“Well, would you look at that, Evelyn—men everywhere, yet still not a single suitor for you,” laughed Lucy. Evelyn lived alone in her English village. She’d just turned thirty-three, with no husband and no children. Though she was a fine-looking woman and rather charming, she had never found a match in the village, nor had she ever ventured beyond its borders. Ten years ago, Fred from the next street had proposed, but lively Lucy stole him away. The villagers gossiped about Evelyn: some pitied her, others—like Lucy—mocked her openly. “I tell you, ladies, there’s a curse in that family on the women’s side,” insisted Val. “Why, look for yourselves, there hasn’t been a man in that house for ages. Evelyn’s grandfather disappeared before her mum was even born, and her dad passed on when she was three. Evelyn’s barely even spoken to a man within her own home. She’ll die an old maid, mark my words. Who would want her at her age? There’s a curse, I’m telling you…” “Nonsense about curses!” cackled Lucy. “She’s just no good at being a woman—that’s why men ran off. And now it’s too late. All the village men have wives… Maybe our Evie will run off to the city, though I doubt they’d want her there either!” Lucy burst into laughter again. Winter passed, and soon it was discovered a whole coal seam had been found near the edge of the village. Plans were made for a mining settlement, and by spring, hordes of workmen—ten crews or more—had arrived. Local women were sent to help “around the house,” and Evelyn joined them. Most of the lads were young; the older ones, all married. “Well, would you look at that, Evelyn—men everywhere, but still not a suitor for you!” Lucy sneered. Evelyn said nothing and walked away. She remembered how much it stung when Lucy stole Fred away. She’d loved him dearly. But now, she felt no regret. Fred was hitting the bottle, and Lucy couldn’t control him… Soon another crew arrived at the construction site, led by a foreman no woman wanted to go near. “Oh ladies, have you seen that fellow?” gossiped Val. “Today when he came up to me, I actually dropped my spoon. I was terrified. Is he young or old even? He looks hideous!” “Maybe he’ll take a liking to our Evelyn,” Lucy jeered. “But seriously, I’ve heard there’s a condition, can’t remember what it’s called. But trust me—don’t go near him! He’s diseased!” After Lucy’s warnings, women scarpered whenever the man approached. They all called him “the ugly one,” never learning his name. “One morning, he came to Evelyn, ‘Miss, my waistcoat’s ripped. Could you fix it?’ ‘Of course. Let’s have a look… You need a patch more than stitches! I’ll have it done, don’t worry. You can pick it up tomorrow.’ ‘Thank you kindly.’ ‘Best wait until it’s finished, before you thank me…’ ‘Look at that,’ Lucy piped up, ‘Evelyn’s at least got her hands on a man’s waistcoat—even the foreman’s! Bet she’ll hang it in a place of honour!’ Lucy mocked again. Evelyn’s hands trembled as she patched the garment. Still, she did honest work. In the morning, she dreaded returning it, not wanting to let go; something as simple as men’s clothes under her roof felt like company. Evelyn hastily handed back the waistcoat and fled so no one could see her tears. ‘Don’t run off, love,’ the foreman called. ‘I know what they say about me, but I’m not ill. I’m burned. What’s your name?’ ‘Evelyn…’ ‘I’m Tony. Not that I remember it. They brought me to the children’s home during the war—no name or family. I’d been burned, so they named me Grimshaw. Decided I must be two… my date of arrival their record of my birthday. So, thirty-one now, more or less. Bet you thought I was twice that.’ ‘I thought nothing of the sort…’ ‘Thank you, Evelyn. Didn’t your husband mind you working on another man’s kit?’ ‘No husband to mind me…’ ‘If I ask another favour, will you turn me away?’ ‘I won’t turn you away.’ And she didn’t. Evelyn soon asked Tony to help fix her collapsing fence; it hadn’t seen a man’s hand in thirty years. Tony’s hands worked miracles, and his heart was golden. The Grimshaws became the envy of the village. Lucy, in particular, nearly choked on her own bitterness. Evelyn deeply loved her husband. Tony cherished his wife, and doted on their daughters, Mary and Natalie… Ugly, perhaps, but beautiful in spirit! Don’t forget to like and leave your comments!

“Would you look at that, Margaret, theres no shortage of men about. Yet not a single suit for you, even here,” mocked Lucy, letting out a hearty laugh.

