The Village Intelligentsia
“Tess, Tess, have you heard? Theres a new maths teacher come to the village from the city. Miss Barbara finally retirednot that she hadnt been retired for years, bless her, but who else was going to teach our lot? Anyway, hes arrived,” babbled Mrs. Nixby, the elderly neighbour who always had the latest gossip.
“No, havent heard. A man, is it?”
“Thats right. And not some young lad, eitherforty-six and single, they say.”
“Forty-six and single? Really?” Tess raised an eyebrow. “Maybe his wifes coming later. Or maybe not. City women dont fancy village life.”
“Fine by melet him stay single. As if we havent got enough single women here already! Take our nurse, Marinawidowed three years, lovely woman. Perfect match, if you ask meteacher and nurse…”
By the time Gregory Ellis had even met Marina, the village had already married them off in their minds.
Weeks passed. No wedding bells, no sightings of the teacher and nurse so much as sharing a cuppa. Of course, theyd methard not to, in a village this sizebut that was about it.
Gregory had moved into the old schoolhouse, built decades ago when the village had more teachers and medics. He was tall, pleasant-looking, and the children adored him. Lessons were livelier now, full of jokes and clear explanations.
The only ones restless were the old dears perched on benches outside their cottages, swapping theories like trading cards. Two versions dominated.
Mrs. Nixby adjusted her headscarf and declared, “I reckon hes a widower, poor soul. Lost his wife in the city, came here to start fresh. Grief does funny things to a man.”
Then there was Mrs. Arkwright, who knew everythingor claimed to. “More likely hes in some sort of trouble. Debt, maybe. Or tangled up with some young thing, hiding out till the scandal blows over.”
The ladies never agreed, but the rumours spread anyway. Marina heard themhard not to, when half the village turned up at her surgery with invented ailments just to pry.
Marina was forty-one, her daughter at university somewhere up north. Shed lost her husband three years agoheart trouble. Gregory Ellis didnt interest her. Not that hed done anything wrongthey just moved in different circles. The school was one end of the village, the surgery the other.
“Marina, have you heard what theyre saying about you and that teacher?” asked Luba, the elderly receptionist. “Theyve got you married off already.”
“Oh, Ive heard,” Marina sighed, scribbling notes. “What romance? Weve barely spoken. Seems nice enough, but too city-ish. Fancy glasses, soft handsprobably cant change a fuse. Ive met his sort beforeall talk, no trousers.”
“Hes not exactly a lad, though,” Luba pointed out.
“Exactly! Men his age are worsethink theyve got all the time in the world to gallivant. No thanks.”
Luba hummed. “Suppose if a mans still single at that age, theres a reason.”
“Precisely. Let them gossipIve no interest in amorous adventures. If I wanted company, Id want a proper family.”
Eventually, the chatter died down. Gregory earned the villages respect, Marina kept to her work, and life moved on. Winter came, then the New Year. By then, Gregory was just another villageruntil fresh scandal erupted. The parish councillors daughter had returned from uni, pregnant and unmarried. Now *that* was gossip fodder.
January was bitter, the lanes choked with snow. Then, one evening, Marina was summoned to old Mrs. Arkwrights. The house was at the far end of the village, and by the time Marina trudged through the drifts, she was exhausted.
She walked inand there was Gregory, waiting.
“Hello. What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Stevie from school was poorly,” he said. “Brought him home. His mums at work, and now his grans taken a turnIve called an ambulance.”
Marina took one look at Mrs. Arkwrightslurred speech, face droopingand knew it was serious.
“Good call,” she told Gregory, “but how do we get her out? The ambulance wont make it down these lanes.”
Gregory spotted an old wooden ladder in the yard. “Stevie, fetch some belts.” Minutes later, theyd rigged a makeshift stretcher, bundling Mrs. Arkwright in blankets and hauling her through the snow.
As they trudged, Marina asked, “Why *are* you single?”
“My wife left me seven years ago. Ran off with some businessman. Whats a teacher got to offer? I volunteered to come herespared some young chap with a pregnant wife. No regrets.”
By the time they reached the surgery, the ambulance was waiting. After Mrs. Arkwright was loaded in, Gregory lingered.
“Youre a proper man, arent you?” Marina said suddenly. “No fuss, just gets on with it.”
That evening, villagers spotted Gregory walking Marina home. Then again the next day. And the next.
“So,” Luba smirked a week later, “whens the wedding?”
Marina laughed. “Summer. Gregorys off then, and works quieter for me.”
Turns out the rumours werent so far off after all. Theres a saying, isnt there? “Where theres smoke, theres fire. The village buzzed anew, not with speculation this time, but with quiet satisfaction. Mrs. Nixby and Mrs. Arkwright, once rival prophets of fate, now sat side by side on their benches, nodding like theyd known it all along. Marina still rolled her eyes at the gossip, but there was a lightness in her step, a smile she didnt bother hiding. Gregory traded his city shoes for sturdy boots, and his lessons stayed lively, though now the children sometimes caught him humming as he wrote equations on the board. Summer came, warm and slow, and the wedding was held in the village hall, decorated with wildflowers and laughter. No grand speeches, just honest toasts and a fiddle playing old tunes. And when they danced, it wasnt with flair or show, but with a steady, quiet gracetwo people whod found each other not in romances rush, but in the deep, quiet glow of being truly seen.
