A Chance Encounter
My coat only kept me warm from the waist down. The filling had all shifted, so the top half was no more than a flimsy windbreaker, useless against the biting wind. Thank goodness for the thick woollen trousers and my trusty wellies. I clutched the old wool shawl around my shoulders, threading it through the sleeves for a bit more warmth, hoping not to freeze.
The car I was counting on, promised by my friend Lydia from the market, let us down. Now, abandoned by plans, we stood by the side of the road, each boxed in by our bags, trying in vain to hail a lift. Our luggage would never fit in a single car, so, wordlessly, we split apart, each woman hoping luck might smile on her first.
When I worked for my old boss, travel was never this much hassle. But that money just wasnt enough anymore. Raising two children alone, Id taken up the market trade myself lately, with Lydias encouragement.
There was no more money than before; the stock was still piled up unsold, but somehow there were more worries. Now, I had to haul everything to the car boot sale in the morning, and lug what was left back home at nightfour flights up, in endless exhausting trips, unless my son happened to be at home to help.
Not so long ago, Id been singing my heart out to We want change!, but now change had bulldozed right through my life: the old authority shut down, my job was gone. My husband long disappeared, I was left with no choice but to dive into this life of buying and sellingsomething Id always thought was absolutely not for me.
So here I was, in my early thirties but looking older, lips chapped, face flushed red from hours of standing in the windswept market, eyes watering in the cold. The cars sped by, splashing filthy slush, sending cold, grey grit onto my boots. I tried not to look at the mess, keeping my gaze turned up toward the rooftops and trees, where the snow was still white. Life has enough dreary muck in it without looking for more.
I waved as another car approached, hoping for a bit of luck. At last, one stopped beside me, as grubby as everything else on the street.
To Kings Road? For a fair price? I called into the open window, and then checked myself mid-sentence.
I recognised him instantly. As if the years had never passed. He looked almost just as I rememberedperhaps even better. That same steady, mysterious look, slightly raised brows, that wry smile.
I stood stunned as he got out, quickly piling my bags into his boot. I collapsed onto the front seat, adjusting my shawl, rehearsing explanations in my mindwhy I looked such a sight today. Surely, he must recognise me too.
Or
So many years. How many, exactly?
***
Id been twenty-two then. My university sent me for work placement at an old forestry outpost. Michael, my fiancé, was waiting in Oxfordeverything set: placement, graduation, wedding.
What could three months really change? Nothing, surely
They lodged me with an older woman named Catherine in a small village. She worked at the outpost too, living with her deaf old father-in-law. I was always sociable, so we became friends at once, and together we looked after the old man.
Thats how it happenedone day, the old man had a fall. I ran next door for help, but nobody was home. Then, down the village lane, rolled a tractor. I waved it down, and out jumped a young mantall, striking, with a quietly serious way about him.
He followed me inside, strong enough to lift the old fellow singlehanded into the tractor cab. I clambered in after, worrying if wed get him the help he needed in time.
We made it to the nurses on the village edge, just as the ambulance arrived. The young man hopped in as well, keeping me company through the woods.
At last, when the old fellow was settled in with the doctors, we found time to speak.
It turned out we worked for the same department and lived almost next door. His name was Andrew.
It was late by then, and after getting the old man sorted, we realised we were stranded. No ambulance would be driving us home over rutted country lanes at this hour.
Come on, my mates mum lives nearby, Andrew said. Well kip there, head back with the men in the morning.
He seemed trustworthy enoughnot the type to get the wrong ideabut I hesitated.
No, Ill stay at the hospital for the night. You can collect me in the morning, alright?
Suit yourselfbut you really wont sleep on those plastic chairs. Come on, Aunt Lidias kind, and theres plenty of room. Ill bunk in the shed with my mate.
In the end, I agreed. Andrew was rightI slept the sleep of the dead on plump pillows until Aunt Lidia woke me with breakfast. She was every bit as welcoming as hed said.
