Let’s Get Married
Zachary was a quiet, unassuming lad. He lived with his parents in a small village—either raised that way or simply born timid. Clara and Simon never had a spot of trouble with their son. Always obedient, always polite.
Next door, however, was a different story. The neighbours’ yard was a constant racket of shouting and squabbling. Barbara, a single mum raising two boys—Mikey and Tommy, barely a year apart—had her hands full. Especially with Mikey, the older one, who was as lively as a spring lamb and twice as stubborn.
“Mikey, stop tormenting your brother or so help me—!” Barbara’s voice carried clear across the fence.
“He started it! If he didn’t poke at me, I wouldn’t have to—” Mikey shot back, voice sharp as a knife.
“Oh, is that how you speak to your mother now?” came the exasperated reply.
It was the same every day. Barbara would sigh and complain to Clara over the garden wall.
“I can’t get a moment’s peace with my two terrors. Your house is always so calm. I envy you, Clara. Zachary’s such a good lad—takes after Simon, I reckon. My late husband was a right handful too, always stirring the pot. Drank too much, and well—that’s how he met his end. Mikey’s the spitting image of him. Tommy’s quieter, but he’s just as stubborn. Oh, what a life!”
“Your boys are certainly lively, Barbara. At the parents’ evening, Mikey’s teacher had a proper go at him. You never go, do you?”
Their sons, Zachary and Mikey, were in the same class. They walked to school together, thick as thieves—though Zachary did well in his studies, while Mikey barely scraped by.
“I can’t face it, Clara. Too embarrassed to hear how my boys are misbehaving. If I see their teachers in the street, I cross the road! I go red as a beetroot just thinking about it.” Barbara sighed. “I envy you, I really do. Zachary’s a proper lad, and mine are—well.” She waved a hand and headed inside.
Time passed. Mikey stayed as cheeky as ever, leaving school after Year 11. Tommy carried on.
“I’ll get my driving licence, do my army service, then settle down,” Mikey declared.
Zachary, now grown, remained quiet and bookish. He loved wandering the woods alone, picking mushrooms, sipping tea on the porch steps with a novel in hand. After school, he trained as an electrician and never dreamed of leaving the village. His parents wouldn’t hear of it anyway.
“Your roots are here, son. This is where you belong,” Simon had said years ago, and Zachary never argued.
He commuted to college by bus—half an hour to town, but he hated the crowds. Girls glanced his way, and a few bold ones even asked him out, not realising how shy he was. He’d refuse, muttering about catching the last bus home.
“Don’t you go getting tangled up with town girls, Zachary,” Clara warned. “They’ll wrap you round their little finger before you know it!”
“Mum, for heaven’s sake,” he’d groan, rolling his eyes.
He went to the village hall now and then, hanging about with the lads, often in Mikey’s crowd. But girls? Never paid them much mind—until one caught his eye. Emily, a year below him in school. He’d never admit it, though. The very thought made his knees wobble.
“Why can’t I be more like Mikey?” he’d grumble to himself. “Girls flock to him, and I—I can’t even string two words together. Emily probably thinks I’m daft. I’ll die a bachelor at this rate.”
Then Mikey got engaged.
“Coming to my wedding, Zach? It’s at the village hall. Plenty of girls from Becky’s lot will be there. Don’t miss your chance!” Mikey grinned.
Becky, Mikey’s bride, was from the next village over—four miles away. No one understood why he hadn’t picked a local girl, but there it was.
The wedding was a riot—music, dancing, the works. Zachary sat stiffly at the table or stepped outside for air. That’s when Becky’s maid of honour, Daisy, spotted him.
Tall, dark-haired, and hopelessly awkward, Zachary was exactly her type.
“Hello there,” she chirped, appearing beside him.
“Er—hello,” he managed, flushing crimson.
“You’re Simon’s boy, aren’t you? I’m Daisy.”
Zachary’s ears burned. He mumbled something incoherent while Daisy prattled on, grinning. He liked her. A lot. Which only made it worse.
“Come dance with me!” she said, dragging him onto the floor.
Zachary had never danced in his life. But somehow, with Daisy leading, it worked.
“This is… nice,” he thought, surprised.
They danced until the stars came out.
“See you soon, Zachary,” Daisy said at last, waving as she left.
The next day, Zachary was a mess. Daisy’s smile haunted him. But he’d never dare seek her out.
Then, on Saturday evening, a whistle sounded outside.
Daisy stood there, grinning, bike propped beside her.
“Fancy a concert in my village tomorrow? Say yes!”
“Yes,” he blurted.
They strolled together, Daisy chattering, Zachary stealing glances.
After that, they were inseparable. Daisy took charge—arranging meetings, turning up unannounced. Clara wasn’t pleased.
“That Daisy’s too sharp by half. She’ll run rings round you, son. You need a quiet girl, not a firecracker!”
But Zachary was smitten. Daisy hugged him, kissed him, left him dizzy. Then one day—
“Let’s get married,” she said, blunt as ever.
“I’d like that,” he replied, realising too late he should’ve asked first.
Daisy marched them to his parents.
“I love him. We’re getting married,” she announced.
Zachary nodded. “We really are.”
Clara and Simon sighed and gave in.
The village buzzed.
“Zachary? Getting married? To that lively thing from the next village?”
Mikey clapped him on the back. “See? All it took was me getting hitched first! Daisy’s a keeper, mate.”
The wedding was another raucous affair. They moved in with Zachary’s parents—Clara braced for chaos, but Daisy was surprisingly sweet, heeding her advice. Soon, a grandson, George, arrived, followed by a granddaughter, Alice.
And before long, the young couple were building their own home, ready for the next chapter.
