Emma Clarke had been a lover for a long while. She never managed to get married, so she spent her twenties living with a string of men, and only when she hit thirty did she decide shed actually look for a proper partner. At first she didnt know that James Turner was already married, but he soon stopped trying to hide it once he realised Emma had caught feelings for him.
Emma never blamed James. She only chided herself for getting involved and for being so weak around him. She felt like a failure because she hadnt found a husband in time and the years were slipping by. Honestly, she wasnt unattractive not a knockout, but she was pleasantlooking, a little curvy, which probably gave her a bit of a mature air.
The thing was, the fling with James went nowhere. Emma didnt want to stay just his other woman, yet she couldnt just walk away either the thought of being alone terrified her.
One afternoon her cousin Tom Hughes dropped by. He was in Manchester on a short work trip and thought hed pop over to see her for a few hours. They cooked a simple lunch in the kitchen, chattered about everything like kids, and Emma spilled the beans about her love life, even letting a few tears fall.
Just then the neighbour next door popped in to show Emma her latest shopping finds. Emma stepped out for about twenty minutes, and while she was away the doorbell rang. Tom went to answer, assuming Emma would be back soon, but the front door was left unlocked. Standing on the doorstep was James, looking rather dishevelled in tracksuits and a tshirt, chewing on a sausage sandwich.
Tom instantly got it this was Emmas lover. James froze when he saw the big, burly bloke in his pyjamas.
Is Emma home? James blurted.
Shes in the bathroom, Tom guessed.
Sorry, who are you to her? James stammered.
Im her boyfriend, civilly speaking. And you? What are you doing here? Tom pushed forward and grabbed James by the shoulders. Arent you the married fella Emmas been telling me about? Listen, if I see you here again Ill throw you down the stairs, got it?
James wriggled free and bolted downstairs.
Emma came back a short while later, looking pale. Tom filled her in on the unexpected visitor.
What have you done? Who sent him? Hes not coming back, she sobbed, sinking onto the sofa and covering her face.
Tom sighed. Hes not coming back, and thats a good thing. Stop whining. I actually know a decent bloke for you a widower from the village up north. The women in the area keep him at arms length after his wife died, and hes turning everyone down. He could use some company. After my next work trip Ill swing by again, well head up there together, and Ill introduce you.
Emma shook her head. No, Tom, I cant. I dont even know him. It feels wrong, like Im cheating on a stranger.
Tom chuckled. Its not cheating on a stranger, love. Its just meeting someone new. Besides, Ive got a birthday coming up for my sister, Lyla, and Ill need you there.
A few days later Emma and Tom were driving up to the tiny village in Yorkshire. Toms wife, Lyla, had set a table in the garden by the old stone bathhouse. Neighbours, friends and Toms old mate, widower Andrew Collins, turned up for a family picnic. Most of the locals already knew Emma, but Andrew was a newcomer to her.
After the relaxed chatter, Emma headed back to Manchester, thinking to herself that Andrew seemed quiet and shy. He must be grieving his wife. Poor guy, not many gentle souls left, she mused.
A week later, on a Saturday, the doorbell rang. Emma wasnt expecting anyone. She opened it to find Andrew standing there, a bag in his hand.
Hope Im not intruding, Emma. I was just on my way to the market and thought Id stop by since weve met. Mind if I drop in for a cuppa? he said, a little nervous.
She invited him in, still a bit surprised, and offered tea. Got everything you need from the market? she asked.
Yes, the shoppings done. And I brought you something, he replied, pulling a modest bunch of tulips from the bag.
Emmas eyes lit up as she took the flowers. They settled at the kitchen table, chatting about the weather and the price of veg at the market. When the tea was finished, Andrew thanked her and headed for the door. He slipped his jacket on, laced his boots, and just as he reached the threshold turned back.
If I walked away now without saying anything, Id regret it. Emma, Ive spent the whole week thinking about you. Honest truth. Ive been looking forward to the weekend. I got your address from Tom he trailed off, his voice shaking.
Emma flushed and looked down. We barely know each other
Its fine, its fine. The main thing is, do you mind if were on a firstname basis? Im not some perfect catch, and Ive got a little girl, eight, staying with her grandma for now, he added, his hands trembling.
Emma smiled softly. A daughter is a blessing. Ive always wanted a little girl myself.
Encouraged, Andrew took her hands, pulled her close and kissed her. After the kiss, tears glistened in Emmas eyes.
Am I a bother to you? he asked gently.
No, quite the opposite. I never expected this it feels sweet and calm. Im not stealing anyones happiness, she whispered.
From then on they met every weekend. Two months later they tied the knot and settled in that little Yorkshire village. Emma found a job at the local nursery, and a year after their wedding she gave birth to a daughter. Their two girls grew up together, loved and cared for equally. Emma and Andrew grew older together, their love maturing like a fine wine.
At family gatherings Tom would often wink at Emma and say, Well, Gal, what a husband Ive set you up with, eh? Youre getting better and better. I wouldnt give you any bad advice listen to your brother!
