Veronica could never seem to find her own happiness, you know? She was pushing forty, still single, and it was starting to get to her. She was hardly lacking in anything: clever, really pretty, had a good job with a solid salary, but when it came to finding that happiness as a woman nothing.
Her folks, Anne and John, worried about her all the time. They tried to help, mostly with a kind word and a listening ear. Financially, Veronica could easily support them, not the other way round, but they always refused.
Live with us, love. Theres plenty of room, Anne would say, and John would nod along, And save your money youll need it one day, when you find your happiness.
Every evening theyd have this little ritual. Veronica would come home from work exhausted, and her mum would fuss over her. Nobody feels for you except for us, poor thing, Anne would sigh. And her dad would shake his head, Itll be tough when were gone. No one to have a moan to! Youve got to find your happiness, love.
So the three of them would plonk down in front of the telly and sit, evening after evening, year after year, as if happiness could be found flicking through channels. Dull as ditchwater, honestly, enough to make you yawn.
It was especially odd hearing her dad go on about “when were gone,” since Anne and John were only 19 when Veronica was born. Married for real love, too. Felt a bit soon to be talking as if the end was nigh.
Back at uni, Veronica dated this lad, Ben. He was a bit on the big side, not exactly graceful, bless him. Everywhere he went, something was guaranteed to get knocked over or smashed. Her mum used to rib him, calling him Ben the Broken Plate or walking disaster. John, her dad, would do this funny impression, shambling around the room trying to catch everything as it fell.
No, love, he’s just not got it together. Everything he touches falls apart! theyd say, gently nudging Veronica away from him.
And, you know, drip by drip, it got to her; after a while, Ben did start to seem like a bit of a hopeless case. Turns out, though, her parents got that one wrong. Ben finished uni, set up his own solicitors firm, married a woman who thought his clumsiness was actually adorable. He just needed space. So now hes living outside London in a big house with his family.
Your happiness is still out there, Veronica well find it! Anne and John would reassure both her and themselves.
Dont get me wrong, theyre a decent, close-knit family. A few months back they all jetted off to Spain for a break. Now, in the evenings, they love flicking through the photos: lounging on the beach, what they ate, even the funny cocktails.
While on that trip, Veronica met a bloke named Greg. He was from Scotland. Now, Anne and John poked fun at this chap as well. Well, arent we lucky, eh? A holiday romance with Greg from Glasgow! Anne teased. John stuffed a pillow under his shirt and stomped about their hotel room, pretending Greg was some rotund Scotsman.
Veronica felt a bit sorry for Greg he wasnt overweight, just a big lad, and he was interesting. He knew loads about stars, and theyd sit down by the sea as he pointed out the constellations. Veronica, stubborn as ever, gave him her number never mind what her parents thought.
But as soon as they got back, and Anne found out the calls hadnt stopped, she put her foot down. Holiday flings! Tacky. Never end well.
Didnt matter that neither Veronica nor Greg had any ties the problem was, to her mum, it was just another dead-end dalliance.
Keep looking for your happiness, love. Well support you however we can! You can always count on us, John insisted.
Summers, the three of them would head off to their little place in the Cotswolds: river nearby, birdsong, cups of tea under the old apple tree, barbecues by the shed. Everything home-grown. Even the neighbours would stop by for a natter.
One afternoon, the next-door neighbours son, David, arrived with his little boy, Charlie, who mustve been about five. The two were alike as peas in a pod blond hair, blue eyes, freckles, ears that stuck out sideways. Real characters.
The neighbours shared that Davids wife had left him for some bloke with money. And the little boy wasnt wanted by the new man at all too much of a reminder of his dad. So poor David was raising Charlie on his own.
Veronica really liked both David and Charlie. There was something so real and endearing about them. Sparks flew between David and Veronica right from the start, and Charlie took to her straight away.
Anne took the mick, of course. Davids eaten all the carrots but left one behind! Looks like his folks brought him here just to set him up with you! She shook her head. Why would you need a bloke with baggage?
Hes a failure, John chipped in, If he was any good, his wife wouldnt have left him with a kid in tow.
For once, Veronica pushed back: Dad, maybe a woman only leaves a good man if she trusts him enough to look after their child! She knows hell cope.
