A Chance Encounter

A Chance Encounter

My winter coat barely kept me warm anymore; the stuffing had all but disappeared from the top half, turning it into something like a flimsy raincoat vulnerable to the wind. Down at least, I had my knitted trousers and old sheepskin boots to keep my legs warm. I wrapped my woollen scarf ever tighter across my shoulders, threading it through my arms, anything to keep out the cold.

The car that Emma, my market friend, promised to arrange for us didnt show up. Now, surrounded by canvas bags piled around us, we were out in the cold, thumbing for a lift. The bags were so many wed need separate cars anyway, so we split up. Each to manage on her own.

When I used to work for my old boss, none of this would happen. But thered never been enough money raising two children alone is hard, and recently Id started doing market runs with Emma, buying clothes up north, flogging them in London markets. It brought more hassle than money, truth be told the current batch of stock was still lying unsold, and now I had to lug it to the market in the mornings and bring it home in the evenings. Up and down four flights of stairs on my own, unless my son happened to be in.

Not long ago, Id belt out We want change! with the rest of them, but the changes barged rudely into my life our local council office was shut down and we all lost our jobs. My husband disappeared ages ago and, well, Id always thought I was no good for commerce but here I am.

So here I was, at the roadside, in the kind of slush you only get in February, a woman still quite young, really, but with wind-chapped lips, cheeks red from standing at draughty stalls day after day, eyes streaming with the cold. Cars sped past, throwing up grey, mucky water. I stared at the rooftops and trees, where the snow, above the traffic, was still white and puretheres enough grey muck in life; I prefer not to look at it.

I waved yet again, trying to catch any kind of lift, and at last a battered foreign car pulled up beside me, covered in the same city grime as everything else.

To Catworth Road? I can paycheap as chips, I promise, I said through the window, only to stop short.

I recognised him immediately. All those years, and he hadnt really changed, only become more handsome if anything. The same serious, mysterious look, slightly lifted brows, a half-smile.

While I stood there, stunned, he stepped out and quickly heaved my bags into the boot.

I collapsed into the passenger seat, fiddling with my scarf, already preparing excuses in my headhow to explain why I looked such a sight right then. Surely, hed recognise me too.

Or maybe…

How many years had it been?

***

I was twenty-two then, heading off on my work placement in an old forest district near Leeds. I had a fiancé waiting in York: Peter. The plan was set: placement, degree, wedding.

What could three months possibly change? Nothing, seemingly…

They set me up in digs in a village, with a kindly older lady called Margaret, who worked as a ranger. She lived with her nearly-deaf father-in-law. Im an easy-going sort, so Margaret and I became fast friends, looking after the old chap between us.

Then, one day, the old man had a funny turn right in front of me. I ran to the neighboursnobody in. Then, by chance, a tractor came rumbling down the lane. I waved my arms. Out jumped this young man: handsome, tall, with that serious, inscrutable gaze.

We dashed in, and he lifted the old chap as if he weighed nothing, settled him up front in the tractor with me beside them. I fretted would he be alright?

He got us to the nurses just as the ambulance turned up. The young man jumped in beside me. We went all the way, making sure the old man was properly seen to.

Once that was sorted, we finally had a chance to chat.

It turned out we worked in the same organisationlived as neighbours too. His name was Henry.

It was late, the old man was admitted, thank heavens in good time. But what about getting back? No ambulance would be taking us home miles along muddy lanes.

Come on, my mates mum lives nearby. Well stay with her. In the morning well all head back with the blokes going to work.

He seemed decent enoughit wasnt anything dodgy, but I hesitated.

No, its alright. Ill stay at the hospital. You can pick me up tomorrow. Alright?

On those plastic chairs? Dont be daft. Aunt Lizzies nice, big house too. Ill bunk in the shed with Mike, youll be indoors.

I gave in. Turned out he was right: I slept like a log on a great featherbed, and Aunt Lizzie woke me with a proper cooked breakfast and a natter in the kitchen.

While I ate, Aunt Lizzie explained that Henry had married a few years back, brought someone home from down south, but shed run off, leaving him with a little son. Henry kept pigs, traded meat, and was building a new house. You could tell Aunt Lizzie was matchmaking.

I just smiled. I already had a fiancé, a bright future as an engineer. Henry, a divorced pig farmer with a toddler, really wasnt for me.

