**Diary Entry**
Last night, Anton—my granddaughter Lucy’s husband—rang just before bed. *Gran, sorry, but we won’t make it to your birthday tomorrow.*
My heart dropped. *Goodness, Anton, what’s happened?*
*Well, Gran, Lucy’s just gone into labour. Couldn’t wait for your big day, could she?* He chuckled, equal parts nerves and joy. *I’m calling from the hospital. No baby yet.*
*Lord, Anton, what a relief. Here I was, worrying. You never ring this late.* I clutched my chest. *Call me the minute he arrives—I won’t sleep a wink otherwise.*
Two hours later, the phone rang again. *Gran, happy birthday—meet your grandson, Charlie. Lucy’s fine. Celebrate without us, eh?*
*Bless you, Anton. Give Lucy a kiss from me—she’s done marvellously.*
Sixty-five today. Not much of a fuss—just my other daughter, Jane, with her husband and son, plus my old workmates, Margaret and Rose. We’ve been thick as thieves since we were girls.
Seven years since I lost my William. We’d planned so much, but life had other ideas. His heart gave out before he even retired. We raised Jane here in the village—sent her off to university, and now she’s settled in York.
This had always been home. Big factory, half the village worked there. That’s where I met William—fresh-faced engineer, handsome as anything. Spotted me giggling with Rose in the canteen, cornered me at the door.
*Miss, let’s get acquainted. William—call me Will, Bill, whatever suits.*
*Alice,* I mumbled, cheeks burning.
*Lovely name. Fancy a stroll after work?*
So we walked. He was new—just graduated, assigned to the factory. I’d come back after uni, happy to be home. We met every day after that.
When he came to meet Mother and Father, he brought flowers and a bottle of whisky. *Wouldn’t dream of turning up empty-handed.* Charmed them straight off.
We married within the year. His family came down from the Highlands with hampers of cheese, eggs, and meat. Mother nearly fainted. *What on earth will we do with all this?*
*You’ve two men to feed now,* his mother laughed. *They eat like horses.*
We lived with my parents—plenty of room, even after Jane was born. But time passes. Lost Father first, then Mother two years later. Then William.
At first, the grief was unbearable. But you learn to carry it. Tonight, we raised a glass—just Jane and her lot, then Margaret and Rose. I waved them off at the gate, only to spot an old Land Rover stalled outside, bonnet up.
A man squinted under the torchlight. *Would you mind holding this? Two hands short of a miracle here.*
I obliged. He tinkered for ages, but no luck. *Looks like I’m sleeping in the car. Cheers anyway.*
Back inside, I glanced out the window. Couldn’t bear it. *You’ll freeze out there. Come in—I’ve a sofa.*
George—that was his name—balked. But when he saw the leftover cake, his eyes lit up. *Blimey, whose birthday?*
*Mine, actually.*
He dashed out, returned with a jar of honey. *Meant for my mate, but needs must. Happy birthday.*
We talked till midnight. I half-expected to lie awake, strange man in the house, but sleep took me quick enough.
Come morning, he’d vanished—just the honey left behind. I’d have thought I dreamed it if not for that.
Then, just after lunch—a knock. There he stood, flowers in hand. *Couldn’t let the day pass properly without these.*
Three years on, we share this house. He keeps bees now, up near his friend’s place in the Dales. We go often. Hard work, but glorious.
Never thought I’d find love again at my age. Life’s full of surprises. And for that, I’m grateful.
