A Chance Encounter
Heathers down coat only kept her warm at the bottom. Most of the feather stuffing had settled, leaving the top as thin as a raincoat, the chill cutting right through it. Thankfully, her knitted trousers and sturdy wellingtons kept her legs and feet warm, and a woollen scarf, which she pulled up over her shoulders through her sleeves, offered some protection against the cold.
The car her friend Grace had promised, their trading companion, had let them down. So, surrounded by their hotchpotch of bags, Heather and Grace had split up to try their luck hitching lifts home. Besides, all their bags would never fit in one car; it was better to separate.
Back when Heather worked for her boss, none of these struggles existed. But the money just wasnt enoughshe was raising two children on her ownand not long ago shed started making trips with Grace to fetch goods to sell. The money hadnt really increased, their stock still wasnt sold, but the problems certainly had.
Now each morning she had to drag her things to the local market, and every evening lug them back home, up four flights of stairs in relay, unless her son happened to be in.
Not so long ago, she could be heard belting out Things Can Only Get Better at the top of her voice, believing wholeheartedly in change. But the sort of change shed gotten instead seeped into her life like water through a crackthe trust where shed worked was closed, she was made redundant, and her husband had disappeared years before. Shore leave was over and shed started running goodsthough shed always thought she was the last person for trading.
So there she stood now, by the roadside, feet half-sunk into the slushy snow, still a young woman really, but with chapped lips and wind-swept red cheeks from endless hours at draughty markets, eyes brimming from exhaustion and cold.
Cars whooshed past, splattering her with messy grey mush. Heather tried not to look at the dirt; instead, her gaze drifted to the snowy rooftops and trees, where the snow gleamed white and crisp. Theres enough of this murk in lifeits better not to dwell on it.
She flagged down cars again and again, and finally, a mud-caked foreign make pulled up.
To Kensington, please, for a fair price? she asked at the open car door, then suddenly froze.
She recognised him instantly. All these years, and he barely seemed to have changedif anything, he looked better. The same enigmatic gaze, slightly raised brows, a faint smile on his lips.
Before she could recover fully, he got out, heaved her bags into the boot in a few efficient movements.
She sank into the front seat, adjusted her scarf and began searching for explanationsalready preparing to make excuses for why she looked so dreadful today. Surely he must recognise her, too.
But then again… So many years had passed. How many?
***
Shed been twenty-two at the time. Sent for her work placement to a remote forestry station. Her fiancé, Oliver, was waiting back in York. Everything was running to plan: placementgraduationwedding.
What difference could three months make? None, shed thought…
Heather lodged in the village of Millfield with a woman called Margaret, who worked at the station too, and cared for her elderly, half-deaf father-in-law. Heather, always warm and sociable, soon became friends with Margaret and helped her keep an eye on the old man.
One day, the old chap had a fall while Heather was there. She rushed out for helpno one nearby. And down the roadshe saw a tractor. She waved. Out came a young man: tall, good-looking, with a serious, almost mysterious look.
They ran back inside; he carried the old man effortlessly to the tractors passenger seat. Heather jumped in, anxious if theyd get him help in time.
They reached the nurses house, and soon an ambulance arrived. The young man hopped in as well, sat with Heather, and only after the old man was with the medics did they really speak.
He worked at the same forestry station. They were neighbours, too. His name was James.
But by then it was late. The old man was admitted, all safe and soundbut how would they get home now? The ambulance wouldnt drive back on those country lanes, not so late.
Come onmy mates mum lives nearby. We can stay there, set off early with the blokes when they go to work.
Heather realised James was trustworthy, nothing untoward, but she hesitated.
No, really, it’s fine. Ill stay at the hospital and you can pick me up in the morning, alright?
On those chairs? Dont be daft. Aunt Lindas lovely. Big house, big beds. Ill sleep in the barn with George.
Heather relented. James was rightshe slept like the dead, on a feather bed, until Aunt Linda woke her with a big breakfast. The generous woman chattered as she cooked, telling Heather that James had once brought a wife home from somewhere, but shed scarpered, leaving him with a son. Now James raised the boy singlehandedly, ran a pig farm, built a new house. The usual small-town matchmaking talk, sizing up Heather as a possible match.
Heather could only smile. Noshe was engaged, her future mapped out with Oliver, young and budding engineer. She herself was ambitious, and divorced men with children simply werent her type.
But after that she saw James everywhereat the woodland works, in the canteen, out along the street. Margaret, her landlady, was friendly with him, and together theyd fetched the old man back home once he was well again.
He likes you, you know, Margaret had teased. Blushed like a schoolboy when I asked him. You two suit each other.
