Ten Years Too Late
Zachary hadnt had much luck in love. Hed divorced his wife after three yearsback when he was nearing thirty.
“At least we didnt have kids,” hed tell his colleagues at work. “Wouldve been a shame to leave them behind.”
Hed misjudged Tamsin entirely. She hadnt wanted a familyjust nights out with her girlfriends, parties, crowds. Hed fallen for her lively charm, only to realise too late that she was *too* lively, too reckless.
Then, one day, his boss called him in. “Zach, we need you in Cliffton Villagefifty miles out. Theyve got equipment trouble. A month, maybe less, depending how fast you fix it. Youre a free man now, no family tiesperfect timing, eh?” He grinned.
Zach didnt mind. A change of scenery sounded good, and hed never been to Cliffton. The village offered him two options:
“You can stay at the workers’ dorm, though its being renovated, or theres a cottage near the substation where youll be working.”
“No chance,” Zach laughed. “Ive had enough of renovations. How about a room with a landlady? Maybe shell feed me properlylonely bloke like me needs looking after.”
They put him up in a small house with a widow named Eleanor. She was stern, quiet, dressed head-to-toe in black, a scarf always covering her hair. At first, Zach thought, *She must be ancient, wrapped up like that.* But her movements were quick, sharpshe couldnt have been old.
They lived quietly, speaking little, but Eleanor cooked like a dream. Zach had struck a dealmeals included. The local canteen couldnt compete, and besides, what difference did it make who took his money?
One day, he asked his mate, “Listen, Alfie, my landladyEleanorshes not old, but dresses like it. Thought she might be religious, but Ive never seen her pray. Whats the story?”
“Eleanor? Youve never seen her without that scarf?” Alfie raised an eyebrow.
“No, shes always covered up by the time Im at breakfast. Not that Im complainingshe feeds me like a king. But its odd.”
“Ah, well. A good cooks worth her weight in gold,” Alfie chuckled. “My missus, Bettyshell feed me even if I stumble in drunk. Scold me first, of course, but thats wives for you. Still, her pies could bring a man back from the dead.” His eyes lit up. Love, clearly.
Zach grinned. “Too right. Were simple creaturesfeed us well, and were happy.”
After a pause, he frowned. “But why dyou ask about the scarf? Whats under there?”
“Nothing *bad*,” Alfie said. “Just beautiful hair she hides away. Shes young, but dresses like an old woman. Tragedy, see.”
Zach leaned in. “What happened?”
“She and Michaelmy cousinwere mad for each other. Wedding of the year. Then, one spring, he took a shortcut across the frozen river in his Land Rover. Ice cracked. Went straight under. They didnt find him till the thaw.”
Zach whistled. “Blimey. Five extra miles over the bridge wouldve saved him.”
“Aye. Stupid, reckless” Alfie shook his head. “Eleanors been a widow ever since. Must be twenty-seven now.”
That night, Zach returned lost in thought. He stepped insideand froze. Eleanor stood with her back to him, brushing out long, dark waves of hair. The door creaked. She turned. For a moment, Zach couldnt speak. Without the scarf, she was stunning.
“Oh!” She startled, twisting her hair up and covering it again.
“Eleanor, why hide all that?” he blurted. “And youre *young*. I thoughtwell, the way you dress…”
“I made a promise,” she said softly, then vanished into the kitchen.
After that, she avoided him entirely. But Zach couldnt stop thinking about her.
One evening, he arrived with a fistful of wild daisies. “For you. No refusalsits my birthday.”
A small smile. “You shouldve told me. Id have baked a cake.”
“No need.” He pulled a shop-bought Victoria sponge, a bottle of wine, and two chocolate bars from his bag. “Well make do.”
Over dinner, Eleanor sipped her wine once, then set it down. “I dont drink. But happy birthday, Zach.”
“Eleanor,” he ventured, “talking helps. I know about Michael. Sometimes saying it out loud”
She listened as he shared his own storyhis illness after the army, his failed marriage. Then, hesitantly, she spoke.
“I still love him. But it was so *quick*. A month of marriage, then gone. At his grave, I promised to live only for his memory.”
“Memory matters,” Zach said gently, “but lifes all weve got. And its short.”
She nodded. “I know. But I cant break my promise. Youre kind, Zach. Youll find happiness.”
When his assignment ended, he left with a heavy heart. At the door, Eleanor only said, “Goodbye. Be happy.”
Ten years passed. Zach never married. Then, driving back from a seaside holiday, he saw the sign: *Cliffton Village*.
“Should I? Maybe not. Oroh, blast it.” The car turned itself.
The road was tarmac now, not dirt. The cottage had a new fence. His heart hammered. *Maybe shes gone.* He hesitated, eyeing the silent collie in the yard.
Thena voice. “Looking for someone?”
He turned. She was older, even lovelier, no longer hiding in black. Recognition flickered.
“Zach. The man who told me lifes for living.” She smiled. “Come in. Ive just bought biscuits.”
He grinned. “Fates a funny thing. They say you cant outrun itwhat you lose comes back.”
Five years on, theyre married. She raises their daughter in his Bristol homea little girl with her mothers eyes. Happiness, at last, has moved in.
