Changed His Mind About Getting Married Late Into the Night, Dr. Archibald toiled away in his lab, endlessly transferring mysterious liquids between test tubes and analyzing granulated powders, his mind consumed by the hope that his painstaking research would soon bear fruit—and that he’d finally unveil his “product,” extracted from the roots of a rare English wildflower, to the scientific community. With all the enthusiasm of a dedicated forty-year-old scientist, Archibald barely registered the awestruck gazes from the institute’s new young cleaner, Sophie, who, forgetting her own work, would linger in his office for hours, propping herself on her mop and watching him intently. Driven by his dream, Archibald noticed neither Sophie’s attentions nor her habit of standing quietly behind him, lost in her thoughts until, one evening, she found her courage: “Dr. Archibald, you’ve hardly left your chair all day,” she said, brightening. “Fancy a cuppa? I happened to bring my electric kettle—and some homemade sausages.” At the mention of sausages, Archibald looked up from his experiments. “Tea with sausages, you say? I’d be mad to pass that up.” Sophie beamed as she rummaged through her backpack, producing first the kettle and then a plastic container of delicious-looking food. “Mother sent me some beef mince from the country yesterday,” she explained, her cheeks glowing with pride, “so I made sausages with a bit of pork fat and roasted them.” Archibald peered into the clear tub, putting his glasses back on for a closer look. “How long has this sat in your bag?” he inquired. “Since this morning, I suppose. Why?” Sophie faltered, apprehensive. “And the lid was sealed tight?” “Yes, it was,” Sophie insisted, now a bit anxious. “You think it’s spoiled already? It’s been cold in the staff room—they haven’t got the radiators on yet.” Archibald weighed his doubts. “Best stick to tea for now. Maybe you should take the sausages home.” Angry at the rejection, Sophie scooped away her container, but curiosity got the better of her, and she opened it anyway. “Smells just fine! Oh, you city types—always worrying! If you won’t have any, more for me.” As the kettle boiled, Archibald eyed Sophie as she tucked in voraciously. The warm aroma and her enjoyment tempted him. He reasoned with himself about food safety, the risk of bacteria, and Sophie’s questionable fridge habits, but the British scientist’s willpower failed under hunger’s persuasion. Finally, he caved—one bite led to another, and Archibald found himself in culinary heaven. “Stunning! Did you really make these yourself?” Sophie smiled through happy tears. “Told you—I’ve been cooking since I was a girl!” The humble supper ended with Archibald offering to see Sophie to the bus stop, and the evening set in motion a chain of unexpected events. Archibald, A Forty-Year-Old Scientist, Visits His Young Girlfriend Sophie’s Eccentric Family in a Snowy English Village—Only to Find Himself Questioning Both Love and Marriage The next day, anxiety gnawed at Archibald as a bumpy taxi ride took him and Sophie to her childhood home in the snow-blanketed English countryside—a crooked-roofed old cottage reminiscent of an eccentric BBC drama. Sophie, headstrong and affectionate, tried to reassure him: “Mum’s understanding. And my stepdad will love you; he agrees with everyone.” Archibald fretted about the age difference. “Your mum’s forty-five, I’m forty. Will she even approve?” “She’ll come round!” Sophie insisted, even vowing, in jest, to invent a pregnancy if her mother disapproved. The cottage was as unwelcoming as Archibald had feared. Sophie’s mother, wrapped in a threadbare dressing gown, sized him up sharply, her voice cold. “My little girl’s twenty-three, and you’re twice her age! What’s your game? Looking for a housekeeper?” The tension snowballed into a blazing row involving Sophie’s handsome young stepfather and the whole family, with accusations and furniture flying. Archibald fled into the frosty night, dodging hurled stools and searching the village for any means of escape, ruing the day he ever left his lab for this rural “adventure.” After collapsing from stress and cold, Archibald was nursed back to health by a local medic and Sophie’s unwavering devotion. But as tempers cooled, doubts about love, marriage, and rural English family drama gnawed at him. Archibald found himself longing for the order and coziness of his city flat—and the idea of remaining a confirmed bachelor started to seem far more appealing. A Comedy of Love, Laboratories, and Culture Clashes: When a Middle-Aged London Scientist Visits His Quirky Young Girlfriend’s Eccentric Family in Rural England, He Starts to Rethink His Plans for Marriage

Changed His Mind About Marriage

Archibald would stay in his laboratory late into the night, endlessly decanting mysterious liquids from test tube to test tube and examining powders with painstaking focus.

