She packs her suitcase in a rush, hands trembling, tears welling in her eyes. After twenty years of marriage, her husband declares he is leaving her for a younger, cheerful womannothing like her, a tired accountant exhausted by endless work, household chores, and raising children.
Her children have already grown. Her son studies in another city and visits rarely; her daughter married and moved in with her husband. The empty flat in Birmingham suddenly feels foreign and hollow.
She throws clothes into a suitcase without thinking about what she actually takes. It doesnt matter; she only wants to run, to hide from the pain and humiliation.
The phone rings as she zips the bag. She sees her friends name on the screen and sighs. She doesnt feel like talking to anyone.
Hello? she answers reluctantly.
Anna, love, I just heard How are you? Sophies voice sounds worried.
Fine, Anna replies flatly. Packing.
Where are you heading?
I dont know, Anna admits truthfully. I just cant stay here any longer.
You still have that cottage up in the village, your grandmothers place. Why not go there? Sophie suggests.
Anna freezes. She does own a small cottage in the village of Ashbrook, a ramshackle house she inherited from her maternal grandmother. They used to visit when the kids were small, then stopped. Her husband, Simon, always said the countryside bored him and he preferred seaside holidays.
Sophie, youre a genius! Anna exclaims. Thats exactly where Ill go!
Is it livable? Does it have heating? Sophie asks.
Theres a stove and electricity. Thats all I need.
An hour later she is on a commuter train heading toward Ashbrook, fifty kilometres north of the city, stepping into a different world.
The village greets her with quiet and the scent of lilacs. The cottage sits on the edge of a lane, surrounded by ancient apple trees. She struggles to push open the creaking gate and steps into the overgrown yard.
Grass reaches her knees, the porch leans, a window is broken. Anna sighs heavily. What will she do here? How will she live? Shes a city dweller used to comfort.
A hoarse voice calls out, Whos there? A small, stooped old woman with a walking stick emerges from behind the house.
Good morning, Anna says, flustered. Im the granddaughter of Mary Thompson. This is her house.
The Marys house? the old woman squints, eyeing the stranger. And youre Anna, I take it?
Yes, Anna replies, surprised. And you are?
Im Poppy, your neighbour. We were friends with your grandmother. Why have you come?
To live, Anna says, unexpectedly firm.
To live? Poppy shakes her head doubtfully. You cant live in a ruined place. It needs repairs. And youre from the city, arent you?
Ill manage, Anna insists and walks toward the house.
She finds the key in her bag, opens the door, and is hit by the smell of damp and dust. Inside, old furniture draped in grime, a stove in the corner, a table, two beds, yellowed photographs on the walls. One picture shows a young, radiant grandmother.
Anna collapses onto a bed and finally lets the tears flow, crying for the first time in years, pouring out all the hurt and anger.
Gradually the tears dry, and a strange calm settles over her. In this old house she feels shielded from the world; no one will see her cry, no one will judge.
The next morning birdsong wakes her. Sunlight streams through the window. She washes her face with cold water from a bucket and steps into the yard.
Morning, neighbour, Poppy calls from the fence, holding a bundle of bread and a jug of milk.
Morning, Anna replies.
I brought you some milk, bread, and a few potatoes. The shops a mile away.
Thank you, youre very kind, Anna says, touched.
Neighbours look after each other. So, you really plan to stay?
Yes, Anna nods. I just dont know where to start.
Start by cleaning, Poppy suggests, pulling out rags and a broom. Ill help.
They spend the whole day dusting, sweeping, airing out the rooms. By evening Anna collapses from exhaustion but feels a deep satisfaction she hasnt felt in ages.
Tomorrow well check the stove, Poppy says as she leaves. May can be fickle, and itll get cold again soon.
Anna nods, beginning to understand that village life means constant work, but the thought steadies rather than scares her.
In the following days they repair the stove, glass the broken window, straighten the porch. Anna learns to bake on the stove, draw water from the well, fire the modest woodheated bath. Her hands blister, her back aches, but her body adapts to the labour.
One evening, Poppy arrives with a woman she introduces as Diane, who works at the local library.
Nice to meet you, Anna says, smiling.
Likewise, Diane replies, shaking her hand. We dont get many newcomers here, especially ones who plan to stay.
What did you do in the city? Diane asks.
I was an accountant, Anna answers.
Any qualifications?
Economics, Anna shrugs. And you?
The school needs a math teacher. Could you try? Even parttime.
The idea sparks something in Anna. She had never thought of teaching, but it feels intriguing.
Ill think about it, she says.
A week later she stands before a small class of fifteen village children, ages ranging from seven to thirteen. The school follows a mixedage programme, so one teacher handles several grades.
Good morning, class, Annas voice trembles slightly. Im Miss Anna. Ill be your math teacher.
The children watch her cautiously. She takes a deep breath and begins. To her surprise, the lesson flows, the children ask thoughtful questions, and she feels a rare exhilaration by the end.
Teaching, gardening, chatting with new friendsthese fill her days. Her son texts occasionally, asking how she is; her daughter calls, inviting her over. Anna answers briefly, Im well, and its true.
The city feels distant now. She sometimes remembers her flat, her job, Simon, but those memories no longer sting; they belong to a past that stays behind the hedgerow.
One afternoon, the local farmer, Ian Parker, a tall, broadshouldered man with a friendly face and a full beard, comes to her cottage.
