**Diary Entry**
Life had settled into a familiar rhythm: raising my son, building our home, being there for the man I loved. Emily had chosen James herselfout of all the lads in the village, he was the one who truly captured her heart. When Jim returned from his military service, they married. Soon after, their son, Oliver, was born. As the boy grew, Emily began dreaming of a daughter.
«Once we finish the house, Jim, lets have a little girl,» shed often say. «Then well have a proper family home, a real haven.»
James would just smile and nod. Hed have gladly welcomed another child tomorrow if he could. Often, hed hoist Oliver onto his shoulders and stride proudly through the village, greeting everyone they passed.
Then winter came. Snow blanketed the roads, and the wind howled. Emily watched from the window, waiting for her husband to return. But James never did. A tragic accident at work took him from her.
«Time heals,» the neighbours and friends would say. «Youre not the only one whos lost someone. Cry now, and in a few years, youll find someone else.»
Emily listened in silence, but no tears cameand that made the pain worse. A year passed. The hardships of the early 2000s tightened their grip, squeezing even the strongest families. Wages in the village went unpaid for months. Those who kept livestock and didnt fear hard labour fared better.
Emily felt the weight of those times keenly. Oliver started school, and she had to clothe, feed, and care for him. That meant tending the garden from dawn till dusk, growing enough to sell at the market come autumn.
Her hands grew rough, her smile faded, and her soul seemed to harden.
«Grab that bucket, you lazy thing!» shed snap when Oliver tried slipping off to his friends. «Think you can run off? Have you even done your homework?»
Oliver would silently pick up the bucket, remembering how things used to be with Dadwhen Mum was kind and cheerful.
At night, Emily would cry, berating herself for snapping at her son. But come morning, shed be stern again.
One Saturday, her friendsLinda and Sharondropped by. Emily hadnt had many friends before; James had filled that need. But now, the two divorcees often visited, laughing and claiming theyd come «for tea.» Though, of course, it was never just about the tea.
The morning started as usual. Emily got up without even glancing in the mirror. She knew her face would be drawn. She fed the pig, scattered grain for the chickens, stacked the dirty dishes in the sink, and ordered Oliver to wash up and hurry to school.
That evening, she wasnt expecting anyone but knew one of her «regular» visitors might drop by. She was indifferent to their promisesif they came, fine; if not, thered be no second invitation. Most men took one look at her son, muttered a few words, and left, muttering about «a woman with baggage.»
«Honestly, Em, youll scare them all off,» Linda teased. «Youre too hard to please. Maybe its your beds fault. Need a new sofa?»
«Oh, right, Ill rush out and buy a sofa,» Emily sighed. «With what money? If you like it so much, take it yourself.»
«Alright, dont get cross. Just set the tableyouve got a guest to entertain.»
Linda irked her, but Emily still wordlessly placed pickled cucumbers on the table. Glancing at her wedding photo, she sighed heavily.
«Forgive me, Jim. Its hard without you.»
«Theyre all the same,» Linda said, as if reading her thoughts. «Come on, Em, drink to us! Were the best!»
The next morning, Emily cleared the remnants of the night and headed to work.
Aunt Margaret, her late husbands aunt, paid her a visit.
«What are you doing, Emily? I hardly recognise you since James passed,» she said. «And these friends of yours theyre not helping.»
«What, Auntie Margaret, come to lecture me? Think Im some kind of failure? Ive got a home, I manage the house, Olivers in school, I check his homework» She broke off, realising she hadnt looked at his books or diary in over a week. Just days ago, shed run into his teacher, whod asked her to come in for a chat.
Emily didnt know what to say, so she just started stacking dirty dishes into the sink.
«You used to be different,» Margaret pressed. «Kind, hardworking, lovely Stop this nonsense.»
«Im not out carousing,» Emily protested. «I just talk to friends sometimes, to take my mind off things. Dont I deserve a break after work?»
«Of course you do,» Margaret conceded with a sigh.
«Then dont lecture me. And honestly, keep your nose out of my business. The doors open.» Emily turned back to the kitchen table.
