“Lydia, have you lost your mind in your old age? Your grandkids are already in school — what sort of wedding is this?” That’s what my sister said when I told her I was getting married. But why wait? In a week, Tolly and I are tying the knot. I had to tell my sister, though I knew she wouldn’t come all the way from the other side of the country. No lavish do for us at sixty — just a quiet ceremony and a meal for two. Tolly insists on doing it properly: he’s the perfect English gentleman, opening doors and helping me with my coat. “I’m not a boy anymore; I want something serious,” he said. For me, he’ll always be young at heart. At work he’s all business, but when he sees me, he lights up and twirls me in the street, and I’m embarrassed, but secretly delighted. “What people?” he laughs. “I only see you.” When we’re together, it feels like we’re alone in the world. But I still have a sister to tell, and I worried she would judge me. In the end, I gathered my courage and called. “Lydia!” she gasped. “It’s only been a year since Victor died, and you’ve already found a replacement?” I knew I’d shock her, but I didn’t expect her to cling to my late husband’s memory. “Who makes these rules anyway? When am I allowed to be happy again without being judged?” “At least wait five years, for decency’s sake.” “So I’m supposed to tell Tolly to come back in five years while I wear black?” Silence. “Even then, someone will gossip. But your opinion matters. If you insist, I’ll call it off.” “I don’t want to be the villain here. Get married if you want — but know I don’t understand or support you. You’ve always had a mind of your own, but I didn’t expect you to go completely off the rails in your old age. Have some sense and at least wait a year.” “And if Tolly and I only have a year left? What then?” Sniffles. “Do what you like. I get it, everyone wants happiness. But you had a good life for years…” “Oh, Tanya! Did you really think I was happy all those years? So did I, until now. Turns out I was just a workhorse. I didn’t know life could be joyful. Victor was a good man; we raised two daughters and now have five grandkids. We worked ourselves into the ground for family, then for our children, then for the grandkids. I look back and see one long slog for everyone else. Other women were off on seaside trips or at the theatre, while I didn’t even have time for the shops! All that kept me going was knowing the kids were cared for. But living for yourself? That was a foreign idea. Now, I know better: I sleep in, stroll to shops, see films, go swimming, skiing — and the family gets on fine! Even raking leaves brings me joy now. I love the rain, because I watch it from a cosy café, not while chasing goats in the yard. Only Tolly showed me the beauty around me. When Victor died, I was lost, waking early out of habit, not knowing what to do next — until Tolly, a neighbour and a friend’s dad, took me to the park, bought me ice cream, and showed me how to watch the ducks. For years, I’d had ducks but never really watched them. And then, hand in hand, Tolly promised to show me how wonderful life could be. He was right. Every day was a new discovery, and soon, I couldn’t imagine life without him. My own daughters disapproved, accusing me of betraying their father, which hurt deeply. Tolly’s children, in contrast, were thrilled he wasn’t alone. I put off telling my sister. When I finally did, Tanya asked, ‘So, when’s the big day?’ ‘This Friday.’ ‘Well, I suppose — best wishes for love in your old age,’ she said stiffly. On Friday, Tolly and I dressed up, bought dinner for two, called a cab — and at the registry office, all our families were waiting: my children and grandchildren, Tolly’s kids, and my sister, holding a bouquet of white roses, smiling through tears. I couldn’t believe she’d come all that way. ‘Well, I had to see who I was giving my sister away to!’ Turns out, everyone had conspired to surprise us. We celebrated our first anniversary recently, and Tolly has become part of my family. Sometimes I still can’t believe how outrageously happy I am — I’m almost afraid I’ll jinx it.”

Author Walton MerrittReading 9 minViews 3

Linda, have you gone mad in your old age? Your grandchildren are already at schoolwhat sort of wedding do you think youre having? Thats what my sister said when I told her I was getting married.

But honestly, why wait any longer? In a weeks time, Tony and I will be signing the register, and I figured it was time to let my sister know. Of course, she wouldnt be coming to the ceremony; we live at opposite ends of the country. And we have no intentions of throwing a lavish do with tipsy relatives shouting, Kiss the bride! at sixty years old. Well have a quiet signing and a little celebration for just the two of us.