Oh, come off it! Im with Oliver.
Hes not your husband yet, is he? But James, now theres a solid bloke. Built up his pig farm, gets in tractors and all sorts. Young lad of his own. He just needs the right woman.
Heathers heart fluttered. The truth was, shed started searching for him toodrawn to his strength, his calm warmth, the way everyone respected him.
Best check with James before you try anything, shed hear from the locals.
Heather herself, in her coffee-coloured coat, cut an unusual figure in the villagesomeone from out thereand the men would straighten up, swallow their cursing, act a little smarter.
Would Your Ladyship like a ride?
The walk from the station to the village wasnt far, but rain was pelting down. Heather headed to Jamess tractor.
Whos got your lad now? she asked. Any man with a child struck her as so grown up, though he was only a couple of years her senior.
No need for Mr! The boys with his nana neighbour pops round to help. We take him to nursery. Hes a proper handful.
Whats his name?
Callumsweet lad. Full of beans, that one. Got to keep your eye on him. His grandmas strict, James said, glancing her way. You dont like it out here, do you?
Who says so? Its alright…
Just wait. The mud will dry out, the green will return. Its beautiful by the river… The streetlamps will be fixed soon, too. Just a matter of time.
They drove down the pitch-dark lane. The village council had cut the power to save cash. And when James said sorted, it was as if he took responsibility for the whole place.
Ah, if only shed known then that taking responsibility would become, later, her most valued quality in a man.
Jamess attentions grew obvioushed pop in with logs for Margaret, fetch medicine for the old man. Heather tried to hold out against her own feelings.
She just couldn’t picture herself rooted in this village, though nothing in the city really held herexcept Oliver and all her familys wedding dreams. She imagined how it would break Olivers heart if she suddenly admitted shed fallen for someone on her placement, how her mum would take it.
So, youll live in the countryside? she could hear her mothers disbelief.
And her future husband, a divorcee with a child, pig farming. Herthe university graduate. Her parents pride…
Many evenings, with nothing but dogs barking and wind rattling outside, she pictured herself with James. Hed love her, treasure her, be thankful if she became a mother to his boy. Theyd have more children, sure. But that seemed impossible. Oliver was waiting, with wedding rings already bought and a mum saving up for the big day.
Still, in Heathers heart, a sweet, overwhelming premonition of love beat away. Perhaps it was only the combination of that, and springs arrival, which clouded her mind.
It now seemed to her shed never loved Oliver at allbut with James, it felt real. Knowing she had a fiancé waiting only heightened the drama, and the drama, of course, made everything more intoxicating.
One night, at a particularly low ebb, in tears, she almost threw herself into Jamess arms. She didnt know whyout of farewell to the past, or this new love? He tried to resist, peered into her eyes, but finally yielded, thinking it would be a clean ending. It was her first experience, but everything about it was rightshe never regretted it.
She never fully made a decision, though. Perhaps it was immaturity, naivety, or just a lack of life experience.
One day, near the well, she met young Callum. He was teetering around its edgedangerous. If he climbed on, he could easily tumble in. Heather rushed over.
Hey, stop that! Wheres your mum?
A girl hurried up the lane, dull and stringy-haired, a plain sparrow of a thing. Callum glared at Heather, wrenched free, and flung himself weeping into the girls skirt.
He was about to climb upI just
Callum, dont cry. You know thats naughty.
The girl looked at Heather with a sad, unfriendly look and nodded.
Ran offslippery little thing. Thanks, though.
Taking Callums hand, they walked up the road.
Callum? Jamess Callum, surely. Heathers stomach tightened. Such an alien childalready rejecting her touch.
Later, Jamess mother, Mrs. Clarke, came to see Heathercrying. She explained that Callum was used to Sarah, the neighbour-girl whod been his help since Jamess wife left. Sarah loved James, and everything had been fine until Heather had arriveda homewrecker.
Heather blinked in disbeliefsurely James was the one whod come between her and her fiancé! Shed felt the victim, but nowshed become the villain.
James begged her to stay, not to go. He saw her to the train. He pleaded that all this about Sarah was made-up. Sarah, he said, was no match for him: quiet and forgettable next to the strapping, lively James.
Shes so timid, you can barely get a word out of her, Margaret confirmed. Theyre not right together. But you…
But Heather was hurt. She refused to believe shed intruded on someone else’s story. No, shed have her ownurban, proper, no dramas. She stopped hearing Jamess pleas as she boarded the trainshe was going home to Oliver.
She remembered him as he stood on the platform: checked shirt, sleeves rolled, shoulders slumped, deep furrow between his brows, that sad look in his eyes. That was the James she remembered for years.
