“Dont be cross with me, TanyaI wont be living with you.”
“Maybe we could try, Jeremy?” Tanya barely blinked, her cheeks flushing as she looked at him.
“Ive said all I need to, Tanya.”
Emma Willows was born when Jeremy was in his first year of school. He remembered her mother, Lauraa woman known all over the village for her beautywith her big belly and her proud husband, George. Later, Laura would wheel a pram through the gate, and Jeremy would crane his neck, desperate for a glimpse inside. Back then, it had seemed like magic.
Jeremy grew up, and so did little Emma. One day, she was darting out of her parents gate in a bright dress, a big bow tied in her fair hair. Another day, shed be playing with her friends, building a makeshift den near the garden. Jeremy watched it all from his parents house across the street.
“Jeremy, could you walk Emma to school, please?” Laura asked one day. He didnt refuse, and for nearly a year, he escorted the little first-grader.
At first, they walked in silence. Then Emma started chatteringstories from lessons, little things that had happened. Her school day ended earlier, and shed wait patiently for Jeremy to finish. Sometimes hed walk home with his classmates, and Emma would tag along. Soon, he got used to waiting for her by the gate each morning, taking her hand as they walked to school.
The next September, Emma shyly asked if she could walk with her friends instead. After that, the girls went ahead, while Jeremy followed at a distance, keeping an eye out. And sure enough, trouble camea hissing goose one day, flapping its wings, scaring the girls. Jeremy stepped between them and the bird, and they squealed as they ran past.
The year after, Jeremy left for the secondary school in the next town, coming home only on weekends and holidays. Emma seemed to forget who he waswalking past with her eyes down, never saying hello. Then he went off to train as a navigator, returning home even less often.
“Mum, whos thatEmma?” Jeremy looked up from dinner as a tall, striking young woman stepped out of the Willows gate.
“Thats our Emma!” His mother smiled out the window.
“When did she grow up like that?” Jeremy asked, genuinely surprised.
“Time passes,” his mother sighed warmly. “Every time I see her, I thinkshe got the best of both her parents.”
After that, he caught glimpses of heronce carrying water from the pump, the wind catching her blouse just so. Another time, dressed smartly for exams. He even felt the old urge to walk her there.
But the final straw was her voice. He heard it while helping his father fix the fencea voice so sweet, youd follow it to the ends of the earth.
Then, one evening at the pump, they met properly.
“Hello,” Emma said first, stunning him.
“Hello, Emma,” Jeremy replied, suddenly shy.
The buckets took forever to fill, and he couldnt think of a single thing to say.
When he left that time, there was an ache in his chest. He was in lovefinally.
Then came his oath of service and his posting to Inverness.
***
The next time Jeremy came home, it was with hope. Maybe this time, hed tell her. She was old enough now.
The first day, he slept off the journey. Then the chores beganhis father had a list. They cut firewood in the forest, split it, stacked it. His father even had the shed doorframe to replace, then the floorboards. Two weeks vanished.
Jeremy kept glancing at the Willows gate. Laura or George would come and go, but no Emma.
“Mum, wheres Emma?” he finally asked.
“Shes at university. Lives in the city now,” his mother said.
So Jeremy left with nothing.
The year after, he saw her just onceand didnt like it. From behind the curtains, he watched her walk with some lanky local lad, laughing at his jokes, smiling at him in a way that made Jeremys stomach twist.
Later, he heard shed married him. They lived in the nearest town.
Every visit after, hed see heror worse, hear her.
“Jeremy, stop mopingyoure not a boy anymore,” his mother said one evening.
“Is it that obvious?”
“Like a sore thumb. Youve got to let her go. Find someone in Inverness. You know what they say’Plenty more fish in the sea.'”
“I try not to think about her. But I do.”
***
He visited less and less, the service sending him to remote postings. No wife, no tiesjust punishing himself, as if he deserved it.
He missed his fathers funeral, arriving on the ninth day. Four years later, he was late for his mothers too. But the villagers had done everything right.
Laura met him at the gate with the keyshed sent the telegram.
The next day, he tidied the graves. Then he cleared out the househis parents had kept everything. His mother had been ill, and the place was a mess. In the evenings, he pored over old photo albums and found a yellowed newspaper clipping.
A picture of him and Emmawalking to or from school, he couldnt remember. A reporter had taken it for the local paper, thinking they were siblings.
Before leaving, he asked Laura and George to look after the house, letting them use the garden.
“Emma wont have to buy potatoes now,” Laura sighed. “That husband of hers never worked much. No money.”
“How is she?” Jeremy asked carefully.
“Not well. They live with his aunt Maria. Emmas like a guest there. He drinks, shouts at them both”
“Why does she stay?”
“Love, she says. I think Maria put a spell on her,” Laura whispered. “They live on Marias pension and Emmas wagesshe sews handbags at the factory. Sometimes they pay her in bags! Maria sells what she can, and he drinks the rest. Ive got a dozen of those bags. Want one?”
He nearly refused but took it. Sturdy work. If he hadnt known, hed never guess it was made here. He liked to think Emma had stitched this one.
***
After his service, Jeremy came home for good. He rebuilt the housenew heating, windows, a proper septic tank. He drove to work in a new, if modest, car.
The villagers rarely saw him. No friends leftjust a few old classmates busy with their own lives.
“Hey, you! Back for good?” A womans voice stopped him at the gate. An older lady smiled at him.
“Hello,” he said, studying her face.
“Dont recognise me?”
“No”
“I was your form teacher!”
“Mrs. Hughes!”
She chuckled. “So, youre settling down?”
“Had enough of wandering.”
“Good! But you need a wife.”
“Thats a problem,” he admitted.
“Two of your classmates are divorced, two widowed. Good women. Not many decent men left.”
She listed themSusan, split from her army sweetheart. Linda, whose husband ran off. Tracy, widowed young.
Jeremy realised hed never thought of any of them. None mattered.
“Plenty to choose from!” Mrs. Hughes winked.
“Ill think about it.”
“Dont wait too long.”
She left. He bolted the gate, done with visitors.
***
One evening, driving home, he spotted a woman walking ahead. His heart leaptEmma?
He slowed, pulled over.
“Emma! Need a lift?”
“Hello.” That voice again, freezing him.
She got in.
“Visiting?” he asked, desperate to keep her talking.
“For good. Vals dead.”
“So youre a widow?”
She didnt answer.
At her gate, she thanked him softly. The word echoed in his head all night.
That evening, he went to propose. Laura met him in the yard.
“Aunt Laura, is Emma home?”
“Where else would she be?”
“Ive come to ask for her hand. Ive loved her since you first asked me to walk her to school.”
“I know. Your mother and I talked about it. But she was too young, then you left. And ValGod rest himwasnt a good man.” She crossed herself. “Drank. Lost jobs. Hit her. She kept borrowing money to cover his binges Lost a baby because of him.”
“Why didnt she leave?”
“I begged her. Stubborn girl. Cried, then went back. Hoped theyd get a council house. Fat chance. Go on in, then.”
“Emma!” He stepped inside.
“Hello, Jeremy.” She appeared in the doorway.
“We need to talk.”
“Go on.”
“Ive never told anyone I love you. Have done
