Victor pulled over near a tall metal fence. It used to be white picket. He hesitated—had he got the wrong house? No, second one before the turn. He remembered because he’d thought about it often. From the car, he couldn’t even see the roof.
He kept checking the mirrors. A lone driver on an empty street would draw attention. “What am I doing here? Why?” The longer he stared at the fence, the less courage he had to step out.
A woman with a golden retriever emerged from the gate. For a second, Victor thought it was Alice—same chestnut curls, same figure. He didn’t get a proper look. “Can’t be her. Fifteen years. She’d be nearly forty, and this girl’s barely twenty. Unless it’s her daughter. But she didn’t have one back then. Should I follow? What would I even say? A middle-aged man chasing a young girl—how’s that look?”
He leaned back, turned on the radio, and waited. Twenty minutes later, the woman reappeared. As she neared, Victor realised she didn’t resemble Alice at all. When she was a hundred yards away, he got out.
The retriever yanked its lead toward him.
“Easy, Max,” the girl said, steadying the dog.
“Sorry. Did Alice used to live here? Or did I mix up the houses?” It struck him then—he’d never even known her last name.
“Alice is my mum. Who are you?” She studied him.
“Just back in town. Didn’t know she had a daughter.” Victor hesitated, eyeing the dog.
“How long’s it been?” she asked, squinting.
“Fifteen years.”
“Then you definitely aren’t my dad.” She laughed. “I’m adopted. Parents’ll be back soon. Want to wait?” She nudged open a narrow side gate.
Victor shrugged.
“Not scared? Strange man and all that—”
She sobered. “Nah. You think I’d invite you in if the house were empty? Max wouldn’t let you near me. Cameras everywhere too. Coming?”
Victor locked the car and followed. She held the door for him.
The garden was tidy but not manicured—unkempt hedges, grass needing a trim. A slate path led to the two-storey house. It had changed over the years, but this was the place. Back then, it had seemed enormous. He’d lived in a tiny dorm room, before that a cramped council flat with his parents and little sister. Now he owned a house just as big, if not bigger.
The interior was different—expensive furniture, a sleek telly mounted on the wall. Thick carpet muffled his steps.
“Help yourself to a drink,” the girl said, nodding toward the bar before heading upstairs.
“I’m driving.” Victor cleared his throat. “Your name?”
“Emily. Be right back.”
Alone, Victor scanned the room. No photos. He sank into an armchair by the fireplace—another new addition—and drifted into thought.
***
“Come on, mate. Jenny’s bringing a friend. Can’t go alone,” Tom pleaded.
“Got an exam tomorrow,” Victor muttered into his textbook.
“Couple hours won’t kill you. You won’t learn it all anyway. Fresh head’s better for exams. Jenny’s mates are always fit. Come on, Vic.”
“Fine. Not for long.” Victor snapped the book shut.
“That’s the spirit! Won’t regret it. Just—eyes off Jenny. She’s mine.”
They arrived late to the suburban house where Tom’s girlfriend lived. Music blared. A wine bottle, glasses, and snacks covered the coffee table.
“You took your time,” Jenny drawled. She was striking—jet-black hair, sharp features.
“Had to drag Vic here. Exam tomorrow,” Tom said, nuzzling her neck.
“Well, let’s not waste it.” Jenny flashed a smile and pulled Tom toward the table. “Alice! Where are you?”
A girl in a floral dress descended the stairs. Pretty, but nothing like Jenny’s glamour. Still, Victor felt a pull.
“My friend Alice.” Jenny cranked up the music.
They drank. Tom and Jenny danced.
“Shall we?” Victor popped a grape into his mouth.
“Sure. And drop the formalities,” Alice said easily.
She danced well. Victor’s hands rested on her waist as he studied her—no makeup, just clear skin and dark blue eyes that shifted like twilight. He avoided looking at her lips.
The song changed. They swayed on.
“Where’d they go?” Alice stopped, scanning the room.
They’d vanished. Suddenly alone, the air thickened.
