“Hello, Molly,” the words drifted through the phone like a half-remembered dream.
“Hiya, love. What you up to?” chirped the voice of her best mate, Lucy.
“Just got home from work. S’pose it’s something urgent? Sorry, I’m knackered—mad day,” Molly sighed, kicking off her shoes as if they were anchors dragging her down.
“Ringin’ to remind you—me birthday’s tomorrow. Seven o’clock at The Pegasus. No excuses, alright? See ya.” And just like that, Lucy hung up, leaving Molly holding the phone to a silence that hummed like static.
“Who was that?” Her mum stood in the doorway, arms folded, as if she’d been waiting there for hours.
“You heard,” Molly muttered. Her mum pressed her lips into a thin line. “Lucy’s having a do,” she relented.
“Should’ve bought that blue dress when you had the chance. Would’ve been perfect now.” The note of disapproval was sharp as a needle.
“Mum, completely slipped me mind. Haven’t even got her a present. Can’t be arsed to go, if I’m honest. I’ll wish her happy birthday later.”
“Later? Lucy’s your only proper mate, and you’re gonna upset her? You’ll end up with no one at this rate. I’ll get the gift—don’t fret. Go on, get some air. All you do is work. Twenty-seven and no prospects—no bloke, no babies. Not even a serious boyfriend, ever.”
“What’s that got to do with anything? I’m only twenty-seven.”
“Only? It’s *already*. Lucy’s never short of admirers. Reckon she could set you up with someone nice,” her mum sniffed.
“Christ, sounds like you’re desperate to get rid of me. Pack me off like Gran used to say.” Molly didn’t bother hiding the irritation in her voice.
“And what’s wrong with that? Kids of your old schoolmates are nearly done with A-levels—”
“Lucy’s not married either, despite her parade of blokes,” Molly shot back.
“She will be, don’t you worry. But you—”
“Here we go.” Molly rolled her eyes. The old script, worn thin with repetition.
“Go on then, tell me you’re plannin’ to drop dead while I’ve got no grandkids to show for it,” Molly snapped.
“I’m not plannin’ on dyin’, but time’s tickin’. Would be nice to bounce a baby on me knee before I’m too old,” her mum fired back.
“For God’s sake, Mum, you’re fifty-three!”
“Exactly. Pension’s comin’, and what’ve I got? So you’re goin’ tomorrow. Oh—the roast’s burnin’!” And off she dashed, vanishing into the kitchen like a specter.
The next evening, Molly stepped into The Pegasus, gift bag in hand, draped in the cursed blue dress her mum had insisted on. Her hair, curled and loose under duress, itched at her neck. She felt like Alice tumbling into Wonderland—overdressed and out of place. She was late, thanks to another row with her mum.
The restaurant buzzed like a beehive, every table occupied. Waiters glided between them like shadows in black aprons. The murmur of voices washed over her, wave after wave.
“Reservation, or meeting someone?” A man in a stiff suit materialized beside her, mouth stretched into a practiced smile.
“Yeah, mate’s birthday…” Molly mumbled, feeling like an impostor. Restaurants weren’t her scene.
“Right this way.” He led her to a table where Lucy held court, flanked by two blokes. Daniel Fairchild, some banker’s son, she knew—Lucy had introduced them once. The other bloke looked rougher round the edges, shifting awkwardly in his seat. Of course. Lucy’s idea of a fix-up. Bloody typical.
The suit pulled out a chair.
“Ta.” Lucy flashed her killer smile—the one that bent men to her will. “Finally! We’ve already ordered—hope you don’t mind. You look lush, by the way.”
Molly wanted the floor to swallow her whole. She mumbled an apology for being late, passed the gift across the table. Lucy set it at her feet without a glance.
The room spun with too-bright lights and clinking glass. Daniel poured champagne.
“Just a bit,” Molly warned as the bottle tilted toward her flute. “Got a night shift later.”
“Our Molly’s a nurse,” Lucy announced, voice dripping with faux reverence.
