**Hello, Maisie**
“Maisie, hi. What are up to?” came her friend’s voice over the phone.
“Just got home from work. Is it urgent? Sorry, I’m exhausted—today was mental,” Maisie replied.
“I’m calling to remind you about my birthday tomorrow. Seven o’clock at The Pegasus. No excuses. See you there.” Before Maisie could get a word in, Stacey—ever the whirlwind—hung up.
“Who was that?” Her mum had been standing in the doorway, eavesdropping.
“You heard,” Maisie sighed. Her mum pursed her lips. “Stacey invited me to her birthday,” Maisie relented.
“Shame you didn’t buy that blue dress—would’ve been perfect,” her mum chided.
“Mum, I completely forgot! I haven’t even got her a gift. And honestly, I don’t want to go. I’ll text her later.”
“Text her? Stacey’s your only friend! You’ll end up alone at this rate. I’ll sort a gift tomorrow. Go out, have fun—you’re always working. Nearly thirty, no husband, no kids. Not even a proper boyfriend!”
“What’s that got to do with anything? And I’m twenty-seven, not thirty.”
“Twenty-seven is already twenty-seven. Stacey’s got admirers left and right. She might even introduce you to someone,” her mum muttered.
“Honestly, it’s like you’re desperate to get rid of me. What’s next? Grandkids from my schoolmates?”
“No harm in hoping! Meanwhile, Stacey, for all her admirers, isn’t married either,” Maisie snipped.
“She will be, mark my words. You, though…”
“Here we go.” Maisie rolled her eyes. Another lecture.
“Go ahead, say you’re dying, and I’m still not settled.” Maisie’s temper flared.
“I’m not dying yet, but time’s ticking. I’d like to meet my grandkids while I’ve got the knees for it!” her mum shot back.
“God, Mum, you’re fifty-three!”
“Exactly. Retirement’s coming, and no grandbabies. So you’re going to that party. Blimey, the sausages are burning!” With that, her mum dashed to the kitchen.
The next evening, Maisie stepped into The Pegasus, gripping a gift bag. She wore the blue dress (mum-approved), curled hair (also mum-approved), and felt about as comfortable as Alice after a sudden growth spurt. She was late, thanks to another row with her mother.
The restaurant buzzed. Waiters glided between tables like silent penguins in black aprons. A wave of chatter hit her.
“Reservation, or meeting someone?” A host materialised, wearing a polite, practiced smile.
“My friend’s birthday…” Maisie mumbled, feeling like an impostor. Fancy places made her nervous.
“Right this way.” He led her to a table where Stacey held court beside two blokes. Oliver Pembroke—banker’s son, vaguely familiar—and another, rougher-around-the-edges chap. Oh. Stacey had set her up. Brilliant.
The host pulled out a chair. “Ta,” Stacey chirped, flashing her megawatt grin. “Finally! We’ve ordered—hope you don’t mind. You look fab, by the way.”
Maisie wished the floor would swallow her. She apologised for being late, handed over the gift (Stacey barely glanced at it), and scanned the room. The glittering crowd made her head spin. Oliver poured champagne.
“Just a splash,” Maisie warned as the bottle hovered near her glass. “I’ve got a night shift later.”
“Our Maisie’s a nurse,” Stacey announced, as if presenting a mildly interesting fact.
Oliver gave a toast. They clinked glasses. Maisie sipped the fizzy wine, then set hers down. A waiter delivered starters.
“Meet Jack. He’s a sailor—can you believe it?” Stacey whispered, picking up her cutlery.
“Merchant navy?” Oliver asked.
“Fishing trawler,” Jack admitted.
“Decent pay?”
“Can’t complain.”
“Months at sea, no pubs, no women. How d’you not go barmy?” Oliver refilled the glasses.
“Too knackered after shifts to notice. You get used to it.”
Jack ate heartily, answering questions but barely glancing at Maisie. No surprise—Stacey was the sun, and everyone else orbited her. Maisie felt about as welcome as a vegan at a barbecue.
