Oh, Girl, You’re Wasting Your Smiles—He’ll Never Marry You! Vera was barely sixteen when her mum pa…

Oh love, youre wasting your time congratulating himhell never marry you.

Violet had barely turned sixteen when her mum passed away. Her dad had gone off to London years back, chasing work, and promptly vanished without a trace. No letters, no pounds, nothing.

Most folks in the village turned out for the funeral and chipped in however they could. Aunt Mary, Violet’s godmother, popped round often, always reminding the girl of what needed doing. After finishing her GCSEs, Violet landed a job at the post office in the next village over.

Violet was a sturdy lass, as grandmas around here liked to sayfit as a butchers dog. Her face was round and rosy, nose a bit on the potato side, but her grey eyes shone brilliantly. She wore her thick, sandy plait nearly down to her waist.

The most handsome lad in the village by unanimous vote was Nicholas. Hed been back from the army for two years and had no shortage of admirers. Even the city girls, visiting for the summer, had their eyes on him.

He should have been in the movies rather than driving vans in the village, but Nicholas was in no rush to settle down. He hadnt sowed all his wild oats yet.

Aunt Mary, never shy, went straight to Nicholas and asked him to help Violet fix her fenceit was collapsing like a house of cards. Living in the countryside without a bloke about was tough. Violet managed the veggie plot alright, but sorting the house out solo was another kettle of fish.

Nicholas agreed without much fuss, came by, surveyed the chaos, and started barking orders: Fetch this, grab that, give me that hammer, pass the nails. Violet simply nodded and ran about fetching whatever he asked.

Her cheeks flushed redder than before, and her plait swung behind her like a poorly-trained lasso. When Nicholas grew tired, shed feed him a proper stew and pour out mugs of strong tea. Shed sit and watch him bite into black bread with those dazzling white teeth.

Nicholas worked on that fence for three days, and on the fourth, he came over just for a visit. Violet fed him dinner, and one thing led to anotherhe stayed the night. He started coming by regularly, always sneaking off before sunrise to avoid being spotted. But you cant keep secrets in a tiny village.

Oh Violet, you daft thing, stop greeting him like a princehes not looking to get married. And if he does, youll be run ragged. When summer rolls around, the city girls will pile in, and youll burn with jealousy. You need a different sort of lad, Aunt Mary warned her, in her wisdom.

But when has a lovestruck teenager ever listened to wise old aunties?

Soon after, Violet realised she was expecting. At first, she thought shed caught a bug or eaten something iffy. Weakness and nausea seeped in. But then it hit her like a frying pan to the headshe was carrying Nicholass baby.

She thought about getting rid of itshe was young, and raising a baby alone was next-level scarybut after some tears and biscuits, she decided it was for the best. At least she wouldnt be alone.

Her mum had managed, and so could she. Her dad hadnt been much use, just mostly off his rocker. And as for the village gossip, theyd have their say and move on.

When spring finally arrived and Violet put away her winter coat, the whole village noticed her rounded belly. Tongues waggedthe poor girl had fallen into trouble, they said. Nicholas did come by to ask what her plans were.

What else? Ill have the baby. Dont fret, Ill raise it myself. You just get on, she replied, bustling around the stove. The only signs of fire were the blushes on her cheeks and the sparks in her eyes.

Nicholas gazed at her, awestruck, then cleared off. Decision made, plain as gravy off a ducks back. Summer arrived, and with it, a fleet of glamorous city girls, leaving Nicholas entirely uninterested in Violet.

She got on with her veggie patch, and Aunt Mary came to help with the weeding, as bending over with a bump was tricky. Violet fetched water from the well, one bucket at a time. With a belly that size, the village women predicted a right little bruiser.

Well see what God sends, Violet joked.

One morning, mid-September, Violet woke up with pain slicing through her like a thunderbolt. It didnt go away. Panicked, she dashed to Aunt Mary, who took one look and knew.

Is it time? Sit down, Ill sort it, she breathed, and shot off down the lane.

She ran round to Nicholas’s house. His old lorry sat out front. The summer crowd had gone home, their flashy cars gone. Of course, Nicholas had been out on the tiles the night before.

Aunt Mary gave him a wake-up worse than a fire alarm. Nicholas peered, groggy, no idea what was up. Once he cottoned on, he shouted, But its ten miles to the hospital! By the time we fetch a doctor, she’ll have delivered herself. Ill drive her, lets get cracking!

