**”Homemade Meatballs and Something More”: How a Regular Customer Turned Her Loneliness into Hope**
I carried the heavy trays of cold cuts from the storeroom, lost in my usual thoughts. I’d been working in the deli section of a supermarket on the outskirts of Manchester for years now. Everything about my life was settled—the same route home, the same old apron hanging in the staff room, the familiar smells of meatballs and stuffed peppers that clung to my coat. And the loneliness, which I’d grown used to.
“Nadine, your admirer’s here!” whispered Emily, my younger colleague, nudging me toward the counter. “Over there, looking for you, as usual.”
“He’s not mine, Em… Just a lonely bloke. A bit too old for me, anyway,” I muttered, though my heart gave an unexpected little flutter.
“Go on, serve him,” Emily winked. “Look, no wedding ring. Always comes alone. And he can’t take his eyes off you. Maybe it’s fate?”
I shook my head. At 42, with a figure that wasn’t what it used to be and a job behind a deli counter—who’d want to marry me? Emily was 29, slim, always done up nice, with men lining up for her.
But there he was, standing in the queue like always, waiting. Then he stepped forward, ordered his usual—meatballs, ribs—and for just a second, our eyes met. A rush of warmth hit me. There was something in his gaze—achingly tender, hesitant, full of a quiet loneliness he wasn’t brave enough to voice.
Days passed. The weather turned bitter, Emily caught the flu, and I was stuck with Margaret, a no-nonsense woman with a voice like steel and the sharp stare of a 1980s shopkeeper.
And then—he appeared again. Same grey coat, slightly stooped. Scanning the counter. Looking for Emily, no doubt. Then Margaret barked:
“Sir! The queue’s backing up behind you!”
I quickly set down the cold cuts, stepped closer. “Emily’s off sick. Back next week,” I murmured, then added, louder, “The usual? Meatballs, ribs? Or maybe some dumplings today?”
He blinked in surprise. “You remember my order?”
“Course,” I said, suddenly flustered. “You’re a regular.”
He glanced down, then met my eyes—shy but direct. “I kept hoping to get served by you. Always end up with that young lass instead. Bit disappointing, really…”
“How d’you know my name?” I whispered.
“Your badge. ‘Nadine.’ Suits you.”
Margaret huffed. “Sir! Are you buying or not?”
“Yes, yes. The homemade meatballs, please,” he stammered, then added, softer, “Though one day, I’d like to try the real thing. Made by a woman. By Nadine, perhaps. If you’re not spoken for… could I walk you home after your shift? I live just round the corner.”
I nearly dropped the tray. My heart pounded as if I were 18 again. All I managed was a nod as I handed him the bag. “Walk me, then… if you like.”
“Name’s Thomas. See you tonight, Nadine?”
The rest of the day, I floated. Margaret eyed me suspiciously. “Nadine, you look feverish! Cheeks like a schoolgirl’s! Hope you’re not going soft on me—I’m not covering for you!”
“I’m fine, really,” I grinned, unable to hide the glow in my eyes.
After my shift, I freshened up, changed, and stepped outside. Thomas was waiting.
“Nadine, fancy a stroll? Or… maybe the cinema?”
We walked along the canal, slush underfoot, wet snowflakes drifting. Then, hesitantly, he asked, “Or… come back to mine? Cup of tea, warm up a bit?”
“Bit forward, isn’t it?” I faltered. “We barely know each other.”
“Barely? I’ve been coming to your counter for a year. Watching you work—patient, kind. Never rude, not even to the fussiest customers. I feel like I know you. And I think… you know me too.”
I couldn’t say no. His flat was simple, cosy. He made proper tea, laid out biscuits. Everything felt… right. And when the snow swirled outside, he murmured, “Stay, love. I’ll take the sofa. No sense heading out in this. And… why be alone?”
I looked around. Then at him. And I realised—I didn’t want to leave. I wanted this warmth to last.
“I’ll stay, Tom,” I whispered.
He took the couch. I took the bed. But by morning, neither of us was alone anymore.
When Emily returned, saw Thomas waiting for me, she just snorted. “You dark horse! I take one week off, and you’ve bagged yourself a fella! And here I was, turning my nose up at everyone!”
But her tone was just affectionate envy.
Because happiness? You can’t mistake it. Happy people glow. And when you’re near them, you feel warm, too.