**Diary Entry – 12th September, 1995**
“Mum, if you won’t accept my choice, I’ll leave. For good…”
Thomas stepped onto the train and glanced around. Empty seats everywhere—he could take his pick. He settled by the window, watching as the doors slid open with a hiss, letting in new passengers.
Across from him sat an older couple. The woman rustled a paper bag, pulling out two golden Cornish pasties. The smell of buttery pastry filled the air. Thomas politely turned to the window.
“Young man, have one,” she offered, holding one out.
“No, thank you,” he smiled.
“Go on, it’s nearly two hours to London.”
He took it, biting into the flaky crust. Bloody good. The loudspeaker crackled, a garbled voice announcing stops, some skipped, some not.
“Did you hear which ones?” the woman fretted. “We need the local service!”
Thomas shrugged. He was going all the way—didn’t matter to him.
“I told you we should’ve taken the slow train!” she scolded her husband. “Now we’ll have to get off early and wait!”
She only calmed when a bloke across the aisle confirmed their stop was coming. Silence fell. Thomas finished his pasty, watching fields and towns blur past. The carriage was stuffy. His army uniform clung to him, sweat trickling down his back.
He imagined walking through the front door. Mum’s face lighting up. A proper shower. Shedding the uniform for jeans and trainers, sleeping for a solid day on the sofa. And waking to Mum’s fry-up under a tea towel—eggs, bacon, black pudding, the lot.
*Wonder how Emily’s doing. Only a year—can’t have changed much.*
Emily—slender, chestnut hair, green eyes. Lived next door. A year younger, just finished sixth form. Never paid her much mind before. Just another girl.
The night before he left, they’d all been in the park. James called him a fool for dropping out of uni and enlisting. Liam backed Thomas, saying if it weren’t for his mum, he’d have signed up too. The girls pretended to care, but they were glued to their phones, giggling.
Emily—the one they all treated like a kid—suddenly said she’d wait for him. Everyone went quiet. She flushed and bolted.
“Looks like you’ve got a fiancée, mate,” Liam laughed.
“Piss off,” Emily snapped before running off.
“Why not? I’ll marry her when I’m back,” Thomas shot back, half-joking, shoving Liam off the bench.
He’d never told anyone the real reason he’d enlisted. His dad wanted him at uni—so he went. Then, last spring, Dad walked out. Another woman. A baby on the way. His world crumbled. The army felt like the only rebellion he had left.
Mum cried, of course. He promised he’d sort his life out when he returned—maybe finish his degree part-time.
Now, a year later, he was home. The anger had faded. He missed Mum. His room. His mates. He’d done the right thing. His whole life was ahead of him.
At the next stop, a young couple took the seats opposite, holding hands. Thomas thought of Emily again. Those words—*I’ll wait*—weren’t a joke anymore.
The train slowed. He stepped onto the platform, walking briskly through the underpass, loving the echo of his footsteps. Dad used to laugh, saying it was just the walls playing tricks.
Up the stairs, onto the high street. He breathed in the air—*home*—and walked. A neighbour spotted him.
“Thomas! Your mum’ll be chuffed!”
He skipped the lift, taking the stairs two at a time. Rang the bell. *What if she’s out?*
The latch clicked. Mum gasped, hugging him, pulling back to stare, as if checking he was real. Scolded him for not calling. Fussed over dinner. He showered while she cooked, finding fresh clothes laid out.
Jeans too tight. T-shirt riding up.
“You’ve grown!” she laughed. “Right, I’ll pop to Asda—”
“Leave it,” he said, sitting at the table.
“In that? No girl’ll look twice.”
As he ate, Mum rattled off news.
“Liam had a crash. Months in hospital. Wheelchair now. Doctors say he’ll never walk. Drunk, took his dad’s car. Lucky no one else was hurt. Bloody idiot. James? Barely see him. Sarah’s married…”
No mention of Emily. Like she was avoiding it.
Mum left for the shops. Thomas wandered the flat, touching things, reacquainting himself.
She returned an hour later. He changed—new shirt, jeans, old trainers—and went to Liam’s.
His mum answered. Liam sat stiffly in his chair, unsmiling. Awkward silence.
“Seen James?” Thomas asked, scrambling.
“Nah. Came by hospital a couple times. That’s it.” Liam watched him, guarded.
Thomas left, promising to visit again.
James, though, hugged him tight.
“What’s with you and Liam?” Thomas asked. “The crash?”
“Not about the crash. Figure it out yourself.” James clammed up.
Too late to see Emily now. He went home, tossing in bed, replaying the day.
Morning. Mum left for work. He feigned sleep till the door clicked shut.
Kettle still warm. Fry-up under a tea towel—just like he’d dreamed.
After eating, he went to Emily’s. Wanted to catch her alone.
Heart pounding, he rang the bell. Silence. Again. Then—the lock turned.
There she was. Just as he remembered.
“You said you’d wait. I’m back,” he smiled.
For a second, joy flashed in her eyes—then died. She stepped back.
The floral dressing gown. The curve of her stomach.
“Come in,” she murmured.
“You’re married?” he asked, kicking off his trainers.
“No.”
“Then who—?”
“Liam.”
Thomas froze. *What?*
“He crashed two days after. I told him in hospital.” She moved to the kettle, hands shaking. “Dropped out of uni. Can’t study with a baby.”
“Did he force you?”
She shook her head. “Ran into him in the park. He and James were already smashed. Invited me to his birthday. No one else came. One glass of wine—next thing I knew, I was out of it. Think he spiked it. Bragged about pills from some club.”
Her parents wanted to force a wedding. Then the crash. “Doctors said an abortion’s too risky now. I didn’t wait. I’m sorry.”
Thomas couldn’t breathe. He bolted, knocking over a chair.
Didn’t remember running to Liam’s. His mum answered, terrified. Liam wheeled back as Thomas advanced.
“You knew?” Liam croaked.
“If you weren’t in that chair, I’d knock your teeth in.” Thomas’ fist connected before he could stop himself. Blood sprayed. Liam’s mum screamed.
“Sorry, Mrs. Harris,” Thomas muttered, leaving.
Hands throbbing, he collapsed at home, screaming into a pillow.
Later, he called James.
“Why didn’t you stop him?”
“I left early. Dad was ill. I didn’t know he’d—”
“Right.” Thomas hung up.
When Mum returned, he said, “I’m getting married.”
“Slow down. She’s carrying another man’s—”
“I can handle it. It’s not her fault. I’ll get a job. The factory has digs.”
“Thomas, don’t throw your life away! There’s other girls—”
“I’ve decided. If you can’t accept it, I’ll leave. For good.”
Mum sagged.
“It’ll be alright,” he said, hugging her. “You’ll have grandkids. Proper ones.”
Next day, he got the job. The room. Proposed to Emily.
They married quietly. Thomas enrolled part-time at uni. In late August, their daughter was born—Emily’s double.
He adored her. Wanted a son next, but there was time. When Alice started nursery, he pushed Emily to study. She chose nursing college. Mum helped with the baby, thawing slowly.
Never regretted it. Never saw Liam or James again.
But he’s got a family. Another little one on the way.
**Lesson:** Life never goes how you plan. But sometimes, the detour’s worth taking.