We might have managed without the paperwork, but Tony was adamant. Hes a gentleman through and throughalways opening doors for me, helping me out of the car, and holding my coat. He refused to live together without making it official. Do I look like a schoolboy to you? he said. I want something serious. To me, he really is a boy at heart, even with all that grey hair. At work everyone treats him with the utmost respect, always calling him Mr. Johnson, but with me, he seems to shed forty years the second I walk into the room. Hell grab me and waltz me round the high street, right there in front of everyone. Im happy, but mortified at the same time. I keep telling him, People are watching! Theyll laugh at us. But he just says, What people? Theres no one here but you! When were together, it truly feels like the world melts away and its just the two of us.

Still, Ive got a sister, and I owed her an explanation. I dreaded ringing her because I thought Janet would judge me just like everyone else, yet her support mattered to me more than anyones. In the end, I summoned the courage to call.

Linda! she exclaimed in disbelief when I said I was tying the knot. Its only been a year since you buried Victor, and youve already found his replacement! Id expected to shock her, but I didnt realise my late husband would be the real sticking point.

Janet, I remember, but who decides how long Im meant to grieve? I interrupted her. Whats the magic number? When am I allowed to be happy again without people whispering behind my back?

She paused to think. Well, its decent to wait at least five years, isnt it?

So, Im supposed to tell Tony, Sorry, maybe come back in five years, Ill just wear black until then?

Janet was silent.

What will that change? I pressed on. It wont stop tongues from wagging. Theyll always find something to gossip about, and honestly, I dont care what they think. Yours is the only opinion that matters, and if you insist, Ill pull the plug on this whole thing.

Well, Im not going to take the blame for stopping your wedding, she replied, Go ahead and get married tomorrow if you like! Just dont expect me to understand or support it. Youve always done your own thing, but I didnt think youd lose the plot altogether in your twilight years. Honestly, show a bit of respectwait another year at least.

But I wouldnt give in. You say wait another year, but what if Tony and I only have a year left? What then?

She started to sniffle.

Do what you want, Linda. I get that everyone wants to be happy, but you had years of happiness already…

I laughed. Janet, did you actually think I was happy all those years? Because so did I, until now. And only recently have I realisedI was just a workhorse. I never knew you could live another way, when life becomes a joy.

Victor was a good man. We raised two daughters, and now Ive got five grandchildren. He always said family comes first, and I never disagreed. First, we worked ourselves into the ground for our family, then for the kids families, and later for the grandchildren. When our eldest married, we already had a little cottage, but Victor decided to take on even morehe wanted to raise his own livestock for the grandchildren.

So, we rented a few acres in Kent and shackled ourselves to it for years. He bought some sheep and chickens, so we always had something needing feeding. We never got to bed before midnight, and wed be up again by five. The cottage became home all year, barely any trips back to London except for essentials. When I called friends for a catch-up, one would boast about a holiday to Cornwall with her granddaughter, another about seeing a play with her husband. Theatre? I was lucky to make it to Tesco!

Some weeks wed run out of bread because the animals left us housebound. The only comfort was knowing our children and grandchildren were well-fed. The eldest, thanks to the little farm, could trade her old car in, the youngest managed to renovate her flatmade all those years of slog seem worthwhile.

Then an old colleague came to visit me and said, Linda, I barely recognised you. Thought youd be recharging in the country, but youre run ragged. Why do this to yourself?

I have to help the children, dont I? I replied.

Theyre grown-ups, Linda. Time to live for yourself.

Back then I didnt know what she meant by living for myself. But now I doI sleep as late as I like, stroll around the shops, go to the cinema, the pool, even take Tony on the train to the Lake District. No one suffers for itmy children get by, my grandchildren arent starving. Even better, Ive learned to see life through fresh eyes.

Where I used to curse autumn leaves at the cottage for making such a mess, now they put a smile on my face. I toss them with my feet as I walk through the park and feel like a child again. Ive learned to love the rain, toono more dashing about herding animals. Now I watch the raindrops from a cosy café window. I notice the shapes of clouds, stunning sunsets, the joy in simply crunching through the snow. I know now how lovely my own city can be. It was Tony who helped me see it all.

After Victor died, it was as if I was in a daze. It all happened so fasta heart attack, and he was gone before the ambulance arrived. The girls sold the cottage, gave away the hens, and moved me back to London. For days I wandered through the flat at dawn, not knowing what to do with myself.

