**Diary Entry**
Love came knocking at my door…
Emily left her village for the city to attend university. After a rural school, studies were tough, but she buried herself in books all day to pass her exams and keep her scholarship. Mum could only help with food parcels. Once she started working, Emily sent money back. Every holiday, she returned to the village. She dreamed of the seaside, sure, but told everyone the countryside air, the woods, and the river were all she needed.
“Emily, love, when will you marry? Surely there’s someone you fancy? I’ll never see grandchildren at this rate,” Mum sighed.
“Don’t fret, Mum. I will,” Emily would say, but the endless questions about marriage grated on her. Everyone in the village asked the same thing.
She’d had boyfriends, even love, but no one had proposed.
She worked at a newspaper office. One evening, as her shift ended, a storm raged outside. The rain eased briefly, so she threw on her raincoat, grabbed her umbrella, and hurried out—only for the downpour to return with a vengeance. She huddled under the building’s awning, watching cars splash through puddles. Heavy drops shattered against the wet tarmac, spraying her ankles. She shivered, pressing closer to the wall.
A 4×4 slowed before a deep puddle to avoid soaking her, then stopped entirely.
“Need a lift?” a man called through the open window. “Even if the rain stops, the roads are flooded. You’ll need a boat to get home.”
Emily climbed in. Six months later, her rescuer proposed. She wasn’t madly in love, but it was time to settle down, and with James, she felt safe. They moved into his mother’s spacious flat in the city centre.
His mother disapproved from the start.
“Don’t think you’ll inherit this flat, dear. That won’t happen,” she warned.
“Walking about in a dressing gown all day is improper. Only wear it to the bathroom. What if guests arrive? Change at once.”
So Emily changed. Cleaning and cooking in smart dresses was impractical, but Mrs. Whitmore dressed as if for high tea.
They didn’t get on. Once, Emily overheard James’ mother urging him to divorce while they were childless. Tearfully, Emily told James his mother was right—they should part. She began packing.
James wouldn’t let her leave. The next day, he rented a flat, and they moved out. Life improved. Maybe his mother still nagged him over the phone, but she never visited, and James kept it from Emily. They saved diligently, planning to buy their own place.
One Sunday, they went to the lake with friends—fishing, barbecues. Driving back after dark, their friends’ car sped ahead, leaving them behind. James accelerated to catch up.
Emily didn’t even see it coming. A 4×4 veered into their lane—driver asleep or careless—and they couldn’t avoid the crash.
James died instantly. Emily suffered multiple fractures. Four months later, discharged from hospital, pale and limping, she reached their rented flat—only to find strangers living there. A small bag of her belongings was returned. James’ mother had taken his things and ended the lease.
Emily went to her. The door opened but didn’t let her in.
“Margaret, may I stay with you while I find a place?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You got my Jamie killed. You didn’t even come to the funeral. Leave!” The door slammed.
“Margaret, it wasn’t my fault! I was in hospital—I couldn’t come!” Emily pleaded through the wood.
“Go, or I’ll call the police!”
Emily gave up. She didn’t even try claiming half their savings.
Outside, she froze. Where could she go? Her friends were James’ friends. Who knew what lies Margaret had spread?
In the clothes she stood in, she took the train to her village. But more grief waited—her mother had died two months earlier while Emily was hospitalised. Her phone broke in the crash; no one could reach her.
The house was untouched, as if Mum had just popped out and would rush in any moment, tutting and bustling by the stove. Tears pricked Emily’s eyes.
“Mum, how could you? I need you now…” She sank onto the bed, clutching her mother’s cardigan, inhaling the lingering scent, and sobbed herself to sleep.
A knocking woke her. “Mum’s back!” she cried—but the voice was James’: “Em, it’s me. Open up, love…” She flung the door open. James stood there, face bloodied—
Emily woke screaming, heart hammering. The knocking was real.
“Everything alright in there?” a man’s voice called.
She opened the door to a tall, bearded stranger. Sharp eyes studied her.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
“I—I came to see Mum. This is my home,” she stammered.
“You missed the funeral. We tried calling—”
“I was in hospital. My husband died in the crash.”
His expression softened. “I’m sorry. I’m Rob. Sort of the village caretaker. Police are miles off, and folks leave houses empty… I live two doors down if you need anything.”
“William?” she blurted, though this man was nothing like her childhood friend—dead years ago, Mum had said.
“No. Rob. William and I served together. He saved my life.” He left.
The next day, old Samuel visited.
“Emily’s back? My Nora said, but I didn’t believe it. Alone, then? Heard you married rich. Why’d you miss your mum’s funeral?”
Emily explained.
“Ah. Even the rich die, eh? Money can’t buy life,” he mused.
“He wasn’t rich. Why’d you think that?”
“Your mum said. Flat, car…”
“To her, anyone in the city was rich,” Emily agreed.
“Well, you’re home now. Country air heals. City’s all noise and thieves. Pretty lass like you won’t stay single—”
“Fancy proposing, Samuel? What about Nora?” she teased.
“Who says I don’t want a harem?” He cackled—until Nora dragged him off.
At the shop the next day, whispers followed her. The plump, painted shopkeeper refused her bread.
“None left,” she smirked.
“It’s right behind you.”
“Reserved for locals.”
Rob entered. The shopkeeper simpered.
“She won’t serve me,” Emily said.
Rob bought two loaves and handed her one.
“Shame on you, Lucy. She’s one of ours,” he scolded.
Outside, Emily tried to pay him back.
“Keep it. Why’d you come back?”
She told him.
“I get it. I’m here on borrowed time too. Came back after the army—wife left me for earning less. Gave her the flat. William’s mum took me in. She’s gone now. Kids here fear me, so I keep order. Guard, handyman—whatever’s needed.”
A week later, Emily packed for the city.
“Leaving?” Rob asked.
“Work calls. Need to rent a place…”
“House staying, then?”
“Dunno. You want to buy it?”
“Nah. Just asking. Will you come back?”
“Harvest time. Though what’ll I do with it?”
“Keep some, sell the rest. Need help?”
“I might.”
She gave him her number. He never called. She almost did—but didn’t want to seem pushy. Maybe he’d forgotten her.
Four months passed. Autumn leaves fell; rain turned to sleet. Emily hadn’t gone back.
At work one day, security said a man waited downstairs. There stood Rob—clean-shaven, smartly dressed.
“Rob?! Where’s your beard?” she gasped.
He grinned. “Finished work soon? We’ll talk then.”
The hour crawled. She barely concentrated, equal parts thrilled and nervous.
But when she descended, he was gone. Disappointed, she stepped outside—and there he was.
“You came?”
“Promised, didn’t I?” He led her to a car. “Company vehicle,” he explained.
“After you left, I realised I couldn’t hide forever. Filed for divorce, got my own flat—small, but mine. A mate got me a job—head of security now. Came to find you.”
“How?”
“You said where you worked. Easy to track down. Oh—I sold some of your harvest. Kept the money safe.”
A month later, she moved in with him.
For the first time, she knew real love—more than she’d ever felt for James.
“Thank your ex-mother-in-law,” she told Rob one morning. “Without her, I’d never have gone home… never met you.”
“About that harvest money—I added my army pension. With your house sold, we could buy something bigger.”
“Not selling Mum’s house.”
“GoodThey married in the spring, and as the years passed, the village children—theirs included—played freely in the woods and by the river, just as Emily once had.
