Completely leaving the past behind was never easy
Every day, Peter commuted home from work across London, first on the Underground, then a bus, before finally arriving at his flat. The journey took over an hour each way. His car sat idle more often than it was usedmorning and evening traffic jams in London were so dreadful that public transport was simply quicker.
Nearly two years ago, Peters home life changed: he and his wife quietly separated. Their daughter, then seventeen, stayed with her mother. Their split was peacefulPeter wasnt one for arguments or drama. Hed noticed his wife had changed for the worse; she grew irritable for no reason, was always out, and sometimes came home late, telling him shed been with friends.
Once, Peter asked her, Why are you out so late? Most wives are at home by now.
Its none of your business. Those so-called normal wives are boring hens. Im different; clever, sociable, and this house is stifling for me. Im not a country bumpkin like you. You grew up in a village and never changed.
Then why did you marry me, a country boy? he wondered.
Picked the lesser of two evils, she retorted, ending the conversation.
Eventually, she filed for divorce and had Peter move out. He found a modest flat and got used to living alone, not planning on remarrying just yet but still open to the idea.
On his Underground ride, Peter, like everyone else, made good use of the time, scrolling through social media and catching up on news, jokes, and videos. Absently flicking through the feed, something caught his eyea photo and a post:
Mary, herbal healer. Treatments with English countryside remedies.
He stared at his phone in shockit was his first love. Unrequited and hopeless as it had been, first love is unforgettable. He remembered her distinctly from their schooldays; an odd girl, but strikingly beautiful.
Peter nearly missed his stop, scrambled out of the train, exiting the station, and, anxious to clear his head, walked home swiftly rather than take the bus. At home, he dropped his jacket, sat right there by the hallway on a low stool, and gazed at his phone. He scribbled down her number from the advert just before his mobile warned him to plug it in.
He put it on charge and tried to eat his dinner, but his appetite was gone. Picking at his food, he soon found himself sprawled on his sofa, overcome by memories.
From the very start at school, Mary was different; quiet and modest, with thick, long chestnut hair plaited neatly down her back. Her uniform skirt was much longer than the other girls, just below her knees. Their small town was close-knit, yet Mary was a mysteryshe lived with her grandparents just outside town in a pretty house by the woods that looked almost enchanted, its windows framed with ornate carvings.
Peter had fallen for Mary the moment he saw her, in that innocent but sincere way children do. Her life seemed full of peculiarities. In the playground she wore an embroidered scarf, and carried a unique, hand-made satchel with colourful stitchingone of a kind, hed later realise.
Instead of a casual Hi, she greeted everyone politely, Wishing you good health, like someone out of an old English tale. She never joined the noisy children at play, but was always gentle and well-mannered.
One day, Mary didnt come to class. Concerned, Peter and a few classmates decided to call on her after school. Their walk out of town soon revealed her grandparents picturesque house. But there was a crowd, sombreMarys grandmother had passed away. Mary stood there teary-eyed in her scarf, beside her grim and silent grandfather. After the funeral, even the children were invited in to pay their respects.
It was Peters first funeral, and it left an impression. Mary returned to school soon after. As the years passed, the girls grew into young ladiesfashionable, competitive, with makeup and trendy clothes. Yet Mary remained unchanged; upright, unfussy, with a natural blush. Boys admired her quietly and never teased her.
By Year 10, Mary was undeniably beautiful, slim, graceful, and always composed. Peter tried to win her affection. For a long while, she seemed unmoved, but at the end of Year 11, Peter found the courage to ask:
May I walk you home from school?
Mary glanced at him, serious and quiet, so no one else could hear, I’m already spoken for, Peter. Its an old family tradition.
Peter was crushed, not understanding what tradition she meant, nor who her family were. Later he learned that Marys grandparents were old believers, and shed lost her parents years before.
Mary excelled academically; no surprise to anyone. Unlike her classmates, she wore no jewellery. Gossip flew around her, yet she never cared. She matured gracefully, earning the respect of everyone at school.
After graduation, classmates scattered. Peter moved to London for university. He heard Mary was married but knew little else. He rarely returned home, busy each summer travelling with volunteer groups.
Mary married the man chosen for her years before, moving to a distant village, tending a cow, collecting hay, and managing house and farm life. She had a son. No one from Peters old class saw her again.
So Mary treats with herbs now, Peter mused, sitting on the sofa. Shes even more beautiful.
That night, Peter could hardly sleephis mind swirling with memories. Work felt strange; he saw Marys face constantly.
Yes, a first love really does leave its marknever forgotten, he thought.
He drifted through days, lost in the past, and finally messaged her.
Hello, Mary.
Wishing you good health, came the replyshe hadnt changed a bit. Is there something I can help with?
Its Peter, your old classmate. We used to sit together in school. I saw your post online and wanted to write to you.
I remember you well, Peter. You were the most studious in our year.
May I call you, Mary? he asked hesitantly.
Of course, Ill answer, she replied.
After work, Peter rang her. They chatted and caught up on life.
I live and work in London, he said simply. How about you, Mary? Is your family large? Is your husband well? Where do you live now?
I live in my childhood home, the old place by the woods. Came back after my husband diedan accident with a wild animal in the forest. My grandfather passed too.
Im so sorry, MaryI didnt know.
Its fineits been long enough. Thats life, isnt it? We know so little about each other. Did you call for advice about herbs? Mary asked gently.
No, nothing to do with herbs. I just saw your picture and memories flooded back. I miss home, havent been back in agesmy mothers gone too.
They reminisced about school and old friends, then said goodbye. But Peter couldnt shake the feeling, and after a week, called her again.
Hello, Mary.
Wishing you good health, Peter. Are you missing home, or feeling poorly?
Im missing you, Mary, if Im honest. Dont be cross, butmay I visit you sometime? he asked, heart pounding.
Come if you like, she said, sounding pleased. Whenever you can.
Ive got a week off soon, he said eagerly.
Wonderful, you know the way, she laughed.
Peter spent the week preparing, buying gifts for Mary, anxious and excited, unsure if shed changed or was still the girl he remembered. When the time came, he drove from London back to his hometownsix hours behind the wheel, but he enjoyed long drives.
Pulling into the now-thriving town, he was surprisednew houses, a bustling supermarket, even cafes appeared where old shops once stood.
I thought this place might have faded like so many other towns, he muttered, amazed.
Were not a sleepy village any longer, son, an old gentleman replied, overhearing him. Weve been named a boroughgot a fine mayor who cares. Thats why everything prospers.
Mary waited for Peter in her garden; hed called to say he was near. Her heart hammered when she saw his car come round the bend. No one knew that Mary, since schooldays, had quietly loved Petershe carried this secret always, and if hed never returned, it would have stayed hidden forever.
Their reunion was joyful. They lingered together in the summerhouse. Marys old cottage had aged, but remained warm and welcoming.
Mary, Ive come with something important Peter grew serious, anxiety clear on his face.
What is it? she asked, wary.
Ive loved you all my lifearent you ready at last to accept my love? Peter blurted, full of hope.
Mary jumped up, embracing him.
Oh Peter, Ive loved you since childhood too.
Peter spent his holiday at Marys side. Before leaving, he promised,
Ill settle things at work, switch to remote, and come back for good. No more city lifeI belong here. Born here, meant to be here, he said, laughing.
Sometimes, life brings us full circlenot to what we thought we wanted, but to what we truly needed, if only we listen to our hearts and never let kindness or hope fade, even when years go by.