Daniel gave a toast. They clinked. Molly sipped, the bubbles sharp on her tongue, then set her glass down. A waiter arrived with plates.
“Meet Ethan. He’s a sailor, can you believe?” Lucy whispered, picking up her fork.
“Royal Navy?” Daniel asked.
“Fishing trawler,” Ethan muttered.
“Make decent money?”
“Gets by.”
“Must be rough, months at sea. No pubs, no birds. How d’you not go spare?” Daniel refilled the glasses.
“Too tired after watch to care. First trip’s the worst—gets easier.”
Ethan ate like a man who’d missed meals. He didn’t look at Molly once, though his eyes kept darting to Lucy. No surprise there. Lucy was the sun, and everyone else orbited her. Molly felt like a shadow.
A small band struck up. Lucy dragged Daniel to dance. Others joined. When they returned, Molly stood.
“Best be off. Still got to change for shift.”
“Ethan, walk her home,” Lucy commanded, queen to her subjects.
“Don’t be daft,” Molly protested, already moving.
“Do it,” Lucy insisted, pinning Ethan with a look.
Molly fled.
Outside, she spun on him. “Really, I’m fine. It’s just round the corner.”
“I’ll walk you,” he said, stubborn as a mule.
“Suit yourself,” she muttered.
They reached her building in silence.
“This is me. Cheers.” She turned to leave.
“Flyin’ out to Aberdeen in two days,” Ethan blurted, squinting at the building. “Got to clear medical. Back to sea after. Which flat’s yours?”
“Safe travels,” Molly said instead and marched inside. When she glanced back, he was already gone.
“Who was that?” Her mum pounced the second she stepped in.
“Saw him, did you?” Molly kicked off her heels with relish.
“Just happened to look out the window,” her mum lied.
“Course you did.” Molly brushed past her.
“So? Who was it?” Her mum thrust a lunchbox of sandwiches at her as she reappeared in jeans and a hoodie.
“One of Lucy’s. Ta.” Molly grabbed the box, pecked her mum’s cheek, and left.
Later, Lucy confessed she’d met Ethan the day before and invited him *for Molly*. “Appreciate it, mate. Lookin’ out for you.”
Warm May bled into a sweltering summer, then vanished. Autumn arrived, sharp and damp. One November night, an ambulance brought in a bloke with a busted arm and concussion—Ethan.
Molly recognized him as she cleaned the cuts on his face while the doctor set the cast.
“How’d you manage this? Need us to call the cops?”
“Nah. Got back from sea, went straight to see my bird. Turns out she’s engaged. Her bloke didn’t take kindly to me showin’ up.”
“Bird worth fightin’ over?” the doctor asked.
“Dunno. Just thought she’d wait.” Ethan’s voice was rough. “Am I that bleedin’ hopeless?”
“Ask Molly. She’s the expert on women.”
“You’re ashore, what—two months? Then six at sea?” Molly said.
“About that.”
“No time for a girl to get attached. And let’s be honest—sailors aren’t known for bein’ faithful.”
“We’re in Norwegian ports a day, maybe two. Barely dock. Mum’s on at me to settle down,” he admitted.
Molly laughed.
“What’s funny?”
“My mum’s the same. Girls want someone *there*. Maybe give up the sea?”
“Couple more trips. Need a flat first.” He looked at her then, really looked.
“Done. Off you go, Molly.” The doctor shooed her away.
In the hall, she tugged off her mask. She’d liked Ethan that night at The Pegasus, six months ago. And he hadn’t remembered her.
He lurked by the wards during her shifts, trailing her like a lost dog. One day, his bed was empty.
“Your sailor got discharged. Asked when you’re next on. Proper smitten,” a nurse teased.
After her shift, she stepped into the cold.
“Hello, Molly.” Ethan stood there, holding roses.
“You’re meant to be resting.”
He handed her the roses with a crooked smile, and she finally understood that sometimes, the worthiest things in life are the ones you didn’t even know you were waiting for.
