And They Say He Brings Happiness to Everyone

Valerie was driving home from her weekend at a little Kentish cottage late in the evening. Shed deliberately set off as the sky grew dusky, taking the slowest, most scenic Broad that looped around the village instead of the shortcut. If she didnt have to be at the office the next day, she might have simply camped out in the garden for the night.

Why the leisurely pace? Because she had absolutely no desire to go back inside and face her husband. In fact, a quiet voice inside her had been nagging for years that the two of them, sharing one roof, didnt have much time left before the relationship turned completely frosty. Their oncepleasant banter had long since morphed into nervous silences and the occasional shouting match.

She stared out at the darkening fields, thinking about the absurd state of her marriage, when the Broad slipped through a tiny hamlet. As she eased off the accelerator near a bus stop, the headlights caught a peculiar sight: an elderly woman clutching something wrapped in a thin cloth, pressing it to her chest as if it were a newborn. The womans eyes were fixed on the approaching cars with such hopeful anticipation that Valerie instinctively slammed the brakes.

She pulled over, hopped out, and hurried to the old lady. As she drew nearer, she spotted a wheeled shopping bag at the womans feet.

Why are you standing here? Valerie asked, halfconcerned, halfcurious. Do you need help? Whats that youre holding a baby?

The woman blinked, a guilty smile tugging at her lips. A baby? No, love, its not a baby its a loaf of bread.

A loaf? Valeries eyebrows shot up. What do you mean a loaf?

Fresh from the oven, the lady replied, eyes bright. Im selling it.

How do you sell it? Where do you get the bread?

I bake it myself. My pensions tiny, so Ive taken to a bit of sideselling when moneys short. Some folk buy it, and they say it brings a dash of happiness.

Happiness, you say?

Im not entirely sure. A regular chap of mine keeps buying my loaves and swears they make him feel brighter. Maybe todays the day it works for you too. Want a warm one?

Bread? I could use a slice. Valerie sensed the woman was in genuine need of cash and nodded. How much is a loaf?

Just a pound, the old lady said cautiously, watching Valeries reaction. Not too dear, is it?

How many loaves do you have?

Ten. No ones taken any yet; I just set up here. How many would you like?

Ill take them all, Valerie declared, turning back to the car for cash.

No! I cant give them all away! the woman cried, panic flickering in her eyes.

Why not? Valerie asked, bewildered.

Because I think youre buying them not for the bread, but to help me, the lady whispered. What if someone else needs it tomorrow? What if that regular chap comes back and my baskets empty?

Valerie felt a blush of embarrassment at the naïve logic.

Alright, then. How many can you part with?

I could spare five, the woman said, still wavering. Maybe a few more?

No, thats not right, she shook her head. Youd be buying out of pity. This bread is meant for eating, straight from the oven.

Fine then, Valerie said with a halfsmile, fetched a banknote and a paper bag, and stuffed five stillsteaming loaves inside. She slipped back into her car.

A minute later, the aroma of fresh bread flooded the interior, making Valeries stomach rumble. She tore off a generous chunk, popped it into her mouth, and declared it the best thing shed ever tasted.

Just then her mobile buzzed. She glared at the screen, answered, and heard her husbands exasperated voice.

Val, pop down to the shop and bring some bread home, he grumbled.

What? Valerie stared at the halfeaten loaf on the passenger seat. Why the sudden bread craving?

Because weve run out! Not a crumb left! And, as if on cue, your three university mates have shown up at our place!

What mates? At this hour?

Youll see. Theyre in the kitchen, sipping tea, waiting for you, he said, a note of irritation in his tone.

Valerie slammed the accelerator. Within half an hour she pulled into the driveway, the lingering scent of bakerybright bread trailing behind her.

Val, you smell divine! shouted her friendsMabel, Edith, and Poppywhod been studying together at Cambridge years ago, rushing to envelop her in a hug.

Her husband, catching the irresistible whiff, lunged for the bag, snatched almost half a loaf, held it up to his nose, and stared at Valerie with wide eyes.

Where on earth did you get such marvelous bread? he demanded.

Where it came from, its gone, she shrugged.

He retreated to the bedroom with his bread bite, while Valerie settled at the kitchen table with the friends. They lingered until midnight, sipping wine, nibbling the unrealistically tasty bread, and venting about their husbandseach confessing, with a few tears, that their spouses turned out far less ideal than the fairytale versions theyd once imagined. When they finally said goodbye, Valerie handed each a fresh loaf from the old ladys stash.

After the friends left, Valerie closed the front door, slipped past the bedroom where her husband was already dozing, and made herself comfortable on the sofa.

The next morning, a strange, ironic tone greeted her from the kitchen.

Valerie, I think I overindulged on your bread last night and had a revelation, announced Tom, her husband, halfsleepily. Were both idiots, you know. We need to fix this. Im taking you out tonight, to that restaurant where I once proposed.

Why now? she asked, eyes halfclosed.

Because I want to make things right. I think love can still be saved. Ill be at six. Be there.

He left, and the morning seemed unusually brightalmost as if spring, not autumn, were knocking at the windows. Valerie found herself oddly eager for the evening date.

A sudden ring interrupted her thoughts. One of her friends, still buzzing from the previous nights breadinduced bonding, called.

Val, you wont believe it! My husband and I made up! We were about to divorce, but we ate your bread until three in the morning and everything fell back into place. Thank you, you glorious baker!

What do I have to do with that? Valerie stammered.

Later, the other two friends called, each recounting how their marital storms had inexplicably calmed after the midnight loaf feast.

Feeling a warm glow, Valerie went to the pantry, pulled out the halfeaten loaf, inhaled its comforting scent, and took a tiny bite. This time the taste carried a subtle hint of lovenot just for herself, but for everyone around her.