Where the Heart Stands Still — A First Trip to the Countryside
“I can’t take it anymore!” exclaimed Emily, tossing her bag onto the sofa. “I want the seaside! Lazing like a seal under the sun all day, then dancing till dawn. Music, cocktails, and not a single thought about work!”
Andrew chuckled. He was used to her fiery outbursts. Emily was a rare sort—sharp-tongued, witty, sometimes prickly, but always genuine. She never pretended, never wore masks—just easy, bright company. And most of all, with her, he never had to pretend either.
They’d met a few months prior, and since then, Andrew felt as though he could breathe freely again. No awkward silences, no false pleasantries—just warmth and the quiet certainty that he was right where he belonged. Forever.
“What happened at work?” he asked gently, stepping closer.
“Everyone’s just insufferable! ‘Emily do this, Emily do that!’ As if no other names exist. Today, I nearly told off the manager! If I hadn’t held my tongue, I’d be out of a job…”
“Sounds like you need a proper break, then,” Andrew laughed. “We could dash off somewhere, even if it’s not the coast.”
“Where, though? Best I’ll get is a single day’s leave. What’s the point of a holiday that short?”
“What about the countryside? To my grandmother’s? The air there—just a stroll fills your lungs with peace. And her pies! Fresh from the oven…”
“The countryside?” Emily’s eyes widened. “Seriously? I’ve never once been.”
“Never?”
“Not once. My whole family’s from London. I’ve never even seen a cow outside a milk carton.”
“Then you absolutely must go! You’ve no idea how lovely it is. The river, the hearth, starlit nights, bonfires…”
“Oh, Andrew, if only I had your enthusiasm. Honestly, I’m not sure I’m ready to charm any grandmothers.”
“Shame. Mine’s a treasure. She’ll ply you with pies, mint tea—and just like that, you’ll adore her.”
“Well, if pies are the bargaining chip…” Emily smiled. “Fine. But on one condition—if I hate it, you owe me a whole new wardrobe. Because I won’t fit into mine after her cooking.”
He laughed, while she still wavered—unsure whether to join in or fret.
The journey wasn’t easy. The last stretch had their car rattling down a rough dirt track. But Andrew remained calm. Emily, however, peered nervously out the window, half-expecting crumbling sheds, manure piles, and geese poised to charge at strangers.
Yet it wasn’t like that at all. The village was spacious, tidy, with cobbled lanes, a few shops, and proper roads. Even the cows were nowhere in sight—just barefoot children, women with neat braids, and men chatting idly by their gates.
Grandmother greeted them as if she’d waited a lifetime. She embraced Emily like family, bustling about, settling them at the table—which groaned under roast beef, shepherd’s pie, stewed apples, fresh bread, and cider.
Emily was stunned. Where was the stern, silent grandmother she’d imagined? Where was the grim rustic life she’d dreaded since childhood?
Andrew beamed. He’d known it would be just so.
After supper, he dragged her to the river—and there, magic. Crystal-clear water, children splashing, men roasting sausages over fires, women spreading picnic blankets. No quarrels, no rushing. Just laughter, wind, and woodsmoke.
That night, Emily fell asleep the moment her head touched the pillow. Dawn woke her with golden light—Grandmother’s curtains were thin, near-transparent white. She pulled on a jumper and stepped outside. Then froze.
Before her, the sky blushed pink as the sun crested the hills. Distant cows lowed, birds sang, and the air carried dew, wild thyme, fresh grass. The whole earth breathed tranquillity. Emily slipped off her slippers and stepped barefoot onto the damp, dewy grass. She stood in silence. Her soul felt lighter.
“I lost you,” came Andrew’s voice behind her.
“I woke early… Came out. It’s so quiet here. So easy. I’ve never felt such peace.”
“Like it?”
“Immensely. Can we come back?”
“Of course. As often as you’d like.”
Emily hugged him tightly. Happiness ached in her chest. The seaside no longer called to her. She’d found her calm, her joy, right here—and she knew she’d return, again and again, to where the world made her breathe anew.
