An Unexpected Encounter

A Chance Encounter

My coat barely kept me warm from the waist down. The down had all shifted to the bottom, so the top was little more than a thin, wind-blown mac. Below, chunky knit trousers and boots saved me, and Id wrapped a woollen shawl around my shoulders through my sleeves to ward off the chill.

The car promised by my friend, Janea fellow at the Saturday markethadnt shown up. And so, surrounded by bags and boxes, we were stuck trying to flag a lift. There was far too much for one car, so wed split up, each to our own devices.

It was always easier when I worked for someone else, but with two children and not enough moneyMichael having disappeared long agoId only recently started heading up to Manchester myself, buying and selling alongside Jane. Now, there was no more money, the goods werent shifting, but somehow there were more problems.

Each morning, it was a slog to haul the merchandise to the market in Leeds, and each evening Id drag whatever didnt sell back homemultiple trips up to the fourth floor, unless my son was in.

Not long ago, Id been singing We Want Change! at the top of my lungs, believing in it. Now change had bulldozed its way into my life: the firm I worked for had shut its doors, theyd made us redundant, and my only option was tradethe very thing Id always sworn wasnt for me.

So, there I was, standing by the side of the A-road, half-shivering, lips chapped, cheeks stung red from endless hours at the gusty market. My eyes kept watering, whether from cold or exhaustion, I couldnt say.

Cars zipped by, flinging up grey slush. I tried not to look at the muck, fixing my gaze on the clean white snow atop the trees and roofs. Theres so much grey in life, youre better off not looking straight at it.

Another hopeful wave, and at last a grimy foreign car pulled in.

To King Street, could you take me for a reasonable fare? I said. The words stuck in my mouth.

I recognised him the instant I saw him. The years melted away. He hardly seemed changed, onlyif anythingimproved. The same serious, quietly mysterious eyes, the raised brows, that gentle smile.

While I tried to collect myself, he was out of the car and hauling my bags into the boot.

I plonked myself onto the front seat, fiddled with my shawl, and started mentally coming up with excuses for my appearance. He would recognise mesurely. Or would he?

How many years had it been anyway?

***

Back then, I was twenty-two. Id been sent off to the Lake District for my degree placement. In York, my fiancé Richard waited. Everything was on trackplacement, final exams, wedding.

What could three months in the countryside possibly change? Nothing, surely.

They put me up in a spare room with a woman named Christine who worked at the local estate office. She lived with her nearly deaf old father-in-law. Ive always been sociable; Christine and I got on. We looked after her father together.

Once, he had a fall in my presence. I rushed next door for help, but found no one. Outside, a tractor rumbled past. I waved it down. Out hopped a manhandsome, tall, with those quiet, serious eyes.

We hurried inside; he swept the old man up like he weighed nothing and loaded him into the tractor cab. I followed, nerves janglingwould we get him the help needed?

We did. We reached the nurse, and soon paramedics arrived. He even got into the ambulance with me, riding along to the hospital.

Only once the old man was settled, did we really talk.

Turned out we worked for the same estate company and lived on the same lane. His name was Martin.

But by then it was late. The ambulance wouldnt take us all the way back on those dark country roads.

Come on, he said, my mates mum lives nearby. Well stay the night there; in the morning the lads will drop us back.

By now Id seen Martin was decent. Still, I hesitated.

No, Id rather sleep at the hospital. You can pick me up in the morning?

On those plastic chairs? Dont fret. Aunt Mays lovely. Big house. Ill sleep in the barn with Tom.

So I agreed. And he was rightthe bed was deep and soft, and Aunt May woke me the next morning with a full English. Such hospitality.

Over breakfast, she filled me in: Martin had been married, but his young wife hadnt coped and left him with their son. He worked hardran a smallholding, managed livestock, even started building a new house. She was clearly putting him in a good light, as if I might be interested.

I just smiled. No, I had a fiancé at home in York: clever, fresh out of university. I was young, ambitious, and the idea of a divorced man with a child held zero appeal.

But after that, I bumped into Martin everywherethe woods, the canteen, about the village. Christine knew him well, and we collected her father together from hospital.

You know, Martin fancies you, Christine teased. I asked him and he went as red as a beetroot. Youd suit each other.

Oh, come off it, I replied. Im spoken for.

