Every encounter has its time.
“Why does love leave? It was there, it really was. I was so happy I didn’t notice anything around me. I lived for him alone. And then I missed the moment he changed. Silly fool. Serves me right. I let my guard down—shouldn’t have done that.” Katherine stared out the window at the tree branches swaying in the wind. The icy pavements were sprinkled with grit. A few snowless days had turned the yard grimy.
“All I thought about was laundry, ironing, cooking something nice. And all he wanted was passion, a younger body. Midlife crisis. I noticed him trying to act younger—thought he was fighting time… I wonder, does she cook well? Or do they eat out? God, what am I thinking? It’s been months, and I still can’t move on. I never will.
What’s today’s date?—Katherine frowned.—The 14th, I think. Old New Year’s. And here I am, sitting at home like some old maid. Right, I’ll tidy myself up and pop to the shops.”
She left her empty coffee mug in the sink and headed to the bathroom. She turned on the taps, shrugged off her dressing gown, and stepped into the tub. She tried switching the shower on, but the lever stuck. Katherine pressed harder—it snapped off, clattering into the bath as water gushed from both faucet and showerhead. She scrambled to turn it off, but no luck.
She had to climb out and shut off the mains. The torrent stopped, but a thin trickle still escaped. Katherine didn’t bother with the soaked dressing gown. Barefoot, she marched to the bedroom, pulling on joggers and a t-shirt. “There, washed and ready. Just my luck. New year, same old problems. How many times did I tell James about that dodgy shower switch? He never got round to it…” She muttered while mopping the floor.
Next, she dialled the housing office. Surely someone was on call for emergencies. The endless ringing grated on her nerves. What if no one answered? Call James? No—she wouldn’t grovel. Finally, a weary female voice crackled through:
“Yes?”
Katherine pictured a frowning, frazzled woman drowning in complaints.
“My tap’s burst in the bathroom!” she blurted, oddly loud.
“Shut the water off?”
“Yes.”
“Plumber’s in Monday.”
“Monday? Am I meant to go without water for two days? The pipes run through the bathroom, kitchen, and loo!”
A tired sigh. “Plumber’s on another job. He’ll come when free. I’ll ring him now.”
“How long?” Katherine barked, fearing a hang-up. “It’s still dripping! What if the pipe bursts?”
“Just wait, love. He’ll come.”
Katherine wanted to argue, but the line went dead. “Fine. Wait. Bloody hell, what did I do to deserve this?” She cursed James for leaving her alone with ancient plumbing. Pointless.
Some soap opera flickered on the telly. Soon, it distracted her enough to forget the leak—so when the doorbell rang, she’d almost forgotten why. She checked the clock—an hour and twenty minutes. Not bad.
She opened the door to a distinguished man in his late fifties, silver-haired, sharply dressed.
“Plumber called?”
“You’re the plumber?” Katherine eyed him skeptically.
“Don’t look the part?” His smile creased the corners of his eyes.
“Not really. They’re usually…” She waved a vague hand.
“Fair point. I’m not. But I can fix your tap.”
“Then who…?”
“Neighbour. The real plumber’s… indisposed. Celebrated Old New Year a bit too well. His wife begged me to cover—two kids, she’s disabled, they need the job.” He paused, expectant. “So—wait till Monday, or show me the problem?”
“Right, come in.” She stepped aside.
He set down a scuffed toolbox, strode to the bathroom. “Water’s off? Good.” He inspected the tap. “Needs a new diverter. But the whole unit’s knackered. Won’t last. Best replace it.”
“You’d know better,” Katherine murmured.
“Don’t worry, I’ll sort it. Just nip to the shop, buy a new one.”
“Expensive?” Her mind raced—how much was in her purse?
“I’ll bring the receipt. No funny business.” He waited for approval.
“Fine,” she sighed.
“Leave my toolbox?” He headed out.
