After the divorce I actually ran into my own knightinshiningoveralls at the village bus stop, can you believe it?
Two years ago my world flipped upside down. My dad passed away and, after twenty years of marriage, I finally signed the papers. I moved back into my old mans cottage in a little hamlet near Leeds because Id been made redundant. I was just turning forty and it felt like the chances of landing a decent jobor finding someone newhad slipped right out of sight.
Luck wasnt on my side, either. The roof, patched up by a local handyperson, started leaking every time it drizzled. I didnt have the strength to haul firewood, and the carpenters whod replaced the timber work left the job halfdone, so the wind whistled straight through the gaps. To keep warm I was gathering pine cones and even using a stack of old books to get the stove going. Then the electricity went off, and I had to turn the heating down to nothing.
The landlord of the pub across the road kept popping over with special offers and I wasnt sure whether to laugh or weep. I thought things couldnt possibly get any worse, but then everything turned around in the most unexpected way.
One crisp morning I was waiting at the rural bus stop when a battered old bus rolled up and a bloke stepped off. He was a bit scruffy, hair in a mess, dressed in a work shirt and sturdy bootshe looked like a roofer on his way home. His name was Jack Turner, and he asked if I needed a hand with the house. I told him I was desperate for help but had nothing to pay him with. He just smiled and said, When youve got a few quid, well sort it out.
Jack went straight to work. He fixed the leaky roof, sorted the busted tap, got the water meter reading straight, repaired the garden fence, patched up the stairs and replaced the cracked windows. One night, when the frost was biting hard, I walked into the living room to find a glowing fire crackling in the hearth and a steaming mug of herbal tea waiting on the side table. It was like a miracle for my frozen throat and icy feet.
I knew right then that Jack was my hero, and I kept wondering how I could thank him properly. Hes talented but humble, so I havent even mentioned his name around the villagesmall places have a way of spreading gossip, after all.
Now the cottage looks like its been given a proper mens touch, the garden is tidy, and everything feels steadier. With my prince nearby, I feel warm and happy, and the only thing that scares me now is the thought of losing him.