Not married yet, though. Martins a good bloke. Built up his own farm, keeps pigsneeds a proper wife, and his little boy needs a mother.

My heart would skip at these comments. Fact was, I too started looking for Martin, eyes always darting for him. He was confident, solid, and respected by all. Even the village men would nod him a hello in a special way.

I, however, was regarded as something unusuala city girl in a smart coffee-coloured mackintosh, sailing above the mud with an effortless grace, in utter contrast to March muck. The men straightened as I passed, caught off their guard.

Madam, what brings your highness here? theyd joke.

Wait, let me run you home, Martin would offer, as rain battered down.

I clambered up into his tractor.

Hows your boy? Does he stay with you? I asked. A man with a child always seemed older to me, even if he was only a couple of years my senior.

Why the you? he laughed. Call me Martin. Hes with my mum, and the neighbour helps too. He goes to nursery, growing fast.

Whats his name?

Edward, he replied, with such warmth. Sharp as a tacktakes his eyes off you one second, and who knows what hell get up to. Grans always at him, you know.

Are you not happy here? he asked, catching my distracted tone.

Its fine, honestly…

He grinned, Wait til spring. These parts are gorgeousfields, streams, all the rest. Well get the streetlights fixed soon enough.

We travelled through the unlit villagecouncil cutbacks had left them in the dark. Even this, Martin seemed to shoulder, as if it were his personal responsibility.

How little I realised thenthe true mark of a man is carrying responsibility.

Martins feelings for me became obvious. Hed drop by, stack firewood for Christine, fetch medicine for the old man. I, meanwhile, resisted my own sudden emotions.

Life here, in a village, just didnt fit with the picture I had in mind. In York, all that awaited was wedding planning, family, Richard. I could picture his face if I confessed to having found a new suitor during my placement, and my mothers dismay would be acute.

Living in the country? shed splutter.

If she ever learned my fiancés replacement was a farmer, divorced, with a young son, shed be in bits.

At night, with only the wind and dogs barking for company, I tried to imagine staying with Martinloving him, caring for his boy, having our own children. I knew hed cherish me, and be grateful if I became Edwards mother.

Yet the leap from imagination to reality felt insurmountable. There was Richard, whod already chosen the wedding rings, his mother saving up, my own parents relying on me. How could I let them down?

Still, something in me began expectantly yearning for a new, deep love. It muddled my mind, just like the soft onset of spring.

There was dramathe drama of forbidden longing, which only made seeing Martin secretly all the more romantic.

Once, one emotional evening, I nearly made the first move myselfinitiating a closeness I never thought I would. Im not sure why I did it: maybe to mark the end of one love before returning to another, or to say goodbye to this possible new life. He hesitated, but when he realised what I wanted, gave in.

It was my first time, and beautiful. I had nothing to regret.

But I could never make up my mind completely. Cowardice, innocence, indecisionor just inexperience?

Thenone day, by the village wellI saw a little blond boy clambering dangerously close to the edge. I picked up my pace.

Hey, be careful, youll fall in! Wheres your mum?

I looked around. A girla plain little thinghurried up. The boy yanked free of my grip, dashing into her skirt with a wail.

He was about to climb up, I

Edward, dont cry, you know thats not safe.

She gave me a reserved nod.

Im sorry, I took my eye off him for a moment. Thank you.

They headed away, hand in hand.

Edward. Could that be Martins son? The realisation made me pause. Another woman, already close to himhow easily the boy ran to her, fleeing from me.

Then Martins mother, Mrs. Pruden, turned up in tears, telling me Edward was used to the neighbour, Gina, who doted on both father and sonand how I, by arriving, had destroyed their little world.

I was stunned. Mea home wrecker? But Martin had nearly destroyed my engagement! Id thought myself the injured party, but turned out I was someones heartbreak.

Martin did everything to persuade me to stay, not to leave. He met me at the station, pleading, saying his mother and Gina had concocted stories, that Gina wasnt right for him at all. In her quiet colourlessness she faded entirely beside his forcefulness.

Yet, I was hurt and determined not to listen. I was going back to the city, to my own story.

He stood on the platform in his checked shirt, sleeves rolled, broad shoulders slumped, eyes dulled. Id remember that look for years.