As she poured tea, she told me Andrew had once had a wife, some trouble from the city, who ran off and left him with a little boy. Now, alongside his job, he looked after pigs for market, building up his own farm and a new house, working like a Trojan. She praised him so much I could tell she fancied me as a good match for him.
But I only smiled. I was already engagedMichael, nearly an engineer, full of prospects. I was young, ambitious, and divorced men with children simply werent for me.
After that, though, I saw Andrew everywhereat the outpost, in the canteen, around the village. Catherine knew him well, and together we took the old man back home from hospital.
Andrew really likes you, you know, Catherine said. He blushed like a schoolboy when I asked.
Oh, dont start. I have Michael.
Hes not your husband yet. And Andrews solidruns a proper piggery, owns his own equipment, his boys a darling. All thats missing is a good woman.
I couldnt help it; I started looking out for Andrew myself. He was calm and determined, radiating a kind of strength you could feel across the yard. Most people respected him.
If youve a problemhave a word with Pruden, Id hear from the men.
And I, the odd-one-outcity girl dropped in by fate. Tall, slim, floating above the springtime mud in my smart camel coattoo light for any sensible local wear. The men would quiet their jokes and glance aside as I passed, just slightly more dignified in my presence.
Madam, how on earth did you end up here?
Natalie, wait, Ill give you a lift.
It wasnt far from the outpost to the village, but in the rain I made my way to Andrews tractor.
Whos looking after your son tonight? I asked, for to me any man with a child seemed so much older, even if he was only a year or two ahead.
Why Mr? You make me feel old. My lads with Mummy neighbour pops in from time to time to help. Hes in nursery now, growing up
And his name?
Georgemischievous little blighter, always into everything. Got to keep your eye on himthe old gran gives us hell sometimes, he laughed. Dont you like it here, then?
No, its alright…
Wait until the sun comes out, the fields turn green. The rivers lovely Could do with some new street lights though. Thatll get fixed.
We trundled along the dark lane. The council had cut the village lightstoo dear to pay the leccy. But Andrew spoke as if hed take charge of it himself, always hands-on.
If only Id known thenresponsibility is a mans greatest virtue.
His attentions soon became obvious. He popped in to bring firewood for Catherine, fetched medicine for her father. But I resisted my own feelings.
I simply couldnt imagine myself living here, in the middle of nowhere. City life meant nothing kept me there, except Michael and the hopes of our families. I pictured Michaels hurt if he found out I’d met someone new, my mothers disappointment.
Youre going to live in a village, then? Mum would ask, raising her eyebrows.
And then shed hear my future husband was divorced, with a child, farming pigs. Imaginethe daughter shed pinned her hopes on…
In the evenings, with only the wind and the dogs barking for company, I pictured us together. Andrew would love me, cherish me, be grateful if I became a mother to his son. Our own children would come, look just like him.
But the difference between daydreams and reality was vastI knew Id never really make that leap. After all, there was Michael, whod just bought our wedding rings. His mum was saving up for our big day, my own parents were so involved. It would be cruel to let them down.
And yet there was a delicious, aching sense of love in my heart. The anticipation blurred with the fresh spring air, clouding my sense.
Looking back now, it feels like I never loved Michael at all, and yet with Andrew, I did truly love. The fact that my fiancé was waiting in the city only made it feel more dramatic, more romantic.
And one day, at the height of drama, in tears, I practically invited Andrew closer. I dont think either of us knew what we were doingsaying goodbye to our old lives or our new love, I couldnt say. He hesitated, met my gaze, but decided if it would give me closure, he wouldnt refuse.
It was my first time, but I dont regret a thingfor it was beautiful.
But I could never decide, in the enda mix of stupidity, innocence, or just being too inexperienced.
Then, by the village well, came a moment that sealed it. Id gone for water and found a fair-haired boy clambering by the wells edge. Dangerousif he climbed too far, he could easily fall in. I hurried up.
Hey, dont do thatits not safe! Wheres your mum?
