Had Second Thoughts About Getting Married
Alfred would sit late into the night in his laboratory, endlessly decanting mysterious concoctions from one test tube to another, and scrutinising odd powders as if they might make or break the Empire.
He was convinced that his tireless graft would soon bear fruit, and at last hed be able to unveil his producta unique something extracted from the roots of a rare British weedto polite society.
Such was his enthusiasm that forty-year-old Alfred hardly noticed the interested glances of the new young cleaner, Daisy, who had only recently joined the institute.
Dreaming of his imminent breakthrough, Alfred failed to notice how Daisy would linger in his office, propping herself on her mop and engrossed in silently boring grazes into his back.
One evening, the girl finally gathered her courage and piped up:
“Mr. Atkinson, youve been perched in that chair since dawn. Dont you fancy a brew? Ive accidentally brought my electric kettle from homeand theres some homemade sausage rolls.”
At the tantalising mention of sausage rolls, Alfred finally tore himself away from his experiment and stood up.
Tea sounds splendid. And sausage rolls, you say? Well, it would be positively sinful to refuse a treat like that.
Elated, Daisy grabbed her trembling backpack and produced first the kettle, and then a Tupperware brimming with culinary promise.
Mum sent me some lovely pork yesterday, so I made these with a bit of lard and baked them up.
Beaming, she set the Tupperware on his desk.
Well, well, murmured Alfred. He instinctively dug round in his lab coat for his glasses (which hed only just put away) and popped them back on.
While the kettle rumbled, Alfred eyed the Tupperware with clinical suspicion:
Tell me, how long has this sausage roll container been in your bag?
Daisy shuffled. Er, since morning, I suppose. Why?
And the lidwas it as tightly sealed as it is now?
Yeswell, as far as I know. You think its all gone off? It shouldnt have. Its cold in the staff room, heatings not on yet.
Alfred squinted, torn. Right. Well, lets just have plain tea, perhaps. And you can take the sausage rolls home.
Daisy, whod spent last night kneading, stuffing, and rolling said sausage rolls, was indignant and promptly seized the Tupperware.
Alfred deduced her determination from her newly knitted brows.
No, dont open it! he shrieked, bounding across the room and pinching his nose with a handkerchief for good measure.
Daisy flipped the lid anyway, sniffed, and proclaimed, Smells fine. Honestly, you city typesso picky! Dont want to try one? More for me!
Thumping the box on the table, she began pouring tea.
Alfred edged closer, tea warming him from within, and watched Daisy munch her sausage roll in delight.
Beef? he queried.
Mmmhm, Daisy replied, mouth full.
Does look tasty. And theres no pong. Actually, it smells lovely.
Alfreds mouth watered. Biology would not be talked out of it.
He sighed gloomily. Technically, staff room temperature should max out at twenty-two degrees Celsius, which means, in theory, no microorganisms
Daisy twisted toward him. What?
He noticed a bead of grease rolling down her round chin, another glinting on her nose.
Alfreds thoughts chased each other like panicking sheep:
Rich, hearty what a smell! Oh, why did I object so loudly?
Steady, Alfred. You know the dangers of unrefrigerated snacks. She honestly doesnt look like someone fussing over food safety laws. She probably thinks Salmonellas a town in Essex!
Trying to convince himself, Alfred drank his plain tea while his stomach began a low, persuasive rumble.
And thenthe unimaginable! An otherworldly compulsion. His hand acted on its own, reaching for a sausage roll. The pastry burst under his teeth, unleashing a savoury heaven.
Marvelous. Who made these, then?
I told you, I did! Daisy blushed.
Alfred ate and ate, eyes half-closed with gastronomic rapture.
Curse me, I have no words
Daisy, delighted, wiped her mouth on the hem of her (admittedly grubby) work tunic, then dabbed away a sudden tear.
There! You like them, dont you? All this fuss about spoilage! I know what Im doing; been baking since I was a nipper!
***
By way of thanks for the hearty snack, Alfred insisted on walking Daisy to her bus stop.
They chatted. To his mild alarm, Daisy was only twenty-three.
Very young indeed.
Practically his daughters age. They waited ten minutes at the bus stop, the Number 47 nowhere to be seen.
Shall I bring homemade biscuits tomorrow? Daisy offered, sheepish. I bake them, wont touch shop-bought. Do you prefer carrot or oat?
