Arranged Meetings by the Clock
Monday, 8th June
I was at my desk, head down, drowning in paperwork again. Endless piles of spreadsheets, invoices and emails towered in front of me, ready to swallow whatever fragments of time I had left in the day. I sorted them methodically, checking the numbers, scribbling quick notes on my pad. Silence hung over the office, just the quiet click of keyboards from over the partition and the occasional muffled conversation from the kitchen nearby. The afternoon sunshine snuck through the blinds, drawing pale stripes across my work.
Suddenly, my mobile blared its ringtone, making me jump. It was so abrupt that I lost my train of thought and fumbled for the phone. Mum flashed on the screen. OddMum always called after work, never in the middle of the afternoon. It had only just gone three. What could have happened?
I answered anyway, holding the phone to my ear.
Amelia, love, can you get here right away? Mum’s voice sounded strained and wobbly. I picked up on it instantlya tremble I only ever heard when something was really up. Its important.
My nerves twitched. I straightened in my chair, shoving the papers aside as though removing an obstacle between me and Mums worry.
What is it? I tried to sound calm, but a tightness crept into my words. Are you alright?
Im fine, darling, honestly. She rushed her answer, desperate to squash the idea of illness. But its urgent. I need to see you.
I glanced at the abandoned documents. My working day had hours left, but her tone allowed no argument.
Ill be there in an hour. I checked the clock.
The sooner the better, sweetheart. Mum lowered her voice, and the urgency solidified. There are… people waiting.
Those words, people waiting, hung like mistvague, heavy with unspoken meaning. I frowned, my mind racing. Was it a family crisis? A neighbours disaster? Something at Mums job? There was no point pressing her further nowit was clear this was serious.
I swept my bits togethershoved papers into my folder, grabbed my wallet and phone, shrugged on my jacket. Popped my head into my managers office, explained quickly. He gave me a sympathetic nod and sent me on my way. Outside, I tapped quickly into the taxi app, punched in Mums street, and confirmed. In the few spare minutes waiting for the cab, I rang her again to check if I should bring anything, but she only repeated, Just come.
I realised midway down the road that I all but sprinted out of the building. Thoughts churned circles: were Mums colleagues in trouble, had something happened to Aunt Linda, did a distant cousin need help? No answer satisfied. My cab pulled up in record time, and I jumped in, reciting Mums address.
The forty-minute ride home crawled by. I watched the familiar streets slip past, the hodgepodge of terraced houses, launderettes and little parks blurring together. My mind couldnt settle, darting between worries and daydreams.
When we finally stopped outside Mums block, I paid the driver (seven pounds eightyhardly a fair price for forty minutes of nerves) and rushed up the stairs with my keys at the ready. But before I even hit the lock, the door swung open.
There you are! Mum almost dragged me across the threshold by the arm. Come through, love.
Inside, I caught that unmistakable, comforting scent of vanilla scones baking in the kitchenMums signature treat reserved for big occasions. My stomach twisted with tension; the smell usually meant birthdays or family celebrations, but today it didnt match Mums anxious voice or the mysterious hurry.
What’s going on? I asked, stepping into the lounge.
And froze. Seated at Mum’s round dining tabledraped in her best white clothwas Simon. Simon, son of Mum’s friend Linda; Simon whom Id known since I was six and always privately nicknamed the Fumbler. He wore the same anxious smile, tugged at the collar of his shirt, visibly out of place.
Beside him, Aunt Linda beamed so wide she could have been at a wedding. Her whole face radiated hope and pride.
Hello, Amelia, Simon stood hastily, tryingand failingnot to look awkward. Long time, no see.
Certainly, and it could have stayed that way for another decade, I muttered, folding my arms as I stared at Mum. I masked my nerves behind indifference. So, why the mad rush home, Mum?
Mum ignored my tone, fussing needlessly with a napkin. Darling, Linda and I were just talking You two grew up together, youre both sensible, independent
And? I fixed her with a stare, confusion edging into annoyance. What does this have to do with me? I left my whole workload and an office full of people waitingfor what, exactly?
Linda jumped in. Simons done splendidly for himself! Good job, his own flat… Everythings ticking along perfectly.
We just wanted you to have a chat. Mum finally dared look me in the eye, though her expression ducked from mine. Get to know each other again.
I felt irritation bubble in my chestalways this insistence on suitable matches, as if I couldn’t handle my life myself. I gripped the strap of my bag, keeping my tone as even as I could, though it came out brittle.
