Grace walked through her flat one last time, checking everything was switched off, leaving it tidy as always. She loved coming back to a clean home. So why was she leaving her cosy little paradise? And for what? She already lived like she was on a permanent holiday, doing as she pleased. But if she didn’t go, her daughter would be upset. The seaside trip was a birthday gift from her, after all.
With a sigh, Grace wheeled her suitcase out and locked the door with both deadbolts. She tugged the handle to double-check, then knocked on her neighbour Sophie’s door.
“Off already?” Sophie asked, peering out.
“Yes, just dropping off the keys.” Grace reluctantly handed them over.
“Don’t worry, I’ll water your plants and keep an eye on things. Just relax and enjoy yourself—you’re lucky to have such a thoughtful daughter, buying you a proper holiday! My Ben, all he cares about is his next pint. Had a family, a home, lost the lot to the drink…”
Grace felt a pang of sympathy but suddenly realised—maybe leaving her keys with Sophie wasn’t the best idea. What if her son let himself in? Not that she owned anything valuable, but even small things cost money these days. And the thought of someone rummaging through her stuff made her uneasy. She wished she’d asked someone else, but it was too late now. Besides, she didn’t want to offend Sophie—she’d always been there when Grace needed help.
Sophie noticed the hesitation. “Don’t fret, I’ll hide the keys. Ben won’t even know they exist. Off you go—everything’ll be fine,” she promised.
Grace nodded and wheeled her case towards the stairs.
“Safe travels!” Sophie called after her before shutting the door.
Grace walked to the station—no sense taking a taxi just two stops, and squeezing onto a bus with a suitcase would only irritate everyone. Through the underpass, she reached the platforms just as a train pulled in. She strolled alongside, looking for carriage nine, then stopped to wait. Best not to scramble last-minute.
“What if the numbering starts from the other end?” she fretted, then calmed herself. “No, the guard always announces it—I’ll have time.”
A week ago, her daughter had turned up unannounced and said she’d decided to give Grace her birthday present early so she’d have time to prepare.
“Are you pregnant?” Grace had blurted out.
A second child would be nice, but the first was barely a year old—too soon for another.
“No, not pregnant. I’ve bought you a holiday—a week by the sea! Train leaves the eleventh, first-class carriage. Here.” She handed over an envelope. “You’ve got time to pack.”
“What? Alone? Without you? On my actual birthday? What about guests? The cake? No, I’m not going. Return the ticket.”
“Mum, I planned it so you wouldn’t be stuck in the kitchen all day like a factory worker. Thought you’d love a proper celebration—sun, sand, the sea! When was the last time you went south? Can’t even remember, can you? It’s a gift from me and Paul. Do what you want with it, but I’m not returning it.” Her daughter folded her arms. “If you don’t want the sea, fine, stay home. But if I get pregnant again, you won’t get a holiday for years. I picked a lovely guesthouse, right on the beach.”
So Grace grumbled but started packing—how could she refuse?
And now here she was at the station. These trips, especially alone, brought more stress than joy. Would she make the train? Who’d share her compartment? How would she settle in? At her age, unnecessary stress wasn’t wise.
When the guard announced the train’s arrival—numbering from the rear—Grace relaxed. She’d guessed right. Soon, the distant horn sounded, and the train rushed past, finally jerking to a halt. The carriage attendant opened the door right in front of Grace, wiped the handrail, and prepared to check tickets.
Grace handed hers over first, climbed aboard, found her compartment, and sank onto the bunk with a sigh. Half the battle done—she was on the train.
With a lurch, they were off. The door slid open, and three giggling girls bustled in. Immediately, the space felt noisy and cramped. Grace stepped into the corridor to let them settle.
Fields and woods blurred past the window, rivers glinting in the fading light. Summer nights were short—darkness barely fell before dawn crept back. The girls passed her again, laughing, heading to another carriage. Grace changed into her nightclothes and curled up on the bunk. The rhythmic clatter of the tracks soon lulled her to sleep.
