Simply Carry On Living

Just Carry On

Mary, a lively little girl with two wild pigtails always sticking out at odd angles, darted round the wide, sun-filled veranda of the cottage in the English countryside. Her eyes sparkled with delight, cheeks glowing rosy from laughter and play. She caught sight of her elder brothers friend strolling towards the gate. Suddenly, she skidded to a halt, panting, then dashed after him.

Without pausing to think, Mary sprang up beside the young man and wrapped her small, warm hands tightly round his. She threw her head back, staring up at him with the pure earnestness only children have, then let out a ringing, peal of laughter.

Ill never let you go! When I grow up, I shall marry you. Promise youll wait for me!

The young man stood still for a moment, one eyebrow raised in surprise before his face broke into an easy, kindly grin. He glanced down at the little mischief with fondness and a bit of amusement. Slowly, with a gentle teasing tone, he replied,

Ill wait.

At that, he carefully raised a hand and ruffled her already-tousled hair, making the pigtails stick out even more. Mary squinted at him, but immediately beamed, never loosening her grip.

For now, he went on, bending slightly so their eyes were level, you must study hard and mind your parents if you wish to be worthy of my bride one day.

There was no sternness in his voice, only the special warmth adults sometimes bring when speaking to children. For a heartbeat, Mary seemed to consider this seriously, as if weighing an important promise, then nodded so vigorously her hair flew about.

Ill be the very best! she declared.

The air was bright with that carefree feeling of a golden summers daylaughter, sunlight, and childhood dreams that in that moment felt as certain as the dandelion clocks drifting across the garden

************************

Mary sat in her room, absentmindedly flipping the pages of her maths revision book. Outside the window, twilight slowly settled over the country lanes, and the house had grown unusually quiet. The only noise was the muffled sound of voices from the next room. Instinctively, Mary listened: her brother Nicholas was on the phone, his voice much livelier than shed heard all day.

Mary edged closer to the door, trying to make out his words. When the name David reached her ears, her heart began to race. She froze, caught by a wave of anticipation. Nicholas was talking about a meeting, a café, about her smile There was no mistaking ithe was talking about Davids new girlfriend.

She didnt even fully register getting up, but suddenly Mary found herself tiptoeing to her brothers door, ear pressed to the cool wood, drinking in every detail of the conversation. Hurt thudded inside her chest. She tried to dismiss the worrying thoughts crowding her mind. Perhaps its nothing, she assured herself frantically.

As Nicholas finally ended the call and stepped into the corridor, Mary straightened at oncecaught in the act, almost like a culprit. But hed already seen her.

Has David got a new girlfriend? she blurted out, her voice shaky but laced with forced casualness.

Nicholas paused, eyeing his sister and sighing heavilynot with irritation, but with weary understanding. Hed long noticed how she lit up whenever his friend was mentioned; the way shed sneak glimpses at his photos on social media.

Still at it? Nicholas rolled his eyes, leaning against the doorframe. Mary, youre sixteen now. Isnt it time you outgrew your crush? Its just a childhood fancy, you know.

Mary lifted her head swiftly, stubbornness blazing in her blue eyes. Arms crossed, chin set, she radiated defiance.

Absolutely not! she said fiercely, hair bouncing as she shook her head. You just dont understand! He will love me, just wait! It isnt some childish nonsense. Its real.

She sounded firm, even challenging, though deep down she suspected she was trying to convince herself as much as Nicholas. She remembered fleeting glances from David, those rare shy smiles, casual brushes of handsall carefully stored away as hope in her heart.

Nicholas studied her in silence, uncertain what to say. He could see the fire and tremble in her, and knew that no amount of logic would persuade her otherwise. This childhood crush had become something far weightier for Mary.

***************************

A sunbeam slipped through the curtains, filling Marys room with golden warmth. She fluttered into the sitting room like a breeze, her face so luminous it seemed to outshine the oncoming dawn. Her eyes sparkled, cheeks stretchedshe wore a grin so broad her face nearly ached from smiling.

She barely caught her breath before she dashed over to Nicholas, who sat at the table, sipping his coffee and scrolling through the headlines on his tablet.

He asked me out! Mary exclaimed, unable to contain her joy. Her voice rang clear, hands balled in excitement. Just imaginehe brought me a birthday present, this beautiful jewellery box with my name engraved on it, and said that now Im eighteen, he can finally confess he loves me. David loves me!

She nearly bounced in place, fingers fussing at her hair as if making sure she hadnt dreamt it all. The happiness in her shone so brightly that even the air about her seemed glittering.

Nicholas set down his cup, a slow, genuine smile spreading across his face. Hed known this day was bound to comenot just for Mary, but for his dearest friend as well. For months after Marys birthday, David had often asked little questions about herwhat she did at weekends, which flowers she liked, or perhaps wondered aloud how nice it would be for them all to go for a walk by the river.