I sobbed on the train, the wheels clattering beneath.

So ended my three-month placement.

But youth is a healer; I marched on. I married Richard, and real life took over.

**

Now, sitting in the front seat, re-arranging my shawl, I fumbled for reasonsa credible excuse for my ungainly look. He must have recognised me… or maybe not? Maybe Id changed too muchrounded out, wind-chapped lips, in this silly coat and woollen scarf…

How many years had it been?

Sixteen. Yes, sixteen years.

At first we drove in silence.

Lovely weather, I ventured, just as a passing car flung muddy water across us.

Thats city for you. Out in the country its cleaner, and the roads are well-kept for a change.

You live out there?

Back and forth. Business, mostly.

Well, thanks for the liftmy usual car let us down today. Usually I drive, but Anyway, Ill pay you

He glanced at methose mysterious eyes. Hed recognised me.

Hello, I said quietly, almost holding my breath.

Hello, Emily, he replied.

So you remembered! I thought youd forgotten all about me.

Never, he answered, turning his serious gaze back to the road.

A strange ache pressed under my ribs, right where the memories were stored. His voice, his hands, his gentle smile. I pulled the shawl from my head; it was suddenly too hot.

Howre you, Martin?

He paused a moment, shaking off nostalgia.

Im alright. Making do. You too, I see.

Are you still at the estate? I pressed, not wanting the conversation to get too personal.

He smiled. No, it folded ages ago. I left long before. Self-employed now.

Very wise. I suppose I am too now. You still have the farm?

Farm and more. Set up a businessmeat products mostly.

Oh, everyones trading these days.

And suddenly, I remembered seeing the label Pruden & Sons on pork pies and sausages at the supermarket, grinning to myself back then, assuming it couldnt be him.

Waitthose pies and sausages, Pruden & Sonsthats actually you?

He looked at me, an awkward pride in his eyes. More or less. Not bad, are they?

My mum swears by them! I laughed, a bit flustered. She goes out of her way to buy them. Small world!

He started to explain, almost apologetically, We began smalljust surplus stock from the farm, old mates out of work, needed something to keep us going. Built a little factory, set up the stores. Quite a few faces from the village work for me. We sell all over Yorkshire now.

Impressive.

I couldnt help but feel self-conscious. Me, in a battered coat and bootsthe former city girl in light mackintosh now peddling clothes at the market. Martinonce a tractor-driving country ladnow a successful businessman. In a way, wed swapped places.

Hows your son? I asked shyly.

Three of them now, he replied, breaking into a smile.

Three children?

Yes, three sons. And you?

Just the twoa boy and a girl, I managed, wiping my brow.

Edwards in the army now, saw some action abroad, put us through it a bit. Ginas hairs turned grey with the stress. Hes home for good soon. The middle ones doing a technical diploma, the youngest is only halfway through school.

Gina so hed married the little neighbour girl after all.

How I yearned at that moment to tell him how much I regretted running away all those years ago! If only he knew how often Id wondered what could have been. Especially now, seeing him again.

Richard had turned out to be a useless husband. Hed started wella decent job, relocation to Lincolnshire, even a company flatbut arguments on the job, moving from pillar to post, and hed started drinking. We lost our home, moved in with his mother. Before long he left entirely. We didnt get on with my mother-in-law either.

I couldnt stand it anymore, filed for divorce, and went back to live with my own mum. Dad was gone by then, nothing left but Mum and the kids.

Desperate to spill my heart to Martin, to tell him everything, but what I said was:

My eldest is in Year Eleven, daughter in Year Nine. Time races, doesnt it?

It does, he agreed.

We fell silent, both itching to say the unspoken, each thinking it mattered only to themselves.

A wave of guilt for the past washed over me. But I recalled his mothers tears, Ginas painId left for them, after all, not just out of pride.

And you? Alls well? he asked half-casually.

Oh, you know how it is. Job cuts, so now Im out on my own as well, I tucked my hair behind my ear. Its tough, but I manage.

And Richard?

You remember? I gave him a surprised look.

Well, I did see you as a bride, after all. I even followed your wedding car all the way to the reception.

What? I gasped in disbelief.

Yes, he smiled sadly. Christine told me your wedding was the next day. I just had to see for myself. You looked so happyI didnt dare show my face, just turned round and went home, and proposed to Gina instead.

