We Meet the Wrong Ones, Marry the Wrong Ones
Lifes path is rarely a straight, gentle road, and you cant outrun your fate. We all have our own destinies, our own truths. I, Grace, grew up in a household ruled by women. Though ruled is a strong word for our simple life in the countryside. Our cottage stood on the outskirts of a small English villagevegetable patch out back, firewood to chop, water from the hand pump, chickens to feed, and always something needing to be done.
My gran, Edith, had lived in that village for decades, widowed young, quietly keeping house on her own. My mother, Alice, was left by her husband when I was barely two, and so it was just the three of usour little queendom of women. From the time I could tie my shoes, I learnt how to milk the goat, weed the veg patch, and help cook simple stews on the old stove.
Edith was well into her fifties when she came home one evening from cleaning at the manor house, wiped her brow, and sighed:
Ali, love, Im truly worn out
Mum, whats wrong? asked my mother, and I hurried in from the garden.
Edith placed her rough, sturdy hands in her lap. Its all become such a grind. Shovelling manure, lugging water, always behind on chores. Shouldnt we be allowed a different life?
So, what are you suggesting, Mum?
Lets move to the city. Sell the house, pack it all in. Ive saved up a bit. We could buy a small place in town.
My little heart jumped. Gran, yes! Yes, I want to live in the city so much
And so we did. Grans older brother, Edward, lived in Nottingham, and we stayed with him and his wife at first.
You can have the spare room for now, Aunt Carol bustled around. Once you sort out a place of your own, youll move in.
The family welcomed us kindly. Mum hunted for a flat, Uncle Edward pitched in. At last, we found a modest place and all our savings went into it.
Flats a bit tired, could use a good fix up, sighed Edith. All moneys gone into getting a roof over our heads. But well manage, bit by bit.
Mum squeezed Grans shoulder. Right you are. And I found a job at the bakery. I start tomorrow. Grace will need to transfer to a new schoolterm starts in just over a month. Theres one close by, Ill pass it on my way to work.
Thats fine, love, Ill pop down to the school with Grace. Youll be snowed under with work now.
I was placed into Year 6 at the local school, just a walk away. I was thrilled. Gran, I want to do well in city school. I promise Ill try hard.
After Mums first day at the bakery, Gran gave her some news over a cup of tea.
Theyve offered me a job as a cleaner at your school, Grace. Ill work as long as I can manage. Well need every penny.
Oh Mum, you get a pension now, you ought to rest.
Gran shook her head, While Ive got my strength, I want to be useful. Besides, I can keep an eye on Grace, shes new there.
Time ticked on. Edith scrubbed the school floors, Mum worked early mornings at the bakery, and my marks fell somewhere in the middlenot the top, not the bottom.
After Year 8, I left school to help at home, realising how much we all needed to chip in. Passing the corner café one afternoon, I saw a Help Wanted sign for a dishwasher, popped in, and was hired at once.
I was a hard worker, lending a hand with peeling spuds or stirring the soup when the chef was distracted. I befriended the other girls, and soon we went dancing at the youth club.
Mum, Im off clubbing tonightback later, I called.
Gran always warned me, Be careful with boys, Gracekeep your wits about you, dont get carried away.
Oh Gran, Im not a child anymore. I know what Im doing.
One evening, on the dance floor, I met Sam. He asked me to dance and hardly left my side all night.
Ill walk you home, he insisted, so confidently I couldnt refuse.
We started seeing each other. Eventually, Sam told me:
Grace, Im joining the army. Will you wait for me? Ill write, promise me youll write back?
Of course, I promised.
I saw Sam off at the station and wrote regularly, always replying to his letters. He said hed come home for leave in a year, and I counted the days. When the time came, we met again.
Hi Grace! You havent married anyone yet, have you? he teased.
I promised to wait, didnt I?
But his voice was cold, his eyes never quite meeting mine, and the spark was gone. His leave passed quickly, and after he returned, his letters became short, then stopped altogether.