Shes so sweet, David would say, gazing into the distance. And clever, and kind. If only she was eighteen already You dont mind, do you, mate, if were together?

Nicholas always replied the same: If shes happy, Im glad. He knew David as a steady, trustworthy chap whod proved himself time and again. Now, seeing his sister radiant like this, Nicholas was certainshe could not have chosen better.

Well then, congratulations! he said, rising to embrace Mary. Im genuinely happy for both of you.

Mary hugged her brother, hardly able to believe it was real. For a moment, it felt as if the world were brighter and gentler than ever. In the background, almost like the soft purring accompaniment to her joy, the old cat basked contentedly on the windowsill, warmed by the sun

*******************

Mary sat hunched on a hard plastic seat in a narrow hospital corridor. The walls wore a dreary cream paint, the little light from the grey sky outside doing nothing to brighten the place, as if even the weather were mourning. Marys gaze was fixed ahead, blank, emptyshe saw neither the worn linoleum at her feet nor the bustling nurses, but something far away and unreachable.

Her hands rested motionless on her lap; her clothes felt oddly foreign, hair in disarray. She looked a bit like a broken dolllifeless, with all charm and colour snuffed out. Memory after memory reeled in her mind: just yesterday, theyd been planning the wedding, squabbling over ribbons and sketches of decorations. Hed laughed, gently teasingswore it would all be perfect. Today, David was gone.

It happened so quickly, so senselessly: a driver lost control, three cars tangled into twisted wrecks, no survivors. Not David, not the two others, not the driver himself. A single second, and the future shattered, splintering into fragments that could never be pieced together again.

The hush of the corridor broke with the sound of footsteps. Nicholas appeared from round the corner, face pale and eyes red. He sank beside his sister, kneeling awkwardly, and wrapped his arms gently round her shoulders. His hands shook, but he tried to compose himselffor her sake.

Mary? His voice was soft, barely louder than a whisper, as if afraid to break her already fragile spirit. Mary, please talk to me. Please.

Mary turned her head slowly. Her eyes were dry, but the pain in them made Nicholass heart clench. Her gaze seemed strangelooking straight through him to some far-off place he couldnt reach.

About what? Her voice was dull, disconnected, as though the words belonged to someone else.

Nicholas swallowed, grasping for words that wouldnt cut deeper.

About anything, he gently squeezed her shoulders, desperate to return her to the present. Just tell me how you feel. Or cry, Mary. Dont bottle it up.

Mary shook her head. Her lips trembled, but no sound nor tear emerged. She stared down at her hands, as if wondering why they wouldnt shake, why her body refused to react as it ought.

I cant, she said finally, her voice eerily calm. There are no tears. And I dont want to go on living, either.

Her words lingered heavily in the air, dark as the clouds pressing on the window. Nicholas closed his eyes, fighting his own rising panic. This was not the time for his weaknesshe needed to be her anchor, even as his own world slipped away.

After that, Mary drifted even further from everything. She hardly moved, her face turned to stone, her whole being weighed down as if by some invisible burden. Nothing Nicholas tried reached her. Even the doctors, coming and going to check on her, got nothing in answer. Mary sat, unmoving, gazing at nothing, a fixture in her own frozen world.

A kindly nurse, seeing her state, quietly gave her a sedative. The gentle sting at her arm, a drifting fuzziness closed over her. Soon her thoughts blurred; her awareness faded into a troubled, uneasy sleep, offering neither rest nor peace.

When Mary awoke, it was not to the hospital, but to her old bedroom. She recognised the familiar curtains, the shelves of books, the photograph on her nightstand all now looking at once loved and foreign, as if shed returned to a place she only faintly remembered.

Turning her head, she saw her brother. Nicholas slumped on the sofa, red-eyed and unshaven, quietly talking with their mother, who had dashed home from her work trip. Their mothers face was pale, shadows beneath her eyesand in her voice rang a barely-suppressed resolve.

I worry for her, Nicholass low voice drifted to Mary. He spoke quietly, fearing to wake her, though Mary was already awake. Shes been obsessed with him since she was a child, never cared for anyone else. What now?

Time heals, her mother replied, though her tone held little faith. She knew her own words sounded hollow. Mary had truly lived for David: for his laughter, his voice, the dreams theyd made together. At the loss, her whole world had collapsed. Well look after her, she said more firmly, as if persuading herself along with her son.

Mary heard it all, unable to bring herself to signal she was awake. Inside, she felt voiddrained of whatever made her alive. She shut her eyes, pretending sleep, not knowing how to face her familys care, how to explain that the pain didnt fade, but hid behind a curtain of weariness.