Tony came into my life then. He was the neighbour, as it happens, and a friend of my son-in-law, helping us pack up the cottage. He later admitted he never had any intentions to court me at firstsaid I just looked broken and lost, and he wanted to help. You still had a spark, he told me. You just needed a reason to get out into the world again. He took me for a breath of air in the park, got us both an ice cream, and suggested we carry on to the pond to feed the ducks.

Id kept ducks for years at the cottage, but Id never stopped just to watch them. It turns out theyre delightful, dabbling and diving after bits of bread.

I cant believe Im actually standing still, watching ducks, I admitted. Back home, I was always too busy. Feed them, clean up, no time to even look.

Tony smiled, took my hand, and said, Just wait. Theres loads more to see. Itll be like youre being born again.

He was right. I started to discover the world, day by day, like a child. I loved it so much that my old life began to feel like a heavy dream. I cant even remember the exact moment I realised how much I needed Tonyhis laugh, his touch, his companybut one day I woke up and knew: this, right now, was real, and I couldnt imagine life without it.

My daughters, though, were furious when they found out about Tony. Said I was betraying their fathers memory. It hurt, and I felt terribly guilty. Tonys children, on the other hand, were thrilled. They said they finally had peace of mind about their dad. All that was left was to tell Janet, and Id put that off as long as I could.

So, when are you signing the register? Janet asked after a long conversation.

This Friday.

Well, what can I say? Wishing you happiness in your golden years, she said dryly, and hung up.

On Friday, Tony and I popped to the shops, put on our Sunday best, ordered a taxi, and set off to the registry office. When we arrived, I stopped dead in my tracks: there they were, all of themmy daughters with their husbands and kids, Tonys children with their families, and most surprising of all, my Janet! She was holding a bouquet of white roses, smiling through her tears.

Janet! Did you really come all this way for me? I couldnt believe it.

I had to see whose hands I was leaving you in, she laughed.

It turned out theyd all been secretly planning a family lunch at a little café, just for us.

Just the other day, Tony and I celebrated our first anniversary. Hes one of the family now. And still, I can hardly believe this is my lifeIm so scandalously happy, Im almost afraid to jinx it.

You Were My Teenage Mistake A girl gave birth at sixteen; the father was also sixteen. Skipping the scandalous details, after the baby was born, they quickly went their separate ways. When the girl realised the boy wanted neither her nor their son, she immediately lost all interest in her child, who was then raised by his grandparents. At eighteen, the girl moved with a new boyfriend to a nearby city, cut off all contact, and her parents made no effort to see her. There was blame and disbelief: how could she abandon her own child? The shame and pain of raising such a person. The grandparents raised their grandson. To this day, the boy regards them as his parents and is deeply grateful for his childhood, good education—everything. When he turned eighteen, his cousin was getting married. All the relatives attended, including his biological mother, now on her third marriage and with two daughters: the eldest ten, the youngest a year and a half. The boy was excited to meet his mother and sisters—and naturally, to ask: “Mum, why did you leave me?” Despite recalling how wonderful his grandparents were, he missed and remembered his mother, even saving the only picture of her (his grandfather burnt the rest). The woman chatted with a relative, bragging about her wonderful daughters. “And me, what about me, Mum?” he asked. “You? You were my teenage mistake. Your father was right; I should’ve had an abortion,” she replied indifferently, turning away. Seven years later, now living comfortably with his wife and son (thanks to his grandparents and in-laws), he received a call from an unfamiliar number. “Son, it’s your mother. Listen, your uncle gave me your number. I know you live near the college your sister attends. Can she stay with you for a while? She’s family. She can’t stand the dorms, rent is expensive, my husband left me, life is hard, one daughter a student, another in school, the third starting nursery soon,” she said. “You have the wrong number,” he replied, hanging up. He went and picked up his son: “Let’s get ready to meet Mum, and then we’ll all visit Grandma and Grandpa, ok?” “And at the weekend, we’ll all go to the countryside together, yeah?” asked his little boy. “Of course, we must never break family traditions!” Some relatives criticised the boy for refusing to help his sister, but he believes he should only help his grandparents, not a stranger who called him her mistake.

