Ive known PrimRose since she was a girl, and Ive watched her life spin out like a weathervane in a gust. She was courted by the local farmer, Tom, who offered her his hand, but she turned him down. Better to be on her own than to live on a free ride, shed say.
Dont you think youre alone, Prim? the village gossip, Molly, would ask. A man shouldnt be solitary; a woman needs a husband. Otherwise its all wrong, and nobody will ever look at you. You know what loneliness feels like, dont you?
Loneliness? Molly snorted, her voice cracked from smoking too many pipetobacco leaves.
Its a terrible state! complained Molly, wrinkling her eyes, Its like wanting a drink and having no water to give. Those kids of yours where are they?
Where? Prim asked, a little bewildered.
Where, where in York! Molly finally blurted, realizing that the old ladys laugh slid over Prims shoulder, and she fell silent. You should marry one, I mean. Its hard being alone. A soul is like a rope that needs a partner. Lets get you a husband, shall we? Toms a decent bloke.
Prim had been a teenager for ten years when Tom, the farmer whod once owned a modest plot ten years before, walked back onto the lane. Hed come once, mainly. When Prim learned of his return, she turned to her husband, a soldier, for advice, then later to his two brothers. The soldier tried to make a gentle entrance, leaving the old farm to his exwife and two teenage children. The kids soon scattered: the son found work in Bristol, the daughter married and moved abroad with her husband. Prim stayed alone in a cramped twobed flat in the centre of London.
Living alone didnt bother her. She earned a decent wage as a clerk, her job gave her enough to keep herself comfortable, and she enjoyed the occasional visit from the children and Molly, who still lived down the road. Though she wasnt the brightest, she always found something to occupy her mind and never grew bored. She read a lot, swam, took yoga, travelled, and even dabbled in occasional gardening with a few seedlings. In short, she lived a contented life.
It wasnt until Molly, who had never settled her own fate, tried to push Prim toward marriage that things changed.
Listen to me, Prim. A decent bloke, not too wild, about sixtyone, has been single for seven years. He owns a big, tidy house, a proper estate. He has cows, goats, pigs, chickens no shortage of food. He offers healthy meals: homegrown milk, eggs, meat. Hes got a good character, a polite accent, and he speaks the language of books, Molly cooed. Give it a go, love. Give him a chance, eh?
Prim rolled her eyes. Fine, Molly, Ill meet this farmergentleman, but Im not promising anything.
Molly had a point: A mans business doesnt change, they say. So, Molly, instead of locking the deal away, she arranged a meeting with the farmer.
The farmer turned out to be just a modest fellow, sturdy and muscular, dressed neatly. He had clean hands, trimmed nails, and a polite smile. He spoke softly, but his words were solid. He was a joker, quickwitted, and his name was George a solid English name.
After their first encounter, George seemed keen. He kept an eye on Prim, wanting to impress her. He talked about his land, his livestock, and his need for a partner to help with the daily grind. You see, Prim, I need a lady to look after the cows, the goats, the eggs, the milk. The house is empty without a lady. Ill take care of the farm, but a womans touch makes it all better. Youll have a roof over your head, fresh milk, and a proper home, he said.
Prim went home and thought it over. What did she really need? She owned a small plot in the city, a modest garden where she grew summer vegetables, and she owned a car shed bought eight years ago. She wondered why she should leave everything behind to tend to a farm, clean pigsties, or harvest wheat.
She still had to cook a proper dinner for her husband, tidy the house, buy groceries, and keep the whole place shipshape. She also needed to keep the big house clean. The income from the farm would be good, but she wasnt sure she could live that way. Shed get a pension, some savings, and a little extra.
All that was necessary, she thought, was a decent life. But bending her back in the garden, pruning the hedges, and walking the twostorey barn with a ropewas that really what she wanted? In the evening, she called Molly.
Molly, dont take offence. Ill decline Georges proposal. I dont need a farmers hand. Hes not the one for me. Hes looking for a partner to help, not a wife to love. Ill stay in my own solitude. And as for water, not everyone wants to drink it, she said.
Mollys eyes welled with tears, but she understood. Prim felt a sting of grief for the farmer shed once hoped might be different, yet the promise of an easy life with a partner didnt appeal to her. She sent a message to George, saying she wasnt interested, that her feelings had changed, and she didnt want to lead him on. He called a few days later, trying to persuade her, but she hung up. She rose early, brewed a coffee, and sat by the window, watching the street. She thought of her children, of her son in Bristol, and her daughter abroad. She reminded herself she still needed a new handbag for the winter and a meeting with her friend Lenora to sort out some paperwork.
She mused that perhaps a little selfishness wasnt such a bad thing after allsome healthy selfinterest was useful. And so she resolved to stay as she was, content with her modest city life, her garden, and her own company.