After a while, Nicholas tiptoed out, seeking not to disturb her. Their mother lingered by the bed, stroking Marys hand now and then as though trying to lend her some strength. The room filled with a heavy quiet, broken only by the ticking clock and Marys uneven breathing.

*******************

Nine days then forty Time crept thick and slow, sticking to every passing moment. Most days, Mary barely movedperched on the window seat, knees hugged to her chest, stare blank through the frosty glass at the old back garden.

Her gaze flickered to the weathered bench beneath the sprawling sycamore. It was there, in early September twilight, that David, hands trembling, finally asked her to marry him. She remembered every detail: his fumbling with the ring, the way he kept starting and stopping his proposal, before blurting it allas if afraid hed lose his nerve. Shed just laughed for joy and said Yes before hed barely finished.

Now, the bench looked forlorn, the garden stripped bare by winter. Mary barely noticed the seasons changingfor her, time had stood still since the day shed received the news.

Mary, come have something to eat? her mothers quiet voice slid through her thoughts.

Her mother carefully touched her shoulder; her hands were cold, as though she carried her own private winter inside. With eyes shining with worry, she fought back tears, knowing she had to appear strong.

Im not hungry, Mary replied, not turning, her voice flat and distant, as if speaking of someone else entirely.

You really ought to eat, her mother tried to keep her tone steady, yet a tremor belied it. You had nothing yesterday. You need to keep your strength up.

For what? Mary finally faced her, expression vacant. I owe nothing to anyone.

For a heartbeat, her mother stood in shock, stung by the bluntness. She opened her mouth but no words came. Sighing, shoulders dropping, she moved away from the window seat, defeated.

She paused at the door, casting another glance at her daughterstilled, gazing blankly at the winter gardenthen quietly withdrew. In the corridor, Nicholas waited. He shook his head slightly, concern clear on his face.

I spoke to Dr Jenkins, their mother whispered, clutching the hem of her apron. We do need help. We cant manage all alone.

Nicholas nodded. Hed long known as much, only now admitting it out loud. Seeing his sister so empty, so lostit was unbearable. He clenched his fists. What mattered now was not emotion, but action.

Ill ring Dr Jenkins, he said, taking out his phone. She said shed help if things grew worse.

Their mother nodded, glancing toward Marys room, where her daughter still sat, a silent part of the window and the stopped time within.

When night fell at last, the pale moon glimmered over the floorboards. Mary finally forced herself to move from her post. Her legs were weak from weeks of idleness, her body fraileach step an ordeal. She changed, crept under her bedcovers, pulling the blanket up to her chin.

The house was quiet, broken only by the murmur of her parents through the wall. Mary closed her eyes, hoping for a numb sleep, not realising what her dreams would bring.

She dreamt of David. He stood before herjust as hed always looked, warm smile and beloved grey jumper. But now his face was serious, even grave.

Mary, his voice was unmistakeable, so real. Look at yourself. What are you doing?

She tried to answer, but words stuck in her throat. He stepped closer.

Have you seen yourself lately? Youve let everything go. Thats not right.

She reached for him, but her hand swept through air. He was just a shadea memory, an image.

I I cant go on without you, she managed to whisper, feeling hot tears streak her face.

Yes, you can, he returned firmly. Youre strong, always have been. You must live. Do you hear me? Carry on living.

He stepped even closer, and for a moment she felt the tender warmth of his palm on her cheek.

Theres so much ahead for you Therell be good days, and hard onesthats life. But never stop. Im always here, you know. Look upIll be amongst the stars. If you need me, call. Ill be there.

Mary gulped, desperate to cling on, but he began to fade, growing fainter.

Dont go! she cried, reaching. Please!

But he was gone, leaving behind only the faintest whisper:

Live, Mary. Promise me.

She awoke with a start. Her bedroom, the cold moonlight, her own silent bedbut her pillow was damp with tears. Inside, a storm of feeling churned, suffocating and fierce.

Before she knew it, Mary screamedan anguished, raw sound that shattered the nighttime quiet. Within moments, her parents and Nicholas burst into her room.

Mary, darling, whats wrong? her mother rushed to her, grabbing her hands, peering into her face.

Where does it hurt? Tell us, Nicholas added anxiously, glancing around for anything that might help.

Mary said nothing, clenching into herself, shaken with silent sobs. She still saw Davidhis strict but gentle gaze, his final words.

Promise me, echoed in her mind.

And through the pain, through the tears, she whispered,

I promise

Her mother drew her close, rocking her like a small child, while Nicholas placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. They said nothing else, simply stayed with her.

Mary, head buried in her mother’s arms, tried to grasp it: how does one live nowbreathe, eat, walk, smilewithout him? But somewhere deep inside, a fragile thought had taken hold: if he believed in her, asked her to keep livingshe must try.

