**The Pretend Marriage**
Oliver strolled along the platform, enjoying the gentle spring sunshine. The young man had spent the last seven years working away, felling trees up north. Now, with a tidy sum saved up and arms full of gifts for his mum and sister, he was finally heading home.
“Lad, where you off to? Need a lift?” called a familiar voice from behind.
“Grandad John! Don’t you recognise me?” Oliver grinned.
The old man shielded his eyes with his hand, squinting at the stranger.
“It’s me, Oliver! Have I really changed that much?”
“Ollie! Blimey, look at you! We’d given up hope of ever seeing you again. Could’ve dropped us a line, you know.”
“Place I was working was so remote, post barely made it there. How’s everyone? Mum, Lily—are they alright? My niece must be in school by now, eh?”
Grandad John lowered his gaze and sighed deeply.
“So you don’t know… It’s bad, Ollie. Really bad. Your mum’s been gone nigh on three years now. Lily went off the rails, then just left little Emily behind and vanished.”
“Emily? Where is she?” Oliver’s face fell.
“Lily left her locked up in the house last winter. We didn’t find out straight away. Three days later, my Doris heard a noise and found the poor mite at the window, crying for help. We took her in—hospital first, then the children’s home.”
The rest of the ride was silent. John let Oliver stew in his thoughts, not prying. Half an hour later, the old horse-drawn cart stopped outside a neglected yard. Oliver stared at the overgrown garden, barely recognising his childhood home. His eyes welled up.
“Don’t lose heart, lad. You’re young, strong—you’ll whip this place into shape in no time. Why not come to ours first? Have a bite, rest your bones. Doris’ll be chuffed to see you,” John offered.
“Ta, but I’ll head home. I’ll pop round tonight.”
Oliver spent the day clearing the yard. By evening, guests arrived: Grandad John and his wife, Nan Doris.
“Ollie, love! Look at you—proper grown now, a right handsome chap!” Nan Doris flung her arms around him. “Brought supper. Let’s eat, then we’ll help tidy up inside. So glad you’re back!”
“Any word on Lily? How could she just…? She was always such a good girl,” Oliver asked over pie.
“Not a peep. Poor thing couldn’t cope. Lost her husband, then her mum… Too much for her shoulders. What’ll you do about Emily? Might you take her? You’re her uncle, after all,” Nan Doris said.
“Dunno. I’ll sort the house first, then visit her. She doesn’t even know me.”
A week later, Oliver set off to town to see Emily. On the way, he ducked into a toy shop. A pretty, dark-haired girl greeted him with a warm smile.
“Need help picking something?”
“Yeah. Clueless about toys. A doll, maybe? For a seven-year-old. And whatever else you reckon.”
The girl swiftly produced a boxed doll and a board game.
“These’ll do the trick! All the girls adore this doll, and the game’s a hit.”
“Cheers! Hope my niece likes them,” Oliver beamed.
***
Emily eyed Oliver coldly at first, suspicion in her gaze. But the gifts thawed her, and she finally smiled.
“You don’t know me at all,” Oliver began.
“I do. Nan showed me your photos and told me all about you,” Emily interrupted.
“Did she now?” Oliver chuckled. “What’d she say?”
“That you’re kind and good. Uncle Ollie… when are we going home?” she whispered, glancing around.
The question floored him. He knew then—life here wasn’t easy for her.
“Emily, are people unkind to you?” he murmured.
She nodded, tears spilling.
“I can’t take you yet, but I promise you’ll be home soon. Alright?”
“Alright,” she sniffled.
Oliver marched straight to the care home’s director, only to hear grim news.
“You’re her uncle, yes, but kinship alone won’t sway the guardianship board. Are you employed?”
“Not yet. Just got back, but I’ve decent savings—”
“Not good enough! Everything must be official. Marital status?”
“Single.”
“Bad, very bad… If you’re serious, you’ll need a job and a wife.”
“That doesn’t happen overnight! Emily wants to come home!”
