What on earth did you ever see in him?
Edith stepped out of the shop and was descending the steps when a sleek red car pulled up beside her. A young woman climbed out, the sudden gust of wind billowing her dress like a bell and sending a lock of hair across her face. With a practised toss of her head, she brushed the strand aside, smoothed her dress, and walked past without noticing Edith.
“Helena! Helena!” Edith called out.
The woman turned, scanning the street until her gaze settled on Edith. For a moment, they simply stared at one another.
“You don’t recognise me?” Edith stepped closer. “It’s me, Edith. Edith Whitmore.”
“Edith… I didn’t recognise you at all,” Helena said coolly. “Small world, isn’t it?”
“You look… well,” Edith murmured, tugging Helena aside from the shop entrance. “Come on, let’s not block the way. My, how you’ve changed.”
Helena smiled faintly.
“Do you live nearby?” she asked.
“No, I work round here. Just popped out on my lunch. And you?”
“Tell you what—why stand about? You’ve got time, haven’t you? Let’s duck into the café. Who knows when we’ll bump into each other again?”
They settled at a corner table in a dim, half-empty café nearby, more greasy spoon than proper eatery. The waitress, chewing gum, slapped down laminated menus with disinterest.
“Never mind those,” Helena waved them away. “Two salads, two Victoria sponges, and a pot of tea. Quickly, please.”
She turned to Edith with a smirk as the waitress sauntered off.
“So, how’s life?” Helena adjusted herself on the plastic chair.
“Fine. Was married—briefly. No children. You seem to be doing well.”
Helena laughed and flashed her wedding ring. “Can’t complain.”
“And children?”
The waitress returned with the tea, the faint scent of mint rising between them.
“Your parents—are they still…?” Helena asked abruptly once they were alone again.
“Father passed a few years ago. Mum… well, she’s not been the same since.” Edith twisted her teacup absently.
“Shame. I always liked your parents. Not like my mother—always complaining, never a kind word. No wonder my father left. Your house—so quiet, so peaceful.” Helena’s eyes clouded with memory.
Edith sighed.
***
They’d lived in the same building once—Edith on the third floor, Daniel just below. They’d gone to primary school together, then secondary. Daniel’s father drank, the rows loud enough to send Daniel scrambling upstairs to Edith’s flat.
In Year Nine, a new girl arrived—bright, striking Helena, whose parents had split, leaving her and her mother to move into the block opposite. Daniel was smitten at once. Edith watched, bitter, as their old routine dissolved.
“What’re you waiting for?” she’d snapped when Daniel halted in the courtyard.
Then Helena appeared, all smiles for Daniel alone. With her, he was different—lively, quick-witted. Edith trailed behind, silent.
After school, he’d dash to fetch Helena’s coat. They’d walk home, forgetting Edith entirely. Between classes, Helena chatted as if nothing had changed.
Once, they went to the cinema together. When the lights came up, Edith saw their clasped hands. They walked ahead, oblivious as she lagged behind. She never joined them again.
They scattered after school—Edith to university, Daniel to trade college, Helena to fashion school.
One winter, Edith fell ill. Snow dusted the pavement as she watched from her window—then spotted Helena hurrying towards her building. Heart leaping, she opened the door—only to hear footsteps stop one floor below. Daniel’s voice: “You’re here…” A door slammed.
Edith sank onto the hall bench, tears hot. Helena had been visiting while Daniel’s parents were out. The thought of what they did there made her chest ache.
Later, her mother mentioned bumping into Daniel’s mum—how his father drank worse than ever, how Daniel had moved out, renting a flat with Helena.
At university, Edith married a classmate, moving into his mother’s house. The woman meddled endlessly, dictating how a wife should behave. Her husband, spineless, only shrugged.
“Alex, why did you marry me?” she’d asked once. “No wife could ever replace your mother.”
“Mother knows best. You’ll get used to it.”
“I don’t want to. Live with her, then.”
He’d shrugged again as she packed. The divorce was swift—no children, nothing to divide.
She saw Daniel only once after that, at his father’s funeral. No chance to speak. Soon after, his mother remarried.
***
Now, Helena sat across from her, polished and pleased with herself. The waitress finally brought the salads. Helena ate with relish; Edith picked at her cake.
“And Daniel?”
Helena paused, fork mid-air. “Still hung up on him?” She leaned back, amused. “I envied you, you know. Your family—so warm. All I had was my looks. I made him fall for me, and he was so easy.” She shrugged. “But we were different. He wanted marriage, children—I wanted to live, not scrape by. Now I’ve a wealthy husband, everything I could want.”
“And Daniel?”
“Why d’you care? He’s in some poky flat. Earns barely enough. Alone, last I heard. So—your chance, I suppose. But really, Edith—what did you ever see in him?”
Edith checked her watch. “Sorry—I’ve work.” She stood abruptly, desperate to escape Helena’s stare.
“Off you go,” Helena said, sipping her tea with a wince.
Edith reached for her purse.
“Don’t bother. My treat.” Helena waved her off, regal as a queen dismissing a servant.
Edith left without goodbye—then turned back. “Forgotten something?” Helena smirked.
“His address. Write it down.”
For a second, Helena faltered. Then she scribbled on a napkin and handed it over. “Take it. Good luck.”
At her desk, Edith smoothed the napkin. *What now? March straight to him?* She could almost hear Helena’s laugh.
“I will. Just watch me,” she muttered.
“Sorry?” her colleague asked.
Edith tucked the napkin away.
Leaves crunched underfoot as she walked home. The unseasonably warm autumn lingered. She paused in her courtyard, eyes drifting to Daniel’s old window. Memories rushed back—walks to school, him fleeing his father’s rages… Where had it all gone?
She spun on her heel. No more waiting.
The block was easy to find. She hesitated at the entrance. *Why am I here? Helena’s right—he never loved me. All these years, not one call. Don’t be a fool.* She turned sharply—and collided with Daniel.
“Edith? What—?”
Her heart leapt.
“I—a colleague lives here. She wasn’t in.” She eyed his stubble, his bloodshot eyes.
“Caught a bug, of all things. Went for milk.” He held up the bag.
“You should be in bed. Come on.”
His flat was sparse, bachelor-neat. She fried potatoes, boiled milk, sent him to rest.
“I’ll wash up,” she said.
When she checked, he was asleep, fever broken. She watched him, heart aching. This was still her Daniel. Quietly, she left.
“Late tonight,” her mother said when she got home.
“Ran into Helena.”
“I thought you two weren’t close.”
“We had tea. She’s married—flash car, glamorous as ever.”
“And you?”
“What about me?”
“When’ll I get grandchildren?”
“Not this again.” Edith retreated to her room.
She was brushing her teeth when her mother handed her the ringing phone.
“Thank God you’ve the same number. I took a chance… Sorry I fell asleep. Why’d you leave?”
Goosebumps prickled her skin.
“Didn’t want to wake you. Feeling better?”
“Much. Listen—I know I’ve no right… Not the time, not the place… But—will you come tomorrow? Edith?”
“You want me to?”
“Course I do. Or—tell me where you work. I’ll meet you.”
“I’ll come,” she whispered.
How long had she waited for those words?
Next morning, she dressed carefully—a smart dress, a hint of makeup.
“Where’s this?” her mother asked.
“Work do. Colleague’s anniversary.”
“Late again?”
“Maybe.” Edith wiped off the makeup, changed into jeans and a jumper.
“Don’t ask,” she said, and flew out the door.
Her heart soared. She’d see him again. Finally.
