Fate likes the grateful
By the time he turned thirty, Stanley Stan Fletcher had already logged ten years in conflict zones, twice coming home wounded, yet somehow the Almighty kept him safe. After his second serious injury he spent months in a military hospital before being sent back to his tiny WestYorkshire village, Brackenford.
Brackenford had changed in his absence, and so had its residents. All his schoolmates were now married, but one autumn afternoon Stan spotted Eleanor Ellie Hartley, a name he could barely place. When he left for the Army shed been a lanky thirteenyearold; now, at twentyfive, she was a striking beauty, still single. No one had come along who could persuade her to settle down, and she had no urge to start a family on her own.
Broadshouldered, sturdy, with a razorsharp sense of justice, Stan couldnt simply walk past Ellie.
Is it true youre still waiting for a husband? he asked with a grin, eyes flicking over her lovely face.
Perhaps, she replied, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks, her heart suddenly beating a little faster.
From then on they began seeing each other. It was late autumn, the two were strolling along a narrow woodland path, leaves rustling beneath their boots.
Stan, my father will never let us marry, Ellie sighed, even though Stan had already proposed twice. You know my father.
What can he do to me? Im not scared of yours, Stan declared confidently. If he tries to hurt you, the law will take him down, and hell be no obstacle.
Stan, you dont understand my father, Ellie protested. Hes a hard man, everythings under his thumb.
George Whitaker was the most powerful man in Brackenford. Hed once been a modest entrepreneur, but rumours now linked him to shady dealings. Plump, with a cold, haughty stare, he ruled the village with an iron fist. He owned the two farms that raised cattle and pigs, employing more than half the locals. Everyone bowed politely to him, almost to the point of worship, while he fancied himself a god.
My father wont allow our wedding, Ellie whispered, especially since he wants me to marry the son of his old friend from the council. I cant stand that rotund, beerloving lad, Victor. Ive told my father a hundred times.
Ellie, were living in the Stone Age, Stan muttered. Who in this day and age forces a girl to marry someone she doesnt love?
He adored Ellie completelyher gentle gaze, her fiery temper, everything. She felt the same; life without him seemed impossible.
Come on, he said, taking her hand and quickening his pace.
Where to? she began to guess, but she couldnt stop him.
In the yard of the grand Whitaker manor, George was deep in conversation with his younger brother Simon, who lived in the adjoining cottage and was always ready to lend a hand.
George, I wish to marry your daughter, Stan announced boldly. May I have her hand?
Ellies mother, standing on the porch with her hand over her mouth, stared tremblingly at her tyrannical husband, who had never been gentle to her.
Georges eyes narrowed at Stans audacity. He glared, but Stan met his stare headon. The old man couldnt fathom where such nerve had come from.
Off with you, George barked. Youre a drunken clown, not fit for my daughter. Shell never say I do to you. Get out of my sight, soldier.
Well marry regardless, Stan replied, undeterred.
Stan was respected by everyone in Brackenford, whereas George cared for nothing but money. The slight bruised Stans pride. He clenched his fists, and Simon stepped between them, sensing that neither would back down.
While Simon shoved Stan out of the yard, George herded his daughter inside as if she were a tenyearold. He never forgave anyone who challenged him.
That very night, a blaze roared through the village, engulfing the small garage Stan had just opened.
Rotter, Stan muttered, certain whose hands had lit the fire.
Ten minutes later they were barreling down the motorway.
The next night Stan drove silently up to Ellies cottage. Hed sent her a text that evening, asking her to pack a bag and flee far away. She agreed. From her bedroom window she handed him a suitcase, then slipped out, landing gently in Stans waiting arms.
By morning well be miles from here, he whispered. You have no idea how much I love you. Ellie pressed herself to him.
I feel both nervous and terrified, she admitted.
Within ten minutes they were cruising along the A1. Ellies breath came in short, excited gasps; a shiver of anticipation ran through her. The headlights of a car flashed behind them, making her uneasy. Soon a sleek Mercedes, obviously belonging to George, appeared, swerved, and blocked their lane.
Not this, not now! Ellie cried, curling into herself.
George stepped out with two hulking enforcers, seized Ellie by the arm. Stan tried to intervene, but a heavy blow knocked him to the ground. They beat him without a word, then climbed back into the car and drove off, leaving Stan sprawled on the hard shoulder.
