Two Decades Without a Gift for Her: A Harmonious Life Together.
Edward Whitaker had never given his wife a present, despite sharing twenty years of happy marriage. It wasnt that he was stingythe opportunity had just never arisen. With Alice, everything had moved quickly. They married just a month after meeting.
Even their courtship had been free of gifts. He would visit her in the little village where she lived, whistling beneath her window. Shed rush out, and theyd sit on the bench by the gate, barely speaking until midnight.
Their first kiss came on the day of their engagement. Then came the wedding, the daily routines, and lifes little worries. Edward proved a shrewd businessman, turning his pig farm into a thriving venture. Alice, meanwhile, worked tirelesslyher vegetable garden was the envy of the neighbours. Children followed, then nappies, lace dresses, childhood illnesses Gifts? No time to think of them. Holidays were celebrated simply, with a good meal. So their life flowed, unremarkable but peaceful, marked by hard work.
One day, Edward went to the market with his neighbour to sell potatoes and bacon, just before Mothers Day. Hed cleared out his cellar, sorted his potatoes, and decided to offload the surplus. As for the bacon, better to sell it now before slaughtering the next pig. So there he stood at the marketa crisp morning with a hint of spring in the air. Against all odds, everything sold like hot cakes. The bacon vanished in a blink, the potatoes disappeared like sweets. “Not bad,” Edward thought, pleased. “Alice will be happy.”
He packed the sacks into his neighbours van and set off to run errands. Alice had given him a short list. Out of habit, he stopped at the village pub to toast his good fortune. He wasnt much of a drinker, but he firmly believed skipping a celebratory pint would jinx his next sale. After downing his ale, he strolled off, light on his feet, watching the shop windows and the bustling crowd. Then, quite literally, he stumbled upon an unexpected scene.
Outside a boutique, a young couple stood admiring a dress on display. The girl, fresh as a daisy, gushed:
“Sophie, come on, you cant stand there all day!”
“Look, James, its gorgeous! It would suit me perfectly.”
“Pff, its just a bit of fabric.”
“You daft sod! Its vintagetotally in fashion! Buy it for me for Mothers Day, yeah?”
“Sophie, you know were skint. If I buy that, well be eating beans on toast till payday…”
“Well manage, love! I want it so badly. Weve been married a year, and youve never got me anythingnot even at Christmas!”
“Sophie, youre driving me mad…”
“I love you,” she murmured before kissing him softly and dragging him into the shop.
The lad caught Edwards eye and shrugged with a knowing smile, as if to say, “Women, eh?” Moments later, the couple emerged, Sophie laughing brightly, clutching the precious bag. Edward lingered by the window, lost in thought. The dress was lovelysimple, floral, like the one Alice used to wear when theyd meet in the village. A long-forgotten feeling stirred in him. Was it nostalgia for their youth? Or the echo of what theyd once been? A sudden thought struck him: “Ive never given Alice a thing. Too busy. Thought it didnt matter. But this lad would tighten his belt to make his wife happy. Out of love. And medo I love Alice? Before marriage, I thought so. Then it all faded into routine. A life of work, with no memories… Blimey, what a sad state.”
That stolen joy ached in his chest. He wanted to feel it too.
With resolve, he stepped into the shop. A shop assistant approached, smiling.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes, love. Ill take the dress in the window.”
“Oh, brilliant choice! Its the latest, pure silk, vintage style. Your daughter will adore it.”
“Not for my daughter,” he grumbled. “For my wife.”
“Oh, lucky her!” the assistant chirped as she wrapped it.
“How much?”
When she named the price, Edward nearly choked. A small fortune, to him.
“Why so steep?” he muttered.
“Its by a top designer,” she explained patiently.
He hesitated. Then Sophies radiant face flashed in his mind. He made up his heart.
“Ill take it.”
He counted out the notes and left, proud of his boldness. His neighbour was already waiting. The drive home was cheerfulhis mate bragging about his profits.
“And you? Did alright?”
“Eh?”
“Made some decent money?”
“Whats it to you?” Edward snapped, suddenly irritable.
“Blimey, keep your hair on,” his neighbour muttered, taken aback.
At home, Alice hadnt returned from the farm yet. Edward fed the animals, cleaned the pens, tended to the pigs. Yet despite his good deed, unease gnawed at him. Why this dread? He shrugged it off and went inside, pouring himself a pint. Then another. It steadied him a bit.
The door slammed. Alice walked in, her usual stern expression in place.
“Youre back, then? Howd the market go?”
“Fine. Heres the money.”
Alice counted the notes.
“Somes missing. Did you sell short?”
“No, its just… well, the rest is in this bag.”
She pulled out the dress, suspicious.
“Whos this for? Emily? Looks too big for her. Wasting our money…”
“Its for you,” he said, awkward. “For Mothers Day.”
Silence.
“For me?” she whispered, disbelieving. “Really?”
“Aye, for you!” he said, relieved she wasnt scolding him. “Who else?”
Alice burst into tears and fled to the bedroom. She reappeared ten minutes later, eyes red.
“It doesnt fit. Ive put on weight.”
“What?” he stammered. “I rememberyou had one like this when we sat on the bench…”
“Oh, you silly old fool,” she sighed, laughing shakily. “That was twenty years ago! Things change.”
He met her gaze.
“Seeing those flowers, I thought… What if the real gift wasnt the dress at all, but just rememberingus, back then, like it was the first day?”