He was certain that his tireless research was about to bear fruit, and that soon, at last, he could present his producta rare extract from the roots of an unusual plantto the world.

So engrossed in his work was the forty-year-old scientist that he failed to notice the eager glances cast in his direction by young Sophie, the new cleaner at the institute.

Spurred on by dreams of an imminent breakthrough, Archibald paid no mind as Sophie, all but forgetting her cleaning duties, would linger quietly for hours in his office, leaning on her mop and staring at his back.

Finally, one evening, Sophie plucked up her courage and spoke:

Dr. Greaves, youve been sitting there all day, havent you? How about a cup of tea? Ive got a kettle with me by accidentand some homemade sausages.

At the mention of sausages, Archibald reluctantly tore himself away from his beakers.

Tea sounds lovely. And sausages, you say? Well, it would be a sin to refuse such an offer.

Sophie, delighted, pulled out her rucksack with trembling hands, producing a little electric kettle, and then a plastic container with the homemade treat.

My mum sent me some fresh mince from the country, she beamed. I made the sausages myself last night, with a bit of bacon.

Archibald slipped his spectacles back onto his nose, peering at the container as the kettle began to whirr. It was a clear plastic box with a fitted lid.

Tell me, Miss, how long has this been in your rucksack?

Sophie faltered, uncertain. Since this morning, I suppose. Why?

And the lidhas it been as tight as this all day?

She nodded. Yesat least, I think so. Youre not saying its gone off, are you? The locker room is still chillycentral heating hasnt come on yet.

Archibald hesitated, his own doubts at war inside.

In that case, lets just have tea. Just tea. You can take this home with you.

Outraged, Sophie snatched the box away. Her intentions were clear from the frown pinched between her brows.

Oh, dont open it! Archibald almost shouted, waving his arms and retreating, pinching his nose with a handkerchief.

But Sophie popped the lid and sniffed.

Smells fine. Oh, you city folk, you get such silly ideas! Dont want any? Your lossIll eat it myself. She plonked the box on the desk and started pouring tea.

Archibald eyed the container warily, the steam from the tea soothing his nerves. He watched Sophie chew, fascinated despite himself.

Beef? he ventured.

She nodded enthusiastically through a mouthful.

Looks delicious. And it smells well, it smells quite good.

His mouth watered despite himself. Sometimes, reason was helpless against hunger.

Sighing, he attempted a weak, Technically, according to HSE guidelines, locker rooms should not exceed twenty-two degrees, so in theory, no bacteria

What? Sophie cut him off, glancing up. Archibald noticed a drop of grease roll off her chin, another glinting on her nose.

His thoughts spun.

Probably a rich broth. And that smell! Oh, why did I say all that?
Stop it, Archibald. You know its a risk to eat food of unknown storage. And she hardly looks the intellectual sortdoubt she thought about temperature control!

He mentally lectured himself as he sipped his bare tea, his empty stomach rumbling louder than reason.

Then, astonishingly, something overwhelming happened. His hand, almost of its own accord, reached for a bite. The casing of Sophies sausage burst under his teeth.

Mm. Extraordinary! Who made these?

Sophie flushed. I did, she mumbled.

He ate with eyes closed, carried away by culinary bliss.

She lit up at his reaction, hastily wiping her mouthand a tearwith the edge of her uniform.

See? I told you it was fine. I know my foodbeen cooking since I was a nipper!

***

To thank her for dinner, Archibald insisted on escorting Sophie to the bus stop. The conversation grew easyhe learned she was just twenty-three. So young.

She might as well have been his own daughter. The bus was late, and they stood together for ages, shivering.

Shall I bring biscuits tomorrow? Sophie asked, a tentative smile on her face. I bake them myself, never buy them. Do you prefer carrot or ricotta biscuits?