At least, for his sake.

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One evening, as drizzle tapped at the glass and the family gathered in the lounge, their mother set out tea. The cups cooled untouchednone felt able to taste anything, all lost in thought.

I expect we ought to move, Nicholas spoke quietly, steadily, meeting Marys eyes. Everywhere here is a memory. Each corner makes things harder for you.

Mary sat curled in the armchair, knees to chest, staring out as rain streaked down, blurring the shapes of familiar houses. Her face was pale, but the deep emptiness in her eyes seemed, at last, to have faded a little.

It might be easier in a new town, murmured their mother, gently squeezing Marys hand. New streets. New faces. Maybe itll help you begin again.

Mary turned, her voice a whisperbut not quite as lifeless as before.

Where would we go?

Theres a place in Oxford, Nicholas said. A mate of mine works there, says he can help me get a job. Well rent for now, see how things go.

Her mother nodded.

Therell be a college for you too. Well sort it all out. All that matters is helping you feel better.

Mary hesitateda thousand memories flashed across her vision. Laughing with David on the old bench, walking hand in hand under the elms, bunches of wildflowers at the school gates. Every street, home, and tree belonged to him. The ache of recalling only heightened the pain.

All right, she said at last. Lets move.

It cost her dearly to say ither voice echoed both despair and the faintest hope. Still, it was a decisionher first in a long while.

The weeks that followed bustled with packing. Mary barely took partshe watched as her mother and brother wrapped up the past, sorting shelves, dusting off photographs destined for boxes. Sometimes, shed linger over a keepsakea keyring from David, a faded photo, a cinema ticket from their first dateholding it in her palm before tucking it away.

On the day they left, she stepped out onto the balcony, gazing a final time on the garden where everything once began. The ache flickered, but she would not let herself be dragged under this time. I can do this, she told herself. I must.

The new city welcomed them with grey skies and bustling streets. Their flat was light and spacious. Mary stood for a long time at her new window, studying strange houses, watching hurried strangers live their unknown lives. It all felt alien; but perhaps that, she realised, was a kind of freedom. Here, no memories crowded heronly a clean page, awaiting new things.

The first days were the hardest. Mary woke feeling as if her life still belonged elsewhere. She missed the old rhythms, old friends. Some nights, she dreamt of Davidhe smiled at her, spoke words of comfort, and shed wake with tear-stained cheeks.

But slowly, she began to appreciate small things. There were tulips in the nearby park. In the café across the road, the barista remembered her order and offered a kind smile on her second visit.

Tiny steps, but they mattered. Mary could not forget Davidshe never would. But now she understood: to carry on living was not a betrayal, but a way of honouring what hed asked, what hed hoped for her.

She attended revision sessions in the new college, helped her mother tidy, joined Nicholas for strolls through unknown neighbourhoods. Every day was a challengebut each one brought something unexpected; not as a replacement for the past, but to add to it.

And somewhere in her heart, she knew he was watching her.

He would be proud.

Because she was enduring.

Because she was livingWeeks drifted into months. One milder morning, Mary wandered through the city gardens and paused by a pond littered with lily pads. The world had begun to bloom again; clusters of daffodils bobbed in the breeze, yellow and indomitable. For the first time in a long while, she drew a deep breath, really tasting the airfresh grass, new leaves, the distant tinge of coffee from a cart nearby.

She sat by the ponds edge and drew her knees up, listening to laughter float from a pair of children skipping stones. Something inside her stirreda warmth, the ghostly echo of her old laugh. She let herself watch, feeling every dart of sunlight, every ripple across the waters surface.

It was there, sitting quietly, that she began to sketchnot David, but a tangle of flowers and water, a new scene. Her pen fluttered, then soared as lines became shapes, then patterns, and at last forms of her own making. When the drawing was finished, she stared at it and a slow, careful smile rose to her lips. She could see both loss and possibility entwined in the pagethe world remade, not as it was, but as it could be.

That evening, as Mary walked home, the sky blazed with the last light of day. She reached the corner where the city rooftops dipped and, impulsively, looked up. Above the traffic and voices, the pale evening star was already shiningsteady, patient, quietly enduring all the citys noise and bustle.

She stopped there, searching the sky as memory washed through her. She let herself imagine Davids voice, not bitterly, but fondly, as if he walked with her in the hush between heartbeats.

Im here, she whispered, eyes stinging but clear. Im carrying on.

And with the city alive around her, the windows blushing gold, and the daffodils beginning their slow, bright riot of colour, Mary set her face to the wind and stepped forward into the promise of what might beher sorrow transformed into courage, her memory into the quiet, unwavering resolve to live.