And I used to like you…
Lucy stepped out of the office and walked to her car in the car park. The bonnet and windscreen were dusted with a thin layer of snow. She slid into the driver’s seat, turning on the heater first to warm the chilly interior, then flicked the wipers to clear the frost from the glass.
Merging into the sluggish evening traffic, she inched forward, stopping at every light, every bottleneck. The roads were a sea of red tail-lights. Passing a shopping centre, she decided to pull in, wait out the rush, and perhaps pick up some bits for Christmas.
But even here, cars were packed tight, no spaces left. She almost regretted turning in—better to crawl along than sit idle. Others had the same idea, hoping to kill time usefully while the roads cleared.
Then, in her rear-view mirror, headlights flashed—an SUV reversing out, yielding its spot.
Inside, the shopping centre buzzed with noise and warmth. Lucy unbuttoned her coat, loosened her scarf, and wandered past shelves crammed with festive clutter. Twinkling lights, garish baubles, shoppers darting about—it made her head spin. She dropped a handful of bright ornaments into her basket, two silver reindeer, a set of champagne flutes engraved with wishes for luck and joy…
She’d decide later who got what. Her mother and husband deserved proper presents, but colleagues and acquaintances would appreciate cheerful trinkets. Joining the queue at the till, she longed for fresh air. Friday evening had been a mistake—Saturday morning would’ve been quieter.
Finally, her turn came. As the cashier scanned her haul, Lucy winced at how much she’d grabbed on impulse. Well, no harm done.
Bundling up again, she clutched her bag protectively, weaving through the crowd toward the exit.
“Lucy!”
The call didn’t register at first. She kept walking.
“Harrison!”
Only then did she stop—her maiden name. Shoppers jostled past, nudging her aside. She stepped out of the flow, scanning the faces.
“Hello, Lucy.”
The voice came from beside her. Turning, she saw a bearded man in a woollen cap pulled low over his brow. He grinned, revealing a missing front tooth. His clothes hung loose, untidy. Already she regretted stopping—this dishevelled stranger couldn’t possibly know her.
“Don’t recognise me?” he asked. “I knew it was you straight off. Still look a million quid.” He chuckled, a raspy laugh that tugged at some forgotten memory.
“We were at school together. Same year,” he prompted.
“James?!” she gasped. She bit back the questions—what had happened to him? How had he ended up like this?
“The very same,” he said, beaming, the gap in his teeth on full display. “Changed much?”
“Yes,” she admitted. “What… what happened?”
“Long story. Fancy a cuppa? There’s a café here.” Hope flickered in his eyes.
She couldn’t reconcile this man with the boy she’d known. The beard, the tatty cap—it hid the James she remembered. The James she’d fancied at school, the one she’d wept over. Now she was ashamed to be seen with him.
“Sorry, I need to go,” she muttered, glancing away as if searching for an escape among the passersby. No one paid them any mind.
James waited, hopeful.
“Just for a bit,” she relented, more out of curiosity than kindness.
He brightened, ushering her toward the café.
“Come on. Been ages. Might be another lifetime till we cross paths again,” he laughed, clearly delighted.
Lucy kept her head down, dreading a familiar face in the crowd. James was all nervous energy, darting ahead, peering at her, talking non-stop.
The café was packed.
“Over there.” He pointed to a corner table, dimly lit.
*Good—less chance of being noticed.*
They’d barely sat when a waiter dropped menus before them. James pored over his, swallowing hard. He glanced up. Lucy hadn’t touched hers.
“Just coffee for me.”
The waiter returned, eyeing James with distaste before addressing Lucy. “Ready to order?”
“Black coffee, please.” She glanced at James.
He rattled off a list of dishes. The waiter shot her a questioning look. She gave a slight nod.
“Good coffee here,” James said after the waiter left. “I eat here a fair bit.”
“You work here?”
He nodded, shame creeping into his expression. Not management, then—likely cleaning or stacking shelves. She didn’t press.
“You became a doctor, then? Like you wanted.”
“You remember?” She blinked. “Yes. I’m an endocrinologist.”
He nodded again, as if he’d expected nothing less.
“Got gifts for the family?” He eyed her bulging bag.
“What? Oh. Yes.” She deflected. “Are you… married?”
“Was. To Jessica. Remember her? Proper nightmare. It’s her fault I’m in this state.”
“You were young.”
“Too young. And she hounded me—before I knew it, we were married. And I fancied you,” he added softly.
*And I fancied you.* The words went unspoken.
The waiter returned with Lucy’s coffee and two plates for James.
“Fresh pastries if you’d like,” he offered Lucy.
“No, thank you.”
As the waiter left, James dug into his food. Lucy looked away. A man at the next table gave her a knowing smile—his companion leaned in, whispering sharply. He ducked his head.
Lucy’s coffee went untouched. She wanted to leave. James was halfway through his meal.
“What happened?” she asked, eager to end this uncomfortable reunion.
James set down his fork.
“Started all right. Nice wife, flat. Her parents gave us the deposit. I finished uni, got my engineering degree. But what’s an engineer earn? Jess wanted more—started nagging to go into business. Said her dad would front the cash. Then her mate roped me into a car parts shop. I put everything in.”
“Then?”
“Went bust. Don’t even know how. Jess said I was useless. Filed for divorce. Moved back with my parents. Then blokes turned up—said I owed her dad. Sold my car, parents sold their holiday home, emptied their savings. Cleared the debt, left with nothing.”
He swallowed hard.
“Dad had a heart attack a month later. Jess married my old business partner. They’re doing well. Reckon they set me up. Ruined me. Why not just say she never loved me?”
He stared at the table.
“Started drinking. Downhill from there. She wrecked my life. Only staying for Mum now.”
“You could’ve sued,” Lucy said gently.
“I was pissed most the time. Who’d listen? She had money—would’ve bought her way out. Told her I’d get even—she laughed. Sent two lads after me. Put me in hospital two months. Wish they’d finished the job.”
He exhaled sharply.
“Don’t mind me. I was daft, blind to it. Got a roof, a job—not starving. Not everyone’s cut for business. Just bad luck.” He forced a smile. “Went to reunions for years, hoping to see you. Then… well.”
Lucy noticed the waiter watching. She reached for her purse.
“I’ve got it. Don’t humiliate me.” His voice cracked. She withdrew her hand.
James paid, the waiter vanishing without thanks.
“You still live round here?” he asked.
“I should go. Was nice seeing you.” The smile she mustered felt weak.
She regretted coming, regretted stopping, regretted hearing his story. Pitied him fiercely. All the girls had fancied James at school. She’d cried for weeks when he got with Jessica. If she’d confessed her feelings back then—would his life have been different?
She stood, grabbing her bag.
“I’ll walk you out.”
She hurried toward the exit, James trailing. They stepped into the cold.
“Don’t worry about me—I’m all right. Drop by sometime—”
“No need. I’ve got my car.” She cut him off, striding away without looking back.
As she drove off, she glimpsed him in the mirror, watching her go. She flashed her lights in farewell.
Home at last, exhausted. Her husband, David, met her in the hall.
“You’re late.”
“Stopped at the shops. Crowded.” She dumped the bag, spotting a glass of wine on the coffee table. “Pour me one.”
She sank onto the sofa, stretching her legs.
David brought her a glass.
“You look upset. Bad day?”
“No, fine.” She hesitated. “I ran into James Wilkes. From school.”
“Should I be jealous?” He smirked.
She told him everything.
“Spineless. Gave up, didn’t fight. That’s no way to live. Could’ve cleared his nameA year later, she thought she saw him again—just a shadow on a rainy pavement, gone before she could call his name.
