The Pretend Marriage
Stephen walked along the railway platform, enjoying the gentle warmth of the spring sun. The young man had spent seven years away, working as a lumberjack to earn his keep. Now, with a tidy sum saved up and gifts for his mother and sister tucked under his arm, he was finally hurrying home.
“Lad, where are you headed? Need a lift?” came a familiar voice from behind.
“Grandad John! Don’t you recognise me?” the young man exclaimed, brightening.
The old man shaded his eyes with his palm, squinting at the stranger.
“It’s me, Stephen! Have I changed that much?”
“Stevie! Well, I never! We’d given up hope of ever seeing you again! Couldn’t you have sent word?”
“I was in such a remote place, post hardly ever reached us. How’s everyone? Mum, Lucy—are they all right? My niece must be in school by now?” He grinned.
The old man lowered his gaze and sighed deeply.
“So you don’t know… It’s bad, Stevie. Very bad. It’ll be three years soon since your mother passed. Lucy took to drink, then abandoned little Annie and vanished.”
“And Annie? Where is she?” The colour drained from Stephen’s face.
“Lucy left her locked in the house last winter. We didn’t find out straight away. Three days later, my missus heard a noise, went to check—and there the poor mite was, weeping at the window, begging for help. We took Annie in. First to the hospital, then the orphanage.”
The rest of the journey passed in silence. John let the lad alone with his thoughts, not intruding on his grief. Half an hour later, the cart pulled up to an overgrown yard. Stephen stared at the weeds, barely recognising his childhood home. Tears pricked his eyes.
“Don’t lose heart, Stephen. You’re young, strong—you’ll set things right in no time. Why not come to ours first? Rest from your travels, have a bite with us. My wife’ll be ever so pleased,” the old man offered.
“Thank you, but I’ll go home. I’ll call on you this evening.”
All day, Stephen cleared the yard, and by dusk, visitors arrived: old John and his wife, Grandma Clara.
“Stevie! Look how you’ve grown! A proper handsome fellow!” The old woman flung her arms around him. “We’ve brought supper. Let’s eat, then we’ll help you tidy inside. What a blessing you’re back!”
“Do you know anything about Lucy? How could this happen? She was always such a decent girl…” Stephen asked over the meal.
“Nothing, dear. The poor soul couldn’t bear it—first losing her husband, then her mother… Too much for her to carry. What’ll you do about Annie? Might you take her in? You’re her own flesh and blood,” said Grandma Clara.
“I don’t know. I’ll set the house to rights first, then go see her. She doesn’t know me at all.”
A week later, Stephen resolved to visit Annie in town. On the way, he stopped at a toy shop. A pretty, dark-haired girl greeted him with a warm smile.
“Need help choosing something?”
“Aye. I’m clueless about toys. A doll, I suppose—for a seven-year-old—and whatever else you’d recommend.”
Swiftly, she fetched a lovely boxed doll and a board game.
“Here! Just the thing. Every little girl adores these, and the game’s ever so popular.”
“Thank you! I hope my niece likes them,” Stephen said gratefully.
***
Annie met her uncle coolly, eyeing him warily and staying silent—until she saw the gifts. Then, just a little, she thawed, and at last, she smiled.
“You don’t know me at all,” Stephen began.
“I do. Gran and Mum showed me your photos and told me all about you,” the girl interrupted.
“Oh?” He smiled. “What did they say?”
“That you’re kind and good. Uncle Stephen, when are we going home?” she whispered, glancing around.
The question struck him dumb. He understood then how hard life was for her here.
“Annie, are they unkind to you?” he asked just as quietly.
“Yes,” she said, bowing her head as tears fell.
“I can’t take you yet, but I promise you’ll be home soon. Don’t fret. All right?”
“All right,” she whispered.
Stephen went straight to the orphanage matron and heard grim news.
“I understand you’re her uncle, but kinship alone won’t satisfy the guardianship board. Are you in steady employment?”
“No. I’ve only just returned from work up north. But I’ve savings—a good sum.”
“That’s no argument! It must all be official. Your marital status—wife? Children?”
“No,” Stephen admitted.
“That’s bad. Very bad… If you’re serious about guardianship, you must find work and marry.”
“But that can’t be done overnight! Annie wants to come home!”
“My hands are tied,” the man said with a shrug.
After nearly a day in town, Stephen barely caught the last bus home. Sinking into a seat, he was lost in troubled thoughts when a pleasant voice spoke beside him.
“Oh, hello! It’s you!”
He blinked in surprise. Seated next to him was the pretty shopgirl who’d helped him earlier.
“You’re here? How’s that?”
“I live in Little Bampton, just work in town. My gran and I keep house there,” she explained.
“Well, I never! We’re neighbours! I’m from Little Bampton too!” He laughed.
“I’m Emily,” the beauty smiled.
“Stephen. Did your gifts please your niece?”
“Aye,” he sighed heavily.
In his desperation, he spilled the whole tale to this near-stranger.
“Oh dear… I’ve never agreed with these rules. It’s all papers and stamps—never mind what’s in folks’ hearts,” Emily fumed.
“Em, I’ve remembered you now. You’re old Mrs. Wilson’s granddaughter, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” she smiled. “But I don’t recall you at all.”
“You were just a scrap when I left. Let’s speak plain—no strangers here.”
“Stephen, I think I can help with work. Our shop needs a stockman. Light work—deliveries twice a week. Proper wages, proper papers.”
“Brilliant! Just a wife to find, and we’re set!” he joked.
Next day, armed with his documents, Stephen applied for the job. Emily put in a word with the manageress, and he was taken on. That afternoon, he bought sweets to visit Annie, and on the way home, walked again with Emily.
“Thank you. You’ve been a real help.”
“It’s a good deed—no thanks needed. If only you could find a wife as quick…”
“Impossible. I don’t know any free lasses. All wed while I was away.”
“No such thing as hopeless! We’ll think of something,” she said firmly.
“Em—what about you? You’re free, aren’t you?” he asked hopefully.
“I am. But I’ve no plans to wed yet,” she flushed, stepping back.
“Not like that. A pretend marriage. Just for the papers. We’d divorce in half a year.”
Emily gaped at him as if he’d gone mad. This turn stunned her. Part of her longed to help the girl—yet she barely knew Stephen.
“Please! I’ll pay you well. Help us!” he pleaded.
“Very well. But no payment. This is for Annie—my heart aches for her.”
“Hurrah! We’ll go to the parish office tomorrow, get the licence fast. Annie’ll be over the moon!”
***
Two months later, Annie was home. For the first week, awaiting the guardians’ return visit, Emily stayed at Stephen’s. The pair feared exposure—they’d stretched the truth to secure Annie.
The girl was overjoyed to be home. Only, she’d grown terribly fond of Emily.
“Annie, I told you—Emily’s my friend. Not my real wife.”
“So? Can’t she stay with us always?”
“No. She’s her own home. A gran who misses her.”
“But we’ll miss her too.”
“Aye,” Stephen smiled. “She’s promised to visit.”
Days later, Emily went home. Stephen and Annie were alone.
“Never mind—we’ll start building the new house soon. No time to mope,” he encouraged.
“Uncle… if Mum comes back, you won’t give me to her?” she asked fearfully.
“Never. You’re mine now.”
Time passed. Stephen began the new build, hoping work would banish thoughts of Emily—yet she filled his mind. Annie missed her too, peering through the gate every Saturday, though Emily seldom called.
“Stephen, when’s Emily coming?” sheWith a trembling heart, Stephen finally gathered his courage, took Emily’s hand under the old oak tree, and asked her to stay not just for Annie’s sake—but for his own, forever.