Margaret tightened her scarf and left quietly.
Emily exhaled sharply, her face pinched with pain. She felt wretched, guilty, and something pulled at her. She rushed out and caught Margaret on the porch.
«Aunt Margaret, waitIve got carrots for you. Ive got loads this year.»
«No need, dear,» Margaret waved her off, already stepping down.
«Please, take themits from the heart.»
Margaret, wise with years, understood. Though Emily hadnt said it aloud, her eyes begged forgiveness. She stopped.
«Heres a bag,» Emily said, filling it generously. «Need help carrying it?»
«Ill manage, love,» Margaret replied, thanking her before walking away, her heart aching for Emilys troubled soul.
That Friday evening, Emily packed onions and carrots to sell at the market.
«At least Ill make a few quid. God knows I never see my own money,» she thought, hefting the bags.
«Where you off to with all that?» nosy neighbour Betty called, peering into the sacks.
«Market. Selling veg.»
She barely lugged the heavy bags to the bus stop, where old Tom and Ethel were also waiting to go into town. But the bus never came.
«Blasted things broken down again,» Ethel sighed.
Tom cursed the bus and the whole transport system. Realising it wouldnt show, the pair turned back, deciding to try another day.
Emily stayed. She couldnt face carrying the bags home, so she resolved to hitch a ride.
A Morris Minor passed, then a Land Rover, but both were full. Finally, a Ford Escort appeared. She squinted, trying to see if there was space, but the driver stopped before she even raised her hand.
A man, slightly older than her, unfamiliar. Probably from the nearby town. He eyed her, then her sacks.
«Bus broke down today. Im heading into townneed a lift?»
«Suppose so,» Emily sighed.
«Sorted,» he grinned, stepping out. Though lean and not tall, he lifted the heavy sack effortlessly, as if it weighed nothing.
«Could you drop me at the market?» she asked.
«Could do.»
«Ill pay.»
During the drive, Emily touched up her lipstick in her compact. The rearview mirror let her study the driver.
«Im Emily,» she finally said.
«Geoffrey Wilson.»
«Ooh, full nameare you someone important, then?»
«Oh aye, factory director and shipowner,» he joked. «Nah, just a foreman on a building site.»
Geoffrey drove her to the market and even helped carry the sacks. He only took half the fare.
«Pay the rest tonight. Ill be driving back same way,» he said.
«Generous, arent you?» Emily smiled. «Lucky me.»
That evening, Geoffrey drove her home.
«Come in for a cuppa, Geoffrey Wilson.»
«Just Geoffs fine,» he chuckled.
Emily quickly laid the table. Oliver peeked in.
«Dont lurk! Go to your room. Homework done?»
«Nearly,» he mumbled.
«Then finish it!» she snapped.
Geoff, leaning against the stove, crossed his legs and smiled at the boy.
«Lets be proper. Im Geoffrey Wilson. And you?»
«Ollie.»
«Proper names Oliver?»
«Yeah.»
«Hows school? Tough?»
«Maths is a nightmare. Cant get it.»
«Right, lets have a look.» Geoff gestured for his book.
Half an hour later, Oliver, pleased with the help, went to bed.
«Clear this up,» Geoff said calmly, pointing at the table. «Ill just have tea.»
«Well, since youre driving, just tea then.»
«Even if I werentjust tea. Or squash, cordial, juice. Thats it.»
Emily eyed him suspiciously but silently poured boiling water into a mug, added tea, and set out a plate of potatoes.
«Best be off,» Geoff said, standing. He hesitated, then added, «I like you, Emily. Can I stop by Friday?»
She smirked slightlyshed expected this.
«Alright, then.»
«Im not married,» he added, though she hadnt asked.
«Like youll remember in a week,» she thought, doubting hed return.
Yet after work, when Linda and Sharon dropped by, Emily sent them away early. Her mind raced: «What if he really comes?»
«Not fair, Em,» Sharon huffed. «Come out with usjust to the pub!»
«Am I some daft girl, running to the pub?»