“Maybe I should’ve waited till Monday…” Katherine slumped. Two days without a loo? No way. She boiled tea, already sipping when the bell rang again. The plumber—this time, the real one—stood breathless on the step.
“See? Quick, me.” He beelined for the bathroom.
Katherine lingered in the kitchen, gazing out. “Should offer him tea. He rushed here, probably ran…”
“All done, missus.” His voice carried pride.
She turned. His grin was triumphant.
In the bathroom, she surveyed his work. Spotless. The new tap gleamed, nearly identical to the old. She turned it—water thundered into the tub. The switch moved smoothly.
“Perfect! What do I owe you?”
“Nothing. Emergency call-out. Here’s the receipt.”
She fetched her purse, counted out cash, adding an extra twenty.
“I can’t let you run around for free. Your neighbour’s family needs it.”
He pocketed the money. “Ta. I’ll pass it on.”
“Fancy a cuppa? If you’re not rushing off?”
“No calls yet. Don’t mind if I do.” His grin returned. “Just wash me hands.”
Katherine put the kettle on. Steam hissed. She set out tea, sugar, a plate of scones.
“Blimey! Proper home baking. Been ages.” He devoured half in one bite. “Brilliant!” He slurped his tea.
She watched this stranger at her table. Twenty-two years, James sat there, ate her roasts and cakes—then left for some young thing. “Traitor,” she reminded herself.
The man caught her shift.
“Everything alright?”
“Fine.” She forced a smile. “Sounds daft, doesn’t it? Awkward, I mean—” Her voice wobbled. “What do you do, then?”
“Ex-army. Pensioner. Just moved back—this was Mum and Dad’s place.”
“Family?” Why ask? None of her business.
“Had one. Wife. Son. She got sick of barracks life. Left twenty years back, took the lad. Done the flat up. Now… dunno what’s next.” He shrugged. “You?”
“Me?”
“On your own. If you had a husband, he’d handle the taps. Left you? For someone younger?”
“Finished your tea?” she snapped. Why pry? But mention of James lit her fuse. “Thanks ever so, and—” She knew she was rude, but couldn’t help it.
“Sorry. Overstayed.” He stood abruptly, winced, doubled over, and collapsed back.
“What’s wrong?”
“Back… old injury… bent too much…”
“Ambulance?” She grabbed the phone.
“No. Painkillers?”
“Paracetamol do?” She returned with pills, water.
“Ta. Mind if I sit till it kicks in?”
“Can you make the sofa?” She helped him lie down.
“You served?”
“Aye. Had to.”
His name was Robert Wilkins. Medically discharged. Lost to civilian life.
“Cheers, Katherine. Easing up. Ring if you need.” He handed her a plain business card. “Made these for job hunting.” He rose gingerly. “Leave the toolbox—neighbour’ll fetch it tomorrow.”
“Let me walk you—it’s slippery.”
“Nah, I’ll manage.”
The real plumber came next day—unshaven, puffy-faced.
“Here for me tools. Tap holding up?”
“Fine. Your neighbour fixed it. How is he?”
“Good bloke. Laid up, though. Tour in Afghanistan—back full of shrapnel. Missus does his injections. She’s poorly, but manages. Right, I’m off.”
Katherine watched snow blanket the street. Pretty. For how long? She pulled scones from the oven, left them cooling.
Keys jingled. Her daughter.
“Just baked. Want some now or to take?”
“Mum, just grabbing my camera. Off to a wedding—no time. We’ll visit soon, promise.” She dashed off, then paused. “Saw Dad with that… woman. She’s short, frumpy, nothing on you.”
“Liar. She’s young, leggy blonde.”
“Sorry. Wanted to help.”
The door shut. Snow kept falling. “Why bake? Who’ll eat them?”
She packed the scones in TupperwareShe wrapped the container in a tea towel, tucked Robert’s forgotten wrench inside the bag, and stepped out into the swirling snow—her heart lighter than it had been in months.
