“Don’t be cross with me, Tanya, but I wont be living with you,” said Jeremy, his voice firm.
“Couldnt we at least try, Jeremy?” Tanya gazed at him, barely blinking, a flush rising in her cheeks.
“Ive said all I need to, Tatiana.”
Emily Willowbrook was born when Jeremy was in his first year at school. He remembered her mother wellLorraine, the beauty of the whole village, with her great belly and proud husband, George. Then, one day, Lorraine wheeled a pram out through the gate, and Jeremy had longed to peek inside. At the time, it had seemed like magic.
Jeremy grew older, and little Emily grew with him. Soon she was dashing out of her parents gate, a bright ribbon in her fair hair, chasing after her friends and playing houses by the garden hedge. He watched it all from the window of his parents house, just across the lane from the Willowbrooks.
“Jeremy, would you walk Emily to school?” Lorraine asked him one day. He couldnt refuse, and so for nearly a year, he escorted the little first-year girl.
At first, they walked in silence, but Emily soon broke it, chattering about her lessons and little stories from her day. Her school finished earlier, and she would wait patiently for Jeremy to finish his. Sometimes he walked home with his classmates, and Emily tagged along. Before long, he grew used to waiting for her by the gate each morning, taking her small hand in his as they made their way to school.
The next September, Emily quietly asked if she could walk with her friends instead. After that, the girls went ahead, and Jeremy followed at a distance, keeping watch. And sure enough, his vigilance was neededone day, a hissing goose blocked the lane, its neck arched, wings flapping, terrifying the girls. Jeremy stepped between them, and the children dashed past with shrieks of relief.
The year after, Jeremy left for the grammar school in the next town, returning only for weekends and holidays. Emily seemed to forget who he was, passing him with downcast eyes, never saying hello. Then he joined the Merchant Navy and came home even less.
“Mum, whos thatEmily?” Jeremy paused over his supper as a tall, graceful young woman stepped through the Willowbrooks gate.
“Thats our Emily!” His mother glanced out the window and smiled.
“When did she grow up so fast?” Jeremy marvelled.
“Time passes,” his mother sighed fondly. “Every time I see her, I thinkshes got the best of both her parents.”
He caught glimpses of her after that, the lace curtains masking his watchful gaze. There she was, balancing buckets on a yoke as she walked to the well, the wind catching the hem of her dress just so. Another morning, she set off in a smart trouser suit for her exams. He found himself longing to walk with her again.
The last straw was her voiceclear and brightas he helped his father mend the fence. “A voice like that could lead a man to the ends of the earth,” he thought.
Then, one day, as he stepped out with his own buckets, he met her at the well.
“Hello,” Emily greeted him first, striking him dumb.
“Hello, Emily,” he managed, suddenly shy.
The buckets filled slowly, and he fumbled for words. When he left that time, a quiet ache settled in his chest. At last, he realisedhe was in love.
After taking his oath, he was posted to the far north, to Aberdeen.
***
The next time Jeremy came home, he carried hope with him. Maybe now he could tell her. She was old enough.
The first day, he slept off his journey. Then the work beganhis father had a list as long as his arm. They cut firewood in the far woodshed, split and stacked it. Determined to make the most of Jeremys short leave, his father had planned morenew beams for the washhouse, resetting the door frame, relaying the floor. Then, at the last minute, the cowshed needed new boards. Two weeks vanished in a blur.
Jeremy stole glances at the Willowbrooks gate, usually shut. Only Lorraine or George came and wentnever Emily.
“Mum, wheres Emily?” he finally asked.
“Gone to college. Lives in the city now,” his mother said.
So he returned to Aberdeen with nothing.
A year later, he saw her just onceand wished he hadnt. From behind the lace curtain, he watched her walk with some lanky village lad, laughing at his jokes, gazing at him with a fondness that twisted Jeremys heart.
Later, he learned shed married him. They lived in the market town now.
Every visit after, Jeremy saw heror worse, heard her laughter.
“Jeremy, love, stop pining. Youre not a lad anymore,” his mother said gently one evening.
“Is it that obvious?”
“How could it not be? I see how you look at her. Find yourself a lass up in Aberdeenyou might forget her. Pretty Kates no wife for thee, as they say. Put her out of your mind.”
“Trying doesnt help.”
***
He visited less and less, the Navy sending him to distant posts. No wife, no tieshe sought out the hardest postings, as if punishing himself.
He missed his fathers funeral, arriving only on the ninth day. Four years later, he was late for his mothers, too. But the village never abandoned its own, and the neighbours had handled everything.
Lorraine met him at the gate with the keyshed sent the telegram.
The next day, he tidied the graves. Then he sorted through years of clutterhis parents kept everything. His mothers illness had left the house neglected, so he scrubbed it top to bottom. In the evenings, he pored over old photo albumsand there, folded inside a yellowed newspaper, was a picture of him and Emily. Walking to school or back, perhaps, when a reporter had come to photograph the harvest volunteers. The caption called them brother and sister.
Before leaving, he asked Lorraine and George to tend the house and gardenthey were glad for the fresh vegetables.
“Emily wont need to buy potatoes now,” Lorraine sighed. “Vals been out of worknever any money.”
“How is she?” Jeremy kept his tone light.
“Not well. They lodge with Vals Aunt Mary. Emilys like a guest there. Val drinksworse, he takes his temper out on her.”
“Why does she stay?”
“Love, she says. I think Mary put a spell on her!” Lorraine whispered. “They live on Marys pension and Emilys wagessewing handbags at the factory. Sometimes they pay her in bags! What they cant sell, Val drinks. Ive a dozen of them. Want one?”
He nearly refused, then took it. Sturdy work, well-madehe liked to imagine she had stitched this very one.
***
After his service, Jeremy returned for good. He rebuilt the housenew heating, windows, a proper septic tank, a borehole. He drove to work in a modest new car. The village saw little of him, just glimpses as he came and went.
No friends remainedthe few schoolmates whod stayed were wrapped up in their own lives.
“Hey there, master of the house! Locking yourself away again?” A womans voice, familiar, called as he fastened the gate.
An older woman stood there, smiling.
“Hello,” he said, studying her face.
“Dont recognise me?”
“No…”
“Your old form mistress!”
“Miss Whitmore!”
“Invite me in, then.”
He unlatched the gate.
“So youve come home?”
“Had my fill of wandering. Wanted my own roof.”
“Goodbut a house needs a mistress.”
“True enough.”
“Two of your old classmates are divorced. Two widowed. Fine women, but no decent men left.”
“Remember Susan? Sweet on Victor since school. Married when he got back from service. Lasted years, then he ran off. Shes still waiting for her prince.”
“Or Lindatwenty years with Michael. He strayed; she put up with it till she didnt. Now she manages alone.”
“Kate buried her John. Good man, but his health gave out. Children grown and gone.”
“And Marianour beauty. Lost her Alex, too. Their boys grown now.”
It struck himhed never spared a thought for any of them. None had mattered. None could ever share this house.
“Plenty to choose from!” Miss Whitmores eyes twinkled.
“Ill think on it.”
“Dont wait too long. A man alone isnt right.”
At last, she left. He bolted the gate, wanting no more visitors.
***
One evening, driving home, he spotted a slender woman ahead.
“Emily,” he thought at once.
Slowing, he pulled up beside her.
“Emily! Let me drive you.”
“Hello,” she saidthat voice still undid
