“Of course, he remembered it perfectly well.”
*”I dont remember because it never happened!”* said Redford, looking at her with those honest, old-man eyes.
The conversation fizzled out awkwardly, and they went their separate ways.
*Why did he lie?* thought Emily. *Anyone could see it in his eyes!*
*”Do you want me to be your Peter?”* asked eleven-year-old Timmy Redford to his crush, Emily Sutton, his classmate.
*”What Peter?”* The girl was baffled.
*”You know, like in the story? The Snow Queen enchanted him, and Emilywell, Alicesaved him!”*
*”Alice?”* Emily scoffed. *”Its Lucy who saves him! Honestly, do you even read fairy tales?”*
*”Whats the difference? Emily, Alice, Lucydoes it matter?”* Timmy waved a hand, never one to fuss over details. *”Im askingdo you want me to be your Peter?”*
She didnt. Timmy was scrawny, with ears that stuck out, and noticeably shorter than her. Not exactly a hero in need of rescuing.
And she? Sturdy, half a head tallerhow embarrassing would it be walking side by side after *saving* him? No thank you. Besides, her heart already belonged to someone elsethe class troublemaker, Jake Miller.
Speaking of Jake, he was standing nearby, listening with amusement.
Emily adjusted her hair ribbon and saidloud enough for Jake to hear*”Peter? Please. You wouldnt even make a decent reindeer! So, Peter, run along and dont come back!”*
Jake burst out laughing. Timmy shot him a nervous glance and bolted. The next day, in front of the whole class, he took his revenge*”Emily the Jelly!”* he announced. *”Ill get even, and youll regret it!”*
Well, what did you expect, Sutton? Not every bloke takes rejection lightly.
Timmy mightve been small, but he had brains to spareenough to make up for his lack of muscle.
That day, though, blindsided by the girl he fancied, he froze. Anyone wouldve.
And then the whole class eruptednot just Jakelaughing at the nickname. *Emily the Jelly.* It stuck.
Naturally, when she complained at home, her parents comforted her.
But one evening, her father was helping with mathsshe just couldnt grasp the basics. Losing patience, he sighed, *”Your Timmys rightyour heads full of jelly!”*
Then he added, *”Say hello to him for me.”*
Somehow, Timmy was to blame for that too. Her dad had never said anything like it before.
By graduation, the drama had fadedchildhood grudes, crushes, and petty slights were left behind. They even danced together once or twice. Timmy had shot up, grown muscular, joined a sports club.
Jake got booted out after GCSEssent off to trade school. Long-distance love wasnt easy either. *Sorry, Jakey…*
After school, their paths diverged. Emily went to teacher training college; Timmy, like any bright lad, headed to Imperial.
They ran into each other occasionallystill living nearbyexchanging a few words.
Then life scattered them further. Both married, moved away. Visits to their parents old neighbourhood became rare.
Sometimes they crossed paths at reunions. But it was clearbest not to go. Too depressing.
Years turned boys into balding, beer-bellied blokes, girls into stout matrons with opinions. Emily was no exception.
Never thin, shed grown downright *monumental*like a farmers wife from an old painting. Just missing a milk pail and prize cow in the background.
Timmy, though? Defied time. Still lean as ever.
By forty-five, Emily was deputy head at a school. Tim worked as an engineertypical middle-class Brits.
Then came the 90s. For Emily, it coincided with her daughters weddingZoe brought home a jobless boyfriend. *”Were having a baby!”*
Chaos everywhereincluding her own home.
The factory where her son-in-law weldedgood wages, union perksgot repurposed. Turned into a warehouse, rented out for *”self-improvement seminars”*apparently, people couldnt grow on their own anymore.
No welding jobs left. Suddenly, the trade was *obsolete*.
*”Sell coats and jeans at the market!”* they told him. *”Thats what people need now!”*
Johnny refused. *”Im a certified welderwhats this about coats?”*
Pregnant Zoe stayed home. Now they were both unemployed.
Emily and her engineer husband scrambledshe started importing coats from Spain (*Goodbye, teaching!*), he became a courier*”Respectable jobs? Not anymore. Capitalism, eh?”*
By the late 90s, things settled. Thenthe crash.
Luckily, shrewd Emily had stashed savings in dollars. That August, when the economy imploded, their money suddenly bought not a one-bed, but a two-bed flat!
Overnight, they went from broke to comfortable. Financial absurdity.
Finally, they could move out Zoe, now with a growing daughter and Johnnystill scraping by. (*”Who needs welders now?”*)
There was even enough left for a decent refurb.
Emily eventually returned to teaching*”Hard-nosed women like her are always needed!”*bumping out the softer deputy. *”Kids these days need discipline, not coddling!”*
She hardly saw Tim anymore.
At sixty, her husband left. *”You crushed me,”* he said. *”Im a person too!”*
(*Thanks, self-help gurus.*)
The new century preached *”65 is the new 45!”* (*Oops, our badbut trust us this time!*)
Worst part? He didnt even leave for another womanjust *vanished* into a friends spare room.
Zoe had her own life. Emily was alone.
Work didnt fill the voidcolleagues werent friends. And pouring her heart out to strangers? No thanks.
People were bitter these days. Constant eclipses, Mercury always retrograde, magnetic fields weakening. Plus, prices soaringenough to make anyone angry.
Occasionally, her granddaughter visitedGen Z, always in headphones, always on her phone. No real conversation.
At seventy, Emily retired. No fussshe couldnt handle rowdy teens anymore.
Her world shrank to her two-bed flat.
Sometimes, she bumped into Timboth back in their parents old homes. Now they met more often.
Tim was alone toowidowed. He liked chatting with Emily, reminiscing.
Today, they ran into each other outside the shop, drifting into conversation.
Memories swung back and forthhappy, simple times. Back when life was all ahead, and the sun always shone.
*”Remember when you wanted to be my Peter?”* Emily asked suddenly.
Theyd never spoken of it.
*”When did I ever say that?”* Tim frowned.
*”Year Six, I think.”*
*”Me? Your Peter?”* He laughed. *”Youve lost the plot, Sutton! Never happened. Look at medo I look like a Peter? And you? Couldnt even climb a ropemore of a bandit than a heroine!”*
*”So you remember the rope but not Peter?”* Emilys deputy-head tone kicked in. *”Selective memory, eh? Thats a fail, mate.”*
*”I dont remember because it never happened!”* Tim said firmly, those old-man eyes unwavering.
Maybe his mind had scrubbed the humiliation.
*”If I dont remember, it didnt happen. So there, Sutton.”*
The conversation died. They parted ways.
*Why lie?* Emily thought. *It was plain as day.*
But Tim remembered perfectly.
After all, shed been the first girl to reject him.
And you dont forget that.
*Serves you right, Emily the Jelly.*