When the band started, Stacey dragged Oliver to dance. Others joined. Upon their return, Maisie stood. “I should go—need to change before work.”
“Jack, walk her home,” Stacey commanded, like a queen bestowing favours.
“Really, it’s fine,” Maisie protested, scrambling up.
“Nonsense.” Stacey shot Jack a look.
Maisie bolted for the exit. Outside, she spun to face him. “Don’t bother—I live close.”
“I’ll walk you,” he insisted.
“Suit yourself,” she muttered.
They reached her building in silence. “This is me. Bye.”
“Fly to Aberdeen in two days. Medical check, then back to sea.” Jack studied the building. “Which flat’s yours?”
“Safe travels,” she said instead and marched inside. When she glanced back, he’d vanished.
“Who was that?” Her mum pounced the second she stepped in.
“You saw.” Maisie kicked off her heels with relief.
“I just happened to look out the window!”
“Of course you did.” Maisie headed to her room.
“So? Who was it?” Her mum cornered her again as she left for her shift, thrusting a sandwich box at her.
“One of Stacey’s fan club.” Maisie pulled on her trainers. “Ta. Gotta run.” She pecked her mum’s cheek and fled.
Later, Stacey confessed she’d invited Jack specifically for Maisie. “You’re welcome, love.”
Summer melted into a soggy autumn. One November night, the ER admitted a bloke with a broken arm and concussion—Jack.
Maisie cleaned his cuts while the doctor plastered his arm. “What happened? Should we call the police?”
“Nah. Got back from sea, went to see my girl… Turns out she’s engaged. Her bloke didn’t take kindly to me.”
“Lucky you,” the doctor deadpanned. “She pretty, at least?”
“Doc, do girls just… not wait? Or is it me?”
“Ask Maisie. She’s the expert on women.”
“You’re ashore, what—two months? Then six at sea?” Maisie said.
“About that.”
“Girls need time to fall for someone. And let’s be honest—sailors aren’t known for loyalty.”
“We dock in Norway for a day, max. Mum’s on at me to settle down.”
Maisie laughed.
“What’s funny?”
“Mine too. White dress, grandkids—the works.”
Jack stuck around after discharge, haunting the hospital corridors during her shifts. One day, his bed held another patient.
“Your sailor got discharged. Asked when you’re next on,” a nurse teased. “Fancies you. Cute, too.”
After her shift, Maisie stepped into the cold. “Hello, Maisie.” She jumped. Jack held out roses.
“Ta.”
“Got out today. Fancy the cinema?”
“I’m dead on my feet.”
“Another time?”
“Plenty of girls out there.”
“Did I do summat wrong?”
“We met seven months ago. You didn’t recognise me.”
“No way.”
“At The Pegasus. Stacey introduced us.” They passed the restaurant.
“Stacey… yeah. But you? Sorry.”
At her door, Maisie stopped. “Remember this place? You walked me home.”
He stared, baffled.
“Ta for the flowers. Bye.” She left him standing there.
“Pretty bouquet. Who’s it from?” her mum asked.
“You saw.”
The next morning, Jack sat on a bench outside, snow dusting his hair.
“Persistent, aren’t you?” Maisie muttered. She dawdled, hoping he’d leave. But he stayed, shivering, craning his neck towards her window.
“You’ll catch your death.” She finally marched out.
“Hi, Maisie.” His lips were blue.
“Been here all night?”
“Nah. Came early so I wouldn’t miss you. Day off today? Cinema?”
“You really love films.”
“Used to watch ’em on repeat as a kid. After Dad died, money was tight—had a little sister to help with. Bought a laptop after my first voyage, but still prefer the big screen.”
In the shop, he waited outside, snow piling on his hunched shoulders.
“You look like a stray puppy. Come on, then.” She led him inside.
Upstairs,And so, five years later, when their toddler chucked mashed peas at Jack during Sunday roast while Maisie’s mum cooed about grandbaby number two on the way, Maisie caught Stacey’s eye across the table and silently mouthed, “Thank you.”
