Tamsin Hart had flown out a day early for the birthday of her ex-mother-in-law, Mildred Ashworth. She had barely dropped into her plane seat when she flinched: someone had called her name.
Her fingers tightened around the strap of her handbag as she stood in the check-in queue. There was still a day before Mildred’s birthday, but Tamsin had chosen the early flight on purpose. She knew Edward, as always, would leave everything to the last minute; he would probably fly the following morning. Three years had passed since the divorce, and in all that time they had managed to live in the same city without once crossing paths. Now Tamsin wanted less than ever to disturb that fragile balance.
Seat 12A, she scanned the boarding pass. A window seat, just as she liked it. On the plane she reached, as she usually did, for her book: a new novel she had started yesterday and could not put down. A story about love, betrayal and forgiveness. She had once avoided such stories, but time healed.
“Tamsin?” A familiar voice made her shiver. “What a coincidence.”
Slowly she looked up. Edward stood in the aisle, his hand on the handle of his case. Just as well-groomed as ever, in his favourite grey blazer. Only at the temples had a little grey crept in, something she had never noticed before.
“You’re usually late,” she said instead of a greeting.
“And you always plan everything in advance,” he replied with a smile, pulling out his boarding pass. “Hm. 12B.”
Tamsin felt her cheeks burn. Three hours of flying next to the man she had carefully avoided all these years. Fate seemed to be playing a joke on them.
“I could swap with someone,” Edward began.
“Leave it,” Tamsin cut in. “We’re adults.”
Edward nodded and sat down beside her. His familiar aftershave drifted over to her, and the scent hit her like a stab in the heart. How often had she woken up with that smell in her nose?
“How’s work?” he asked after take-off, when the silence became unbearable.
“Good. I’ve opened my own yoga studio,” she answered in a quiet voice. “And you? Still there?”
“No, I moved into consulting. Remember I always dreamed of that?”
Of course she remembered. And she remembered the endless arguments about it, too. She had been afraid of change; he had longed for it. Now, years later, each of them had got what they wanted. So why did her heart still hurt so much?
“Mum will be thrilled to see you,” Edward said after a pause. “She still keeps the ceramic vase you gave her for her last birthday.”
“Mildred was always,” Tamsin hesitated, searching for the right words, “so good to me.”
“Even after the divorce, she said you were the best daughter-in-law anyone could wish for.”
Tamsin felt tears sting her eyes. She reached for her book to hide how moved she was.
“What are you reading?” Edward glanced at the cover.
“The Time of Forgiveness,” she answered, and they both fell silent as the irony of the title sank in.
They spent the rest of the flight in silence, but it was a different silence: not tense like a taut string, but almost comfortable, as it used to be. When the plane landed at Heathrow, Edward helped her get her bag from the overhead locker.
“Shall we share a taxi?” he suggested. “We’re going in the same direction anyway.”
Tamsin hesitated. Three years ago they had separated, convinced they would never stand side by side again. And yet here they were, and the world had not ended.
“All right,” she nodded. “But I’m keeping an eye on the satnav. You always argue with technology.”
Edward laughed, and that familiar laugh made something tremble inside her. Maybe sometimes you had to let go of the past so the present could become brighter?
As they left the plane, she realised this was the first time in a long while that she did not regret a chance encounter. Ahead lay the birthday, a festively laid table and the uncertain looks of relatives. But now she knew: they would manage. They always had, after all.
The taxi wove through the evening streets of London. Tamsin, as promised, kept her eye on the route while Edward sat beside her, separated only by a bag on the middle seat.
“Turn right here,” Tamsin said, and Edward had to smile: she knew the way to his parents’ house even better than he did.
“Do you remember the first time we drove to Mum’s?” he asked suddenly. “You were so nervous.”
“Of course!” Tamsin snorted. “I changed my clothes three times before we left. I wanted to make a good impression.”
“And then you spilled soup all over yourself.”
They both laughed, and for a moment time seemed to stand still. Then the taxi stopped in front of the familiar house, and the moment vanished into the twilight.
Mildred met them at the door and raised her hands in surprise:
“You came together? What a surprise!”
“We met by chance on the plane,” Tamsin explained hastily, catching a glimmer of hope in her ex-mother-in-law’s eyes.
“Come in, come in! Tamsin, I’ve prepared your room, the same as always.”
Tamsin froze. Her room: the bedroom upstairs, where she and Edward had always stayed when they visited. Where the morning sun painted playful patterns on the wallpaper and the old apple tree was visible from the window.
“Mum, maybe I’d better take the guest room?” Edward tried.
“No discussion!” Mildred interrupted. “The guests are sleeping there tomorrow. Tamsin stays in the bedroom, and you’re in your old room. Everything like the old days.”
Like the old days: the words echoed in Tamsin’s mind. In truth, nothing was like the old days, but neither of them dared argue with Mildred.
The evening passed with preparations for the party. Tamsin helped in the kitchen while Edward sorted through old boxes in the attic, a task his mother had been wanting him to do for a long time. They deliberately avoided being alone, but under one roof that was not easy.
That night, Tamsin could not sleep for a long time. The bed felt too big, too empty. Behind the wall, in his old room, the floorboards creaked: apparently Edward could not sleep either. She recognised the sounds: three steps to the window, four back. That was how he had always walked when he was thinking something over.
Suddenly it was quiet. Tamsin turned onto her side and looked out of the window. The apple tree rustled in the wind, and for a moment it seemed as if the last three years had been nothing but a dream.