«Who said daft? Were off to the cinema!»
«No, you go. Ive cleaning to do.»
She didnt finish cleaning. Geoff arrived earlier than expected. He walked into the yard, and Emily led him inside. Traces of the previous nights drinks were still on the table, but he pretended not to notice.
«Let me heat the soupits gone cold,» she said.
Geoff chatted with Oliver, helped with maths, explained horsepower in cars. Once the boy was in bed, Emily, slightly tipsy, felt talkative and playful.
Geoff stood, walked over, placed his hands on her shoulders, and made her rise. Then he pulled her close, arms around her waist. She gasped, breath catching.
«Staying the night,» he said simply.
«Whos stopping you?» She pulled back, inhaling deeply. She already knew he wouldwords werent needed.
In the morning, as Emily cooked eggs, Geoff took the buckets to fetch water.
«Need any for the bath?» he asked.
«Fetch some,» she said flatly, though she never asked for helpshe never believed it would last.
Over breakfast, sipping tea, Geoff said quietly,
«Emily, if you want thiswith methose drinks from last night cant be here.»
She froze, teaspoon in hand.
«Is that a condition?» she asked, more surprised than angry.
«Call it that. Cant stand the smell. And anywayIm decent. You know that.»
He smiled.
«Soshall I come back tonight? For the bath?»
She wanted to scoff, to tell him off, even throw him outbut something stopped her. Unexpectedly, she wanted to agree.
«Come back,» she said simply.
That evening, Sharon dropped by.
«Heard you poured it all out, Em. True?»
«True, Shaz. Gone.»
«You daft cow! That was good stuff!»
«Good? It was misery. Off with youIm busy.»
Emily mopped the floors, changed the sheetsfreshly laundered and dried outside. Soup waited on the stove, but she wanted to cook something nicer. Pies would take too long, so she whipped up batter and made pancakes. Oliver sneaked them off the table, washing them down with squash.
Time passed. Emily even managed a bath, but darkness fell, and Geoff never showed.
«Three years for a promise,» she sighed bitterly. «Foolish to believe. Theyre all the sameexcept my Jim. Was it worth pouring it all out?»
She smiled at the thought. Glancing around the bright kitchen, fragrant with fresh food, she felt an unexpected calm.
«No. It was worth it,» she said firmly. «Enough.»
She turned to Oliver.
«Dont wait up, love. Uncle Geoffs not coming. Lets check your homeworkyouve slacked off.»
Thenthe sound of an engine. Geoff appeared at the door with a small travel bag, pulling out sausages, tinned goods, biscuits, butter.
«Mate of mine at the depot hooked me up,» he said. «For you and Oliver.»
Emily sat at the table, chin in hand, watching him.
«Thats gold dust these days. Havent seen that in ages.»
«Know. Thats why I brought it.»
Casually, as if hed just come home from work, she asked,
«Eating first or bathing?»
«Bath first.»
Outside, it was dark. As she set the table, Emily felt something long-forgotten returnthe warmth and comfort shed once had with James. She smiled, glancing at Geoffs jacket on the peg.
«He came todayhell stay. I want him to stay,» she thought, with a certainty she hadnt felt in years.
The autumn day was grey but peaceful.
Aunt Margaret sat by her gate, watching the road. She smiled when she saw the carnow a regular sight at Emilys house for the past two months.
«Good. Let them be happy. Young stillmight even have a baby,» she murmured. «Emilys herself againsmiling, gentle. Let her enjoy life. It always moves forward. The important thing is to live. Geoff took Oliver fishing on Sundays, teaching him how to cast a line and read the rivers quiet moods. Emily began singing again while she cooked, soft tunes from long ago that James used to love. She still kept his photo on the mantel, but now she spoke to it gently, as if sharing the day. One evening, as golden light slanted through the kitchen window, she found herself holding Geoffs hand without thinkingand didnt let go. The garden thrived, the house stayed warm, and laughter, once rare, settled into the walls like it belonged there. Life hadnt healed; it had simply grown around the loss, making space for something new, tender, and true.
