not just stories!Ella relented and took David back.
Nowadays, Ella and David keep close, not keen to be parted again. Ella has even taken up knittingshes made Ellie the prettiest little socks, complete with faux-Arabic patterns.