Listen, Mum, I exhaled slowly and evenly, I appreciate your worry about my love life, but Ill decide who I spend time with.
Simon blushed, squirming in his chair, then tried for damage control. Amelia, maybe give me a chance? We haven’t even had a proper conversation. We used to get along all right. Youre lovely, and Im really notbad…
And? I met his eyes fully. You’ve never been my type. Nothings changed. Well always be friends, but I can’t force anything else.
He looked as if his collar had shrunk three sizes. But We could try? I really want this to work. I mean it, Amelia.
For a moment, I closed my eyes, collected my words so I wouldnt be unkind.
Simon, you are a genuinely decent man. Kind, sorted But that doesnt mean we should be together. You can’t magic up feelings just because our mums hope for it.
With the tension finally easing, I almost smiled at the ridiculousness. Oh, Mum, what a performance.
I think Ill go, Mum, I said, sliding the bag strap over my shoulder. Sorry to scupper your plan, but its for the best. Better to be honest than pretend.
Wait! Mum reached as if to catch my sleeve. Lets talk. We just want whats best.
No, Mum. I paused in the hall, gentle but firm. Lets talk when youre ready to hear me out, not stage a show. I need to get back to work. Pleasedont do this again. You had me really worried.
I stepped into the gentle chill of the outside air, the door clicking shut behind me. Rain had left the street glimmering and fresh. For the first time since the phone call, I breathed properly.
Why can’t Mum leave my choices alone? Why all this matchmaking? Hasnt she realised its pointless? Ive always known what I wanted in lifeand in a partner. Someone self-assured, independent, who doesnt hide behind his mother or wait for me to make the first move. Work prospects and a flat don’t count for everything; I need actual chemistry. I walked briskly through the local park, the shortcut Ive known since I was young. Children dashed about, mothers chatted by the swings, elderly couples soaked up the sun on benches. I sidestepped puddles, the drops from trees splashing my coat, lost in my thoughts.
Nearly home, my phone vibrated. Mum flashed up again. I hesitated, then answered.
Why did you storm off? Mum sounded hurt rather than angrylike I’d left a crucial conversation unfinished.
Mum, I cant marry someone just because you and Aunt Linda have been friends forever, I replied as evenly as I could, striding past a group of schoolkids. Thats not how it works.
No ones saying you have to marry him! She was prickly now. Just have a proper talk. Hes polite, educated, no bad habitsI just thought you might get on.
Im sure he is all that, I replied with a sigh. But that doesn’t mean hes the man for me.
So who is, then? Mum’s voice sounded tired, as if wed circled this conversation too many times. Youve been on your own for years. You never go out with anyone! I don’t understand what you’re waiting for.
Im not waiting for anything, Mum, I replied, settling on an empty bench. I just refuse to settle for someone, anyone, for the sake of it. My choice, not yours or Lindas.
Your choice is to work late every night, eat on your own and see no one but colleagues? Mum’s voice was sharp, almost pained. I just want you to be happy, that’s all.
I am happy, I said quietly as I watched a flock of kids launch a makeshift paper boat into a puddle. My happiness just looks a little different than you planned. I love my work, my routine. I wont chase the first man I see. Ill choose for myself, when I know its right.
There was a pause, just the faint hum of Mums radio in the background. Then she sighed, her words barely above a whisper. Im sorry for pushing. I just I want you to be alright when were older, when were gone.
I know, I replied, gentler now. And I love that you care. But please, no more ambushes. Youve no idea the scenarios I imagined all the way home.
I promise. Mum’s smile was almost audible. But if ever you do meet someone who really matters tell me first. Dont keep it a secret.
I will, Mum, I said, standing once more. I promise. Now, Ive got to rushso much to do. Love you, Mum.
Love you too, darling. Take care.
Pocketing my phone, I looked up. The clouds were clearing at last, sun poking through in golden streaks, painting the neighbourhood with warmth. Across the way, teenagers laughed, swinging shopping bags; a jogger passed with a grinning ginger spaniel at his heels. The world, with all its familiarity and surprise, carried on. The paths ahead seemed endless. I realised again how senseless it would be to twist myself into anyone elses idea of how life should be.