Margaret lived alone in a small English village. Shes thirty-three now, but still no husband or children. Shes always been attractive with a pleasant smile, but even so, never found a match in the village, and shed never once travelled beyond its borders.

A fair few years back, Tom, from the next street over, had tried to propose, but lively Lucy, somehow managed to whisk him away for herself. The village folk liked to chatter about Margarets fate: some pitied her, others, like Lucy, were openly cruel.

“I swear to you, ladies, theres misfortune that runs in their familyon the womens side!” wailed Valerie. “Just look: not a man in that house since who knows when. Margarets grandfather vanished long before her mother was born. Her father, God rest his soul, passed when she was just three. And Margarets hardly ever seen a man up close. Shes doomed to remain a spinster now. Who would want her at this age? Mark my words, its a curse!”

“Oh, what nonsense!” laughed Lucy. “Shes just a dull old thing, thats all. Men run at the first sign of her! Now its too late, of course. All the village lads are snapped up. Maybe Margaret will head to the citybut theyd hardly be waiting for her there, either!” Lucy cackled again.

Winter soon melted into spring, and with it came news that a huge coal deposit had been discovered on the edge of the village. A mining settlement was to be built. That spring, men poured inat least a dozen work teams.

Local women were sent to lend a hand about the house, and Margaret went along as well. But most of the men were young lads. The older ones were all spoken for.

“Just look at all these blokes, Margaret, yet even here you couldnt find yourself a husband,” Lucy ribbed her again.

Margaret simply kept quiet and walked away. The hurt still stungwhen Lucy stole away Tom, it broke her heart.

Now, though, she didnt regret it. Tom had turned to drink and often took it out on Lucy

Not long after, another team arrived at the site. Their foreman was a man that made all the women uneasy.

“Did you see him, girls? That man over there, he came up to me today and I dropped my spoon in fright! I couldnt tell if he was young or old! Such a frightful sight!” exclaimed Valerie.

“Maybe hell take a shine to our Margaret,” Lucy scoffed, laughing. “Anyway, Ive heard there are diseases like thatcan’t remember what its called. Best not go near him! Hes definitely got something!”

With Lucys warnings, the women kept their distance from the man. Any time he approached, they would scatter. In whispered conversations, they called him the dreadful one, though none knew his real name.

One day, the foreman addressed Margaret, “Excuse me, miss, but my waistcoat has split. Any chance you could mend it?”

“Why not? Lets have a look Ah, this needs more than just mending. Itll need a patch. Ill sort it, dont worry. Ill have it back to you tomorrow,” she replied.

“Thank you, miss.”

“Dont thank me just yet.”

“Would you look at that,” Lucy couldnt help herself. “Margarets finally got her hands on a mans waistcoatforemans, no less. Shell probably hang it up in her cottage for all to see,” she sniggered.

Margarets hands trembled as she set the patch, but she did the job with all the care in the world.

The next morning, she got ready for work, but found she was reluctant to return the waistcoat. The loneliness in her little home made the presence of someone elses clothing a strange comfort. She pushed the mended waistcoat into the foremans hands and hurried off, not wanting him to see her tears.

“You dont have to shy away, miss. I know whats said about me, but Im not ill. I got burned, thats all. Whats your name?”

“Margaret,” she replied quietly.

“Im Anthony. Tony, if you like. Though, truth be told, I dont even know my real name. Brought here during the war as a child to the orphanageno name, no family. I was already burned then, and the surname I was given was Smith. They guessed my age at about two. The day I arrived became my birthday. So, you see, Im thirty-one now. You probably thought I was much older”

“I never thought any such thing.”

“Thank you, Margaret. Didnt your husband mind you sewing someone elses waistcoat?”

“I dont have a husband. Theres no one to mind, thats for sure.”

“And if I need another favour, will you turn me away?”

“I wont turn you away,” she assured him.

She didnt. In fact, it was Margaret who soon asked Tony to help mend her fence, which was on the verge of collapse.

Hardly surprisingit hadnt seen the touch of a man in thirty years. Turned out Tony was a whiz with his hands, a real gem of a man.

Soon the Smith family were the envy of the entire village. Lucy, for her part, could barely contain her envy; it nearly choked her.

Margaret adored her husband. Tony cherished her. As for their two little daughtersMary and Gracewell, he doted on them both And what did it matter, really, if his scars lingered on the outside, when his heart was so full of warmth?

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