The text message that changed everything…
Emily had left for a business trip to Manchester, leaving behind her fiancé, William, in her hometown of York. Finishing her work early, she decided to return home without warning, eager to surprise him. William had never given her reason to doubt him, but as the train hurtled toward home, uneasy thoughts flickered through her mind—what if she found him with someone else? She shook off the foolish notion, yet her pulse quickened. Keeping her return a secret, she imagined his shocked smile. But the surprise would have to wait. No sooner had she switched on her phone at the station than a message lit up the screen, freezing the blood in her veins.
Emily pressed her forehead against the cold taxi window, willing away the absurd thoughts. Why was she imagining scenes from cheap telly dramas? Her life with William was stable, even boring—perhaps that was why she conjured up trouble. The cab reeked of old cologne, sharp and familiar, like her father’s. The driver, a man in his sixties with silver in his hair and a creased neck, yawned and scratched his ear—just like her dad when he was tired. His driving was erratic, and Emily’s fingers tightened around the door handle.
“Name, love?” the driver asked. “Emily,” she answered, surprised he’d asked. “I’m Geoffrey. Em, your train soon? Fancy a quick petrol stop?” The train wasn’t for another three hours, so she nodded. “Plenty of time. I always arrive early.” Geoffrey chuckled. “Always the way with women! My missus does the same—five hours early, just in case!” Emily shrugged—she truly hated being late. “It’s actually Emily Victoria,” she added, eager to shift the subject. “No kidding? My daughter’s named Emily too. And my mum,” Geoffrey said, brightening.
He launched into stories of his life, and Emily listened, struck by the familiarity. Geoffrey grew up in a big family, started working at fourteen, never got an education, and now struggled with health and mortgage payments. His sons from his first marriage barely spoke to him, never forgiving him for leaving their mum. His only joy was his daughter, whose education he paid for, hoping she’d escape poverty. Emily couldn’t help but wonder—what if this man had been her father? As the daughter of a wealthy businessman, she’d never have met William, who’d asked about her parents the moment they met.
“Enjoying our city, then?” Geoffrey asked as they neared the station. “Yes, it’s lovely,” Emily smiled. “Where you from?” She named York. “Blimey, that’s a trek! Been there once, for me granddad’s funeral. Work, was it?” “Yes, work.” “Come back soon! Here’s my card, I’m a proper seasoned cabbie, age hasn’t slowed me!” He handed her the card, and staring at him, she thought again—how much he moved and sounded like her father. As if somewhere in the world, his double existed.
On the train, she spun stories like she had since childhood. She’d once dreamed of being a writer, but her father insisted on economics so she could inherit his firm. Did she regret it? Not really. Her life was mapped out, and that was comforting. She hadn’t told William she was coming home early, relishing the thought of surprising him. But everything changed when her phone buzzed to life with a message from her mother: “Dad’s in hospital. Heart attack.”
Emily had never seen her father weak. He was solid, unshakable. Now he lay pale on a hospital bed, wires snaking across his chest. Her mother stepped out to speak with the doctor, leaving them alone. “You alright?” she asked, fighting tears. “Fine, love,” he murmured softly. To keep from breaking, she rambled about Manchester: “Lovely city, and the cabbie—guess what? His name was Geoffrey, just like—” Her father cut her off. “I was born there.”
Emily froze. Her father never spoke of his childhood. “And my name isn’t Geoffrey,” he added, the words hanging like the first line of one of her imagined tales. “I’ve kept quiet my whole life. Only your mum knows. Not even the folks who raised me knew. I was three when it started. Born in Manchester, but my real name is James. Geoffrey was my older brother—he raised me. Big family, dad drank, mum… I don’t remember. Only thing clear is bread with butter and sugar.”
He told her how his mother once left him in a damp, crumbling house. His brother begged her not to, but she walked away. Terrified, little James ran, got lost in a crowd of children, hopped on a bus, and ended up in a village. Found by strangers, they asked his name. Why he said “Geoffrey,” he’d never know. No one looked for him, or if they did, they failed. A woman took him in, fed him pies. She became his mother. “I don’t remember anything, Em,” he finished. “Just my brother. I wish I knew what became of him.”
Emily listened in disbelief. What if the cabbie Geoffrey was that very brother? She pictured his face, his stories of a big family. “You never looked for them?” she asked. “Why? I don’t remember them. Only the name Emily sticks in my head—maybe a sister, maybe my mum. But that’s it. I wanted my own grandkids to remember me. But there aren’t any. And I wanted to see you wed. Take pity on an old man, Em. I know weddings aren’t the fashion, but why don’t you and William just do it?”
Emily sighed. She wasn’t against marriage, but William never brought it up. “Get well,” she said. “You’ll get your wedding.” At home, William greeted her glued to his laptop, lost in some shooter game. “What a surprise! Why didn’t you say? I’d have met you!” he grinned. Exhausted, Emily burst into tears. William hugged her as she spilled everything—except her father’s secret. Then, in a rush, she blurted, “Let’s get married.”
William pulled back, frowning. “Em, we’re fine as we are. Why? Your dad put you up to this, didn’t he? Think it through.” “So you don’t want to?” Her voice shook. She’d always suspected his reluctance, but hearing it hurt. “We’ve talked about this,” he said gently. “Want a kid? We’ll have one, no ring needed. We don’t fight.” Emily fell silent, but resentment coiled inside her.
Once her father recovered, she left for Manchester again without telling William. She left a note: “I need to think about us.” But her real goal was finding the cabbie. She’d lost his card, tearing her luggage apart. At the hotel where she’d booked the taxi, the receptionist, Grace, was on leave. Emily begged the girls at the desk for her number, but they refused. Tears spilled. “Grace is back in two weeks,” they said. In her room, she sobbed, feeling utterly lost. Why was she even here? William had likely already left, and her father’s brother was nowhere to be found.
William texted: “What’s this supposed to mean?” “Whatever you want,” she replied. “Where are you?” “Not your business. You’re not my husband.” He went quiet. A knock came at her door. A young receptionist stood there: “Here’s Grace’s address. Don’t tell anyone!” Hope surging, Emily went the next morning, cancelling cabs three times in hopes Geoffrey would show. But another driver came.
In a shabby part of town, a bloke in a wrinkled vest opened the door. “Looking for Grace,” Emily said. He eyed her. “You one of Alex’s?” “Who’s Alex?” Her confusion seemed to reassure him, and he introduced himself as Liam, inviting her in for tea. He explained Grace had dated rich, controlling Alex, then fallen for poor Ethan. Alex had thrown a fit, so Grace and Ethan fled to his gran’s, lying about her leave. “Stay clear of Alex,” Liam warned.
The chat was cut short by a girl barging in. “Megan, this is Grace’s mate!” Liam shouted, barely holding her back. Emily slipped into the hall and fled, desperate to be home. The trip was a disaster. No Geoffrey, a fight with William, and the life she’d wanted to make exciting had spiralled into chaos.
At home, William met her at the door. “No warning?” He looked wrecked, and a terrible thought struck—what if her fantasy had come true? What if he’d been with someone? Tears welled. “My flat. Why warn you?” she snapped. “Why aren’t you at work?” “It’s Sunday,” he said calmly. “Hungry? I’ll order takeaway.” Emily realised he hadn’t left. “Pizza,” she muttered, shedding her coat.
“Where’d you go?” William asked. “Not telling.” “Fine. Check that box—I tidied, didn’t chuck anything without you.” HeShe reached into the box and found not just the cabbie’s business card but also a velvet ring box—its contents far more surprising than she ever imagined.
