Changed His Mind About Marriage
Arthur would stay late into the night at the laboratory, endlessly decanting colourful liquids from one flask to another and examining fine white powders.
He truly believed that his painstaking research would soon bear fruit, and that at last, hed unveil to society his product an extract teased from the roots of a rare plant.
The forty-year-old scientists enthusiasm for his work blinded him to the longing glances of young Sophie, the cleaner whod only recently started at the institute.
Driven by the prospect of imminent discovery, Arthur paid little attention to Sophie, who, forgetting her cleaning duties, would stand in his office for hours, resting on her mop, gazing at his back, silently hoping to be seen.
One evening, summoning a burst of courage, Sophie finally spoke up:
Mr. Ashworth, youve been sitting in that chair all day. Fancy a cuppa? Ive brought my own electric kettle, andwell, mum sent me off with some homemade sausage from the village.
At the mention of sausages, Arthur paused his experiment and rose from his chair.
Tea? That sounds perfect. And sausages, you say? Itd be a sin to refuse such a treat.
Thrilled, Sophie rummaged nervously in her rucksack, pulling out the kettle and then a plastic container of her prized food.
Mum sent me off with some homemade mince yesterday. I made them up into sausages with lard and baked them. They’re still fresh, promise.
She placed the container on the table, beaming.
Arthur, reaching for his glasses with the same habitual flick as ever, glanced over the offering while the kettle boiled.
So, forgive me for asking, buthow longs this been in your bag today?
Sophie faltered, uncertain. Er since this morning, I suppose. Why?
And was the lid on as tight as it is now?
Yes why? You think theyve gone off already? Shouldnt have, the staff rooms freezingradiators hardly work.
Arthur hesitated. Fair enough. In that case, lets just have the tea. You take the sausages home with you.
But Sophie, whod spent all of yesterday evening making those sausages, snatched the container from his hands in outrage.
Reading her darkening eyebrows, Arthur backpedaled.
Wait! Dont open itplease, he cried out, waving his arms, even stepping back and pinching his nose with a handkerchief.
But Sophie lifted the lid, took a sniff and scoffed:
Smells perfectly normal to me. Honestly, you city blokes get funny ideas. Fine, you dont want any? Ill eat them myself.
She thunked the container on the table and poured tea into two mismatched mugs.
Arthur hesitantly sat down. The hot tea soothed his mood, and soon enough, the smell of sausage filled the little office. His stomach rumbled, eyeing Sophie munching contentedly.
Beef? he asked.
She nodded, not looking up from her biting.
Looks appetizing. And doesnt smell at allwell, actually, it smells wonderful.
Arthurs mouth wateredbiology could rationalize all it liked; appetite obeyed its own whims.
He tried to reason with himself: The staff room shouldnt get warmer than twenty-two degrees, so technically, no dangerous bacteria But he trailed off as he watched a drop of grease trickle down her chin, another glimmering on her nose.
He resumed his tea quietly as his stomach rumbled ever louder.
And then, against all willpoweralmost as if in a dreamhis hand reached for a sausage. The crisp, golden skin split beneath his teeth.
Mmm this is amazing. Who made these?
I told youI did! Sophie flushed deep scarlet.
He kept eating, eyes closed in gastronomic bliss.
I have no words.
Sophie wiped her chin and eyes with her apron, more gleeful than ever.
There you go, now youve tried them! No need for fuss about spoiled food. I know what Im doingMum taught me right, and Ive cooked since I was a kid.
***
As a thank you for the hearty meal, Arthur insisted on escorting Sophie to the bus stop.
They talked as they waited. To Arthurs surprise, Sophie was only twenty-threeso young! Practically the age of his own daughter, if hed had one. Ten minutes passed, but no bus came.
Ill bring biscuits tomorrow, she offered shyly. Homemade ones. Carrot or cottage cheesewhat do you fancy?
I love both, he replied.
Well, Ill bring both then.
UnbelievableArthur found himself yearning for tomorrow, barely thinking of his equations and experiments. That night, he dreamtblushing furiously as he awokeof Sophie unbuttoning her blouse, baring a soft shoulder.
