The Solitary Life of a Bachelor: At Peace in His Own Company
Edward was a man of advancing years who had never married. He lived at his own pace, and solitude had never troubled him. He worked like a dog but loved what he did. Meticulous by nature, everything had to be just soevery item in its rightful place. Hed known many women, but none had ever seemed quite right. That summer, as July drew to a close, he decided to take a holiday and head south. Tired of routine, he longed to escape civilisation for a while. He went online and placed an advert.
A woman named Charlotte replieda mother of two from a quiet Cornish village. The beach was a twenty-minute walk away, far from the tourist resorts and bustling towns. She offered a private room and, in exchange for groceries, home-cooked meals. Edward was convinced. The journey went smoothly; the satnav didnt fail him. The house was old but spotless, his room cosy, and Charlotte herself was warm and kind. In the garden, a small terrierMabeldarted about. Fruit ripened on the trees while her two children, a boy and a girl of nine or ten, helped with chores. Charlotte never intruded, simply asking what hed like for dinner, filling his bowl with strawberries, smiling softly.
Edward spent his days on the beach, swimming, climbing rocks, taking photos, and messaging an old friend on Facebook. Sometimes, he wondered how a woman in her fifties had such young children. Finally, he asked:
“Charlotte, are these your grandchildren?”
“No,” she replied. “Theyre minejust late arrivals. Life didnt lead me to marriage, but I wanted children. And Im not that oldonly forty-eight.”
As they talked, Edward studied her more closely. She was kind, quick to laugh, and he liked her nameCharlotte. It reminded him of his mother. She smelled of strawberries and fresh butter. The cider was crisp, the evenings mild, the sky studded with stars. Neither of them played gamesthey were past that. By day, all seemed ordinary, but at night, Edward slipped silently to Charlottes side of the house before creeping back before dawn. The children mustnt wake. Mabel never barked, just watched him with knowing eyes. A good dogfrugal, loyal. She ate two spoonfuls and guarded the garden dutifully.
Soon, Mabel began following him to the beach, swimming beside him, shaking off sand, drying in the sun before trotting home ahead of him. Then, one day, she didnt return. Edward searched everywhere, shouting her name, plastering the village with posters. Where was she? An elderly neighbour suggested travellers staying at the far end of the village might have taken her. Edward drove there just in time to hear theyd left an hour earlierwith a small terrierheading for the main road.
He sped after them, overtaking eighty miles later, blocking their path. Two young women climbed out of the van, bold and brash.
“Oi! Move your car! Cant you drive? Well call the police!”
“Call them,” Edward said coldly. “But first, give back the dog.”
“Youre lucky,” the taller one sneered. “She was a straywere rescuing her.”
“Shes not a stray,” he shot back. “She has a family. Shes not yours.”
“Piss off!” the other shrieked. “Move or well smash your windows!”
Edward ignored them, calling, “Mabel!” The dog yapped frantically, scrambling over seats toward the half-open window. The girls grabbed at her, cursing, swinging fists. Edward clenched his jawhe wouldnt hit a woman.
Luckily, a tired-looking police officer arrived, wiping sweat from his brow. Covering his ears against the girls shrieks, he lifted Mabel out.
“Quiet! The dog goes where she chooses. Neither of you have papers for her.”
“Here, sweetie,” the girls cooed, waving ham.
“Come on, Mabel,” Edward said softly.
The officer set her down. She bolted straight to Edward, tail wagging wildly.
“Seems settled,” the officer sighed.
“No, shes ours!” the girls screeched. “Well report you!”
The officer reddened.
“Leave now, or Ill check your insurance, extinguisher, warning triangle, first-aid kit, and count every pill in that van. Then Ill run the plates. The systems back at the station…”
The van sped off.
Edward shook the officers hand.
“Thank you.”
“Dont mention it. Got a terrier myself. Clever little things. Wears a coat in winterfussy about the cold. Good breed, loyal. Handy size too. Drive safe.”
Back in the car, Mabel curled on Edwards lap, warm as velvet. He hadnt felt this content in years. The road was quiet, the engine purred, and Mabel dozed. Yet beneath the peace, his chest ached. Soon, hed have to leave. No one waited for him at home. The thought of turning the car around and taking Mabel with him flickered in his mind. What did he have to lose? A few shirts, some socks, a tracksuit. The idea lingered. Edward sighed, marking it as a possibility, and drove back to Charlottes.
The last week was rainy, but Edward still went to the beachwith Mabel. At night, he stole to Charlottes room; by morning, his heart grew heavier. On his final day, the sun returned. He packed the night before, left Charlotte a gift, exchanged numbers, and climbed into the car.
He drove slowly, telling himself holidays and summer flings always endit was time to return to routine. Hed just reached the tarmac when he spotted Mabel sprinting after him. He accelerated. She ran faster. He pressed the pedal harder.
The little dog fell behind, vanishing in the distance. Edward stopped. He got out, lit a cigarette, hands shaking. He smoked it down, stubbed it out, and stared at the road.
A tiny speck moved on the asphalt. Edward ran, praying no car would hit her. He hadnt run like this in years. Mabel charged forward, dust coating her fur, tongue lolling, tail wagging weakly. She tried to bark but only coughed.
Edward scooped her up, wiped her clean, gave her water. Then he called Charlotte, a smile in his voice. “Fancy a change of scenery? Mabel, two small passengers, and I are coming back.”
