“Hello, Emily,” the screen flashed as I scrolled through my phone. The familiar voice of my best friend, Sophie, crackled through the speaker.
“Just got home from work. Everything alright? Sorry, I’m knackered—today was mental,” I sighed, kicking off my shoes.
“Just reminding you—my birthday’s tomorrow. Seven o’clock at The Griffin. No excuses. See you there.” And just like that, Sophie hung up before I could protest.
“Who was that?” Mum leaned against my bedroom door, arms crossed. She’d heard every word.
“You already know,” I muttered. Mum pursed her lips. “Sophie’s birthday. She’s insisting I go.”
“Shame you didn’t buy that blue dress. Would’ve been perfect.” Her tone was thick with disapproval.
“Forgot all about it. Haven’t even got her a present. Can’t be bothered, honestly. I’ll just wish her happy birthday later.”
“Later? Sophie’s your only proper friend, and you’re about to offend her. You’ll end up with no one at this rate. I’ll pick up a gift tomorrow—stop fussing. Go out, have fun. All you think about is work. You’re nearly thirty, and what have you got? No husband, no kids. Blimey, not even a serious relationship!”
“What’s that got to do with anything? I’m twenty-seven, not thirty!”
“Twenty-seven is already twenty-seven. Sophie’s got lads lined up round the block. Maybe she’ll set you up with someone,” Mum grumbled.
“Feels like you’re desperate to get rid of me. Like Nan used to say—‘shove me off your hands.’” I didn’t bother hiding my irritation.
“What’s wrong with that? Your old classmates’ kids are nearly finishing school!”
“Sophie’s not married either, for your information,” I shot back.
“She will be—don’t you worry. But you?”
“Here we go.” I rolled my eyes. Mum had dug up her favourite, sorest topic.
“Go on, then. Say you’re on your deathbed and I’ve failed to ‘settle you.’” I was properly riled now.
“I’m not dying yet, but time’s ticking. I’d like to hold my grandkids before I’m too old.” Mum’s voice sharpened.
“For God’s sake, Mum, you’re fifty-three!”
“Exactly. Retiring soon, and no grandbabies. So you’re going tomorrow. Oh—the roast’s burning!” She dashed to the kitchen.
The next evening, gift bag in hand, I stepped into The Griffin. The blue dress Mum had nagged me into wearing clung uncomfortably. I’d even curled my hair—another of her brilliant suggestions. I felt out of place, like Alice after she’d outgrown Wonderland. I was late, thanks to another row with Mum.
The restaurant buzzed. Every table was full, waiters weaving between them like shadows. The chatter washed over me like waves.
“Reservation, or meeting someone?” A stiff-suited maître d’ materialised beside me, his smile painfully polite.
“My friend’s birthday…” I mumbled, feeling like an imposter. Fancy places made me nervous.
“Follow me.” He led me to a table where Sophie beamed, flanked by two blokes. I recognised Daniel Whitmore—banker’s son, Sophie had introduced us once. The other looked rougher, awkward. Of course. Sophie’s set-up. Typical.
The maître d’ pulled out a chair.
“Ta.” Sophie flashed her winning smile. “Finally! We’ve already ordered—hope you don’t mind.” She hissed under her breath, “You look gorgeous, by the way.”
I wanted the floor to swallow me. Apologising for being late, I passed Sophie the gift. She thanked me without glancing inside and set it at her feet.
The room glittered—too many sequins, too much perfume. Daniel poured champagne.
“Just a bit,” I warned as the bottle neared my glass. “I’ve got a night shift later.”
“Emily’s a nurse,” Sophie announced, faux-impressed.
Daniel gave a toast; we clinked glasses. The champagne fizzed bitterly. A waiter arrived with starters.
“Meet Jack,” Sophie whispered, nodding at the quieter bloke. “He’s a sailor—fancy that!”
“Merchant navy?” Daniel asked.
“Fishing trawler,” Jack muttered.
“Pay decent?”
