Milly Hawthorne had always been the talk of her little Kent village. Even after a lifetime of hard worksunbaked fields, endless chores, sleepless nights caring for a large brood, a herd of cows and a garden bursting with kaleshe never lost a stitch of charm, even in her golden years. After so many seasons of country life she still kept her poise.
In her youth Millys looks were the envy of the neighbouring hamlets. She was pleasantly rounded where a svelte figure was expected, her dark hair fell in a thick, shimmering braid, her clear green eyes were slightly slanted, and her naturally full lips could have been painted on by an artist.
Suitors came from far and wide. Even lads from the next village, full of swagger, tried to win her favour. Her parents, reasonably welloff farmers, werent in any hurry to see their only daughter married; they sent her to London to train as a teacher. Each summer, when Milly returned to the family cottage for holidays, she pretended to be on the lookout for a local husband.
One bright morning she was strolling down the lane, when a cheeky lad, trying to look accidental, shuffled up beside her, his trousers freshly patched and his nose still smudged with soot. He flashed a bold grin, winked, and practically blocked the path.
Milly, come to the village hall tonight therell be music, Ill walk you home afterwards! Youll love it, he called.
Milly shook her head, sidestepped the wouldbe fiancé, and later that evening discussed the newest swaggerer with her mother over tea.
Today the eldest son of the Baxter family stuck his nose in my business again what a daft boy! Yesterday, however, a clever young man from the next parish drove up in his old Ford, boasting he was best mates with the council chairman and that soon hed be working under him, her mother complained.
Darling, do you think there isnt any man who suits you? Finish your training and youll have to pick someone, her mother added.
Milly sighed. Theyre all the same, mother boisterous and full of themselves, as if I should swoon at their bravado.
Thomas Pritchard, Millys older brother by a year, watched her from the garden gate, his heart thudding like a drum. At first he dared not think of love; then, one spring morning, as birds sang and blossoms floated in the air, Milly passed by glowing like a sunrise. It knocked the wind out of him he knew he had to win her favour, no matter the cost.
He went to his mother for advice on how not to be laughed at or sent packing on the first coach. She gave him a long look, shook her head, and said, Thomas, look at yourself in the mirror and your pockets youre a decent lad, kind, but youre not a prince from a storybook. Even if you were a dashing hero, she wouldnt set her sights on a pauper. Look at the other suitors crowding around her; theyre all flash, no substance.
My own merits I know well enough, Thomas replied. But tell me, if you were a freshfaced girl, which sort of fellow would you pick?
She chuckled. I wasnt really asked; the match was arranged with the rectors son. We lived well, God gave his blessing… If I had a say, Id pick a man who gave me a gift thats truly priceless not something you can buy at the market for a few hundred pounds, but something sweet for the heart that no shop can offer.
What would that be, Mother? Thomas asked.
That, my boy, is a secret. Now, wheres my bucket? Im rambling on while the cows are already bellowing, she laughed.
Thomas remembered a hushed conversation his mother had had with his grandmother about a mysterious new soap. Girl, come here, Ill show you. A neighbour from London brought back two bars of this special stuff; they say theyre the finest in the county. Look at this the scent is divine!
Yes it does smell magical, Milly replied, eyes wide. Do you reckon they really wash everything? Even the dishes and the floors?
Im telling you straight, his mother said. The foam is as white as fresh snow; the cloths sparkle like new sheets. Its said to brighten even the toughest grime. Take a piece, its from the heart. Use it in the bath, youll feel like a new woman.
She wrapped a small, grey square of soap in an old newspaper and placed it on a shelf as if it were a priceless relic, convinced of his motherinlaws wisdom. She mused about trying it on the next spa day using it sparingly, lest the mice would gnaw at the leftovers.
Ah, its a shame you cant buy that sort of thing in shops, Thomas muttered.
He realised then that this soap was the kind of treasure that couldt be found in the local greengrocer, not even in the bustling city market. If Milly used it, shed glow and look even more radiant exactly the sort of present he needed.
He resolved to get a whole box for her, hoping it would finally win her heart.
Word spread through the village: why had the beautiful Milly chosen Thomas, a lanky, freckled, somewhat dulllooking fellow, as her husband? He was shorter than her, thin as a twig, his face dotted with freckles that made him look more like a speckled marmot than a gentleman, and his purse was as empty as a church mouse after the rectors tithes. Yet the villagers eventually grew fond of the cheerful, slightly odd couple and even envied their lively household.
Years later, the tale was told at every family gathering, each retelling adding a pinch of humour.
I tell you, when Thomas came down the aisle looking all solemn, I thought, What could possibly be missing? He never once stared at me, and honestly, among all my previous suitors, he was the only one who didnt make my head spin. Yet he walked forward with the confidence of someone carrying a banner on Trafalgar Square, smiling so broadly his cheekbones seemed ready to split.
Milly, usually used to suitors galloping forward with slick talk and oily eyes, found herself holding a modest bar labelled Household Soap. She could barely speak; the absurdity of it all made her laugh, but she also realised that none of the other lads had ever thought of a gift that came straight from the heart. Everyone else bragged and jostled; no one had considered what truly made her happy.
She saw in Thomas a genuinely kind, witty spirit and decided life with him could never be dull. She chose him, and she wasnt disappointed.
Their marriage was not without its quirks, but the two got on famously. Thomas never lounged on the featherfilled duvet (after all, you dont lie on a duvet in a village), but he was always ready to help with the children, fetch the milk, or take on any task his wife deemed womans work. They lived in harmony for many, many years.
The villagers sometimes wondered how Milly kept her beauty so well, still turning heads after decades. When asked, theyd simply smile and say, She washes with that special soap thats the secret!
