JOHNNY THE ONE-HEARTED
Every weekend, Johnny tinkers with his motorbike in the garage beside his house. A group of boys crouch around the “steel horse” like a flock of sparrows, watching intently as he cleans the engine, tightens bolts, or polishes the chrome parts until they gleam.
“Bet it’ll go like lightning!” the boys gasp in awe. “Johnny, can you give us a ride?”
“Can’t take you lot—you’re too young, and bikes aren’t toys like bicycles,” Johnny replies.
The boys sigh, and Johnny relents. “Alright, maybe just a few laps around the yard, but that’s it.”
The “sparrows” cheer before dashing off to the football pitch, ball in tow. Johnny heads inside to wash up, and his mother grumbles,
“When are you ever going to get a girlfriend? The Wilsons’ second son just got married, and both their boys are younger than you! What’s going on in that head of yours? You’re not a kid anymore, always messing about with scrap metal in the garage…”
His mother calls his grandad’s old car “scrap metal” too—the one handed down to Johnny when he returned from the army. He restored it to shine like new, getting it running and giving it a fresh coat of paint.
“My little Rover’s as good as new now. I’ve put so much into it—Grandad’s chuffed. Could sell it easy, but I don’t want to now…” Johnny explains.
“Fair enough, but it’s been six years since you left the army, and still no girl. I worry you’ll end up married to that heap of metal. Happiness is in family, son…” sighs Helen.
“Where am I supposed to find a girl? I don’t go dancing—can’t stand prancing about. Cinemas are too dark to see anyone,” he laughs.
“Exactly. And what would a nice girl even talk to you about? My fault, I suppose. Never made you read much beyond schoolbooks, no theatre in our town, and you’d never set foot in a museum. All you care about is cars, bikes, and machinery.”
“That’s my job, Mum—I’m a mechanic,” Johnny says. “Trust me, my skills are in demand.”
“Your hands are never clean, my little Mr. Fix-It. I’ve had to start buying dark towels; I bet you hadn’t even noticed. What girl’s going to chat with you about engines?” she teases.
“The right one will,” Johnny says, glancing at his grease-stained fingers.
“Start by visiting the museum, at least. Lift your horizons a bit.”
“And do what there? By myself? No way,” he refuses flatly.
“Why alone? Your nephew Alfie’s on summer break—take him. Your sister’ll be glad for the break. Walk around town, get ice cream; call it a cultural outing.”
“Scouting for girls, eh?” Johnny grins at her scheme.
A few days later, his mother announces at dinner:
“Alfie’s coming over tomorrow.”
“So?” Johnny shrugs.
“I promised him you’d take him to the museum. He’s excited—he’ll be all dressed up.”
“Oh… right. Fine, we’ll go, since you promised.”
The weather’s perfect. First, Johnny and ten-year-old Alfie stop at a café for ice cream before reluctantly heading to the museum.
They buy tickets, and the cashier urges, “Hurry—the tour’s just started in the first gallery!”
Alfie elbows his way to the front to hear better, while Johnny hangs back, oddly self-conscious.
Yet he can’t take his eyes off the guide—a delicate figure in a white dress, sky-blue eyes, and a string of glass beads. She’s like a porcelain figurine, holding a pointer with slender fingers that remind Johnny of a songbird’s delicate grip on a branch.
The tour ends, and the girl slips away down the museum corridor. Outside, the summer heat hits them like a wall.
“It was so cool in there,” Alfie says. “I chickened out of asking questions, though.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll come back another time,” Johnny says, glancing back at the museum to check the opening hours. “Tomorrow, maybe?”
“Tomorrow?!” Alfie blinks.
“Why not? While the questions are fresh.” Johnny ruffles his hair, and they head home in high spirits.
His mother’s surprised when they plan another museum trip but says nothing. The next day, Johnny asks the cashier,
“That guide from yesterday—what’s her name?”
“We have several guides, love.”
He stammers a description.
“Oh, that’s Lucy. She’s not in today—leading a coach tour for visitors from London. Try another time.”
Johnny deflates. Alfie tugs his sleeve.
“So… no museum?”
“We’ve already been,” Johnny mutters.
They console themselves with more ice cream. Johnny’s lost in thought, replaying the girl’s blue eyes—but at least he has her name now.
“Next weekend, museum again?” Alfie grins shrewdly.
“Yeah. Got to ask those questions,” Johnny says glumly. “Think of some good ones—don’t make us look daft, alright?”
Alfie nods, licking his cone. They ride the carousel in the park before heading home.
By the next weekend, Johnny’s restless. They arrive as the museum opens. No crowds—just their footsteps on creaky parquet. Then Lucy appears, now in a smart grey suit, the same beads glinting at her throat.
She greets them, and Alfie opens his mouth to ask his prepared questions—but Lucy beats him to it.
“Johnny?” she says.
“Yeah… how d’you know me?” he blushes.
“You were in the year above me at school. Always fixing the radio club’s wiring. I joined in Year 10—just two years, but I remembered you. I did the announcements sometimes… Don’t you remember?”
“Sorry, no. Bad with faces. But last time, I felt like I knew you from somewhere…” Johnny admits. “Now it makes sense.”
They chat in the gallery. Lucy explains she graduated uni and has worked here two years, loving it. Johnny offers to fix her car if ever needed. They swap numbers, parting as friends.
Outside, Alfie eyes him.
“I prepped questions, but you only asked about her and school—not the museum!”
“Don’t worry, mate. We’ll be back a lot now,” Johnny promises. “Gotta improve our cultural horizons!”
“Not me—you’re on your own,” Alfie laughs.
“Fair enough. Fancy a ride home in the Rover?”
“Yeah!” Alfie hugs him.
Soon, the family rejoices—Johnny’s driving his little Rover to nightly dates.
“Knew that car’d do good in his hands,” Grandad says. “And he’s a steady lad—not one to chase skirts.”
“I think he’s a one-hearted man,” Helen muses. “Just hope she understands him. If not… what’ll he do?”
“Don’t borrow trouble, love. They’ll be fine. Shared school, shared youth—plenty to bond over. Opposites attract, too.”
Six months later, Johnny and Lucy marry. The Rover, decked in ribbons and balloons, takes them to the registry office. Alfie carries Lucy’s long veil, bursting with pride.
After the ceremony, Grandad tells him,
“Take a leaf from Johnny’s book. What a lad! Can make any hunk of metal purr. When you’re old enough, we’ll take you to your wedding in my Rover!”
“Steady on,” Alfie laughs. “I’m not getting married for ages. Gotta learn to fix cars like Uncle Johnny, serve in the army first…”
“Try not to take too long—I’d like to see it,” Grandad teases.
“Just stay healthy, Grandad,” Alfie says, hugging him before joining the crowd for photos by the car.