“Can’t complain.”
“Must be rough—months at sea. No pubs, no birds. How d’you lot not go mad?” Daniel refilled the glasses.
“Too tired after watch for anything else. Tough at first, but you get used to it.”
Jack ate heartily, answering questions but never looking at me. His eyes kept flicking to Sophie. No surprise there—she was stunning. I felt invisible.
A band struck up, and Sophie dragged Daniel to dance. Others joined. When they returned, I stood. “Better go—need to change before my shift.”
“Jack, walk Emily home,” Sophie commanded, like a queen granting favours.
“Don’t be daft,” I protested, grabbing my coat.
“Go on,” she insisted, shooting Jack a look.
I said my goodbyes and bolted.
“Really, I’m fine. It’s not far,” I said outside, turning sharply.
“I’ll walk you,” he insisted.
“Suit yourself,” I muttered.
We reached my building in silence.
“Here we are. Cheers.” I turned to leave.
“Flying to Aberdeen in two days. Medical, then back to sea.” Jack studied the building. “Which windows are yours?”
“Safe travels,” I said instead, heading inside. When I glanced back, he was gone.
“Who was that?” Mum pounced as I walked in.
“You saw.” I kicked off my heels with relief.
“Just happened to look out the window,” she defended.
“Right. Pure coincidence.” I brushed past her.
“So? Who was he?” Mum thrust a lunchbox of sandwiches at me as I changed for work.
“One of Sophie’s admirers.” I shoved on my trainers. “Ta. Gotta run.” I pecked her cheek and left.
Later, Sophie admitted she’d invited Jack for me. “You’re welcome,” she’d said, as if she’d done me a favour.
Warm May gave way to a fleeting summer, then a bitter autumn. One November night, an ambulance brought in a battered bloke—broken arm, concussion.
I froze. It was Jack. After X-rays, I cleaned his cuts while the doctor set his arm.
“What happened? Should we call the police?”
“Nah. Got back from a trip, went to see my bird—turns out she’s engaged. Her bloke didn’t take kindly to me. Gave as good as I got, though.”
“Standard,” the doctor said drily. “She pretty?”
“Doc, why can’t girls wait? Or is it me?”
“Ask Emily. She’s the expert on women.”
“You’re ashore two months, then six at sea, yeah?” I asked.
“About that.”
“Girls don’t get a chance to love you. And sailors—‘wife in every port,’ right?”
“We dock in Norway for a day or two—barely step off the ship. Mum’s on at me to settle down.”
I laughed.
“What’s funny?”
“My mum’s the same—dreams of me in a white dress. Girls want someone nearby. Maybe quit the sea?”
“Couple more trips, save for a flat, then I’m done.” He looked at me hopefully.
“Right. Off to my rounds.”
In the hall, I tore off my mask. I’d liked Jack that night at The Griffin. He hadn’t remembered me.
During my shifts, he shadowed me—waiting in corridors, helping with IV stands. One day, his bed was empty.
“Your sailor’s discharged. Asked when you’re next on. Fancies you,” a colleague smirked.
That evening, he was outside the hospital.
“Didn’t mean to scare you.” He held out roses.
“Ta.”
“Got out today. Fancy the cinema?”
“Dead on my feet.”
“No?”
“Ask someone else. Plenty of girls about.”
“Have I done summat wrong?”
“We met seven months ago. You didn’t recognise me.”
“Never.”
“At The Griffin. Sophie introduced us.” We passed the restaurant. “Forgot her too?”
“Remember her. Not you. Sorry.”
At my door, he stared blankly.
“Don’t recall this either? You walked me home.” I mocked him.
“Ta for the flowers. Bye.”
Mum pounced again.
“Who’s the bouquet from?”
“You saw.”
Next morning, Jack sat on a bench outside, snow dusting his hair.
“Off to the shops?” Mum asked. “Need flour forThe snow fell softly as I handed him a spare umbrella, and in that moment, I realized some stories are worth waiting for.
