**The Call of the Heart**
“Next!” called the nurse as another patient left Dr. Diana Whitmore’s office.
“Good afternoon,” greeted Richard with a polite smile, stepping inside and taking a seat.
“Hello,” replied Diana. The young doctor still found it odd being addressed formally—only the nurse insisted on it.
When she glanced up, she was met with a familiar pair of slate-grey eyes. Her heart skipped, but she steadied herself.
“Richard?” It was her old schoolmate—they’d been close once.
After school, Diana had left their small market town for London to study medicine, while Richard had stayed behind. His father had been unwell, and with no university prospects—and no money for tuition—he’d settled into work, training as a lorry driver while waiting for his National Service call-up. He’d served, and though Diana rarely visited, he’d always held onto hope she might return.
Now, before her sat a grown-up Richard, handsomer than ever. She doubted he was actually ill but asked, “What seems to be the trouble?”
“Racing heart,” he said with a grin. “Especially when I see you.”
“Oh, I’ll just—” The nurse shot Richard a knowing look. “Right, that’s the last patient for today anyway,” she muttered, excusing herself.
“Diana, I came because you’ve been avoiding me,” Richard admitted. “I’m off on a haul in two days, and I need to talk. I know what you’ll say—married, kids…”
Back in school, they’d been inseparable—walking together, cinema dates, evenings by the river. Everyone assumed they’d marry. But while Diana left for university, Richard stayed. And then there was Lizzie.
Lizzie from the year below had been relentless—cornering him between classes, waiting after school. He’d ignored her antics, but she’d sing, *”You’ll be mine, just you wait, you’ll fall and marry me!”*
After his service, Lizzie latched on. She worked at the greengrocer’s, quick-witted and fond of a drink. One night, at his mate Arthur’s birthday in a pub, she’d slipped vodka into Richard’s ale. He’d blacked out.
“Blimey, you’re gone,” Arthur had said, calling a cab. Lizzie had piped up: “I’ll take him!”
Next thing Richard knew, he was waking up in her bed. Her mum had burst in, scandalised. Lizzie had laughed. *”You’ll have to marry me now!”*
He hadn’t remembered a thing. But between guilt and Lizzie’s “surprise” pregnancy, he’d married her.
When Diana heard, she’d accepted a proposal from fellow medic Edward, who’d pursued her relentlessly. She’d doubted she loved him—their marriage felt hollow. He was always busy, dismissive of children. *”We need to save first.”*
Six years later, a pregnant girl had knocked on Diana’s door. *”Edward’s promised to marry me. Let him go.”* Diana had filed for divorce the next day.
Now back in her hometown, Diana worked at the local clinic. Richard, meanwhile, was miserable—Lizzie drank, neglected their two boys, and ran wild when he was away. His mum had warned him, but Lizzie would smirk, *”He’d never leave the boys.”*
Yet here he was, sitting across from Diana in a café. “I’m ending it,” he said. “This isn’t a life.”
Diana arched a brow. “And what’s it to me? You’re still married.”
“Just—stay away from Councillor Harris. He’s bad news.”
She scoffed. “Rich, coming from you.”
“Wait for me,” he pleaded.
Three days later, during her shift, social workers arrived. A neighbour had reported neglected children—*Richard’s* children.
The flat was a mess. Two-year-old Toby lay swaddled in rags. His brother, Noah, scrounged stale bread. Lizzie was nowhere.
“I’ll take them,” Diana said instantly.
Her parents blinked but didn’t argue as she brought the boys home, scrubbing them clean and filling their plates.
When Richard returned, he filed for custody. And Diana? Well, she’d always had a soft spot for strays.
Now they live in a cottage with three children—Noah, Toby, and little Evie, their own. Richard drives shorter routes these days. And Lizzie? Last anyone heard, she’d moved to Blackpool with a bingo caller.
