“Daisy, I’m leaving for a contract job up north,” Matthew said, his voice low. “You know about the debts. I wont turn to crimeno thieving, no shortcuts. Only way out is to work. Ill earn, pay it off bit by bit, then come back. Therell be enough to fix your roof, even buy little Sophie a bicycle. Just a year, maybe less.”
Everyone in the village knew Matthew fancied Daisy, the young widow. They were sweet on each other, meant to marry, but the debts loomed like storm clouds.
“Right,” Daisy muttered. “Off to the north, then. Just like your ex-wife. Whats so grand about that place?”
“Daisy, you know shes got nothing to do with me now.”
But Daisy was spinning, words tumbling out sharp and bitter. Matthew gave upno use talking now. He packed and left. She ignored his calls, even changed her number.
Summer came, thick and sweltering. That morning, the air clung hot and heavy. The old folks muttered, “Storms brewing. Suns too fiercewont end well.”
No one expected the hurricane. By evening, black clouds rolled in, wind shrieking like a banshee. Trees snapped, slates flew, fences flattened. Folk huddled inside, waiting out natures fury.
At dawn, they crept out to survey the wreckage.
“Me chicken coops flooded,” clucked old Mrs. Higgins. “Lucky the birds were roosting high.”
“Tomatoes smashed to bits,” sighed Anna. “Whats left of the harvest?”
“Tomatoes be damned,” someone grumbled. “No power. Gotta wait for the repair crew from town.”
By noon, electricians arrived, worked till dusk. Lights flickered backmost houses, not all. Some had blown fuses; Daisys wiring had blackened the wall. She shuddered. An old house, old wireswhat if it had caught fire? Her and Sophie inside
“Daisy, love,” Mrs. Higgins said, “Stevies got the same trouble. Theres a sparky from the next villageCharlie, decent rates. Ask him.”
“Mum, Im hungry,” little Sophie whined, tugging her sleeve.
“Gas still works, thank heavens.” Daisy cooked, cleaned, eyeing the charred wall. Charlie was booked solid.
Next morning, a broad-shouldered man strode into her yard, grinning easy.
“Morning. You lost?” Daisy called from the gate.
“Here for you. Heard about your wiring. Names Charlie. Electrician.”
Inside, Sophie peeked out, then hid. Charlie winked.
“Sophie, this is Mr. Charlie. Hell fix the lights.”
Charlie studied the blackened wall. “Lucky it didnt spark. Wirings rottenneeds replacing. Got my tools in the van. Be right back.”
Daisy set to cookingpayment was one thing, but feeding a working man was plain manners.
By midday, Charlie flicked the switch. Light flooded the room.
“All sorted. What do I owe you?” Daisy reached for her purse.
“Not a penny. Lunchll doIm starved.”
They ate, chatting idle. Sophie sat quiet, wary. After, she whispered, “Mum, I dont like him.”
“Why? He fixed the house.”
Later, Daisy mused on Charlies lingering looks. She was pretty, youngonly thirty-one. Her husband died when Sophie was a babe. Life wasnt over. She deserved happiness.
Three days later, Charlie returned. “That fence of yours is a disgrace,” he said, grinning. “Gates hanging by a thread. Let me sort itfree, cept for dinner. And I fancy you, truth be told.”
Warmth bloomed in Daisys chest. Luck, at last.
“Alright,” she said. “Fix it. Ill cook.”
Over stew, she asked, “Whos waiting for you back home?”
“Wondering if Im married? No. Ex-wife cheated. Divorced.”
Silence. Then Charlie took her hand. “I like you, Daisy.”
Her head spun. Here was a strong, handsome mansober, hardworking. What more could a woman want? Yet Sophie watched, uneasy.
Charlie visited often after that, all laughter and flowers. Daisy held back; he didnt push. A month passed. No need to rush.
Then the gossip hitMatthew was back. He lived with his mum; his sister Vera, a nursery teacher, was there too, fled from a bad marriage with her boy.
“Vera, tell me trueDaisys tangled up with that Charlie?”
“Whole village knows,” Vera sighed. “Fixed her wiring after the storm, and now well.”
Matthews fists clenched. “Over a bloody light switch?”
“Stop it. Shes lonely. You left.”
“I had no choice! She wouldnt listen.”
“Well, now youre debt-free. Small comfort.”
He cornered Daisy on her way home, gripping her arm. “You and himanything happen?”
“None of your business.”
“Answer me.”
“Like you were a saint up north?”
Suddenly, he kissed her. Fire roared back in her chest, anger and love twisting together. She stood, dazed.
“Confused, eh?”
“Hes different,” she mumbled. Matthew stormed off.
That evening, Charlie arrived with wine. Sophie was at her grans. But Daisy was frayed, thoughts scattered.
“To us,” Charlie slurred, eyes glazed. “Ive a weakness for pretty women.”
“How manys that, then?”
“Just you.” He grinned, refilling her glass.
The wine blurred everything. Charlies gaze turned heavy, his hands rough. He grabbed her, yanking her toward the bedroom.
“Stopyoure hurting me!”
“Dont play shy,” he snarled. “You owe me.”
“Charlie, youre drunk”
“I know what I want.” He struck her cheek.
Thencrash. Matthew flung Charlie against the wall. A drunken brawl, fists and fury. Charlie, outmatched, was thrown onto the porch, shirt torn, lip bleeding. Daisy trembled. No policesmall mercies Sophie wasnt home.
Children know. They always know.
Matthew shot Daisy a hard look and left. Charlie never returnedrumor was, his ex-wife had fled his beatings.
Three days later, Matthew knocked. Sophie barrelled into his arms. Daisy followed, hesitant.
“You alright?”
“Peachy. Stalking me now?”
“Cant leave you unsupervised,” he teased, setting Sophie down.
He pulled Daisy close. “Missed you,” he murmured, eyes soft.
Sophie beamed. Uncle Matthew was safe. Always had been.