Ive made it forty years, he muttered in the morning, cheeks ablaze. Never once distracted by womenand now, look at me.
Part 2
On the way to meet Sophies family, Arthur was painfully nervous. As the cab bumped along the country roads, he removed his hat and tried desperately to comb wispy hair over his emerging bald patch.
Just last night, Sophie, his head in her lap, had carefully plucked every grey hair with her tweezers.
Hed shaved, donned a sharp suit, knotted his tie, and splashed on cologne. Sophie nuzzled his cheek, purring kittenishly.
Dont worry, she soothed. Mums a good judge of character, and my stepdad agrees with everyone.
How old is your mother?
Forty-five.
I see and Im forty already. Do you think shell have me?
Dont be silly. If she doesnt want to, Ill tell her Im carrying your child.
Thats a bit drastic Arthur stammered.
They arrived. Arthur rushed to rescue his hat as a gale threatened to snatch it away. Snowdrifts lined the roadhed never seen such mounds back in his own city.
While Arthur hesitated, Sophie paid the driver, leapt from the car, and, hefting both her own and Arthurs bags, led the way.
Arthur had only ever seen houses like Sophies in old childrens bookstilted roof of worn-out slate, chimney topped with a rusty, upturned pot.
Inside, the battered door creaked, floorboards groaned beneath their feet, and the lounge looked patched and whitewashed a hundred times.
My God, how can anyone live in such a ramshackle place? thought Arthur, appalled. Surely this was a guest house, or a fishing lodgeno one could live in something so ready to blow apart.
But when Sophie whispered for him to take off his shoes and pushed him into the tiny parlour, Arthur realised she was completely serious.
Standing centre-stage was a woman in a faded flannel dressing gown.
Mum, this is Arthurmy fiancé. Ive told you all about him on the phone.
The cold air from the womans stare couldve frozen tea.
Well, she said, sizing him up from shoes to scalp, how old are you, then?
Nerves jangled.
Er, pleased to meet you, Im Arthur
Your age! she thundered.
Im forty.
My Sophie is twenty-three! You could be her father!
Please, let me explain, Arthur faltered. I know the difference in age, but I love Sophie. Id never harm her, and I have a good job, a flat in the city, and a cottage down here.
But youve no car!
Well, my eyesights not sharp. Cant drive. But I can buy a car and teach Sophie to drive if that matters
Dont be ridiculous! I see what youre planningturning my poor girl into a housekeeper? Let me remind you, we abolished servitude centuries ago!
How can you say that? Arthur groaned. Listen, I want to marry Sophie, settle down, maybe christen our childrenbelieve me, Im genuine!
At that, a smiling, striking man in his thirties emerged from behind the stove.
Evening. Pleasure, Im sureIve heard all about you, he grinned. Sophies stepfather, a handsome man: wiry and elegant, tight curls atop his head, delicate features and full lips. Arthur easily clocked the age difference between him and Sophies mother.
Andrew, no need to fawn, barked her mother. Im not letting my girl marry this old fraud!
Mum! gasped Sophie. You cant treat guests like this. Im leaving with him.
Youll do no such thing!
As the family row exploded into full drama, Arthur longed for an escape. Gently, he unclasped Sophies tight grip from his hand.
Sophie, forgive me. If your mother cant approve, well have to part. I cant fight her wishes.
So Im to take her sneering and her bringing a lover into the housesomeone half her agewhile hurling me out so I dont get in their way? Sophie exclaimed.
Show respect, girl! Andrew snapped.
You shut it! her mother shouted back.
The row reached fever pitch.
Arthur hunched his shoulders and made for the doora stool soared past his head as he ducked out.
Heaven save me! he muttered, half-tripping out into the night. He dashed through the village, desperate for a cab or the faintest sign of a train station.
His heart hammered from the stress.
This whole marriage larkfor what? he thought, shivering. Couldve stayed back in my warm laboratory no need for this circus in some forsaken backwater.
Pulling out his phone, Arthur jabbed at itno signal whatsoever.
Eventually, aching and cold, he trudged back to the houserecognisable by its singed old pot atop the chimney.