Still, I started bumping into Henry oftenat work, the canteen, just passing by the lane. Margaret knew him well, and together, we fetched the old man back from hospital.

Henry likes you, Margaret said. I askedhe blushed like a schoolboy. You two make a nice match.

Oh, come off it, Ive got Peter.

Hes not your husband yet. Henrys steady. Opened a whole piggery on his own. His sons lovely, only needs a mother.

My heart twisted, because I had begun to look for Henry too, everywhere. He was confident, quietly strong; people respected him. Whenever I heard, Ask Henry about it, it made me feel a part of things.

At the forest office, I was a figure apartan accidental city lady flown in. Tall, slim, my camel-coloured coat rather out-of-place among all the mud. Men would cough and straighten up around me, try to mind their language.

Madam, Your Royal Highness. However did you end up here?

Henry would say, Wait, Ill give you a lift.

The distance from the office to the village wasnt far, but it was pouring down. As I headed for Henrys tractor, I asked, Whos minding your son?to me, a man with a child always seemed so much older, though he was only a year or two ahead.

Just call me Henry. My lads with Mum for the day, and neighbour Angela sometimes pops round to help too. He goes to nursery. Grows like a shot…

Whats his name?

Edwardlittle pickle, he is. Youve got to keep your eye on him. Mums a terror.

He glanced at me. You dont like it here?

Why not? Its alright…

You wait till springs here, everythings green. This place is beautiful. Theres the river…street lamps dont work, but well sort that.

The street was already growing dark. The town council cut off the lights to save money. Even in that, Henry seemed to be taking responsibility for the place.

If only Id then understood that this was the most important quality in a manresponsibility.

He made his feelings obvious, popping round to help, bringing firewood for Margaret, medicine for Grandpa. But I kept resisting.

I simply couldnt see myself living in a village. Nothing really held me in York except Peter and family plans. I pictured how painful it would be for Peter, and how upset his mother would be if I strayed, after everything theyd done.

Would you choose to live in the country? shed ask, incredulous.

And what if she knew my new man was divorced with a child, working with pigs? Her daughter, fresh from collegeher pride…

In the evenings, with only dogs barking and wind outside, Id imagine being with Henry: a future with him, loving him, being a mother to his son. No questionhed love me, look after me, and be grateful.

But dreams are dreams; I never really believed Id go through with it. There was Peter, with gold wedding bands ready, his mother saving up, my own parents hopes tied up in our plans. How could I betray everyones trust?

Yet my heart buzzed with hope and anticipationcall it the arrival of spring or of love.

I actually began to think I never really loved Peter, but I did love Henry. It all felt more intense and real for being forbidden.

And so, one day, I let myself cross a line, nearly provoking the intimacy myself, with tears in my eyes. Was it a farewell to my old self, or to this new love? He hesitated, then agreed, believing it would help us both move on.

It was my first time, but it was as beautiful as any romance could wish.

But even then, I never made a final decision. Was it immaturity, naivety, plain lack of life experience?

Then, one day by the well, came a turning point. I saw a blond little boy scrambling near the edge. If he slipped, hed fall in.

Hey, you shouldnt do that! Wheres your mum?

Just then, a thin, pale girl came running up the lane. The boy glared at me, snatched his shoulder free and ran to the girl, crying.

He nearly climbed in, but I …

Edward, dont cry, you know you mustnt. Its dangerous.

The girl glanced at me with a sad look, nodded. He ran off. Thank you.

She took Edward by the hand and walked away.

Edward? Realisation stungHenrys boy. And fear followed: what if I ended up with this child, still a stranger to him?

Later, Henrys mother, Mrs. Clarke, called on me in tears, saying that Edward had bonded with Angela, the neighbour who helped so much, and that Angela loved Henry. Everything was going so well for them before I arriveda home wrecker.

I blinked, bewildered; I thought I was the injured party! But it seemed I was the cause of someone elses heartbreak.

Henry begged me to stay, to ignore what his mother and Angela said, to just give things a try. But I was already angry and hurtno, I wouldnt break up a family. I returned to Peter.

Henry was there at the stationchecked shirt, broad shoulders slumped, frown etched deep, eyes dull. Thats how I remembered him for years.