JUST IN CASE Vera glanced at her weeping colleague, turned back to her computer with indifference, and began typing rapidly. “You’re heartless, Vera,” came the voice of Olga, the department boss. “Me? What gives you that idea?” “You act like if everything’s fine in your personal life, it must be the same for everyone else. Can’t you see she’s devastated? You could at least show a little sympathy, maybe give advice or share your experience, since things are going so well for you.” “Share my experience with her? I doubt Nadine would appreciate that. I tried once, five years ago, when she used to show up to work with black eyes—said it made the road home more visible, I suppose. You weren’t here yet. And no, it wasn’t her man beating her—she said she fell, had accidents. When he ran off, there were no more black eyes. He was the third to leave. I tried to support her, to share my experience, but somehow I ended up the bad guy. Later, our coworkers told me it was a lost cause; Nadine knows best in all things. I was nothing but a jealous homewrecker, ruining her happiness! Back then, she used love spells. Now she’s modern—goes to therapy, works through her traumas. It’s never occurred to her she’s living out the same story each time—the only thing changing is the names. So, forgive me if I don’t offer tissues or sympathy this time.” “Still, Vera, that’s not how you should be.” At lunch, everyone at the table talked only about Nadine’s ex, the scoundrel. Vera ate in silence, then poured herself some coffee and retreated to a corner to scroll through social media and clear her head. “Vera,” said Tania, plopping down beside her. Usually cheerful, Tania’s face was unusually somber. “Don’t you feel even a little sorry for Nadine?” “Tania, what do you want from me?” “Leave her be,” Irina tossed in as she passed. “Vera’s got her beloved Vasily, she lives like a queen—how could she understand what it’s like to be left on your own with a child, with no help, not even child support from that deadbeat?” “Should’ve thought before having kids,” chimed in Tatiana Ivanovna, known as ‘Auntie Tanya’ by the girls—a stalwart of the department. “Vera’s right. How many times has Nadine sobbed while pregnant, he drove her mad, and before that… well.” Surrounding the ever-crying Nadine, the women dished out all sorts of advice. Ultimately, fiercely ‘strong and independent’ Nadine decided to pull herself together. She summoned her mum from the countryside to help with her son and that ungrateful man, while she attempted a comeback—grew out a fringe, microbladed brows, glued on lashes, almost got a nose ring (talked out of it collectively). And off she went. “Don’t worry, Nadine,” encouraged her mates, “he’ll regret it someday—cry his eyes out.” “He won’t cry,” Vera said quietly, mostly to herself, but tipsy colleagues overheard her. “What do you mean, he won’t?” “He just won’t, and he won’t regret it either. And Nadine? She’ll find herself another one just like him soon enough.” “You have it easy, Vera, your Vasily isn’t like that, is he?” “Not at all. My Vasily is the best—doesn’t fight, doesn’t drink, doesn’t cheat—loves me madly.” “Yeah, right, they’re all the same dogs.” “Watch out, Vera, someone will snatch him from you.” “Nah, he’d never leave.” “I wouldn’t be so sure.” “Well, you should.” Tipsy debates broke out—until someone boldly suggested, “Let’s go to your place, Vera, see if your Vasily can resist our charms. Bet you won’t invite us—you’re afraid you’ll lose your perfect Vasily!” “Let’s go then.” “All right, girls—let’s descend on Vera’s and steal her Vasily! Auntie Tanya, are you coming?” “No, girls, my Mikhail is waiting for me at home… You lot have fun,” laughed Tatiana Ivanovna. The boisterous party arrived at Vera’s, laughing and bustling in her kitchen. “Let’s cook something quick—Vera’s Vasily is out but will be home soon.” “Don’t bother; he’s picky and doesn’t eat much,” Vera replied, “but yes, you’re right, he’ll be home soon.” The mood calmed, and most left early—only Nadine, Olga, and Tania stayed for tea in Vera’s cosy kitchen, shyly awaiting the mysterious Vasily’s arrival. As they were about to leave, someone came in. “Vasily, my dear Vasily, my sweet boy,” Vera cooed in the hallway. The women’s spirits dropped as a tall, handsome young man entered. Oh—that’s the secret. Vera’s ‘husband’ was much younger than her. “Girls, meet my Denis.” A silent, stunned “Who’s Denis?” echoed in their eyes. “My son, Denis. So, how’s Vasily doing, Den? Was he good?” “Yes, Mum, he’s resting now after the op, but he’ll be up and about tomorrow. Just don’t let him lick—” The women blushed. “We… should go?” “Wait, I haven’t introduced you to Vasily—shh, he’s recovering after surgery. Denis and Lena (my daughter-in-law) took him while I was at work—for the snip, you see, he kept marking the curtains… Come, here he is.” Here’s my Vasily, sleeping. Barely holding in laughter, the ladies ran from the room. “Vera, it’s a cat!” “Of course it is. What did you think?” “But your husband…?” “Oh, I haven’t got one. You all just assumed – I once said I had a wonderful man, Vasily, but didn’t get to finish before you’d invented the rest and bought into it.” “Married young to my first love, dropped out, had Denis. That lasted three miserable years. Parents helped a lot. Tried again closer to thirty, had hopes for family life, but… the fairytale ended quickly. Sent him packing to his mum. Long stretch alone with Denis. Third try was… well, let’s say he left a mark—a black eye from passionate love, he said. Who knew I’d find self-defence skills useful? Denis did martial arts since he was six, and I’d spar with him at home. Gave the ‘Othello’ his just deserts and got out. Denis married. I got lonely, got myself Vasya. We’re happy together. He’s the perfect company—goes to the cinema or on holiday with me, no strings, no demands. Sometimes I cook up a feast, invite him over. He leaves happy, neither of us owes the other anything.” Denis once asked why Vasily didn’t live with us. Why would he? We’re not young lovers. Look at my brother—he and his wife are inseparable after thirty years. That’s not my story. Why force it just to say I’m married? Vasya and I are good together. Right, love?” Vera cooed to her awakening cat. “Warned you, one more curtain incident, and that would be the end of your extra ‘accessory’.” The girls left, full of thoughts—especially Nadine. But Nadine couldn’t do things Vera’s way. A month later, she’d found a new beau and was receiving bouquets at work. Vera and Auntie Tanya smiled quietly. “So, how’s your Mikhail’s paw, Auntie Tanya?” “He’s fine, dear—stepped on something on a walk, but he’s healed now, thank goodness. My grandkids want to take him to a dog show—no need for that, we’re happy without the fuss… Nadine, I see your life’s back on track!” “Yes, Auntie Tanya—some get pets, some collect husbands!” “Well, everyone’s different. Maybe Nadine will have better luck this time.” “Oh, let’s hope so.” “What are you two whispering about?” “About you, Nadine—hoping luck’s on your side now.” “Ladies, I know how it looks, but I just can’t be alone, really.” “Don’t mind us—stop explaining, everyone has their own journey…” As Vera headed to the car park, Nadine called after her. “Vera, could you give me tips on having a cat? What’s better—a boy or a girl?” “Go on, they’re waiting for you… We’ll see—just in case.”

