Dont ever quit believing in happy endings
Once, in the reckless days of her twenties, Lucy Harper wandered into a noisy fair on the seafront in Brighton. A Romani woman with eyes as dark as a stormtossed sea grabbed Lucys wrist and sang in a lilting voice:
Lovely one, youll end up living in a sunkissed land, where the air smells of seaspray and sweet grapes.
Lucy laughed, a little scoffed:
Bunch of nonsense! Ill never leave my town!
Life went on in its usual muddle. She married Simon Harper for love, welcomed a daughter named Poppy, and talked about a second child. Yet she kept a parttime job at the local bank, telling herself, Ill work for five or six years, then maybe think about a boy.
Then a work trip turned everything upside down. Her neighbour, Mrs. Clarke, a nurse from the next block, rang out of the blue:
Lucy, theyve just wheeled your Simon into the A&E! The ambulance came from an address I dont even recognise, down a different street.
Family secrets, it seemed, love to pop up in the most unexpected corners.
The drive home felt like a lowbudget thriller. That very evening Lucy bolted to the hospital, her heart thudding in her throat. Simon, pale and with a bandaged arm, avoided her gaze like a cat dodging rain.
Where did they take you from? she asked quietly.
He said nothing, the silence louder than any accusation.
It soon emerged that the mysterious address belonged to a solitary womana colleague of Simonswith whom his friendship had been simmering for over a year.
Everyones temperament is different. Some turn a blind eye, some raise a scene, then, teeth clenched, serve the cheater a bowl of soup. Lucy, however, was made of sturdier stuff. She didnt wait for Simon to be discharged; there was a wounded soul who needed a hug.
She packed the essentials into an old suitcase, grabbed terrified Poppy by the hand, and slipped out of their flat without looking back.
Were starting fresh, love, she whispered, squeezing her daughters tiny fist.
***
Lucys mum took them in for a spell, then Lucy split the mortgage with Simon, shouldered the loan, and ran on autopilot, trying to secure both herself and her daughters future.
Years later, exhausted by endless work and solitude, Lucy booked a flight to the English countryside and ended up at the cosy cottage of her mothers friend Olivia, just an hours drive from Bath. Shed been saving every penny for a holiday, but the urge to escape became unbearable. She hoped the warm Cotswold sun might melt the ice around her heart.
Olivia, listening to Lucys bitter confessionsIll never learn to trust again, Love doesnt exist for mecouldnt stand it any longer. She slipped a call to her boyfriend, the owner of a local vineyard:
James, find me Luke, pronto! Tell him Ive got a bride waiting.
Luke was an earnest motorbike mechanic who, up until that night, had been drifting from one failed marriage to another, with no kids, no home, living above his brothers garage. Hed almost stopped believing in happiness.
Lucy, already tucked into a soft robe, was reading a book to fend off gloom when a sudden knock rattled her door. A minute later Olivia burst into the bedroom, eyes sparkling.
Lucy, get up! Your fiancés here!
Lucy snorted, What nonsense? but tossed on her robe and shuffled to the sitting room.
There he stood: tall, silverthreaded at the temples, eyes twinkling. Luke clutched a battered helmet, and leaning against the wall was a weatherworn motorbike that had conquered twenty miles of winding hills under a blanket of stars just to meet a stranger.
Olivia said youre a proper English lass? he said in broken English, his accent a charming mix of Midlands and coastal tones.
Lucy, stunned, reached out for a handshake. Luke instead took her in his warm, generous hands and didnt let go. They plonked onto the sofa, fingers interlaced, neither speaking muchhe barely managed a few English words, she not a scrap of Italian. Yet their conversation of gestures, smiles, and glances was so vivid that Olivia, smiling, drifted away, leaving them to their sudden romance.
He rode off at dawn on his iron steed. Later Lucy learned that Lukes life before that night had been a string of misfires: two marriages that left a sour aftertaste, no children, no house. Hed nearly given up on the idea of happiness.
Ten days before his departure they hashed out plans. Ill be back, Lucy said simply in response to his hopeful proposal. Well live together.
***
Back home, the next few months spun like a cyclone: a sudden layoff, frantic packing, heated talks with relatives who couldnt grasp her madness. Her phone buzzed nonstop.
My sunshine, how are you? Missing you. Luke
Our new window looks out over an olive grove. Your room awaits. Your Luke
The age gapseven yearsdidnt faze him, nor the twelveyearold Poppy hed soon have to win over.
One afternoon, sun drenched the terrace of their new cottage, Lucy wrapped her arms around Lukes shoulders and asked:
Luke, why did you trust us so quickly? Why werent you scared?
He turned, and his eyes reflected the whole of the rolling countryside:
An old vintner once told me Id meet a woman from the eaststormyhearted, searching for peace. He said shed bring the luck Ive been planting in my vines for years, but could never find. Thats you, Lucy.
What? she whispered, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. Did you finally find that luck?
Luke didnt answer with words. He drew her close, kissed her as if it were their first and last kiss, then, with a grin as bright as the summer sun, said:
She found me herself! Im endlessly happy.
And life, at last, fell into place.
A wonderful job appeared, they secured a mortgage on a cottage with hilltop views, and Luke fell headoverheels for stepdaughter Poppy, who now devours Italian lessons with relish. Mornings begin with cinnamonspiced coffee delivered to Lucys bedside, evenings fill the house with the aroma of his divine pasta. His love shows up in wildflower bouquets on the kitchen table, gentle touches, and the caring glance he gives Lucy each sunrise.
Lucy blossomed. She cant believe she ever thought lasting happiness was a myth. Now she knows: happiness isnt a storybook it walks the world, stubbornly seeking its other half, and when it finds it, it binds them together so tightly that no storm can ever shake them again.