For several days afterward, I threw myself into work at the agency. We were ramping up for a major launch; mornings began with black tea and ended in swathes of digital paperwork. By the time I got back home, exhausted, there was only enough energy to shower and collapse onto the bed. In the stillness of late nights though, my mind wandered back to Mums attempt at matchmaking, and I felt a faint ache. I wasnt sorry for standing my groundjust sorry she couldnt see it my way the first time.
Friday evening, as I was about to log off, an email popped up from Tom in creative. He was having a birthday bashShould be a laugh, his message read. Youll meet a few new faces. Good music, decent company. For a second, the thought of collapsing on the sofa tempted me. But it had been months since Id gone anywhere outside work or the shops, and the loneliness was biting.
Why not, I thought, and typed, See you there.
The café Tom picked was a quirky spot out near the ring road. Exposed brick, battered wooden tables, comfy sofas pressed up against the front window. Inside, it buzzedmurmur of conversation, the heady mix of coffee and pastries, strands of jazz wafting from the speakers.
Tom was holding court by the coffee bar, arms flying as he told a story. When he spotted me, he waved and grinned.
You made it! he half-shouted, hugging me with the giddy energy of a birthday boy. Thought youd chicken out.
Told myself I needed a change of scene. I grinned back, handing him a card. Happy birthday, by the way!
He introduced me to a table of mates by the window and darted back to greet a new arrival. I grabbed a glass of elderflower cordial, found a spot. Laughter rolled across the tablean icebreaker, someones story winding down. Next thing I knew, someone took the seat next to me.
Hi, you must be Amelia. Im Benwork with Lisa over in accounts.
Nice to meet you, Ben, I replied, surprised he knew my name.
I saw you in that project briefing a week backthe GlobalTech one, right?
Thats the one, I said, eyebrows raised.
Im in analytics. Did some of the forecasting for your team.
Conversation flowed easily. Ben was sharp about his job, yes, but also funny and disarming. He actually listened, wasnt trying to impressjust genuinely curious. As the party grew louder, he nodded towards the door.
Want to get some fresh air? Bit too lively in here.
Outside was cool, night stretching overhead, the city distant and soft. We found a spot by the low wall.
What do you get up to when you’re off-duty? he asked, leaning on his elbows.
Read, go for walks. Occasionally the cinema, when something decents on. You?
I travel, when I can. Last year, it was Scotlanddid the whole Highlands road trip. Unbelievable place, so wild. Still dream about it sometimes.
Go on, tell me more, I said, taken in by the glow in his eyes as he described it.
He painted such a vivid picture: the mist curling through glens, sandstone ruins by still lochs, a crofter who invited him in for tea (real tea, the strong stuff). For a moment, I half-fancied Id been there myself.
And you? he asked. Wheres your favourite place to switch off?
The coast, I smiled, remembering the wind-whipped beaches of Devon. Sea air, salt on the skin, nothing to do but watch the waves. Wish I could go more often, but work you know how it is.
Well change that, he joked, but not at all forceful. Next year, maybe well plan a trip?
I blinked in surprise at the offer, but found myself laughing. Bit sudden, dont you think?
At least Im honest, Ben grinned, friendly and completely at ease. Youre easy to talk to. Id love to see you again, if youre up for it.
I looked at him properly then. There was no trace of pressure or calculation, just openness and an easy charm.
All right, but lets take it slowly, I said, surprised at my own willingness.
Whenever you want. How about coffee tomorrow?
Sounds good, I replied, feeling a rush of genuine warmth that had nothing to do with the weather.
When I got home and settled on the sofa, Mum phoned again. This time, I picked up without hesitation.
How are you, love? she asked, cautiously hopeful.
Great, actually. I sank into the cushions, unable to keep the smile from my voice. Been at a friends birthday do. Met a lovely man.
Really? Mums surprise was obvious. Tell me about him.
Hes bright, funnyand most importantly, hes not running to his mum with every problem.
She laughed, genuinely. So, maybe I neednt worry so much after all?
Not as much, Mum, I said quietly. You careand Im grateful for it. But this is my path to walk. I promise Ill tell you if it ever really matters.
Agreed, my darling. Love you.
Love you too, Mum.
I watched the city lights blink beyond the window: golden, amber and white, stretching like strings of pearls through the night. The gentle sounds of London carried uplaughter, drifts of music, the muted hum of a city at ease. I feltperhaps for the first time in weeksgenuinely calm.
No one can script your life, I thought as I watched the lights. You choose which invitations you accept, which doors you close, and which people you let in. For now, thats all I need to know.
