*”How handsome he’s become. If only he were a bit wealthier and worked at a prestigious firm, I might have fallen for him,”* thought Elaine.
“Right, George, you’re in charge while I’m gone. Call me if anything comes up—I’m not flying to Mars, just a quick trip,” said James, shaking hands with his deputy and friend.
“Got it, don’t worry. By the way, you never said—where are you off to? The Maldives or Turkey?” George clasped his hand.
“Didn’t I mention? Going to see Mum. The roof needs fixing, the fence needs mending. Dad used to take care of it all, but since he passed, everything’s been falling apart. Can’t remember the last time I sat by the river with a fishing rod.”
“I’ve never even been fishing. Pure city boy. Almost envy you,” George sighed. “Tell me all about it when you’re back,” he called after James as he walked away.
James smiled to himself, glad that by morning he’d be far from the noisy, grimy city. He’d hug his mum, breathe in the crisp air of his childhood, and for a moment, forget the rush of London.
He’d grown up in a quiet village. His mum was a teacher; his dad, a builder. James often helped his dad on job sites—he could turn his hand to anything. Dad had hoped his son would follow in his footsteps, but James was drawn to cars, computers, the buzz of new tech. School came easy. When he graduated, he declared there was nothing for him in the village—he wanted to move to London and make something of himself.
“How’s there nothing here? The village is growing—builders will always be needed. You’ll never go hungry. Fancy a modern house? Get married, kids’ll have room to run about,” his dad reasoned.
“Too soon to think about marriage. Need to stand on my own feet first,” James brushed it off.
His dad grumbled, but his mum soothed him. “Don’t clip his wings. Let him try. He’s clever—we’ll be proud of him yet.”
They gave him money for his first month and let him chase his dreams. James studied engineering and worked construction. Bit by bit, he got everything he’d wanted.
At school, he’d fancied Elaine—a giggly, snub-nosed girl who dreamed of owning a salon. She wasn’t academic, but she had her own ambitions. They drifted apart, each chasing their future, hoping they’d cross paths again.
When James visited home on holidays, Elaine was always gone. He could’ve asked her mum for her number, her address—but he didn’t. Love would’ve derailed his plans. Marriage, kids—suddenly he’d be working just to put food on the table, not chasing his dreams. No, first he’d build his business, buy a house, a car—then maybe…
“Mind you don’t leave it too late. Elaine might not wait forever,” his dad warned.
“Plenty of other girls,” James replied.
But he didn’t want anyone else.
Now James had it all—or nearly. A sleek house in Richmond, a flash car, a thriving business. Time to think about a wife. There’d been women, but they wanted the house, the car, the money. He wanted someone who’d love him for himself.
Visiting his parents, he secretly hoped to bump into Elaine. He kept his stories brief—they lived modestly, working hard for every penny. When he hinted at his success, his dad frowned, his mum blinked anxiously. How could an honest man afford a London flat, a country house?
“You breaking the law? Is this what we taught you? Better you’d stayed a builder than shame us,” his dad muttered.
So James visited in a borrowed, second-hand car, swapped for his Lexus, or took the train. Said he worked as an engineer. His dad nodded, proud of his Londoner son.
This time was no different, though his dad had passed three years ago. He left the Lexus, bought a train ticket, dressed plainly.
An elderly woman struggled with her bag—James gave her his lower bunk. She thanked him the whole journey.
Lying on the top bunk, he watched forests and fields flash by, remembering his first trip to London. The rhythm of the tracks loosened his thoughts.
The village seemed tiny, impossibly green. The air was fresh, the trees lush—nothing like London’s sickly parks. Flowers bloomed in front gardens, bright and cheerful.
Stepping into his childhood yard, his mum gasped, tears in her eyes.
“Son! What a lovely surprise. How long are you staying?”
“Till you kick me out,” he laughed, hugging her.
She baked pies while he fixed the roof, mended the fence, painted the shutters.
“Shouldn’t you rest? You’re on holiday!” she fretted.
“All done. Where are you off to?” He noticed her smart dress, the large fabric bag slung over her shoulder—his mum never left the house undressed.
“Just popping to the shops.”
“I’ll bike—what do you need?”
She handed him a list. “You’re going like *that*?”
He glanced down—faded jeans, rolled-up sleeves exposing tanned arms. His trainers, though—expensive, top-tier. No one here would know.
At the shop, women eyed him, asking whose he was. They marvelled when he gave his name, prying about his life. He kept his answers short.
Outside, his battered bike leaned next to a glossy red Audi. The contrast was laughable. He whistled, eyeing the Audi’s flat tyre.
“Help would be nicer than whistling,” came a voice behind him.
Goosebumps prickled his skin. A person could change beyond recognition—but never their voice.
He turned, barely recognizing the elegant woman as Elaine. Her knee-length dress hugged her figure; a chic bob suited her. Gold sandals, flawless makeup.
His face warmed. He tried to whistle—failed.
“James?!” she gasped.
“You’ve changed. Stunning. This yours?” He gestured to the Audi.
She glowed at the compliment. “Yes, but the tyre’s flat. The roads here are still rubbish.”
“Got a spare? Tools?”
She watched as he worked, his hands deft, his frame lean and strong. He felt her gaze, resisted glancing back too often.
“All set. The flat’s in the boot—can be patched.”
“Thank you! So glad I ran into you. Hop in, I’ll drop you home.”
“No need—I’ve got the bike. Don’t want to dirty your seats.” He dusted off his jeans.
She drove off, but he spotted her car waiting further down the road. The window rolled down as he approached.
“We’ve years to catch up on. Let me thank you properly—come for coffee.” Her eyes held hope.
*I don’t want to say goodbye either*, he thought.
“Been ages since I’ve been back—no idea where’s good. Text me the address. I’ll drop the shopping home and meet you.”
“Where’re you off to?” his mum asked when he hurried out.
“Ran into an old friend. Catching up over coffee.”
She watched him go. *”Old friend, my foot. Met Elaine, didn’t he? Should’ve brought her home.”*
At the café, Elaine sat at the bar. They moved to a table.
A waiter handed them menus. Without looking, Elaine ordered black coffee, a small pastry. James matched her.
After the waiter left, Elaine spoke. “Here on holiday? How’s your mum? Mine’s been poorly.”
“Mine’s holding up. You’ve got your salon, then? You look incredible.” He noted her bare ring finger. “Not married?”
Elaine tucked her hand away. “No. You?”
“Same. Just… worked out that way.”
By the end, they’d shared much. Her salon catered to celebrities, wealthy wives.
“Always learning new techniques. No days off. Barely even visit Mum,” she said.
“I’m in construction—like Dad,” James lied.
He studied her. The old Elaine—giggly, snub-nosed—had been better. *Nose job? Too polished now. Beautiful—but not for me.*
*”So handsome. If only he’d more money, a proper job—I’d have fallen for him,”* Elaine thought, sipping scalding coffee.
Conversation dried up. An awkward silence.
“I should go. Hope we’ll meet again?” James stood.
“Need a lift?”
“No—I’ll walk. Not far.”
Outside, she smiled, waved, drove off.
Three days later, James lay on the train bunk, replaying the meeting.
Meanwhile, Elaine styled a client’s hair.
“How was your trip?” her colleague asked.
“Fine. Left your car keys in your jacket pocket—thanks.”
“Make an impression?”
Elaine sighed. “Met my first love. Didn’t”And neither of them ever knew that the other had also lied, each too proud to admit they still cared, the missed chance slipping away like autumn leaves in the wind.”