Anna, may I come in? he asks, shifting his weight at the doorway.
Of course, Ian, she replies, offering tea.
They sit, sip honeyed tea, and Ian talks about his farm, his plans, his need for help with paperwork.
Im looking for a clerk, someone who can handle the accounts. The farm is expanding, and Im not good with numbers. Could you help?
Anna pauses, considering. She misses professional work.
Ill think about it, she says.
Think quickly, Ian smiles. The season is starting, theres a lot to do.
A few days later she accepts. Mornings are spent teaching; afternoons she works in Ians office; evenings she tends her garden.
Ian later offers to help with the overgrown plot.
Youve got too much to do yourself, he says, bringing a tractor. Together they plow, plant potatoes, onions, carrots. They argue sometimes, laugh often.
The fence has collapsed completely, Ian notes, looking over the yard. We need a new one.
I cant afford a new fence, Anna sighs.
Well do it together, Ian replies, I have the timber, you bring the meals. Deal?
She agrees, grateful for his straightforward generosity. The whole village pitches inPoppy with her son, Diane with her husband, others. They work all day and then hold an impromptu celebration in Annas yard.
Heres to a new home! Ian raises a mug of homemade cider.
To new lives! Diane adds.
Anna watches these simple, open people, feeling she has finally found where she belongsa place of nature and honest companionship.
In autumn her former husband, Simon, arrives in a sleek city car, stopping at the gate while she is pulling weeds.
Anna, he calls, may I come in?
She straightens, wipes her hands on her apron, and nods. Simon steps into the yard, his eyes scanning the modest surroundings with thinly veiled surprise.
You live here? he asks.
Yes, she replies simply.
But you have a flat in the city, all the comforts
I like it here, Anna shrugs, a faint smile playing on her lips.
Simon studies her. She looks healthier, lighter, more confident, a spark in her eyes he never saw before.
You look different, he says.
I am different now, she replies, offering tea. They sit on the veranda, drinking tea with homemade redcurrant jam. Simon talks about his new life, but his words no longer pierce her.
I came to ask you to return, he finally says. I was wrong. That other woman was a mistake. I love you, Anna.
Anna looks at him, calm. A few months ago those words would have made her heart race. Now she feels only quiet.
Simon, I appreciate your feelings, she says gently, but I wont go back. My home is here.
But this is a village! he exclaims. There are no theatres, no restaurants, no shops!
Exactlythere is real life, Anna answers, and real people.
What about our marriage? Twenty years together
Our marriage ended when you left, she says without accusation. If you hadnt gone, I might never have found myself.
Simon looks bewildered. This confident woman is nothing like the Anna he knew.
Are you happy here? he asks finally.
Yes, she says simply. I am happy.
He drives away, and Anna returns to her garden. Ian soon appears, carrying a basket of apples from his orchard.
Anna, fresh apples for you! he calls.
Thanks, Ian, she smiles. Can you help me pull the carrots? Its a bit heavy alone.
Happy to help, he replies. They work side by side as the sun dips, the sky turning pink, the air scented with apples and autumn leaves.
Who stopped by in that city car? Ian asks.
My exhusband, Anna answers.
What did he want?
Just to bring me back to the city.
Ian pauses, holding a carrot, then looks at her.
And you?
I said no, she says, smiling. Im happy here.
Later that evening Ian turns to her, a little nervous.
Theres a village hall concert on Saturday, folk bands, then dancing. Would you like to go with me?
Annas eyes light up.
Id love that, Ian, she replies.
Saturday night she dons her best dresssimple but elegant. Ian arrives, handing her a bouquet of wildflowers.
You look beautiful, he says, presenting the flowers.
The concert is heartfelt, locals singing traditional songs, reading poetry, dancing. Ian asks her to waltz. Hes clumsy but earnest; his strong arms hold her gently.
Anna, he whispers, eyes meeting hers, Im a simple man, no city manners, but Im drawn to you completely. I like you very much.
She sees his kind, open face and feels the same.
I like you too, Ian, she says softly.
They dance until the music ends, and he walks her home, taking her hand at the gate.
May I come by tomorrow? he asks.
Come any time, she answers, her heart fluttering. She watches him disappear down the lane, tall and steady, and finally realizes she is truly happy for the first time in her life.
Winter blankets Ashbrook in snow. Ian shovels the path each morning. They spend evenings together, sipping tea, sharing plans.
One day Diane teases, You two make a great pair. Whens the wedding?
Anna blushes, Were just friends.
Right, Diane smirks, friends who look at each other with lovers eyes.
In spring Ian proposes simply, no grand gestures.
Will you marry me, Anna? I love you.
Yes, Ian. I love you too.
The whole village helps with the celebration. Annas son and daughter arrive, shocked at first but then happy for their mothers newfound joy.
Your happiness matters, Mum, her daughter says, embracing her.
Anna finally feels complete. She has found her placein a tiny English village, among plainspoken folk, beside a man who loves her. The happiness she once read about in books now lives in her everyday life.
Each morning she awakens with a smile, eager for the day ahead. Teaching, farming, home chores, evenings by the fire with Ianall give her life purpose.
Sometimes she remembers the frantic city she left, the endless stress and empty chatter. She cant call that happiness any more.
Now Anna knows that happiness is being where you belong, doing what you love, surrounded by people who truly value and love you. She left the village in search of escape, and instead she found love, herself, and a simple, bright happiness.
