Let’s Get Married
Zachary was a quiet, reserved lad. He lived with his parents in a small village—maybe it was how he was raised, or maybe he was just born that way. Claire and Simon never had any trouble with their son. He was always obedient.
Next door, though, it was always shouting and chaos. Barbara, their neighbor, was raising two boys on her own—Mikey and Timmy, just a year apart. Mikey, the older one, was especially lively, and Barbara was at her wits’ end trying to keep him in line.
“Mikey, you’re picking on your brother again—just you wait!” Barbara’s scolding echoed across the yard.
“He started it! You always take his side!” Mikey shot back, voice raised.
“Oh, is that how you talk to your mother?” The argument carried on, same as always.
Barbara often complained to Claire, “I can’t do a thing with my boys. Your house is always so peaceful. I envy you, Claire. Your Zachary’s so well-behaved. And Simon’s just as calm—must be where he gets it. My husband was a fiery one, always picking fights, and look where that got him—gone too soon, all because of his temper. If he hadn’t been drinking, he wouldn’t have drowned… Mikey’s just like him. Timmy’s a bit quieter, but he never backs down either. Oh, what a life I’ve got.”
Claire sighed. “Your lads are proper handfuls. At the parent-teacher meeting, Mikey’s teacher gave him a right telling-off. You never go, do you?”
Their sons, Zachary and Mikey, were in the same class, walked to school together. Zach did alright, but Mikey barely scraped by.
“I can’t face those meetings. Too ashamed to hear all the complaints, especially about Mikey. Honestly, Claire, if I spot their teachers in the street, I cross the road to avoid them. I just know they’ll start griping, and I’ll turn beetroot and start sweating.” Barbara shook her head. “I envy you, Claire, I really do. Your Zach’s a good lad, and mine…” She waved a hand and went inside.
The boys grew up. Mikey stayed just as wild, left school after year nine. Timmy stuck it out a bit longer.
“I’ll get my driver’s license, do my army service, then settle down,” Mikey declared.
Zachary, though, stayed quiet and gentle. He loved wandering the woods alone, picking mushrooms, sitting on the porch steps with a book and a cuppa. After school, he trained as an electrician—never had any plans to leave the village. His parents wouldn’t have let him anyway. Only child.
“Your roots are here, son,” Simon had said long ago. And Zach never argued.
When he trained in town, he took the bus—just half an hour. Hated the city, too many people. Never dated, though some girls eyed him. A few bold ones asked him to the cinema—the ones who didn’t know how shy he was. He’d always say no, claiming he had to catch the last bus home.
“Not that it runs often. Gotta be quick,” he’d mutter.
“Zachary, don’t you go getting tangled up with city girls,” Claire warned. “They’ll wrap you round their little finger before you know it.”
“Mum, come on,” he’d sigh, brushing her off.
He went to the village hall sometimes, hung with the lads—Mikey’s lot mostly. Never paid girls much mind, so they ignored him too. No one knew, but back in school, he’d fancied a girl named Tanya, a year below him. Never told a soul. Terrified of her.
Alone, he’d scold himself: “Why can’t I be quick like Mikey? Girls flock to him, and me? I blush if one looks at me. Fancy Tanya, but I’d never dare say. What if she laughs? Knees go weak just being near her. Probably end up a bachelor. Mikey’s getting married, for crying out loud.”
“Zach, you’re coming to my wedding, right?” Mikey grinned. “At the village hall. Girls from Verity’s lot will be there. Don’t miss your chance—or you’ll stay single forever.”
Verity, Mikey’s bride, was from the next village over—four miles away. No idea why he didn’t pick a local girl, plenty fancied him.
“Yeah, alright, Mike. I’ll be there,” Zach promised.
The wedding was loud, cheerful. Verity’s maid of honour was her mate Daisy—same village. Warm summer evening, music playing, crowd of guests. Most danced; Zach sat at a table or stepped outside for air.
That’s when Daisy spotted him. Zach was handsome—tall, dark hair, grey eyes—so girls who didn’t know him noticed.
“Hey there,” a bright voice chimed. Zach looked up—Daisy, grinning.
“Hi,” he mumbled, flushing.
“I know you. Simon’s boy,” she said. “Your dad’s mates with mine—when he’s in our village, anyway. I’m Daisy. You’re Zachary, right?”
He turned redder, stammered something. Back sweating. Liked her too much for his own good. Daisy chattered away, laughing. He mostly listened, too nervous to catch half of it. Terrified of saying something daft.
“Come dance! Why’re we standing here?” She grabbed his hand, tugged him into the crowd.
Zach had never danced, but somehow, it worked. Slow tune, his arm around her waist—she led. “This is nice,” he realised. “Daisy’s… really nice.”
They danced again and again. Time flew. Guests started leaving.
“Loved talking to you, Zach,” Daisy said. “And dancing. But I’ve got to go—brother’s driving us home. See you soon?”
Next day, Zach wandered in a daze. Daisy’s face—blonde, blue-eyed—wouldn’t leave him. But he couldn’t bring himself to seek her out.
“Can’t just turn up in her village. What’d people say? Probably forgot me anyway. Just killing time, most likely.”
Then, one Saturday evening—a whistle outside. Zach looked out: Daisy, grinning, waving. He stumbled to the gate.
“Hi, Zach!” She pointed to her bike. “Come to our village concert tomorrow? Folk band playing. You in?”
“Yeah,” he blurted.
“Let’s walk a bit—you can escort me partway.”
Gladly, he took her bike handle, strolled with her. Mostly, she talked. When her village came into view, she said, “Right, I’ll bike the rest. See you tomorrow!”
After that, they started seeing each other. Daisy made all the moves—set meet-ups, came to him if he couldn’t make it. Claire didn’t approve.
“Zachary, she’s not for you. Too bold. She’ll run rings round you. You need a quiet girl—she’s a firecracker. End it now.”
But Zach was smitten. Daisy hugged him first, kissed him first. How could he resist? She even said “I love you” first.
“Zach, you’re different. I want you. Let’s get married. Why wait?”
“Alright,” he said, smiling. (He’d meant to say it first.)
“Tomorrow, we’ll ask your parents’ blessing.”
And they did. Daisy took charge again.
“I love Zach. Can’t live without him.”
“I love Daisy too. Only her,” Zach added, surprising himself.
His parents gave in. Wedding plans began.
Villagers were shocked. “Zachary? Getting married? And to a girl from the next village—plenty here fancied him! Daisy’s a live wire, that one.”
Mikey clapped him on the back. “See? Me marrying got you hitched. Daisy’s smitten—told Verity. She’s a good ’un. Feisty but loyal.”
The wedding was at the village hall again—same lively crowd. They moved in with Zach’s parents. Claire feared clashes, but Daisy was polite, never argued, took her advice. Soon, Claire adored her.
Then came grandchildren—first little Alfie, then three years later, Alice. The grandparents were overjoyed. The young couple were already finishing their own house—moving soon.
