“WHO COULDN’T LOVE”
“Alright, girls, which one of you is Lily?” The stranger eyed me and my best mate, Poppy, with a mischievous grin.
“Erm, that’s me. Why?” I frowned, baffled.
“Letter for you, then. From William.” She dug a crumpled envelope from her cardigan pocket and handed it over.
“William? Where is he?”
“Transferred to a care home for adults. Waited for you, Lily, like a dog waits for its dinner. Nearly wore his eyes out staring at the gate. Gave me this to proofreaddidnt want to embarrass himself in front of you. Right, better dashlunch duty. I work here, see?” She gave me a look that could curdle milk, sighed, and scurried off.
…It all started one summer when Poppy and I, bored and sixteen, wandered onto the grounds of some strange buildingadventures required, obviously. We plonked ourselves on a bench, giggling over nothing, when two lads ambled over.
“Alright, girls? Fancy a chat? Im William,” said one, offering a hand.
“Lily. This is Poppy. And your quiet friend?”
“Leonard,” mumbled the other.
They were oddly old-fashionedWilliam even tutted at our skirts. “Bit short, arent they? And Poppy, that necklines asking for trouble.”
“Oh, behave. Eyes front, lads, or they might pop out,” Poppy shot back, grinning.
“Hard not to look. Were only human. You dont smoke, do you?” William pressed, scandalised.
“Like chimneys. Just not *properly*,” I teased.
Only then did we notice their awkward gaitsWilliam shuffled, Leonard had a heavy limp.
“Recovering from something?” I guessed.
“Motorbike crash,” William rattled off. “Len here took a bad dive off a cliff. Well be out soon.”
Back then, we swallowed every word. No clue theyd been in care since childhooddoomed to that place, spinning tales of accidents and brawls to strangers. But they were sharp, well-read, wise beyond their years. Soon, Poppy and I visited weeklypartly pity, partly because they were brilliant company.
Our little routine stuck. William picked daisies for me; Leonard folded origami for Poppy, blushing as he handed it over. Wed squeeze onto that benchWilliam by me, Leonard angled toward Poppy, whod turn pink but never scoot away. We talked nonsense for hours.
Then summer faded. Autumn drowned the flowers. School swallowed us whole. Exams, prom, graduationWilliam and Leonard slipped our minds entirely.
…Until one day, nostalgia hit. We went back, perched on *that* bench, waiting. No William with his daisies. No Leonard with paper cranes. Two hours later, that same woman bustled over with the letter.
I tore it open:
*”Dearest Lily, my sweet rose, my far-off star! You never guessed I loved you from the first. Those afternoons were my whole world. Six months Ive stared at that gate, praying youd come. You forgot me. Cant blame you. Our paths werent meant to cross. But thank youyou taught me love. I remember your laugh, your smile, the way youd fiddle with your hair. It aches, Lily. One more glimpse of youthats all Id ask.
Len and I turned eighteen. Theyre moving us come spring. Doubt well meet again. Hope one day this heartbreak fades.
Goodbye, my impossible girl.”*
*Yours always, William*
A dried daisy fell into my palm.
Guilt hit like a brick. That old saying echoed*were responsible for those weve tamed.* Id had no idea. To me, William was just a clever, kind boysomeone to tease, to laugh with. Never meant to stoke real love.
…Years rolled by. The letter yellowed; the daisy crumbled. But I still remember those afternoonshis terrible jokes, Leonards shy smiles.
Theres a coda, of course. Poppy fell hard for Leonardhis parents had ditched him at birth over his “odd” leg. She trained as a teacher, works at a care home now. Married Leonard. Two grown sons.
William? According to Leonard, he lived alone till his mum, struck by guilt, fetched him to her village at forty. After thatno one knows.