And I sobbed all the way back to York on the train.

So thats how my three months work placement ended.

Young hearts heal quickly. I married Peter, juggled family life, moved on.

**

Now here I was, slumped on the front seat, adjusting my scarf, searching for explanations, ready to tell him why I looked like a disaster. Surely hed recognised me.

Or perhaps…Id changed so much: gained weight, cheeks wind-burnt, in this ridiculous coat and boots, scarf…

How many years? Sixteen. Yes, sixteen years.

At first, we drove in silence.

Charming weather, I said as a passing car splashed dirty water across our side.

Thats the city for you. Out in the country, its fresh and cleanroads are surprisingly clear.

You live out there, still?

Im always between here and there. Business and all that.

Thank you so much for stoppingI usually have a car, but today it just gave up on me. I do insist on paying

He turned and looked at me, those same mysterious eyes, but now offended. I knew immediately: he remembered.

Hello, I said quietly, just in case.

Hello, Anna! he replied, and my old, familiar nickname fell into the space between us.

So you did recognise me after all?

Of course. Never forgot, he said, eyes back on the road.

Somewhere deep in my chest something ached, all the old memoriesthe voice, the hands, the eyes. I pulled off my hat, suddenly warm.

How are you, Henry? I managed.

He paused, as if shaking himself out of it. Oh, Im alright. Surviving. The times, eh? Same as you, I suppose.

You still working at the forest office?I was grasping for common ground, old friends.

No, not for years. All gone with the cuts. I work for myself these days.

Thats probably best. Farming still?

Both farm and business. We supply meata little company, now a decent business.

Ah, everyone seems to be trading these days…

Suddenly I remembered seeing the name Clarks Meats on some sausages in the supermarket. Id smiled at the familiar name, thought it just a coincidence.

Waitthose Clarks sausages, all thatis that really your lot?

He laughed, but there was something sad in it. I suppose it is. Not to your taste?

No, theyre goodmy mum goes out of her way to buy them, actually. I never twigged.

He explained, almost apologetically, how it all started small: extra meat, people looking for work. Then they built a factory, opened shops. Its a team effort. But, yes, my company. Most of the village works for me now.

I felt embarrassed by the contrast: me in my unflattering coat and boots, the one-time city lady now scraping by, while he, the pig farmer, had become a success. It was as if wed swapped lives.

Hows your son?

He smiled. Three of them, actually.

Three sons?

Yes, all boys. And you?

A son and a daughter. My forehead was damp from the car heating.

Edwards in the army nowhe did a tour in a hot spot, nearly broke us. Angelas got grey with the stress. Hes due back in the spring, thank God. The middle ones at college, youngest is in year five at school.

Angela. So he had married the mousey one after all.

I found myself wanting to blurt out how much I regretted the past, leaving him behindhow many times Id thought what might have been. And now, seeing him again…

Peter turned out to be a useless husband. At first, things held together; he worked as an engineer, we moved to the Midlands, even got a council flat. The children were small, life was tough but manageable.

But Peter kept falling out with employers, changed jobs constantly, and started drinking. We lost our place, ended up with his mother. It all fell aparthe started seeing someone else. I couldnt bear it and moved back to Mums. Dad had died by then; there was no one to shield us.

I wanted to pour all this out to Henry, but instead I said, My eldest is in year ten now. My daughters in year eight. Time does rush on.

Yes, it does.

We went quiet. We both wanted to speak about the deep things, but each believed the other would not care, or wouldnt understand.

Guilt swept through me. But then I remembered Henrys mum in tears, Angela with her sad eyes. Hadnt I done the right thing, stepping aside for them? Even if Id felt proud, defiantI dont need anyone.

And you? he asked, as if in passing.

Me? Well, as you see. I was made redundant, started selling at the market. Not easy, doing it alone…

And Peter? That was your husbands name, right?

You remembered?

Well, I saw you as a bride, Anna. I followed your wedding car, like an idiot, all the way to the reception.

What? I spun around in my seat.

Aunt Margaret told me the day beforeThats it, let her go, the weddings tomorrow. I just jumped in the car, watched you all the way. You looked so happyI couldnt bear to spoil it. Went home and asked Angela to marry me.

Oh Henry! If only Id known…, I said, feeling hollow.