I love them all.

Ill bake both.

Unbelievably, Archibald caught himself looking forward to the next day. He even forgot his equations for a while. And the dream that night! In it, Sophie undressed, sliding her blouse from a sugared shoulder.

He woke with burning cheeks.

Good heavens. Forty years old, never noticed a woman in my life, and now this, out of nowhere!

Part 2

The morning before meeting Sophies family, Archibald was a bundle of nerves. The taxi rattled over potholed lanes, and he kept smoothing what remained of his thinning hair.

Only yesterday, Sophie had sat him at her knee and meticulously plucked every grey hair from his scalp with a pair of tweezers.

He had shaved, donned his best suit and tie, splashed on cologne.

Sophie pressed her cheek to his, purring like a contented cat.

Theyll love you, she promised. Mums sensible, and my stepdadhe agrees with whatever she says.

How old is your mum?

Forty-five.

And Im already forty, he fretted. Do you think shell approve?

Dont be daft! And if she wont, Ill just say Im expecting.

Best not start with threats, he muttered anxiously.

At last, they arrived. Archibald jumped out and clung to his hat, wind threatening to send it spinning away.

It was winter, and snowdrifts towered along the lanenothing like the tame winters of his own city.

While Archibald hesitated, Sophie paid the driver, then gamely shouldered both her bags and his, striding toward a house Archibald might have seen in an old storybook: crooked, tired roof, a battered chimney capped with a scorched iron pot.

Inside, the place was cold and bare; the floor creaked beneath mismatched rugs, and thick lime wash clung to every wobbly wall.

My God, who lives like this? Archibalds heart sank. Surely this is a shed or a guest lodgeno one actually lives here, do they?

But when Sophie whispered instructions to remove his shoes before nudging him into the only room, he realised this was the real thing.

In the centre stood a woman in a faded flannel gown.

Mum, this is Archibald, my fiancé. I told you about him on the phone.

A chill emanated from the womans glare.

Well, she said, how old are you?

Archibald almost wilted.

Im Archibald Greaves, your daughter and I work together

How old? she thundered.

Forty.

Shes twenty-three! You could be her father.

Listen, please, he pleaded. I know Im older, but I truly care for Sophie. I wouldnt hurt herI have a good job, a flat in town. Even a cottage by the sea.

But no car! she snapped.

No, Im a little short-sightedbut I can learn, if its important I can teach Sophie to drive if she wants”

Oh, just listen to him! the mother jeered. Trying to make a servant out of my girl! We abolished all that centuries ago!

Thats notplease, I want to marry Sophie! Well have a simple church ceremony, a couple of children I mean only good.

At that, a smiling man appeared from behind the stoveperhaps thirty, slim and darkly handsome, with gentle eyes and curly hair and a shirt slightly open at the collara stallion of a stepfather.

Her mother barked: Enough simpering, Andrew. Im not giving my daughter to this old rascal!

Sophie gasped, Mum! How could you? Hes a guest. Im leaving with him.

Youll do nothing of the sort!

Voices grew more heated, the scene descending into a wild family row that Archibald longed to avoid.

He gently loosened Sophies grip and made to go.

Im sorry, Sophie. If your mother cannot accept me, we must part.

And she can treat me however she likes? Sophie screamed. She can parade her boy-toy through the house and toss me out so I dont get in the way?

Show your mother some respect! Andrew shouted.

Keep your mouth shut! yelled Sophies mum, even louder.

It was utter chaos. Archibald shrank from the doorway just as a stool sailed past his head.

God save me! he muttered, fleeing the house.

He dashed out, then up and down nearly the whole village in his search for a taxi or a train station.

The stress weighed heavily, his chest tight and head light.

What a disaster, he groaned. I could be in my warm lab right now. Instead, I agreed to this madness!

Digging for his mobile, he realised there was no signal.

Exhausted, finally, he trudged back to the sad little houserecognising it by the burnt old pot on the chimney.

Approaching the porch, he was surprised to find it quiet.

The door creaked open and Sophie stepped outside, bags in hand.

Archie, love, are you still here? she called softly. My dear, I was terrified youd run off.