The house was silent now, the row over. Sophie appeared on the porch, bags in hand.
Arthur? You stayed? she called softly. My love, I was so afraid youd left.
I just needed some air, he lied.
If my mum wont give us her blessing, Im leaving for good, Sophie declared.
Arthur was silent. His city shoes were useless herethe cold bit at his feet, and he started stamping and dancing to keep warm.
His toes felt frozen. Just at that moment, as the cold hammered him, his doubts crystalliseddid he even want this? Did he need Sophie, or her troubled family?
Mrs. Beckett, Sophies mother, strode onto the porch in an old sheepskin and boots, looking every bit the English matron.
If you wont respect me, then off you go, she said grandly. Hes your responsibility now.
Thats fine with me, mum. Arthur is wonderful. Just call us a taxi, Sophie retorted.
You can forget about that. Youre on your own nowdont expect anything from me.
Sophie nudged Arthur: Please, love, do something.
Arthur, half-frozen and near panic, mustered his last strength: Phones got no signal. Try the neighboursmaybe they can call a cab.
It was the first time Arthur had truly been out of his depth. His legs buckled with dread and cold, and, gasping, he collapsed.
Whats wrong? Sophie screamed, causing a stir throughout the village. Arthur barely muttered:
Just a bit dizzy Didnt think Id meet my end here. I want to go home.
Sophie howled, as if the gates of hell had opened.
***
Arthurs mind drifted, but when an NHS nurse woke him with an injection, he slowly returned to the living.
No miraclehe looked around, saw the patchy ceiling, the lime-washed walls, and shuddered. Trying to rise from the creaking sofa, he was stopped.
You need to stay put for half an hour, the nurse insisted.
What happened? he croaked.
High blood pressure. Its a hypertensive episode. No more stress for you.
Ive never been stressedbefore today
The vision of his formidable mother-in-law haunted him: An invalid as wellI mightve guessed.
Mum, just leave! Sophie intervened.
She brought Arthur hot tea, spoon-feeding him as though he were a child.
The nurse packed away. Arthur whispered:
Could you take me with you?
Where?
Werent you from the ambulance?
No, I live and work in the village.
Sophie brushed aside the tea, looking earnestly into his eyes.
Youre not running off, are you? No needMums agreed to forgive us, she says she was scared of losing me, now alls well.
Arthur barely dared look at Sophie, resolve crumbling.
Thats between you and your mum, he thought. If I get out of here alive, Ill escapeand never come within a mile of romance again.
***
Arthur finally finished his workday, rising from his chair. He turned to the lab assistant.
Thats it for me. Finish upI gave you the warning half an hour ago. Im locking up.
The assistant, a shy woman of thirty-two, blushed and adjusted her glasses.
Ive brought a cake. How about some tea?
No! Arthur called hastily. No tea at workwere here to work, not to have a tea party!
But its after hours, she smiled, uncertain.
Go home! Arthur barked.
Her smile vanished as she silently gathered her things and left.
Madman, she muttered under her breath.
Arthur exhaled and locked the door behind him.
Back home, right as the clock struck eight, he heard the lock turn Sophie opened the door.
Evening, Mr. Ashworth.
Whats for supper? he asked, not meeting her eyes.
Thick duck soup and potato dumplings.
Splendid. Im starving. Note down whatever I owe you for groceries; Ill top up your wages at the end of the month.
Arthur shed his coat, washed, and headed to the kitchen.
Sophie hovered nearby.
Are you still angry at Mum? She was just frighteneda rich, respected scientist might not truly want to marry her daughter, she thought, so she put on airs to test you. But I still love you.
Arthur stirred his soup, feeling curiously hollow.
Or were you thrown by that row? We do argue, but we always make up perhaps this crossed the line, but honestly, isnt that part of life?
Arthur gently ushered Sophie out, handing her all her belongings.
Its late. Go home. Dont come tomorrow. Ill have dumplings for dinner on my ownmaybe the day after, yes.
Closing the door on Sophies tear-stained face, Arthur returned to the kitchen and quietly finished his meal.