I love them all.
Ill bring both, then.
Unbelievably, Alfred found himself looking forward to the next day.
He nearly forgot about his equations, formulashis mind full of biscuits. Then, that night, he dreamed a scandalous dream: Daisy unbuttoning her blouse, revealing her sugared shoulder
He woke up scarlet as a beetroot.
Good lord, he muttered, Forty years old, never once looked twice at a girl, and suddenly
Part 2
Of course, Alfred was nervous before meeting Daisys family. As the cab rattled along some pothole-ridden lane, he doffed his flat cap and tried (unsuccessfully) to plaster his thinning hair over his increasingly bald scalp.
Just yesterday, Daisy had cradled his head in her lap and tweezed out all the grey hairs with maternal precision.
Hed shaved, dressed in his smartest suit, tied a tie, doused himself in cologne.
Daisy snuggled close, shut her eyes like a cheerful kitten. Youll be fine. Mums a decent sort. Stepfathers a real softienever objects to anyone.
How old is your mum?
Forty-five.
Well, Im forty. You think shell approve of me?
Dont be daft! If shes funny about it, Ill fib and say Im expecting.
Lets not start off that way, Alfred quaked.
They arrived. Alfred tumbled from the car, immediately clutching his cap as the wind tried mightily to whisk it to another village.
It was winter. The snow piles in this town made London look positively tropical.
As Alfred scanned the icy landscape, Daisy paid the driver, then leapt out, hauling bagshers and hisas if she were a champion pit pony.
Hed only seen such houses in old BBC period dramas: a lopsided roof, chipped slates, and a chimney topped with a distressed cast-iron pot.
Inside creaked a door padded with an ancient eiderdown, floorboards covered in mismatched rugs, and higgledy-piggledy walls slathered in thick lime.
My word, where have I landed? Does anyone actually live here? Surely this is the garden shed, or an abandoned hen house?
But Daisy, whispering, begged him to take off his shoes and pushed him into a tiny, chilly parlour.
A woman stood in the centre in a garish flannel robe.
Hello Mum. This is Alfred, my fiancé. I told you about him!
Frost radiated from the woman as if she were channelling Narnia.
Good evening, she said in a tone suggesting shed rather say Get lost.
Youre kidding, dear? How old are you both?
Alfred fidgeted.
Er, let me introduce myself. Im Alfred, your daughter and I work together at
I asked, how old are you?! she boomed.
Im forty.
My Daisys only twenty-three! You could be her father!
Er, well, yes, Im older, but I very much care for Daisy and would never hurt her. I have a good job, a city flat, a little cottage in the country
But no car!
Thats true, my eyesights a bit dodgy, but buying a cars easy. II could teach Daisy to drive, if thats important
Rubbish! Mum barked, I know your type! After a free maid, are you? Victorian Englands long gone, pal!
Madam, really! Alfred wailed. I want to marry your daughter, have a proper church wedding, raise a couple of kidshonestly, Im sincere!
From behind the fireplace emerged a grinning man, about thirty, with curly hair and full lips.
Evening, pleased to meet you, heard all about you, he chirpedthis was Daisys stepfather. He looked altogether too charming and youthful; Alfred privately thought of him as a strapping, dashing colt.
Andy, dont you try to butter him up! Mum snarled. Ill not hand over my girl to this old codger!
Daisy gasped, Mum! You cant say that to guests! Im leaving with him!
Like hell you are!
The beginnings of a proper family drama eruptedprecisely the sort of scene Alfred most wished to steer clear of.
He quietly pried Daisys clutching fingers from his hand and tried to slip away.
Daisy, Im sorry. I cant go against your mothers wishes.
Oh, so she can boss me about? She shacks up with a bloke whos nearly young enough to be her son, chucks me out the house whenever she wants a romantic evening, and Im meant to stand for it?
Dont talk back! Andy shouted.
Shut your face! Mum countered, even louder.
A proper row kicked off.
Shoulders hunched, Alfred darted for the door. A stool whizzed past his head.
Good lord, protect me! he wheezed, sprinting out of the inhospitable home.
He charged out the gate, then, in panic, patrolled half the hamlet, hunting in vain for a taxi or a railway station.
The stress pressed on his chesthe was certain his blood pressure was through the roof.
Why on earth did I agree to all this? he groaned, shivering in the snow, I could be in my warm laboratory. But noI had to play the romantic hero!