Eventually, word got round he was back in Nottingham, but he hadnt told me. I waited at the dance hall, knowing roughly when hed come home. One night, I confided in my friends:
Something must be wrong with Sam. He should be back now. I wish I knew where his parents lived.
Go, why not meet his wife while youre there? my friend replied, sarcasm in every word. Sam got married in the army. Brought her back with him! Thats why hes gone missing. Some blokes, eh? Forget about him.
I waited for him I said, stunned and then terribly sad.
You waited. He didnt.
Sometime later, I saw Sam by chance in the park, sitting where we once used to talk. When he saw me, he jumped up:
Grace! Wait!
I kept walking, but he hurried after me.
Im sorry, Grace. I made a mess. I still think about you all the time. I married her because shes having my baby. But its you I want.
I stopped to look him square in the eyes.
And what am I meant to do? I asked coldly. Be your secret? Watch you play happy family while meeting me in the shadows? I wont. You lied to me, Sam. Stay with your wife and raise your childwithout me. Good luck to you.
I carried on working at the café, but the manager noticed my knack for cooking and said, Grace, youre talented in the kitchen. Why not take a cookery course? Well hire you as a chef.
Brilliant! I love cookingId really like that.
So there I was, dressed up and excited, standing on the platform waiting for the train to London. For the first time, I was travelling alone to the big city. While I waited, a group of blokes sang songs, seeing one of their mates offhome on leave from service.
Suddenly, a cheerful soldier broke away and called out to me.
Excuse me, miss, can I introduce myself? Im Tom. And you?
Grace, I replied, a little wary.
You waiting for the train too?
I nodded. The train soon rumbled into view, and Tom hurried back to his friends.
What an odd fellow, I thought. Why did he need my name?
I found a seat in the penultimate carriage. As the train picked up speed, I gazed out the window, when suddenly a voice piped up behind me:
Ah, there you are! There stood Tom in his uniform.
Must have combed half the train to find you, he grinned. Heres the thingIm just back home on leave from service. I really liked you at first sight, didnt want to miss my chance. Lets swap addresses, write to each other? What do you think? Oh, by the way, where are you going?
Cookery course, learning to be a chef, I replied.
He seemed trustworthy, and we chatted all the way. We exchanged addresses, said goodbye, and headed our separate ways. I honestly didnt expect anythingSam had taught me not to hope. But Tom was such a kind soul, fun to talk to, never making big promises, just honest. Writing letters was no trouble to me.
Gran always says: We meet the wrong ones, marry the wrong ones. I wondered if it would ever be different for me.
Tom and I wrote for a year. Then, when he finished his service, he turned up at my door, all eager smilesit was my day off, and we both lit up seeing each other. I realised I really could trust him.
Time went on. I married Tom. I became a chef in a local restaurant, Tom worked at the car factory. I kept our home sparklingeverything folded, cleaned, cooked. Our twin boys, Harry and Freddie, were always tidy and neat, attending the nursery down the road.
But with Tom, it was an endless battlewherever he went, socks and spanners followed, everything scattered after him. I argued, picked up, nagged, then finally realised:
No, Grace, use charm and common sense.
So, I changed tack, gently coaxing, joking and praising. Soon, Tom would leave his oil-splattered work clothes in the porch, tools back in the shed, even swept the yard and tidied the garageand I rejoiced.
Gran had been wrong, I thought. I had met the right one and married him, after all.
We spent so many happy years together. Then one evening, Tom didnt make it home from workhe collapsed and died on the spot. His heart simply gave way, no warnings. All at once, I was alone. It was a heartbreak I never expected.
Now I live alone, as Gran Edith did, as my mother Alice did. My boysnow menand my grandchildren visit me. But theres no running from fate.
You see, sometimes we meet the wrong ones, butif were luckyonce in a while, the right one comes along.