She wept quietly as the train rocked her homefor a three-month work placement that had become something much more.
But youth heals. She carried on, never looked back. She married Oliver, settled into family life.
**
Now she sat in the car, still adjusting her scarf, still preparing to explain away her appearance. Surely hed recognise her. Or maybe not. Had she changed so much? Put on weight, lips cracked, her ugly down coat, that old scarf…
How many years? Sixteen, yessixteen years had slipped by.
At first, they drove in silence.
Terrible weather, she finally said as a passing car splashed them.
Its nicer outside the city, properly white and clean. Even the lanes are cleared well.
Are you from out there?
Back and forth, really. Business.
Thank you for giving me a lift. We got let down todayusually Im with the car, but today… Ill pay you
He glanced at her with that same old, wounded look, and at once she knewhe remembered.
Hello, she said softly, almost just in case.
Hello, Heather.
You recognised me? I thought youd have forgotten.
I didnt, he said, eyes on the road, serious.
Heather felt a pang beneath her ribs: his voice, his hands, his lookall those sharply-drawn memories. It was suddenly hot; she took off her woollen scarf.
Howve you been, James?
He hesitated for a moment, as if brushing away his own tumble of the past.
Me? Oh, alright. Going along, making do. Topsy-turvy times. You as well, Im guessing.
Still at the forestry station? she asked, keen to shift to neutral ground.
No, its long since gone, collapsed ages ago. I left before that, went out on my own.
Best way now, isnt it? Me too, in a way. Farm still running? She recalled his pigs and the hope hed sold meat.
Farm and business bothmeat products.
Ah, well… Tradings what everyones doing now.
A sudden memory struckshed seen her own family buying sausages labelled Clarke & Sons. Shed smiled at the time, chalking it up to coincidence.
Waitthose Clarkes Best sausages and piesthose are yours?
You could say so. Didnt like them? he asked, quietly amused.
Notheyre lovely! My mum goes out of her way for them. Id never have guessed.
James spoke, almost apologetic for his success.
We started out tinyexpanded the farm, had surplus meat. People needed work, so we grew a bit. Then built a small factory, opened a few shopsjust trying to help locals.
Good for you. Are you on your own, or…?
Ive a whole teamthough I suppose Im the boss. Hardly manageable singlehanded. Most of the lot are from Millfield. Were across half the county now, not just locally.
Heather felt a surge of embarrassmenther tattered coat and wellies, once city-girl, and James, once a tractor driver, now a success. How their fortunes had shifted.
Hows your son?
Jamess eyes lit up.
Three of them now.
Three boys?
Thats right, three lads. And yours?
A boy and a girl, Heather replied, mopping her brow.
Callums in the armywas in a hotspot. We worried ourselves sickSarahs gone grey with it. Hes due home in spring, thank God. The middle lads at college, youngest still in his second year.
Sarahso James had married the quiet mouse after all.
Heather wanted to confess her regrets, so many times shed looked back and wished shed stayed, especially now, seeing him after so long.
Oliver, it turned out, was a disappointment. Theyd hung on at first, moved to Bedfordshire for his engineering job, got housing, had the children. But soon he clashed with his bosses, bounced between jobs, started drinking. They lost the flat, moved in with his mother, and then Oliver just took off on his own. She didnt get on with her mother-in-law either.
Heather couldnt bear it any longerfiled for divorce, took the kids to her mums. Her father, her rock, had passed by then.
She wanted to pour all her lifes burdens out to James, but she said only:
My boys in year ten. Chloes in year eight. Time flies.
That it does.
They both fell silent. Both longed to talk about the real things, but each assumed they mattered only to themselves.
Heathers sense of guilt towards James stirred. But then she remembered his mothers tears, Sarahshed stepped aside for them, after all. Back then it was pride and youthful stubbornness guiding her.
And you? he asked, almost offhand.
Oh, you see how it is. I was let go. Now self-employed. Its hard on your own.
And your husband? Oliver, wasnt it?
You remember? Well
I saw you as a bride, you know. Drove after your wedding convoy like an idiot right to the reception.
What? Heather spun round to face him.
Aunt Margaret told me the day before. She said: Dont fret, its her wedding tomorrow. I got in my car as I was, and you looked so happy. I didnt show myself. Just went home and asked Sarah to marry me.
Oh If only Id known Heather felt wrung out.
Id only have made a mess then. No, you were happy, beautiful, over the moon.
Was I? I suppose for a while I was. But not for long. We split after five years. I came back to live with Mum.
Thats a shame.