Digging in his pocket for his mobile, he jabbed futilelyno signal in the wilds.
Eventually, worn out, he trudged back to the now-silent house, recognising it by the distinctive sooty pot on the chimney.
On the icy porch, to his surprise, Daisy appeared, lugging her bag.
Alfie, are you there? she called, voice trembling, I thought youd run off!”
Oh, just getting some fresh air, he lied, chin wobbling from the cold.
If Mum wont give us her blessing, Im leaving with you! Daisy declared.
Alfred said nothinghis London shoes useless against the country frost, fur lining no match for the elements. He hopped and stamped, trying to feel his toes.
Romance? He was fast falling out of love.
Especially with in-laws like these.
***
Daisys mum emerged onto the porch, draped in a battered sheepskin and wellingtons, defiant as a matriarch.
If you dont respect me, off you go, then! Now hes your problem! she intoned, regal as a minor noble.
Daisy nodded, Better with him than here, Mum! Hes wonderful! At least call us a cab.
Certainly not. Youre his responsibility now. Dont count on me again!
Daisy prodded Alfred, desperate, Please do something, darling.
Alfred, half frozen and faintly creaking, summoned his last dregs of British resolve.
No signal here, and Im not Dumbledore. Try the neighbours for their landline?
For the first time in his life, he was utterly at a loss. His legs buckled from cold and nerves, and he collapsed, gasping.
Whats wrong with you?! Daisy shrieked, mortifying the whole parish. Alfred attempted to lick his chilled lips:
My heads spinning. Never thought Id meet my end in a country cottage. I want to go home.
No! wailed Daisy. Alfred imagined the earth had opened and swallowed him to Hades.
***
Alfred was only half conscious by the time a visiting nurse jabbed an injection into his side, and he drifted back to reality.
No miraclehe opened his eyes to peeling lime and a creaking sofa, trying to throw off the blanket.
Dont get up, said the nurse briskly. Rest half an hour.
Whats wrong? Alfred groaned.
Hypertensive crisis. Unwise to stress yourself.
Aha Well, Ive never been stressed until today
He hallucinated Daisys mothers scowl.
Sickly, too! it jeered.
Mum, enough! Daisy scolded.
She brought him hot tea, feeding him with a spoon like a poorly child.
As the nurse prepared to leave, Alfred pleaded, Could you take me with you?
Where to?
Arent you from the ambulance?
No, I live in this villagecover four parishes.
Daisy brushed the tea aside, locking eyes with him. You cant go! Weve sorted thingsMum gave in. She forgives us.
Alfred, whod long since lost the urge to marry, could not meet Daisys gaze.
You might have agreed, but I have my own opinion. If I escape alive, Ill never let myself near love again, Alfred vowed silently.
***
Alfred Atkinson finished up for the day and told his lab technician, Thats it for me. You should have left half an hour ago. Im locking up.
The technician, a blushing and bespectacled thirty-two-year-old, hesitated, I brought a cake. Would you like some tea?
No, he snapped. No tea in the lab! Were here to work, not have coffee mornings!
But, sir, we finished hours ago, she smiled.
Off you go, then! he barked.
Her smile drooped; she packed up and left.
Nutcase, she muttered on her way out.
Alfred exhaled, locked up, and headed home.
He arrived at eight on the dot.
Daisy opened the door at the sound of his key.
Evening, Mr. Atkinson.
Whats for supper? he deadpanned, not meeting her eye.
Duck stew and potato dumplings.
Lovely. Im famished. Just jot down what I owe for groceriesIll add it onto your wages at the end of the month.
He removed his shoes and jacket, washed his hands, and headed to the kitchen.
Daisy hovered.
Are you still cross with Mum? She only snapped because she thought youd never truly want mea posh, respected scientist, nearly a professor! She was only playing hard to geta daft woman, really. But you know I still care for you
Alfred stirred his soup, uneasy.
Or are you still traumatised by that family row? Honestly, its normal for usrows, make-ups, you name it Sure, we overdid it, but whats new?
Alfred stood, gently steered Daisy out into the hall, then out the front door, placing her bag in her hand.
Its late, off you go. No need to come tomorrowIll have dumplings for tea, and see you the day after.
Shutting the door on Daisys tear-streaked face, Alfred returned to the kitchen and tucked in.