I just needed air, he fibbed, trying to hide how frozen he felt.

If Mum wont bless the marriage, Ill just leave, Sophie declared.

Archibald said nothing. His city shoes offered no protection; his toes were numb. He stamped and danced to keep warm. He wondered, in misery, if this was worth it at allespecially with such a family.

Sophies mum now stepped onto the porch, wrapped in a thick coat, boots pulled high, standing tall and imperious as any lady of the manor.

If you dont honour me, Sophie, you may as well go, she decreed. Hes your problem now.

Better with him than with you, Sophie retorted stubbornly. Archibalds a good man! Just call us a taxi, wont you?

Certainly not! I said hes your problem now. Dont ever come running to me for help.

Sophie nudged him, desperate. Darling, do something.

Archibald, half-frozen and starting to audibly creak, rallied his last strength.

Theres no signalcan you pop next door and ask if they can ring a taxi?

For the first time, Archibald realised he was in deep trouble. His legs went weak; he collapsed, gasping into the snow.

Whats wrong?! Sophie screamed, her voice carrying across the village. Archibald could barely move his tongue.

Im a bit dizzy. Never thought this would be my end. I just want to go home.

Noooo! wailed Sophie, and Archibald felt as though the very gates of hell had opened before him.

***

He remembered little, but when the local medicwho turned out to live in the villagegave him an injection, he slowly returned to consciousness.

No miracle awaited him. He eyed the lumpy ceiling and lime-streaked walls, trying to shrug off the scratchy old blanket.

Stay put, the nurse chided. Youve had a hypertensive crisis. Rest for half an hour.

Whats wrong with me? he groaned.

Lay off the stress.

Ive never been stresseduntil now

He recalled the stony face of his future mother-in-law, glowering above him.

And hes ill, too! she sniffed.

Mum, leave him alone! Sophie insisted, bustling round with hot tea, spooning it into his mouth.

When the nurse prepared to leave, Archibald begged, Can you take me with you?

Where to? she smiled. Im no ambulance, love. I live and work here.

Sophie, hovering nearby, put down the tea and peered into his eyes.

Youre not leaving, are you? No need nowMums forgiven us. She just got scared, thats all.

Archibald, thoroughly disenchanted, kept avoiding Sophies gaze.

Thats between you and her. If I get out of here alive, Ill never so much as glance at another womanever again.

***

Later, in the lab, Archibald finished his work and told his assistant,

Thats enough for today. You can pack up now, I gave you half an hours warning. Im closing up.

The technician, a demure woman of about thirty-two, flushed deeply, adjusting her glasses.

I brought a pie. Shall we have a cup of tea?

No! Archibald barked. Tea in the workplace? Were paid to work, not to sit chatting over tea!

But the workdays been over for ages, she countered quietly.

Home time! he snapped.

She gathered her things and left, whispering under her breath, Loony.

Archibald exhaled, locked the doors, and hurried home.

He arrived just as the clock struck eight.

Sophie opened the door at his key.

Good evening, Dr. Greaves.

Whats for dinner? he asked, without looking at her.

Rich duck soup with potato dumplings.

Excellent. Im famished. Write down how much I owe you for groceries, and Ill add it to your wages at months end.

He took off his shoes, washed up, and sat at the table.

Sophie hovered anxiously.

Are you still cross with my Mum? Honestly, she was frightenedyou, such a well-off scientist, nearly a professorshe thought you wouldnt really marry me. Just her silly way of, you know, showing Im worth it. Shes daft, but harmless. Ive always loved you.

Archibald barely tasted his food.

Or is it the family row? Dont worrynever a dull moment with us! Were always sparring; this was nothing. Yes, it got a bit out of hand, but still

Archibald rose, gave Sophie a gentle push out to the hall, then out the door, handing her her things.

Its late. Off you go. Dont come tomorrowIll finish the dumplings myself. But the day after, you may return.

He closed the door on her tear-stained face, and went back to his supper.

