Ah, youve landed yourself in it now, lad
George wasnt in any hurry to go home after work. His rented flat in Manchester could hardly be called a homejust a temporary shelter. He took the long way round, driving through the city as rain lashed against the car windows and the wind tore leaves from the trees. A single yellow leaf had caught in the windscreen wiper on the passenger side. Well, that was itIndian summer was over. His father used to say the weather reflected the women of the year, whatever that meant.
His father. No saint, that one. Fond of a pint or three. Mum would scold, but George loved when his dad came home tipsy. Hed turn soft, slipping young Georgie a few quid. The next day, after school, hed dash to the shops to chase his dreamsa pocketknife like Tommys, or a bottle of cola and a bag of crisps.
Those were the days. Everything seemed simple then, full of promise, with his parents there to shield him, explain things, give advice. And back in that distant past, there was a girlLucy. Fragile, with fair hair and clear blue eyes. A strong gust mightve carried her away, so he always held her hand.
But they never got the chance to grow into something deeper. He kissed her only once, just a fleeting press of lips. All hed wanted was to walk endlessly, hand in hand with Lucy.
Her father was in the army, posted to their school in Year Seven. By the start of Year Ten, he was reassigned, and the family moved to Sheffield.
How many times had he thought of calling or texting her? But what then? They wouldnt return, and hed never make it to Sheffield. Why torment himself with false hope? She mustve felt the sameshe never reached out either.
Yet her memory clung to him like a ghost. Every girl he met after resembled Lucy in some way, but none matched the image in his mindor the one hed invented. He couldnt tell anymore.
His wife, though, was nothing like Lucy. Or rather, she chose him. Theyd been at uni together, same course. Shed dated other lads, and she wasnt his type. But after their third year, they did a placement at the same firm. Often, theyd walk home together. Emma came from some villagethough she insisted it was a “market town.”
Summer emptied the dorms. Most students left, but Emma stayed. One evening, she invited George over. Said shed made a proper beef stew, too much for one.
With little else to do, he went. His mates had warned himcountry girls were crafty, looking to trap a city boy for a better life. Best stay sharp, or before you knew it, youd be leg-shackled.
The stew was goodbetter than his mums. Then came the inevitable. At the last second, George hesitated, but Emma swore she was on the pill. The rest of their placement was a blur of reckless nights. He didnt love her. What drew him to her was nothing like what hed felt for Lucy.
Term started, and they barely spoke outside lectures. A month later, she cornered him in the corridor. “Im pregnant.”
“You said you were on the pill,” George protested.
“Missed a few doses. Never had a problem before.” She bit her lip. “Im scared to get rid of itwhat if I cant have kids after?”
He pitied her. And, truth be told, hed grown used to her during placement. He told his parents, introduced Emma. She helped set the table, slipping his mum a few cooking tipssealing her approval.
“Such a homemaker,” his mum said. “At least I know he wont starve.”
They married before Christmas. The wedding was traditionalwhite dress, cake, silly games. Who came up with the idea of carrying the bride over a bridge? His mates ribbed him: “Pick your feet up, Georgie. Get used to marching nowyoure in for life.”
Emma was sturdyno waif, that one. Hed sweated, but he managed, pride intact.
That was when he knew hed been caught. Still, married life started well. His parents stretched themselves to buy the newlyweds a one-bed flat. Emma nested, the fridge always full. His mum doted on her whenever she visited.
But everything changed after the baby. Emma took a leave of absence. His mum helped evenings when she could. George switched to part-time studies and took a job at the firm where theyd done placement.
He dragged himself to work half-asleep. Lily was colicky, kept them up nights. The moment he got home, Emma thrust the wailing baby into his arms. But when his mum visited, magic happened. Lily quieted instantly, Emma rested, and his mum cooked, humming as she worked.
Leaving, shed murmur, “Dont rush into another one. You do your part, son.”
After marrying and giving birth, Emma suddenly became religious about her pills. Shed even wake mid-sleep to check shed taken one. Shouldve been that careful from the start.
The flat grew cramped, money tight. George graduated, hunted for better work. Job after joblow pay or shady dealings.
“Honest work doesnt pay. Others managewhy cant you?” Emma snapped whenever he quit.
But he couldnt cheat, even for money. He slogged alone while Emma finished her degree. Then she landed a job as a directors assistantmodest pay, but prospects. Two incomes, yet they still scraped by.
“Fewer dresses might help,” George grumbled.
“Im the directors front face. You could try earning more.”
Emma worked late often. Meetings, clients. George seethed, fights multiplying. One day, she said shed had enough.
“You know we cant throw Lily out. Well keep the flatyou move.”
“Knew this was coming,” George admitted. “Found someone richer?”
“If youd listened sooner, we wouldnt be here.”
“You never loved me. I was your ticket to the city.”
“Youve never lived rurally. Try hauling water, chopping wood.”
George smirked. Finally admitted she was village-born.
“Pack my things. Dont want you pocketing extras.”
She did, neatly. He didnt go to his parents, renting a room instead. So there he wasalone, without family or home, just child support. He drank, vodka his bedtime lullaby. His neighbour often joined.
“Lucky youno one pecking your head like a woodpecker,” the man envied. Yet when his wife called, he scampered home gladly.
Losing another job, George knew he had to quit drinking or sink entirely.
“Got a spare?” The neighbours wife found his bottle, poured it away. “Can you believe it?” he moaned.
“Sorry, dry now. Mate offered workgot to look sharp.”
“Right. Off I go, then.”
That night, George stared from his window, watching lights blink out across the street.
His mate got him a courier job with Amazon. One delivery took him to a flat in Leeds. The door openedand he froze. The girl looked just like Lucy.
“Do you assemble furniture too?” she asked.
“Just delivery. Need help?” The urge to stay overwhelmed him. “I could swing by after work.”
“Would you? Ill pay whatever.”
“Eight-ish work?”
All day, he thought of her. Ran late, dashed home to change. By the time he arrived, it was nearly ten.
“Sorry Im late.”
“No worriescome in.”
Two hours assembling a wardrobe. The kitchen smelled heavenlyhis stomach growled. Hed barely eaten. Done, he stepped back. She invited him to eat.
Her name was Daisy. Hed guessed student, but she proudly said she worked. No reason to linger now. He refused payment, fumbled with his shoes in the hall, reluctant to leave the cosy flatand her.
She waited. Finally, he zipped his jacket but hesitated. Daisy stood opposite, hand on the door. Then, impulsively, he kissed her. Just lips brushing lips. She didnt pull away. So he kissed her properly.
“Sorry,” George muttered, fleeing.
He floated downstairs, grinning all the way home.
No sooner had he toed off his shoes than the neighbour knocked, bottle in hand.
“Took your time. Late shift?”
“Sorry, off the drink. No snacks either.”
The neighbour left, sighing. George sat at the table, telling himself to forget Daisy. She was out of his league. No use dreaming.
But two days later, she called.
“Its Daisy. You built my wardrobe. I kept your number.”
“Remember. Something wrong? Collapsed?”
“No! Just could you come over? Ive got” She trailed off.
“Something broken? Ill drop by after work.”
But when he arrived, she confessed nothing needed fixing. She