It would only have ruined things. You were radiant that day.

Perhaps. A wedding is a big moment for a girl. My happiness didnt last, though. Five years later, we split up, I went home to my mum, kids in tow.

Im sorry.

Ive managed, I tried to sound brave. Turned out Im quite tough. Kids have clothes on their backs, both are doing well at school. Main thing is theyre alright, however daft I look in these boots, out in that freezing market. My pitch is the draughtiest spot in town! But it sells, so I hold onto it with both hands.

I wanted him to see it hadnt all gone wrong for me. Not completely. Maybe not a business empire, but Id kept fighting.

Henry listened, silent, thoughtful.

And hows life at home? Angela keeping well?

He shrugged, as if it didnt matter much. She manages. Bakes bread for the shop.

Your own bread shop?

Well, she started off at home. Now she runs The Old Oven. Shop and café.

I know it. Ive been past once or twice. So thats hers…

Yes, built it for her. She always made the best bread.

Suddenly I remembered. My market mate once dragged me to The Old Oven; we queued, raved about the bread. Shed pointed out a petite businesslike woman, with cropped hair and a stylish pink scarfso young to be in charge, Id thought. Now it all made sense.

Its just up here, isnt it? Henry peered for my street. I came back to myself.

Next one. Take a left.

He pulled in unexpectedly, dashed out, then hurried back with a gorgeous bunch of chrysanthemums from the flower stall, laying them on my lap across my grey woollen trousers. I blinked, and the white blooms swam in my vision as tears rushed up.

Just a minute ago I was insisting I was strong. Now I couldnt stop the tears.

He helped haul my bags to the flata familiar, scribbled-over stairwell. I clutched the flowers tight, dazed.

Can I offer you tea? I almost hoped hed refuse; I hadnt tidied, and it was all boxes and bags everywhere. My mum was inside, ready with questions. Still, part of me wanted him to see, to understand, to offer comfort…

No, Anna. I should go. He held my wrist for a moment longer, as though saying goodbye for good. Then he turned and bounded down the stairs.

Should I call after him? Run after and tell everything?

I watched his back recede, and I realised it was hardest for himnot me. That simple insight lightened me, somehow.

I dragged my haul into the flat.

Mum appeared at once: questions, family news, all the daily grind. I hardly heard her. The warmth of his hand still clung to my wrist. I moved on autopilotboots off, wet things to the radiators.

At the table, I asked, Mum, do you remember before my wedding I told you about a fellow from my placement in Yorkshire? That farmer who courted me? Do you recall?

Yes, vaguely. Why?

You said, Youre not living in the country, mucking out pigs!

I stand by it. Youd be knee-deep in muck by now.

I met him today.

Really? Where?

It doesnt matter. Anyway, those Clarks Meats sausages you lovethats his business. His wifes the boss at The Old Oven patisserie. Imagine.

Mum froze, mug in hand. After a moment she nodded, quietlypain in her eyes. Well, you cant pick your lot in life, can you? If people could, thered be fights at the starting line.

For once, I felt sorry for her.

Never mind, Mum. Were alright. I sold two suits and three jackets today! Well get through. Dont fret.

Quite right. If only we knew where wed fall, wed lay the straw first… Never mind, love,but I could see the news had unsettled her.

My son came home soon aftertall, confident, with a hint of that same serious, mysterious air. How all the family believed that a big baby could be born prematurely is beyond methey never doubted it, never thought me the type for nonsense.

He sat at the table. Mum! Dont be annoyedIve got a job at the stables, looking after the horses. Its piecework wages. Swear it wont affect school. Promise.

Once, Id have been cross. Today…

Go on, Henry. Youre grown now. Any works a good thing. Youll need the money. I trust you.

He smiled into his soup, puzzled by the trust, but happy.

I lay awake that night, not upset, not grievingjust in a strange daze.

I looked at the white chrysanthemums, thought about fate, about this day, about moving into the next chapterapart now, but both changed forever.

That meeting all those years ago bisected my life: before, and after Henry. Now it had happened again.

There will be more in store for each of usother twists, new doors. Well never meet again, probably. But well keep affecting each other, somehow, just the same.

Everything has its reason.

This meeting, too, happened for something vitally important. I dont quite know what yet. Perhaps, with a new day, I will.