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Changed His Mind About Getting Married Late Into the Night, Dr. Archibald toiled away in his lab, endlessly transferring mysterious liquids between test tubes and analyzing granulated powders, his mind consumed by the hope that his painstaking research would soon bear fruit—and that he’d finally unveil his “product,” extracted from the roots of a rare English wildflower, to the scientific community. With all the enthusiasm of a dedicated forty-year-old scientist, Archibald barely registered the awestruck gazes from the institute’s new young cleaner, Sophie, who, forgetting her own work, would linger in his office for hours, propping herself on her mop and watching him intently. Driven by his dream, Archibald noticed neither Sophie’s attentions nor her habit of standing quietly behind him, lost in her thoughts until, one evening, she found her courage: “Dr. Archibald, you’ve hardly left your chair all day,” she said, brightening. “Fancy a cuppa? I happened to bring my electric kettle—and some homemade sausages.” At the mention of sausages, Archibald looked up from his experiments. “Tea with sausages, you say? I’d be mad to pass that up.” Sophie beamed as she rummaged through her backpack, producing first the kettle and then a plastic container of delicious-looking food. “Mother sent me some beef mince from the country yesterday,” she explained, her cheeks glowing with pride, “so I made sausages with a bit of pork fat and roasted them.” Archibald peered into the clear tub, putting his glasses back on for a closer look. “How long has this sat in your bag?” he inquired. “Since this morning, I suppose. Why?” Sophie faltered, apprehensive. “And the lid was sealed tight?” “Yes, it was,” Sophie insisted, now a bit anxious. “You think it’s spoiled already? It’s been cold in the staff room—they haven’t got the radiators on yet.” Archibald weighed his doubts. “Best stick to tea for now. Maybe you should take the sausages home.” Angry at the rejection, Sophie scooped away her container, but curiosity got the better of her, and she opened it anyway. “Smells just fine! Oh, you city types—always worrying! If you won’t have any, more for me.” As the kettle boiled, Archibald eyed Sophie as she tucked in voraciously. The warm aroma and her enjoyment tempted him. He reasoned with himself about food safety, the risk of bacteria, and Sophie’s questionable fridge habits, but the British scientist’s willpower failed under hunger’s persuasion. Finally, he caved—one bite led to another, and Archibald found himself in culinary heaven. “Stunning! Did you really make these yourself?” Sophie smiled through happy tears. “Told you—I’ve been cooking since I was a girl!” The humble supper ended with Archibald offering to see Sophie to the bus stop, and the evening set in motion a chain of unexpected events. Archibald, A Forty-Year-Old Scientist, Visits His Young Girlfriend Sophie’s Eccentric Family in a Snowy English Village—Only to Find Himself Questioning Both Love and Marriage The next day, anxiety gnawed at Archibald as a bumpy taxi ride took him and Sophie to her childhood home in the snow-blanketed English countryside—a crooked-roofed old cottage reminiscent of an eccentric BBC drama. Sophie, headstrong and affectionate, tried to reassure him: “Mum’s understanding. And my stepdad will love you; he agrees with everyone.” Archibald fretted about the age difference. “Your mum’s forty-five, I’m forty. Will she even approve?” “She’ll come round!” Sophie insisted, even vowing, in jest, to invent a pregnancy if her mother disapproved. The cottage was as unwelcoming as Archibald had feared. Sophie’s mother, wrapped in a threadbare dressing gown, sized him up sharply, her voice cold. “My little girl’s twenty-three, and you’re twice her age! What’s your game? Looking for a housekeeper?” The tension snowballed into a blazing row involving Sophie’s handsome young stepfather and the whole family, with accusations and furniture flying. Archibald fled into the frosty night, dodging hurled stools and searching the village for any means of escape, ruing the day he ever left his lab for this rural “adventure.” After collapsing from stress and cold, Archibald was nursed back to health by a local medic and Sophie’s unwavering devotion. But as tempers cooled, doubts about love, marriage, and rural English family drama gnawed at him. Archibald found himself longing for the order and coziness of his city flat—and the idea of remaining a confirmed bachelor started to seem far more appealing. A Comedy of Love, Laboratories, and Culture Clashes: When a Middle-Aged London Scientist Visits His Quirky Young Girlfriend’s Eccentric Family in Rural England, He Starts to Rethink His Plans for Marriage