The Last Time
“I’ll kill you, you bloody wretch!”
Nicholas pounded his fists against the front door as the gathered neighbors tried to calm him down.
“Nick, what on earth are you doing? You’ll be begging forgiveness tomorrow, same as always! Have you no shame? You’ve got two little lads, and your Annie’s never given you cause for this—yet here you are, humiliating yourself and her!”
Nick spun around toward the gate.
“What’s it to you lot? Come for a show? Sod off, all of you!”
The crowd didn’t budge. The old woman next door, Mrs. Tanner, spoke up.
“Nick, love, what’s got you in such a state? There must be a reason.”
“A reason? Annie’s the reason! I give her my whole bloody heart, and what does she do? Smiles at everyone, locks herself inside—who’s she hiding in there with, eh?”
Nicholas staggered off the porch and slumped onto the bench, his voice worn thin, almost tearful—a sound so wrong coming from a strong man like him.
Mrs. Tanner softened her tone.
“You’re doing your Annie wrong, son… She’s a good woman. Honest.”
Nick barely whispered his reply.
“She doesn’t love me, Auntie Tan. I’m just a country bloke, and she’s city-born. Always looking past me.”
“You daft sod. Takes one to know one.”
But Nicholas didn’t hear her. His head drooped onto his chest, and sleep took him. Mrs. Tanner gave him a gentle nudge, someone tucked a cap under his head, and there he lay, sprawled across the bench.
“Right. He’s down for the count. Won’t be up for a while.”
***
Fifteen years ago, Nicholas had gone to the city to train as a digger driver. Back then, the village was growing—new houses going up, folks saying another few years and they’d be calling it a proper town. Not a skyscraper in sight, mind, but plenty of homes, and that was what mattered.
The village had its own construction crew, even a proper excavator. But no one knew how to run the thing. So they picked Nick and sent him off to train—along with Steven from the other end of the village.
Nick and Steven had never been mates. Quite the opposite. They’d scrapped more than once over the same lasses.
In the city, they were stuck sharing a room. Steven wasted no time bragging.
“Gonna find myself a city girl, mate. I’m not going back to that backwater.”
Nick frowned.
“The village paid for your training, and you’re just gonna stay here?”
Steven laughed.
“Christ, you’re dense. Everyone does it. What’s there to go back for?”
Nick only snorted.
“Yeah, I’m sure the city’s just waiting for the likes of you.”
Three days later, Nick saw Steven with a girl—and nearly lost his mind.
Anna.
He fell for her the moment he laid eyes on her.
That evening, he cornered Steven.
“Who was that lass with you?”
“Oh, Annie?” Steven smirked. “City girl. Lives with her nan—means the flat’ll be empty soon.”
“What, you fancy her?”
Steven snorted.
“You joking? Flat as a board. I like ’em with curves.”
Nick hit him. Then hit him again.
Steven wiped his nose, grinning.
“Oho, struck a nerve, did I? Tell you what—watch me marry her, then walk all over her. She’ll sit at home like a good little missus, forgiving everything.”
The next day, Nick tailed Steven. Saw him meet Anna, watched him drape an arm over her waist—and lunged.
He spilled everything to her, breathless.
Anna looked between them, bewildered, then scoffed.
“Get lost,” she said—and walked away.
Nick and Steven fought again. By evening, Steven had moved to another room.
And Nick started shadowing Anna.
For weeks, she ignored him. Then, one day, she stopped.
“How much longer are you going to follow me? Ask me to the pictures, then.”
He brought her back to the village—Anna and her nan both. The old woman passed ten years later, by which time they already had two sons.
Nicholas would’ve moved mountains for his family. Built them a house no one else in the village could match. Fenced it off proper. Bought the boys the best bikes. Anna worked as a nurse at the village clinic. Nick worshipped the ground she walked on.
Then, a year ago, the unthinkable happened.
Steven came back.
City wife must’ve thrown him out, packed his bags for him.
The moment Nick heard, he stormed home like a thundercloud.
“Nick?” Anna blinked up at him. “What’s wrong?”
He yanked a bottle from the cupboard, poured, drank. Anna flinched—she’d never seen him like this. He barely drank, only on New Year’s.
Nick fixed her with a glare.
“Steven’s back.”
Anna frowned.
“Steven? Which Steven?”
“The one you—”
“Oh!” Anna laughed. “Had enough of city life, did he?” Then her face turned serious. “What’s that got to do with you?”
Nick leaned in.
“Listen, Annie. If I find out anything—I’ll kill you.”
Anna’s brows shot up.
“Find out *what*? You’re not making sense!”
“You’ll know soon enough.”
From that day on, peace was gone.
Sober, Nick would grovel.
“I’m a bloody fool, Annie… Forgive me…”
She did—every time. But the binges kept coming, fiercer each round. He’d hurl insults, threats—never laid a hand on her, though.
***
Morning.
Nick woke in the shed behind the house—must’ve dragged himself there to escape the midges. He tried piecing together last night—then grabbed his head.
“Christ. Again.”
Peered outside—no one. Just past seven. He bolted for the house.
Anna sat at the table. The boys huddled on the sofa, wide-eyed. And in the middle of the room—a suitcase. Two bulging sacks.
“Annie… what’s this?”
“That,” she said calmly, “is me. And Mikey. And little Alfie. I won’t live like this anymore. We’re going back to the city. I’ll get a job. Raise them without shame.”
The hangover evaporated.
“Annie—love—you can’t. I was just drunk, being a fool—”
“You’ve *been* a fool. Every month this past year. Did you ever think of *them*? Of me? The whole village hears you—including their mates. The boys are *ashamed* of you, Nick.”
“Anna, I *swear*—”
“You’ve sworn.” She stood. “The bus leaves soon.”
Nick lunged.
“Anna—*please*—”
She didn’t turn. Hoisted the suitcase. The boys grabbed smaller bags. They walked out.
And Nick was left standing in the middle of an empty house.
Then he sank to the floor and wept.
“Nick? You in there?”
Mrs. Tanner at the door.
“Christ.” She eyed the bottles. “What’ve you done to yourself?”
Nicholas rubbed his face.
“What’s today?”
“July thirtieth, early.”
“What?”
“What what? Look at the state of you! A whole month, pissed as a lord. The spuds are knee-high in weeds—”
“I *didn’t*—”
“Shut it! Think I won’t take a switch to you, just because your mum’s gone? Or have you forgotten the stinging nettles?”
Nick hadn’t. But he was a grown man now—and she was just an old woman.
He pulled up his sagging shorts—lost so much weight—and shuffled outside.
Mrs. Tanner followed.
Before he could blink, she’d snapped a stalk of nettles—and lit into him. Legs. Arms. Shoulders.
“Ow! Bloody hell, Auntie Tan!”
“Should’ve held your tongue!”
Nick twisted away—but drink had wrecked his balance, and she was quick.
She only stopped when the nettles were pulp.
“I’ll be back tomorrow. Fresh ones.”
Nick scratched for hours. Finally decided on a bath—only thing that ever helped. By the time he’d hauled water, heated it—evening.
He stepped out a new man.
Then walked into the house—and gagged. The stink. Bottles everywhere.
He grabbed a sack, shoveled them out. Scrubbed floors. Scoured dishes. By dawn, he bathed again—then collapsed into bed.
“Nick. Alive in there?”
He yanked the blanket up.
“Auntie Tan—I didn’t drinkAnd as Nicholas stood in the doorway of their tiny city home, watching Anna cradle their newborn daughter for the first time, he made a silent vow—never again would he let jealousy or drink steal another moment from the family he’d fought so hard to keep.