Oh… If only Id known The years fell away, leaving me hollow.

Nothing to be done now. Id only have ruined your big day otherwise. You looked so truly happy. And beautiful, too.

Did I? Weddings always look happy. But it didnt last long. Five years, then we split and I went back to Mum with the children.

He nodded in sympathy.

Im tough, I said bravely, learned to cope. My kids are clothed and fed, doing alright at school. My eldest wants to be a doctor next year. And I do okayeven if its selling jackets at the market, out in the freezing wind. Its a busy spotcant afford to lose it.

I wanted him to know things werent all bad, even if I wasnt as successful as him these days.

Martin listened quietly, thoughtful.

And your family life? I asked, trying not to sound too curious. Ginahow is she?

He shrugged, distracted. Shes well. Bakes bread.

Bread? Herself?

Well, she started out at home, now she runs The Village Ovenshop and bakery.

Yes, Ive heard of it. Been in once, I think. The owner seemed familiar

Now it all made sense.

Thats just here, isnt it? We pulled onto my street, and I snapped back to the present.

Next block along.

Martin stopped the car, jumped out. I watched through a haze as he darted to the little florists hut, returned with a huge bouquet of white chrysanthemums, opened my door and placed them in my lapin my grey woolly trousers.

Looking down, the soft blooms blurred in my eyes. I wiped away tears hurriedly, telling myself I was strong.

He helped me with the bags, all the way to my doorgraffiti on the walls, and stacks of market goods cluttering up the hallway. Mum would be home, questions ready on her lips.

Maybe it was just as well. If Martin came in, hed see it all: the chaos, the mess, the reality.

Come in? I offered, not sure if I wanted him to say yes.

He shook his head gently. No, Emily. I have things to do yet today, taking my wrist and holding it quietly for a moment, as though saying goodbye.

He was gone before I could say more. Should I have called him back? Should I have told him everything?

As I watched his back disappear down the stairs, I felt suddenly lightas if, in his leave-taking, the past was finally set free.

I dragged the bags inside.

Mum met me with her worries and family news, but I barely heard her. My wrists still tingled from Martins parting grip. I stowed my boots by the radiator, moving through the motions out of habit.

At last, I sat at the table, turned to Mum and asked:

Mum, do you remember me telling you, before the wedding, about that boy from my university placement? The one who was courting me up northa farmer, just starting out.

Yes, vaguely. Why?

You told me, Youre not moving to the sticks to raise pigs!, remember?

I stand by it. Youd be knee-deep in muck!

Well, I met him today.

Really? Where?

Oh, it doesnt matter. That Pruden & Sons stuff you always buythats his. And his wife runs The Village Oven. Imagine that

Mum fell quiet, cup halted mid-air, a shadow flickered behind her eyes. After a moment, she set it down, and tried to comfort us both.

Well, you cant choose your fate. If people could, thered be fights enough.

And I felt a surge of pity for her then.

Its alright, Mum. Really, were doing fine. I sold two suits and three jackets today. Well be alright. Dont worry.

Thats right. If you knew where youd fall, youd lay down straw. Its just the way of things.

My son arrived soon aftera tall, proud boy, with those familiar serious, slightly secretive eyes. Now more than ever, I saw how much he resembled his real father.

And how readily our family had believed that my three-kilo premature baby was seven months alongand no one had ever doubted me. Id never been the scatterbrain type.

He joined me at the table.

Mum, dont be crossI got a job at the riding school, looking after the horses. Its piecework, paid decently. Dont worry, Ill keep up with school, I promise.

I sighed. Another day, I might have argued. Today

Thats fine, Andrew. Youre grown. Honest works always a good thing, and youll need the money. Im not against it.

He tucked in happily, glancing at me. Something had changed, though he couldnt say whybut there was comfort in it, for both of us.

That night, I tossed and turned. I didnt cry or mourn; it was just different. I stared at the snowy chrysanthemums and thought about fate, and what this chance meeting really meant. You have to keep moving forward, entering new phases, separate from each other.

Our old brief encounter had split my life in twobefore him, after him. And even now, though our paths would never cross again, it was as if wed still shape each others lives from afar.

Everything that happens, has a reason.

And todays meeting was given to show me something immensely important.