Loneliness Doesn’t Add Colour to Life

“Emily, come to the club tonight; Ive got something to discuss,” James Whitaker said in passing as she stepped out of the corner shop, already hurrying off to somewhere else.

Emily Harper glanced back, gave a small nod, and watched him disappear around the shops narrow lane.

She thought, *James always looks so serious. Maybe its because hes six years older than me.* The village path home felt longer than ever, the hedgerows whispering in the evening breeze.

She would be at The Rose Lantern later, but what could James possibly want to talk about? Violet Brooks hovered around James like a shadow, never letting another girl approach. Everyone in the little Kent village knew that Violet kept James close, clinging to his arm as if she were his own. Emily had even seen James slip away from Violets eager invitations to dance at the club.

Leave him be, Violet, Emily remembered hearing, and Violet only laughed, never taking offense.

Dont think you can run forever, Violet would tease, Youll fall in love and marry, and Ill still be yours

If a boy said that to her, Emily imagined shed steer clear, embarrassed beyond words.

Emily spent the afternoon choosing her dress, her heart fluttering like a trapped bird. Nineteen, with a whole life ahead, she dreamed of a gentle, decent husband and two children of her own.

*James is a good man, even if hes six years older, but his stare sends a chill down my spine,* she mused, studying her reflection in the mirror. The new dress fit her perfectly. *Hes escorted me home three times, always polite, never reaching for my hand the way other lads do, eager to hug and claim.*

The Rose Lantern was already packed, music thumping against the plaster walls. As Emily pushed through the doors, Jamess eyes locked onto hers. He stepped forward, as if waiting for her all night. She scanned for Violet, but she was nowhere in sight.

Hey, Em, James greeted, leading her to the centre of the floor. Lets dance, he said, and the band began the lilting tune My Bright Little Star.

Before Emily could catch her breath, they were already moving together. James stayed as composed as ever, a faint smile flickering at the corners of his mouth. The closeness made her pulse race; his hand was firm around her waist. They swayed, lost in the melody, when Violet finally slipped in, her eyes cutting through the pair like a knife. James kept his focus on Emily, repeatedly pulling her into the next dance.

Halfway through the set, James leaned in, his voice low.

Emily, lets step outside for a walk.

Alright, she agreed, and they slipped out while Violet kept twirling on the floor.

The night air beyond the village was still, only the chirping of crickets and the cool breath of the River Thames murmuring nearby. A thin veil of mist rose from the water, mingling with the scent of wildflowers that clung to the hedgerows.

Emily, I wont beat around the bush, James said, his breath visible in the night chill. Will you marry me?

She froze, the sudden proposal catching her completely off guard. Jamess eyes searched hers, waiting.

Why are you so quiet? he asked, a hint of nervousness breaking his usual stoicism.

James, I never expected this but I say yes, Emily whispered, a soft laugh escaping her. He pulled her into a tight embrace and kissed her gently.

Their wedding was a bright, joyous affair. They married for love, both smiling through tears of happiness. Emily moved into Jamess family home, sharing the roof with his parents. The Whitaker family welcomed her with warmth, easing the old stories about overbearing mothersinlaw that shed heard growing up.

Emily trusted Jamess judgment, believing that his seniority meant he should lead the household. He never belittled her; in hard times he stood beside her. A son arrived first, and Emilys maternal instincts took over. Jamess mother helped with the baby, often waking at night to soothe the infant herself.

Three years later, a daughter was born. Grandparents adored the grandchildren, and Emily found herself less burdened with chores thanks to her own mother and her motherinlaws steady assistance.

One day well build our own house, James announced one evening, his voice firm. Every man should have a home of his own. Emily nodded, and they set about the plan.

At that time the boy was five and the girl still a toddler. Emily dreamed of a separate home where she could run things her wayher own bedroom, a private nursery, a garden she could tend without asking permission. James obliged, turning each of her wishes into reality.

Finally the new house rose from the meadow, sturdy bricks and a roof that seemed to promise security. They moved in with laughter spilling through the rooms. James played with the children, chasing the new kitten theyd rescued, and the house felt alive.

Emily, perhaps we should think about a third child, James said one lazy afternoon, a smile tugging at his lips.

Why not? she replied, eyes sparkling. Theres plenty of room now, look at this beautiful home.

But fate had another script. One morning, after breakfast, James clutched his chest, his face turning pale. Emily helped him onto the sofa and rushed for the doctor. By the time the ambulance arrived, his breath had already faded.

Grief slammed into Emily like a storm tide. She sobbed, Why do good men have to be taken away? I wanted to raise another child, to see our family grow The house felt empty, the silence deafening.

For weeks she wallowed in sorrow, replaying memories of James. Yet the children needed her, and she reminded herself, I must endure, for them. Others live, and Im not alone in my pain. She took two jobs, determined that her children would never want for anything. Her parents helped, and slowly Emily regained her composure, her looks brightening as she faced each new day.

Suitors began to appear, polite gentlemen offering dates, even proposals. Emily brushed them aside, fearing the children would reject a new father figure, fearing the man might hurt them. Ill think about it when the children are grown, she told herself.

Years passed. Her son graduated from university, her daughter finished college; both started families of their own. Emily, now fortyeight, welcomed two grandchildren who visited every weekend. One Saturday, her son sat beside her, his voice gentle.

Mum, youre still young and lovely. Dont live alone. Find a decent man and marry again. We understand that solitude isnt the way to live.

Ive thought about it, Emily sighed, but I cant find anyone like James. Ive turned down men because they drink too much, argue, or lack ambition. My house and my work keep me busy, and everything else seems to be falling apart anyway. At least youre handy with your hands.

A neighbor, Mrs. Clarke, later introduced Emily to Gregory Hart, a widower from the neighbouring village. He arrived in his old Land Rover, brining a bottle of wine his son had fetched from London. Mrs. Clarke claimed Gregory didnt drink, but he poured himself a generous glass and offered Emily one too.

Emily watched as Gregory drained the bottle almost singlehandedly. She declined to drink, and he slurred, What a fine wine you have, Emily. Where did you get it?

My son brought it, she replied, noting the glazed look in his eyes.

Encouraged by the wine, Gregory blurted, Emily, lets move in together. My house is as solid as yours, and Ill leave my old life behind. We could sell your house and start fresh.

My home belongs to my children; it was built by their father, Emily protested.

Then why are you here? Come with me emptyhanded? Gregory snapped.

Emily rose, her voice firm. Gregory, this wont work. Were too different. Go home.

Youve only known me two hours, and you already decide we wont get along? he retorted.

Ive made up my mind. Its over. She ushered him out, closing the door with a decisive click.

Alone in the quiet house, she whispered to herself, No more men will take up residence here. Ill manage the garden, the chores, the solitude. It may be lonely, it may be hard, but I dont need another husband.

She laughed, a short, sharp sound. Better that than settling for anyone. No one will ever be James. Ill live for my children and grandchildren. Being alone doesnt ruin a lifeit simply makes it mine.