No, Veronica. Thats just not your happiness. Find your own, love. We want to spoil our own grandkids, hold their little hands, hear their feet running round the house
Anne and John clammed up. Stopped chatting to the neighbours. They got all bitter, had a few choice things to say about them, and the friendly, neighbourly get-togethers dried up.
So the three of them sat under the apple tree moaning that Veronica just couldnt catch a break. Thats how summer slipped away, full of sighs.
But Veronica, shed truly fallen for both David and Charlie, loved them with all her heart. She adored her parents too and didnt want to let them down. She even felt guilty, falling for a man her mum and dad wouldnt approve of. When the season ended, the three of them packed up off to their city flat, just them again.
Her parents loved her, so through those dreary autumn evenings they never once mentioned David or Charlie, not joking, not seriously.
One drizzly day, Veronica spotted a tiny ginger kitten hiding beneath a car tyre. Poor thing, soaked and shivering, mewing for all it was worth. No mum, no family alone in the world. Just like little Charlie. You could tell one wrong move and that tyre could end its life before it even really began.
She just instinctively scooped the little thing up, tucked it inside her coat, not caring that it was dirty and wet. All she wanted was to give it some warmth.
Veronica brought the kitten home, dried it off with a towel, poured some milk into a saucer. She sat on the kitchen floor and watched as it lapped eagerly its tiny pink tongue darting like a little machine.
Poor thing, must be starving, she thought.
Then John showed up in the kitchen doorway, newspaper in hand, with Anne close behind. They stared at the fluffy intruder but instead of being touched, they just looked annoyed and confused. What on earth do we do with that?
The kitten, finally full, stretched out for a yawn, wandered off, and promptly left a puddle on the floor.
Before Veronica could mop it up, Anne shrieked, Get rid of it, right now! Itll mess up the flat, scratch the furniture, tear the wallpaper! John, tell her! Were not having a fleabag in our house.
Yeah, well stink of cats! No one decent will come near us, John chimed in.
Mum, Dad, its only tiny! Well get it a scratching post, teach it to use a litter tray! Just look at her, so sweet! Veronica protested. She honestly didnt see the problem nobody had allergies, the flat was huge, plenty of room.
No, absolutely not! We dont want that sort of mess, Anne raged.
Look, love, I get you feel sorry for it. Take it to a shelter. They have to take pets in. And if they dont, threaten to write to the paper! John waved his paper for emphasis.
Veronica just scooped up the kitten and left, shutting the door behind her in silence.
It stung. How had it come to this? She was nearly forty, no husband, no kids, and apparently not even allowed to own a kitten. Not even her own roof over her head. At forty, she couldnt even keep a pet! No she needed her own place, even just a single room, somewhere to be herself, no pretending.
Instead of heading to a shelter, Veronica popped into an estate agent. They found her a small flat where the landlord didnt mind pets.
For the first time ever, Veronica actually felt like her own boss. She bought everything for the kitten; vet said it was a girl and about two months old. Veronica named her Ginger (how could she not, with those freckles?).
And honestly, life immediately felt a little bit brighter. Watching Ginger always reminded her of Charlie and David.
Then one day, out of the blue, the phone rang. Veronica never expected it, especially since John and Anne had managed to fall out properly with the neighbours. But David rang!
Hi, how are you? Charlie wants to say something. David sounded as cheerful as ever.
Veronica grinned, remembering Charlies freckles and those curious blue eyes. Vee! We miss you! Come visit us! Dad and I want to see you! came Charlies little voice.
Ill come. But Im bringing my kitten, is that okay? she asked.
David laughed. You can bring a whole circus if you want! Well pick you up, just tell us where!
And just like that, Veronica found her happiness. In spite of everyone, she ended up happy with David, Charlie, and Ginger. Soon, Charlie would even have a sibling boy or girl, what did it matter?
But Veronica never forgot her parents; she loved them just as much. She still rang Anne and John often, just to let them know she was alright and shed found her happiness.
It wasnt quite the happiness her parents wanted but it was hers. Maybe, one day, Anne and John would get it, accept her version of happy, and stop yelling down the phone, Come home, right now!
Maybe then, theyd get to hold tiny hands and listen to the pitter-patter of little feet running about the flat too.
