Youve really gone and done it now, mate
George wasnt in any rush to head home after work. Not that his rented flat in Manchester felt much like homemore like a temporary pit stop. He took the long way round, driving aimlessly as rain lashed against the windscreen and the autumn wind tore leaves from the trees. One stubborn yellow one stuck to the wiper on the passenger side. Summer was well and truly over. His dad used to say, “What kind of summer you get depends on what kind of women youve got around.”
His dad. Not exactly a saint, that onefond of a pint or three. Mum would go off on one, but George didnt mind when his old man came home a bit worse for wear. Hed turn soft, slipping George a fiver or two. The next day after school, George would dart off to the shops, dreaming of buying a pocketknife like his mate Daves or a bottle of Coke with a pack of crisps.
Simpler times, those. Everything felt easy and full of wonder, with his parents there to protect him, explain things, give advice. And back then, there was a girlLily. Fragile, with fair hair and bright blue eyes. A strong breeze mightve carried her off, so he always held her hand.
But it never grew into something more. He only kissed her once, just a quick brush of lips. All he wanted was to walk somewhere far away, hand in hand with her.
Her dad was in the military, so shed transferred to their school in Year 7. By Year 10, her family got posted to Edinburgh, and just like that, she was gone.
How many times had he thought about calling or texting her? But what then? They werent coming back, and hed never end up in Edinburgh. No point stirring up hope. She mustve felt the same, because she never reached out either.
Yet her memory clung to him, stubborn as a burr. Every girl he met after had to remind him of Lily somehow, but none ever matched the image in his headreal or imagined, he couldnt tell anymore.
Then he married Emily, who looked nothing like Lily. Well, *she* married *him*, really. They were in the same uni group, though shed dated other blokesnot his type at all. But during their third year, they ended up at the same work placement. Started walking home together. Emily was from some tiny villagethough she insisted it was a “proper town.”
When summer hit and the dorms emptied, most students left for home, but Emily stayed. One evening, she invited George over, saying shed made a cracking beef stew and had no one to share it with.
His mates had warned himcountry girls were crafty, out to snag a city bloke so they could stay. “Watch yourself, or next thing you know, youre trapped,” theyd say.
The stew *was* goodbetter than his mums, even. And then, well one thing led to another. He came to his senses at the last second, but Emily swore she was on the pill. The rest of that placement was a blur. He didnt love her, not like hed loved Lily. It was just convenient.
Term started again, and they barely spoke outside lectures. Then, a month later, she cornered him between buildings. “Im pregnant.”
“You *said* you were on the pill.”
“Missed a couple doses. Never had a problem before.” She bit her lip. “Im scared to get rid of itwhat if I cant have kids after?”
He felt sorry for her, andwell, hed grown used to her. He told his parents, introduced her. Emily helped set the table, even gave his mum a few cooking tips. Won her over straight off.
“Such a practical girl,” his mum said. “At least I wont have to worry about you starving.”
They married just before New Yearswhite dress, cake, the lot. Even the daft tradition of carrying the bride over a bridge. His mates jeered, “Better get used to the heavy lifting, mate. Youre signing up for a lifetime of it.”
Emily was sturdyno waifso it was a proper workout. But he managed, didnt embarrass himself.
Thats when it hit him: he was well and truly caught.
At first, married life wasnt bad. His parents scraped together enough for a one-bed flat. Emily nested, the fridge was always full, and his mum sang her praises.
Then the baby came. Emily took a year off. His mum helped when she could, but she was still working. George switched to part-time studies and got a job at the same place hed done his placement.
He shuffled through shifts half-asleep. Little Sophie was fussy, kept them up all night. The second he walked in, Emily would shove the screaming baby into his armsuntil his mum showed up and worked her magic. Sophie would quiet down instantly, Emily got a break, and his mum would cook while cooing at the baby.
“Dont rush into another one,” shed whisper on her way out.
Funny thingafter the wedding and the baby, Emily suddenly became religious about her pills. Even woke up in the night to check shed taken them. Couldve done that sooner.
The flat grew cramped, but money was tight. George graduated, hopped between jobseither the pay was rubbish, or they wanted him to cut corners.
“Honest work doesnt pay. Others managewhy cant you?” Emily would snipe whenever he quit.
But he couldnt stomach cheating people. He was the sole earner until Emily finished her degree. Then she landed a gig as a directors assistantdecent prospects, but still, two salaries never seemed enough.
“Maybe cut back on the new clothes,” hed grumble.
“Im front-facing. I need to look the part. *You* could find a better job.”
She started staying late. “Meetings,” shed say. “Networking.” He got jealous. The rows became daily. Then one night, she said it: “Whats the point of us anymore?”
“Youve got Sophie. You cant kick us out, and we cant swap this flat for two.”
“Ive been expecting this,” George admitted. “You held on longer than I thought. Found someone richer?”
“If youd listened to me, we wouldnt be having this talk.”
“You never loved me. I was just your ticket out of the sticks.”
“Youve never lived in a villageno running hot water, no central heating”
He laughed bitterly. Finally admitted it was a village, not a town.
“Pack my things. Dont want you accidentally keeping anything.”
She did. Neatly. He didnt go to his parentsjust rented a room. And just like that, he was alone. No family, no home, just child support.
He started drinking. Couldnt sleep without it. His neighbour, Tom, often joined him.
“Lucky sod,” Tom would say. “No wife nagging you. Drink all you want.” But the second *his* missus called, hed scuttle off.
After losing yet another job, George knew he had to quit. Otherwise, hed hit rock bottom.
“Got any booze?” Tom asked once. His wife had poured his stash down the sink. “Can you believe her?”
“Sorry, mate. Im done. Got a new gigneed to stay sharp.”
“Right. Suppose Ill head off, then.”
That night, George stared out the window, watching lights flicker off in distant flats. He wished he had a drink.
A mate got him a courier job for Amazon. One delivery took him to a flat in Leeds. The door opened, and*Christ*. The girl looked just like Lily.
“Do you assemble furniture?” she asked.
“Nah, just drop it off. Need help?”
She was tiny, delicate. He wanted to help her. “I could swing by after my shift.”
“Really? Ill pay whatever you ask.”
“Eight oclock work?”
He thought about her all day. Got held up, even ducked home to change. Didnt arrive till nearly ten.
“Sorry Im late.”
“Its fine. Come in.”
Two hours assembling an IKEA wardrobe. The smell of something delicious wafted from the kitchenhis stomach growled. He hadnt eaten properly all day. When he finished, she invited him to stay.
Her name was Daisy. He assumed she was a student, but she proudly said she worked. No reason to linger, but he didnt want to leave. Turned down the money she offered. Lingered in the hallway, fussing with his shoes.
She waited. Finally, he zipped his jacketbut couldnt make himself go. Then, on impulse, he kissed her. Just a quick press of lips. She didnt pull away. So he kissed her properly.
“Sorry,” he muttered, bolting.
He floated down the stairs, grinning like an idiot the