You Were the Mistake of My Youth A young girl gave birth at sixteen, as did the father of her child. Setting aside the scandal’s details, the couple swiftly separated after the child’s birth. The moment the girl realised her boyfriend wanted neither her nor their son, she lost all interest in her baby, who was then raised by his grandparents—her own parents. At eighteen, she left with a new boyfriend for a nearby city, never calling or writing home. Her parents did not seek contact, only bitterness and shame over her abandoning her child—and regret over having raised ‘someone like her.’ The grandson grew up, forever grateful to his grandparents for his upbringing, education, and everything. He considers them his true parents. When he turned eighteen, his cousin was getting married; the whole family gathered, including his biological mother—by then married for the third time, with two daughters. The eldest was ten, the youngest just a toddler. The boy, excited, wanted to meet his mother and sisters, and ask, “Mum, why did you leave me?” Despite loving his grandparents, he still yearned for his mother—and kept her single surviving photo, after his grandfather burned the rest. She chatted with relatives about her wonderful daughters. “And me, Mum—what about me?” he asked. “You? You’re the mistake of my youth. Your father was right, I should’ve had an abortion,” she replied coldly, turning away. Seven years later, living comfortably in a two-bedroom flat with his wife and son (thanks to help from his grandparents and in-laws), he received a call from an unknown number. “Son, hi, your uncle gave me your number. It’s your mum. Listen, I know you live near the college your sister is attending—could she stay with you for a while? She’s family to you, after all. She doesn’t like her dorm, rent is dear, my husband left, I’m struggling: one daughter a student, one a schoolgirl, one soon for nursery.” “You’ve got the wrong number,” he answered, hanging up. He lifted his son and said, “Let’s get ready—we’ll go see Mum, and afterwards, all together to Grandad and Grandma’s?” “And at the weekend, can we all go to the countryside together?” his young son asked. “Of course—we mustn’t break family traditions!” Some relatives condemned the boy, saying he should’ve helped his sister. But he believes he owes help only to his grandparents—not a stranger who calls him a mistake.