She woke to the train stopped at some station, the guard’s voice crackling over the speakers. Pale light filtered through the window. Her watch read half-two. A strand of blonde hair dangled from the upper bunk—the girls must’ve returned quietly. Grace dozed off again, grateful they hadn’t disturbed her.
Next time she woke, sunlight flooded the compartment, thick with heat. The girls still slept. Grace slipped into the corridor, shutting the door softly. The toilet was occupied—she’d have to wait.
“Off to the seaside?” A man with a towel over his shoulder grinned at her.
“Same as everyone else here,” Grace replied dryly.
She wasn’t in the mood for chat, especially by the loo. Turning away, she hoped he’d take the hint, but he prattled on. She barely listened, relieved when the toilet freed up.
The girls still slept. Parched, Grace went to find the attendant—but her door stayed shut. Fast asleep, no doubt.
“No water. Already checked,” came that voice again. “But the restaurant car’s two down—decent tea there, not this rubbish.”
“Listen, are you hitting on me?” Grace spun around.
The man looked wounded. “No need for that! Just passing time. What else is there to do on a train? And even if I was, what’s wrong with that? Someone hurt you, or what?”
“Nobody hurt me.” She shoved past and retreated to her compartment.
Later, stomping outside her door woke her. The train had stopped—passengers surged onto the platform. Grace joined them, blinking in the sunlight.
“Fancy an ice cream? That kiosk sells them,” said the familiar voice.
Grace glared at him like he was a wasp at a picnic.
“What if I do?”
“Coming right up!” He darted off like he’d been waiting for the cue, returning with a wafer cone. “Eat quick—it’s melting.”
“Mmm… my favourite, chocolate.” Grace shut her eyes, savouring the cool sweetness.
“My wife loved chocolate too. Died two years back. Visiting my son in London—keeps begging me to stay, but the city chokes me. Got my garden, my house back home…”
Ah. Looking for a replacement, Grace thought but didn’t say—he had bought her ice cream, after all.
“…they’ll visit later, during holidays. You here alone?” he finished.
“You know what? I like my life as it is. I’ve got a daughter, a grandson, another on the way. Don’t get any ideas.” She marched back to the train.
Shame prickled in the compartment. Maybe she’d misjudged him—just a friendly bloke, talkative. Decent-looking, too. But she wasn’t after romance, not even a fling.
Next time she stepped out, she braced for another encounter—but he’d moved on, chatting up other women. For some reason, that stung.
Lilac-hued hills shimmered in the distance, fields of golden sunflowers stretching endlessly under a flawless sky.
“Nearly there.”
Grace nearly groaned at the voice beside her. “Thought I made myself clear—”
“Sorry. Didn’t mean any harm.” He held out a slip of paper. “My address and number. You’re a stranger here—I’m local. If you need help, call. No strings.”
She took it without looking. Passengers shuffled toward the exit. The man disappeared into another carriage.
Guilt nagged at her. Too harsh again. She glanced at the paper—Victor, with an address and number. Strong name, like him.
She disembarked last, scanning the platform. No sign of Victor. Taxi drivers touted for fares. Most passengers waved them off, but Grace approached one—a lad who vaguely resembled Harry Styles. He drove her to the guesthouse.
After settling in, she headed straight for the sea. Only half-seven, but the beach was packed. Grace kicked off her sandals, wading in, wishing she’d worn her swimsuit. Plenty of time for that later. Gazing at the horizon, where sky melted into water, she breathed in the salty air—and suddenly didn’t regret coming.
She bought a wide-brimmed hat and spent hours strolling the promenade. Her skin bronzed, glowing. She adored how she looked in the hat—snapped a selfie, sent it to her daughter with thanksShe never expected to find love again, but as the waves lapped at the shore and Victor’s hand gently brushed hers, Grace realized that sometimes the best gifts come when you least expect them.