Staggering back to his cottage, Stan spent a week nursing his bruises. The arson case was dismissed as a faulty wiring issue. He understood everything, but what haunted him most was Ellies fate. She wouldnt answer his messages; her number was dead.
George sent Ellie to the city to stay with his sister, Vera Whitford, handing her a tidy sum£4,500and issuing a stern warning:
Dont leave the house, dont use the phone. If you come back to Brackenford, Ill he raised a finger threateningly, then added, Ill see to it youre never seen again, or Ill bury you in the woods. Itll cost me nothing.
Lord, George, Vera murmured disapprovingly, why are you ruining your own daughters life?
She showed Ellie to a spare room, knowing shed have to lie low until George calmed down.
George spread the rumor that Ellie was marrying Victor in the city, that a wedding was imminent, and that she would never return to the village.
Dont worry, Ellie. In time your father will soften. Youll find a job and build a life, Vera said.
Without Stan? Ellie asked, eyes welling.
Without him, Vera replied.
A few weeks later Ellie discovered she was pregnant. Vera comforted her, feeling genuine pity for her niece.
Your father must never find out, she whispered.
Ellie sobbed, her mind no longer on George but on telling Stan about the baby. She couldnt remember his number; George had smashed her phone. Even if Vera let her use hers, she didnt know where to call.
I hate my father, Ellie shrieked in a fit, hes not a man. Vera stayed silent; there were plenty of reasons to loathe himhe broke futures.
Time trudged on. Stan could not shake thoughts of Ellie. He drifted, working aimlessly, avoiding other women, even trying a drink here and there, only to quit. Meanwhile Ellie gave birth to a healthy boy, Matty, who bore a striking resemblance to his father, Stan. Occasionally, the mother would pop over to spoil the grandson. No one told George; he never learned of the child, never visited.
Four years passed; Matty grew into a clever, bright lad. One spring, when blossoms scented the air, Ellies mother arrived at Veras house, trudging up the steps and sinking into a kitchen chair.
Oh dear, she wailed.
Whats wrong, Mum? Ellie asked.
George is dying, the mother sobbed. The doctors found cancer; they said its too late. Hed always been fit, never a sick man.
Shed endured bruises and humiliation at his hands, which had taken a toll on her health.
How will I manage alone? she whispered.
Everyone fell silent. No one felt pity for George. As he lay dying, his wife, a weary woman, wanted to tell him about her grandson but kept her mouth shut. The years of cruelty had drained all his strength.
George was buried in June. Ellie didnt attend; she could never forgive him and didnt want to see his face. Few came to the funeralmostly his cronies, who muttered with glee:
He got what he deserved. He treated people like rubbish; the heavens have a way of balancing the scales.
Meanwhile, Stan was away on a guard tour, cycling between the base and the village, living with his mother. When Ellie finally returned home after five years, her mother was slowly recovering, the shadow of her tyrannical husband finally lifted. The portrait of George was taken down; no one wanted Ellie to see him again.
Two weeks after Ellies arrival, she learned Stan was still on duty. A few days later she walked with Matty along a hedgerow, the boy chasing butterflies, she perched on a fallen branch, the breeze ruffling her hair.
She drifted back to memories of her childhood, to the love shed left behind. Suddenly, a familiar voice whispered, Ellie, and she sprang up; both of them lunged toward each other.
Stan had changedmore mature, yet his eyes still held a trace of sorrow. Hed suffered, but his love for Ellie never faded. She, still radiant, seemed a touch softer.
Stan, forgive me for everythingmy father, the lies, not telling you about our son. I never married Victor; that was my fathers fabrication. Ive been staying with Aunt Vera in the city, she confessed.
Stan froze, his heart pounding as Matty, scrambling through the grass, ran to them. Without a word, he recognized his son, the mirror of his own younger self.
My boy, he scooped him up, laughing. My very own son! Ill never let you go again.
Dad, Matty asked, will you buy me a football?
Of course, lad. Well pop down to the shop right now and get you a ball, and anything else you want, Stan replied, turning tenderly to Ellie, who nodded through tears.
Ellie felt a deep gratitude to fate for bringing Stan back into her life. After all, fate does love the grateful, and it rewards them with a happy, albeit slightly chaotic, family.
