Emily, youll be blamed for his death! Whose? Of course, Toms! Yes, exactly you! Ah, nothing surprising! And who was that beautiful girl sitting on the garden bench yesterday, her bare knees glinting in the twilight? How could that be! Toms soul is as fragile as a moths wing Hes only ever seen naked girls knees in school PE, ages ago So what if the streets are full of girls in miniskirts! You compared them! Ah, their knees and yours! Thats a difference! For Tomespecially!
A voice on the line hardened:
Im not making this up: I can see him now, scribbling a dying note Yes! He writes, I cant not without her, it pierces my heart, you understand, dont you? He writes it, his eyes never meeting mine! Ill go for a pint I mean, Ill die! Yes, the word die stands out clearly! How can I not see? I have my grandfathers field binoculars! I can see anything I wish!
The phone fell silent, only the worried breathing of the woman on the other end:
Oh dear, my poor little soul Were late, Ada, truly late, the knife is sharp, shes already started stabbing herself blood You say youll make it? Run, run, hurry, save your prince!
Granny Mabel, squinting her sharp little eyes, watched with pleasure as stoutbodied Emily burst into Toms shabby flat, carrying an unspent love, a desire to feed him stew and a dream of a house full of children.
Tom had no chance. The gaunt, dreamy young man lived alone: six months earlier his mother remarried and moved to her new husbands house, leaving her beloved son a threeroomed cottage. She had sternly ordered him to marry at once and start producing grandchildren. At least one. And to do it quickly! No delay!
Tom agreed: domestic comfort appealed to him. Yet he could find no girl. A whiz with electronics, Tom was silent, selfconscious and shy. He could not court boldly, and fled from aggressively confident girls faster than a fighter jet. Granny Mabel approved: she didnt want to share a roof with a cheeky, impertinent neighbour.
Then there was Emily! Motherly, houseworshipping, respectful. Not a knockout, but pleasant, her round freckled face was endearing. Only he needed to look, to talk to a person young men of that generation didnt know how to do that at all!
All their gadgetsugh, what a disgusting word!could only give short snippets. A photo or a clip and even those were like the TikTok girls, never really filmed, unlike the clingy brash types Tom feared as if they were fire. Their makeuplike witches at a coven! Modern girls were to Emily what a circus clown is to a ticketseller at the box office! Judge for yourself: no matter how sweet the ticketseller, youll remember the clowns odd visage, not the sellers. Yet youd speak a word to the seller, exchange a couple of sentences, but never with the clown.
Tom would glance at neighbour Emily, hoping to glimpse his happiness, yet it never came. He might have died a wandering soul, Granny Mabel thought. Why would he die? From hunger! From cold! From the lack of a womans warmth!
At home Tom resembled a lost hedgehog in fog. He ate instant noodles and frozen dumplings, if he remembered to lift the pot off the stove in time. He also made sandwicheshe was a sandwich specialist! He brewed a decent cup of tea, too.
Now the young man was trying to chop a cucumber for a salad. He sliced his finger, went looking for a bandage and some iodine, when a frantic knocking began at the front door. He had to throw it open, blood still dripping from his wound.
Emily, eyes huge with panic, lunged at Tom. What she whispered, what she tried to convince him ofGranny Mabel never learned. The binoculars transmit no sound, what a pity! Yet clever local CupidGranny Mabel herselfsaw later Emily, in her own kitchen, feeding Tom stew. She ladled potatoes with meatballs, tossed vinaigrette with cabbage, and offered a jug of compote. By the look of the lad, the dish was delicious. Very.
Toms face melted into a smile; his loneliness fled his eyes, and with it his wandering and his insecurities.
A month later the two were married. Granny Mabel was invited to the wedding. She was served a rich fruitcake, and the biggest slice was set aside for her. As the bride Emily giggled and said farewell, she asked the old woman:
So he was about to die, wasnt he? How did you put it started stabbing herself? Right, right into his finger!!! Oh Granny Mabel, dear! You know how embarrassed I felt when I said Id save him from death, and he handed me his finger! Oh, Granny Mabel!