“I should go. You’ve got that exam,” Alice said.
“I’ll walk you.”
They barely spoke before reaching her gate.
Victor caught her wrist. “See you tomorrow?”
“Maybe.” She tugged free and dashed inside.
He walked back to the dorm, replaying her face, her laugh, the weight of her in his arms.
Tom stumbled in at dawn.
Victor aced the exam; Tom scraped a pass. “Lucky ticket. Alice brought the luck,” Victor thought.
“She was up for it, yeah? Not bad. I’d have—”
Victor grabbed Tom’s arm. “What did you say?”
Tom shrank. Wiry and shorter, he had no chance.
“Joking! Jenny’s enough,” he backtracked.
They walked back in silence. Tom crashed out. Victor drove to Alice’s. No number, no way to ask Tom. Daylight made everything unfamiliar, but the fence was the same. Unlocked again.
He knocked. Alice answered in a thin robe, hair mussed. The sight stole his breath.
“Come in. Exam go okay?”
“Yeah.” His voice cracked.
The house was modest, nothing like Jenny’s.
“Parents home?”
“No. Back tonight.” She shrugged. “Hungry?”
“No.” He hadn’t eaten since yesterday.
“Tea, then?”
Her smirk unnerved him.
“Fancy the cinema?” he blurted.
She stepped close, hands on his shoulders, and kissed him.
He left fifteen minutes before her parents returned, walking home dazed. They met a few more times that term.
Then his mum called—dad was in hospital. Victor rushed to say goodbye, but Alice wasn’t home. No answer. He left a note on the step and left.
No replies. No returned calls. He phoned Tom, but he’d gone home too.
“Ask Jenny. They’re mates,” Victor insisted.
Tom said they’d split. He wouldn’t call.
Dad worsened. Paralysed. Victor couldn’t leave mum and little sis. He transferred to a local uni, got a job.
When he fetched his things, no one was around. Alice’s phone went dead. That mocking look of hers—maybe it’d just been fun for her. He shoved her from his mind.
Married Lucy—sweet, practical. A son, then a daughter. No time for nostalgia. Lost touch with Tom too. Never really friends, just dorm mates.
Dad died. Business boomed. Bought a flash car, big house. Mum helped with the kids. Sis kept the flat.
When partners in his old uni town reached out, Victor went himself. Wanted to see the place. Maybe Alice.
***
Now he sat by the cold fireplace, asking himself again: “Why am I here? Alice is married. Maybe she was with someone back then—that’s why she never answered. Should leave before she gets back with her husband…”
Just as he decided to go, gates whirred open outside. An SUV pulled up. Victor felt trapped, like that first visit. The door opened.
“Mum, Dad—we’ve got a guest,” Emily called.
She flitted past as Alice and her husband entered. The man kissed Emily’s temple, eyes locked on Victor. Recognition flickered.
Tom.
“Well, this is a surprise,” Tom said, offering a hand.
Before Victor could take it, Tom pulled him into a back-slapping hug.
“Look who’s here!” Tom grinned at Alice.
She offered her hand. Their fingers brushed—a jolt. Her lashes fluttered. Same for her.
“I’ll set the table,” she murmured, slipping away.
“Don’t bother. I’m not staying.”
Tom fidgeted. “Why’d you never call?”
“Why would I? You left her. Didn’t think you’d come back.”
Victor didn’t explain.
“Jenny?”
Tom chuckled. “That was nothing. She’s in Israel now—husband, kid. Alice, though… I always liked her.”
“Emily?”
“Adopted. Orphaned young. Distant cousin of Alice’s dad. Been a while. Twenty years?”
“Fifteen.”
Tom eyed him. “Nice wheels. Done well, then?”
Victor shrugged. The chat stuttered.
“Drink?”
“Why am I here?” Victor thought. “Did I expect her to wait fifteen years? But Tom? Never saw that coming.”
AlHe drove away, the radio humming some forgotten tune, and knew he’d never return to this street, this town, or the ghost of what might have been.