Oh, wellI got used to it. Turns out, Im stronger than Id thought. I can do a lot on my own. The kids are well, do well at school. My eldest wants to study medicine. Its fine. And trading thats why Im standing at the market in these wellies. Its freezing, but my pitch is a good one, worth keeping.
She wanted James to see things werent so very bad; even if there wasnt a thriving business, at least they were getting by.
James listened, the crease between his brows deepening.
And your family life? Hows Sarah?
He shrugged, as if his mind was elsewhere.
Sarah? Oh, shes she bakes bread.
She bakes? At home?
Well, at first, yes. But then Have you heard of The Old English Oven? The shop and delicatessen.
Of course. Ive popped in, maybe once. She
Runs it. I built the place for her. Her bread became so popular, so we branched out.
Heather rememberedher market friend had dragged her in once, raving about the bread. While queuing, her friend had pointed out the owner: small, sharp-cut hair, neat, cheerful, in a white coat with a pink scarf. Heather had vaguely recognised the face but hadnt stopped to wonder how someone so young could run a business.
Now it all added up.
Its just here, isnt it? they were nearly at Heathers place. James was looking for the street.
Next block over.
But James pulled up, leapt out, and disappeared into the wintry dusk. Heather watched in a daze as he dashed to the corner flower hut, returning with a huge bouquet of white chrysanthemums. He opened her door, laying the flowers in her lapher grey woollen trousers cradling the brilliant white.
Heather looked at the flowers, and the white heads blurred before her eyes. She wiped away her tears quicklywerent strong women meant to hold it together?
He helped her carry the bags up, the hallway grafittied, and all the while she clutched the flowers to her chest.
Do you want to come in? She almost hoped hed refuse; the flat was chaos, stock piled everywhere, her mother ready with a thousand questions.
But no matterlet him see, let him understand and perhaps even pity her
No, Heather, I should gobusy day ahead, he said, holding her wrist for a long moment in farewell before running down the stairs.
Should she call him back? Tell him how much it all meant?
Watching his retreating back, Heather suddenly sawit was harder for him. Hed said goodbyetheyd never meet again. Oddly, the knowledge eased her.
She lugged her bags inside.
At once, her mother appeared, questions and family news spilling from her lips. Heather barely listened; she could still feel Jamess grip on her wrist as she took off her boots, moved through the flat by habit, half in a dream.
Her mum tailed her, talking non-stop, not noticing Heathers distraction.
After she changed and sat at the table, Heather asked, Mum, do you remember before my wedding, I told you about a lad from my placement? Courted me in Millfieldwas just starting out as a farmer. Remember?
I do, vaguely. Why?
You told me then: Imagine, living out there farming pigs.
And I was right. Youd be stuck in muck!
I saw him today.
Where?
Oh, it doesnt matter. Mum, your favourite Clarke & Sons sausages and piestheyre his. His wife runs The Old English Oven. Thats them…
Her mum set her cup down slowly, her face drawn with regret. After a pause, she spoke gently, perhaps to quieten both their fears.
Well, we dont get to choose our fate, do we? Even if we could, theres be fights over it.
Heather felt a sudden sorrow for her mum.
Never mind, Mum. Well make do. I sold two suits and three jackets today. Well get through. Cheer up!
Thats the spirit, love. If only we knew where wed stumble, wed lay down straw. Oh well But the encounter had weighed on her, and her mum drifted into her thoughts.
Not long after, her son came hometall, upright, with that same serious, mysterious air, so much like his true father.
And how had the whole family believed her three-kilo newborn was premature? Yet they had. Heather had never been thought the flighty sort.
He sat at the table.
Mum, please dont be crossIve got a job at the riding club, mucking out the stables. Piecework rate. I promise my schoolwork wont suffer, honest!
Heather sighed. Yesterday this would have raised her hackles. Today…
Go ahead, Jamie. Youre a grown lad now. Honest work is always worthwhile. Youll want your own money soon. I dont mind.
He grinned, shovelling up his dinner, and watched his mum with curiositysomething had shifted in her, but what it was, he couldnt have said. It just felt good, her trust.
Heather couldnt sleep that night. She wasnt sad, not grieving, just caught in a strange sense of peace.
She looked at the white chrysanthemums, thinking about fate, about her meeting that day, about how everyone must move forwardeach onto their own, new stage in life.
Back then, meeting James had split her life in two: before him and after. Now it felt just the same.
Both still had surprises and new happiness ahead, even if theyd never meet again. Even apart, in some way, their paths would touch.
Everything that happens, happens for a reason.
Perhaps todays meeting was gifted to her so she could at last understand something very important: that every choice, every twist of fate, shapes usand that a good heart will always carry us through.
