The air hung heavy in the house as Emily and her husband William returned from the funeral. They had just buried Williams mother, MargaretEmilys mother-in-law.
“At least shes at peace now,” William murmured, rubbing his temples. “Laid beside Dad, just as she kept asking for.”
“Yes,” Emily sighed. “She knew wed never bury her anywhere else, but still, it was all she thought about.” She shook her head. “That illness was cruel. No one should suffer like that.”
The evening stretched on in quiet sorrow, each lost in their own thoughts. Emilys mind drifted back to her own past, long before she met William. There had been little joy in it. She had lost both parents youngthey had perished in her grandmothers house one night, trapped when the old cottage caught fire.
She had been home that evening with her older brother, Thomas. By morning, the news had shattered them. Villagers helped with the burials, whispering that Grandad Albert had “taken his wife and the childrens parents with him.” Thomas was seventeen then, Emily just thirteen. They clung to each other in the empty house. Thomas worked the fields while Emily studied. Fate had dealt her a harsh hand, and sometimes even now, she barely believed it had happened.
Their village was smalljust forty-odd cottages. The school only went up to the fourth year, so after that, children trudged three miles to the next village over. In winter, they could cut across the frozen stream to save time. Once, old Mr. Neville had taken them by horse-cart on Mondays, leaving them at the boarding school until Saturday. But the older kids often preferred to walk, especially in autumn and spring.
The lads had their own system, led by Billy, the son of the village mayor.
“Anyone heading home today, meet by the bench after lessons,” hed say. “Well walk together.”
Three miles wasnt so bad in a group. Alone, the woods were terrifying, but together, they laughed and teased, passing notes to the girls, arranging evening walks or dances at the village hall on weekends. By Monday, everyone knew who had walked whom home, who fancied whom. Back then, the village was alivefilms were rare, so even the grown-ups piled into the hall on Saturdays.
Emily had been one of those girls. As she grew, the whole village noticed. Beautiful, soft-spoken, with an angels graceshe turned heads, not just among the boys her age but the older lads too. One glance from her could leave a lad restless for days. One word, and her voice lingered in his ears.
She was everything: clever, kind, lovely. It was rare, but sometimes the world made someone perfect. Her only flaw, if it could be called one, was being an orphan. She lived with Thomas and his wife, Rose, who despised her. No matter how hard Emily triedhelping with chores, never complainingshe felt like a burden.
“Ill leave after school,” she often thought. “Go to town, train as a cook. Rose will never let me breathe here.” But she kept quiet, not wanting to sow strife between her brother and his wife.
The boys respected her. None dared speak ill, though many hoped shed pick one of them someday. But Emily was reserved, keeping them at arms length.
Then, suddenly, whispers spreadBilly the mayors son and Emily were courting. Walking hand in hand in the evenings, stealing glances. Billy was handsome, broad-shouldered, more man than boy now. He was clever too, like her. They had plenty to talk about.
The lads admired himhe never touched drink, unlike some of the older boys who sneaked ale on holidays. Together, Billy and Emily shone. Inseparable, smitten.
“Two lovebirds, matched perfect,” the old women clucked. “Wedding bells soon, mark my words.”
But not everyone approved. Billys parents were against it. His father, Edward, the village mayor, was a wealthy manfirst in the village to own a car, a sturdy house, a yard full of livestock. When he heard of his sons entanglement with an orphan girl, he was furious.
“Listen, Margaret,” he told his wife. “Whats that Emily thinking, setting her sights on our Billy? Pretty face, but nothing to her name. Lives off her brothers scraps.”
“I dont know, Edward,” Margaret fretted. “Hes besotted. Out all hours with her. No parents to keep her in checkthough they say shes modest.”
“Ill wed him to a girl from good stock. The district agronomists daughternot as fair, perhaps, but their house is full, theyve a motorcar. A proper match.”
“But how? He wont listen. Hes in love.”
“Leave it to me.”
Edward tried first to reason with his son.
“Billy, out here. We need to talk.”
Billy stepped onto the porch. “What is it, Dad? Im off to meet Emily.”
“Sit down. This is serious.”
“Cant it wait? I dont want to upset her.”
“Upset her?” Edward scoffed. “Listen, son. This thing with Emilyit ends now. Shes got nothing. Her brothers a nobody. Forget her.”
“I dont want anyone else.”
“Dont cross me, boy.”
Edward soon realised brute force wouldnt workBilly was grown, too strong to thrash. So he schemed.
The next day, he called on Rose, knowing Thomas was at work.
“Rose! A word.”
She peered out, startled. The mayor never visited.
“Ive heard youve a distant auntAgnes, is it? Lives up north?”
Rose frowned. “Aye. Why?”
“Heres what youll do. Get Thomas to send Emily packingup to Agnes. Ill pay you handsomely.”
Rose loved money. And so, with little effort, she persuaded Thomas.
“Its for the best,” she said. “A towns better than this village.”
Tearfully, almost forcibly, Thomas put Emily on the train north with nothing but a letter and an address.
Billy was devastated. He retreated, barely speaking to his parents. Even Margaret regretted it.
Then came his conscription. He wrote home terselyunforgiving. But near the end of his service, a letter arrived:
“Prepare for a wedding. Im bringing my bride.”
Edward grinned. “See? Hes forgotten her.”
The village buzzed. The mayors son, bringing a lass from afar! When the taxi pulled up, a crowd gathered.
Out stepped Billy, taller now in his uniform, thena woman in white.
The gasp was collective.
Emily.
More beautiful than ever, dressed like a city girl.
Edward and Margaret froze.
“Meet my wife,” Billy announced, grinning.
The crowd erupted. Cheers, laughter.
“True love, that! Fates hand at work!”
The parents had no choice but to smile and feast the couple. The wedding was merry, the grudges buried.
They lived wella cottage of their own, two sons. Edward and Margaret doted on Emily. She held no bitterness.
If two are meant to be together, no trial can keep them apart.
Years passed. Edward went first. Margaret, heartbroken, soon followed. Emily nursed her like a daughter.
Now, the house was quiet again.
But grief fades.
Life goes on.