In the lorry? Youll shake her to bitsshell be catching the baby mid-bump! Aunt Mary wailed.

Youre coming then, just in case, Nicholas said sternly.

They crept along two miles of potholes with utmost careevery time they dodged one, they hit another. Aunt Mary bounced around in the back of the truck on a sack. Once they reached the tarmac, Nicholas pushed the pedal.

Violet writhed on the passenger seat, biting her lip to keep from groaning, clutching her belly. Nicholas sobered up instantly.

He kept sneaking glances at her; his jaw clenched, knuckles white on the wheel, lost in thought.

They got there in time, left Violet at the hospital, and headed home. Aunt Mary gave Nicholas a proper ear-bashing on the drive:

Whyd you ruin her life, eh? Alone, no parents, shes just a child herself, and now youve saddled her with a sprog! Hows she to cope?

Before they’d even reached the edge of the village, Violet was a mumthe proud owner of a bouncy baby boy. Next morning, the nurse handed her the bundle, and Violet stared at her sons red, wrinkled face, clueless about holding him or feeding him.

She just did whatever she was told, her heart trembling with joy. She inspected him, blew gently on his tiny forehead, marvelled at how hopelessly happy she felt.

Will someone be collecting you? the stern elderly doctor asked before discharge.

Violet shrugged, shaking her head. Doubt it.

He sighed and left. The nurse wrapped the baby in a hospital blanketjust enough to get home. Fredll drive you back in the hospital car. You cant take the bus with a newborn, she chided.

Violet thanked her, blushing beetroot as she walked down the hospital corridor.

She sat in the car, clutching her son, worrying about how theyd live now.

Her maternity pay was pitifulbarely enough to keep a cat. She felt sorry for herself, but even sorrier for her innocent boy. She stared at his sleeping, wrinkled face and felt her heart brim with tenderness, pushing away gloomy thoughts.

Suddenly, the car jerked to a halt. Violet looked at Fred, a short man in his fifties.

Whats up?

Its been pelting down with rain for two daysjust look at those puddles! Can’t drive through, cant go round. We’ll get stuck. Nothingll get us through except a lorry or a tractor.

Sorry, love. Not too far, maybe two miles left. Youll manage, won’t you? He nodded at the road, now a swamp with a puddle big enough to drown in.

The baby was asleep, and Violet was tired even from just sitting. He was a proper little bruiser. How was she supposed to walk with him on that muddy mess?

She climbed out, rearranged her son, and trudged along the puddles edgeher ankles sunk in the muck, nearly slipping with every step.

Her old battered shoes squelched noisily. If only she’d worn wellies to hospital! One shoe got stuck in the mud and wouldnt budge, not with the baby in arms. So she gave up and carried on with just one shoe.

By the time she reached the village, it was dusk, and her legs were numb from cold. She couldnt even muster surprise that the cottage windows shone with light.

She stepped onto the dry, smooth stepsher feet freezing, but her brow slick with sheer effort. She opened the door and stopped stock-still.

By the wall stood a brand new cot, a pram, and a stack of lovely baby clothes. Nicholas was slumped at the table, snoozing.

Maybe he heard her or felt her gaze; he lifted his head. Violet, red-faced and bedraggled, clutching the baby, stood trembling in the doorway. Her dress was soaked, legs muddy to the knees, shoe-less and exhausted.

When Nicholas saw she’d lost a shoe, he sprang up, took the baby, laid him in the cot, then ran to the stove for a pot of hot water.

He sat her down, helped undress her, washed her feet. While Violet changed behind the stove, he had boiled potatoes and fresh milk ready on the table.

And then the baby cried. Violet dashed to him, scooped him up, sat at the table, feeding him without a shred of embarrassment.

What did you call him? Nicholas rasped.

Samuel. Do you mind? She looked up at him with those clear grey eyes.

There was so much longing and love in them, Nicholass heart gave a little ache.

Lovely name. Tomorrow well get him registered and marry. Properly.

Thats not really necessary Violet started, watching the baby gulp away.

My son needs a dad. Ive had my fun. Whether Im a good husband or not, but I wont turn my back on my boy.

Violet nodded, head down.

Two years later, they had a daughter, whom they named Hope, after Violets mum.

It doesnt really matter how many mistakes you make at the startwhat matters is, you can always put things right

And thats how it all happened. What do you think? Drop me a comment and give us a thumbs up!