Two Decades Without a Gift: A Quiet Love Story.
William Bennett had never bought his wife a present, even though theyd spent twenty years of happy marriage together. Not that he was stingyit just never seemed the right moment. With Evelyn, everything had moved quickly; they married just a month after meeting.
Their courtship hadnt been marked by grand gestures. Hed visit her in the little village where she lived, whistle under her window, and shed rush out. Theyd sit on the bench by the gate, barely speaking, just enjoying each others company until midnight.
He stole their first kiss on the day they got engaged. Then came the wedding, the daily grind, and lifes little worries. William turned out to be a shrewd businessman, running a successful pig farm. Evelyn worked just as hard, tending a vegetable garden that made the neighbours green with envy. Then came the kidsnappies, school uniforms, childhood snifflesand gifts? Never had the time. Holidays were simple, marked by a good meal. Their life wasnt flashy, just steady work and quiet contentment.
One day, William went to the market with his neighbour to sell potatoes and bacon, just before Mothers Day. Hed cleared out his cellar, sorted the spuds, and figured he might as well sell the extra. As for the bacon, best to shift it before the next pig was ready. The market was brisk, a crisp morning with a hint of spring in the air. To his surprise, everything sold like hotcakes. The bacon vanished in a blink, the potatoes snapped up like sweets. “Not bad,” William thought, pleased. “Evelyn will be chuffed.”
He packed the empty sacks into his neighbours van and set off to run errands. Evelyn had given him a short list. Out of habit, he stopped at the local pub firstnot because he was much of a drinker, but he swore skipping a celebratory pint would jinx his next sale. After a quick half of bitter, he wandered back out, watching the crowds and shop windows. Thats when he stumbledalmost literallyupon an unexpected scene.
Outside a boutique, a young couple was eyeing a dress on display. The girl, rosy-cheeked and bright-eyed, was gushing.
“Come on, Lucy, we cant stand here all day!”
“Look, James, its gorgeous! Itd suit me perfectly.”
“Pff, its just a bit of fabric.”
“Dont be daft! Its vintage chic! Get it for me for Mothers Day, yeah?”
“Lucy, you know were skint. If I buy this, its beans on toast till payday.”
“Well manage, love! I want it so badly. Weve been married a year, and youve never got me a thingnot even at Christmas!”
“Lucy, youll be the death of me…”
“I love you,” she murmured before kissing him and dragging him into the shop.
The lad caught Williams eye and gave a knowing shrug, as if to say, “Women, eh?” Soon after, they emerged, Lucy laughing, clutching her precious bag. William lingered, staring at the dresssimple, floral, like the one Evelyn used to wear when they met. Something long forgotten stirred in him. Nostalgia? Or the ghost of what theyd once been? A sudden thought hit him: “Ive never given Evelyn a thing. Too busy. Thought it didnt matter. But this lad would go without to make his wife happy. Out of love. And me? Did I ever love Evelyn? I thought so, back then. But it all faded into routine. A life of work, no memories… Blimey.”
That stolen joy ached in his chest. He wanted to feel it too.
Steeling himself, he marched inside. A shop assistant beamed at him.
“Can I help?”
“Aye. Ill take that dress in the window.”
“Oh, brilliant choice! Its all the ragepure silk, vintage style. Your daughter will adore it.”
“Not for my daughter. For my wife,” he grunted.
“Oh, lucky her!” she chirped, wrapping it up.
“How much?”
When she said the price, his stomach dropped. A small fortune.
“Bloody hell, why so steep?”
“Its designer, sir,” she said kindly.
He hesitated. Then Lucys radiant face flashed in his mind.
“Fine. Ill take it.”
He counted out the notes and left, oddly proud. His neighbour was waiting. The ride home was cheerfuluntil the bloke started bragging about his profits.
“You did alright for yourself?”
“Hows that?”
“Make a tidy sum?”
“Since when dyou care about my money?” William snapped.
“Blimey, no need for that,” the neighbour muttered, taken aback.
Back home, Evelyn wasnt in yet. William fed the pigs, mucked out the pen. Despite the good deed, his chest felt tight. Why the unease? He shrugged it off, poured himself a whiskey. Then another. It helped a bit.
The door banged open. Evelyn walked in, her usual stern expression in place.
“Youre back, then? Howd the market go?”
“Fine. Heres the money.”
She counted the notes.
“Somes missing. Did it go poorly?”
“No, justwell, the rest is in that bag.”
Evelyn pulled out the dress, suspicious.
“Whos this for? Emily? Itll drown her. Wasting our money…”
“Its for you,” he mumbled. “For Mothers Day.”
Silence.
“Me?” she whispered. “Really?”
“Aye, you!” he said, relieved she wasnt shouting. “Who else?”
Evelyn burst into tears and fled to the bedroom. She returned ten minutes later, eyes red.
“It doesnt fit. Ive put on weight.”
“What? But you had one like it when we sat on that bench…”
“Oh, you daft old sod,” she laughed shakily. “That was twenty years ago. Things change.”
He looked her in the eye. Struck by the flowers, hed remembered. And maybe, after all this time, the real gift wasnt the dressbut this moment, just the two of them, like it used to be.