“Can’t help you,” the man shrugged.
Oliver barely caught the last bus home, lost in thought.
“Oi, hello again!” a cheerful voice piped up beside him.
“It’s you?” Oliver blinked. The kind toy-shop girl sat there.
“Off home to Little Thornbury. Work in town, live with me nan,” she explained.
“Well, I’ll be! We’re neighbours! I’m from Thornbury too.”
“Claire,” she smiled.
“Oliver. Emily loved the gifts.”
He spilled his woes to this near-stranger.
“Rotten luck. Hate these rules—papers matter more than people’s hearts,” Claire huffed.
“Claire… you’re Nan Vera’s granddaughter, yeah?”
“Right! Don’t remember you, though.”
“You were knee-high when I left. Let’s drop the formalities—we’re practically family.”
“Oliver, I might help with the job. Our shop needs a stock lad. Light work, deliveries twice a week. Pays proper, with paperwork.”
“Brilliant! Just a wife to find, then!”
Next day, Claire put in a word, and Oliver was hired. That evening, laden with sweets, he visited Emily. On the bus home, Claire joined him again.
“Ta. You’ve been a lifesaver.”
“Glad to help. Now just to sort that wife…”
“Impossible. Don’t know any single lasses. All married while I was gone.”
“No such thing as hopeless! Think outside the box,” Claire said firmly.
“Claire… you’re single, yeah?” Oliver brightened.
“I am. But I’m not marrying anyone,” she flushed, edging away.
“Not like that! A pretend marriage. For the papers. We’ll divorce in six months.”
Claire gaped at him, torn. She wanted to help Emily—but barely knew Oliver.
“Please! I’ll pay you—”
“No money. I’m doing this for Emily.”
“Hoorah! We’ll hit the registry office tomorrow. Emily’ll be over the moon!”
Two months later, Emily was home. For the first week, Claire stayed over, fearing the guardianship board’s return visit.
Emily thrived at home—but grew fiercely attached to Claire.
“Claire’s just a friend, love. Not really my wife.”
“So? Can’t she stay forever?” Emily frowned.
“She’s got her own life, her nan—”
“But we’ll miss her!”
“We will,” Oliver sighed. “She’ll visit.”
When Claire left, Emily moped endlessly.
“Cheer up! We’ll build a new house—too busy to mope,” Oliver coaxed.
“Uncle… if Mum comes back, you won’t let her take me?”
“Never. You’re mine now.”
Time passed. Oliver broke ground on the new house, hoping work would banish thoughts of Claire. No luck. Emily pined too, scanning the gate every Saturday for her.
“Let’s visit Claire!” Emily begged.
“We can’t just turn up—”
“But you’re her husband! Sort of!”
“Fine. Tonight.”
Emily donned her best dress, then dashed next door, returning with a vast bouquet.
“Flowers? What for?”
“For Claire!”
“Smart lass,” Nan Doris chimed in. “Go on, be bold! You two make a lovely pair.”
“She doesn’t want me,” Oliver grumbled.
“Rubbish! She fancies you—plain as day.”
Armed with blooms, they marched to Claire’s. She was hanging washing, flustered at their arrival.
“Come in! Stay for supper!”
“See? Told you! Give her the flowers and propose!” Emily hissed, jabbing Oliver’s ribs.
Oliver reddened, then thrust out the bouquet.
“Claire… marry me?”
“We’re already married,” she faltered.
“Properly this time.”
Nan Vera emerged, beaming.
“About time! This silly girl’s cried buckets but swore she wouldn’t chase you.”
“I do want you!” Oliver blurted.
“Course he does!” Emily crowed. “I made him come! He’d never have managed alone.”
Oliver and Claire locked eyes, laughing.
“Good job, duck!”And as Oliver and Claire exchanged a real kiss under the golden sunset, even the daisies in Nan Vera’s garden seemed to cheer, knowing this pretend marriage had turned into the realest love story Little Thornbury had ever seen.