Then I saw hercoming up the lane, plain as they come, mousey and unremarkable. The boy glared as I caught his shoulder, then tore away, running to cry into her skirt.
He nearly climbed insideI
George, love, you know better, the woman said, looking at me, wary and sad.
I didnt notice, he ran off. Thank you.
She took his hand, and they headed up the road.
George? Could it be Andrews? The thought jolted me, and I felt a pang. Such a strange child, a strangerhe shied away from me as if I were the enemy.
Later, Andrews mother, Claudia, turned up in tears. She said George was devoted to Gail, the neighbour who helped care for himshed grown fond of Andrew, and everything ran smoothly until I arrived, the outsider who ruined it all.
I blinked, dazedI never expected to be the other woman. I didnt ask for this. Andrew was the one tempting me away from my fiancé! I saw myself as the one wronged, but here I wasa dramatic cause of someone elses pain.
How Andrew begged me to stay! Saw me off at the station, pleaded with me not to leave. His mother and Gail had invented stories, he saidGail wasnt suited to him at all, quiet and colourless, always lost in his shadow.
Gails so silent, she seems forever embarrassed. Theyre all wrong for each other. But you
But I was hurt, too proud to listen, convinced Id make my own storyone for the city, not the country. All doubts vanishedI stopped hearing Andrew, focused only on Michael awaiting me.
I remember Andrew on the platformchecked shirt, sleeves rolled, broad shoulders slumped, a deep line of sadness between his eyes. Thats the image of him I carried all these years.
I wept the train journey home.
Just three months of placement, and what a change.
But youth heals. I pressed on, not looking back. Married Michael, set about our new life together.
**
Back in the present, I plopped into the car seat, fiddled with my shawl, forming excuses in my mind for why I looked so bedraggled. Surely, he would recognise me.
Or… maybe Id changed too much. Puffed up, lips chapped, in this ridiculous coat and shawl
So many years. How many?
Sixteen. Yes, sixteen years.
We were silent for the first bit.
Lovely weather, isnt it? I ventured, as a car splashed through a puddle and sprayed us both.
Just here in town. Outside, its clear, countrysides beautiful. Roads are all gritted and open, he replied.
You come from out there?
Im back and forth. Business.
Thank you for picking me up. Our car let us down today. Ill pay, of course
He turned, gave me that old, enigmatic look. I understood suddenlyhe recognised me.
Hello, I whispered, just in case.
Hello, Natalie, he said, softly.
So, you did recognise me? I thought you might have forgotten all about me.
No, not forgotten, he said quietly, eyes on the road.
Somewhere deep inside, I ached at the sound of his voicethe memory of his touch, his eyes. I felt suddenly warm, slipped the woollen scarf from my head.
How have you been, Andy? I finally managed to say.
He paused, as if shaking off the cobwebs of long-forgotten days.
Me? Not half bad, really. Keeping busy, you know. These times. As are you, by the looks of it.
Are you still at the forestry? I was grateful for any topic that put distance between us.
No, thats long gone. Disappeared with the old regime. I left long ago. Working for myself now.
Rightyouve got your own farm? I recalled Andrew raising pigs to sell.
Yes, a farm. A business. We sell meats and butchers products.
Oh these days, everyones in trade.
And suddenly, I remembered seeing his surname on the labelsPruden Meats. Id smiled then, assuming it was a coincidence.
Wait, so all those Pruden sausages and burgers, theyre yours?
In a way, yes. Not to your taste? He glanced at me, a touch of his old smile.
Theyre excellentmy mother goes out of her way to get them! I never dreamed…
He began explaining shyly, almost apologising for having done well.
Started rough, reallyjust the family farm, lots of meat. After the closures, there were people needing work everywhere. We grew, bit by bit. Took on a proper plant, opened new shops.
Impressive. Do you run it alone?
I have a team, of course. Im the owner, but you never do it alone. Many from the old village are with me still. Now were all over the county. Not just local anymore.
The contrast embarrassed mea gentle, city lady of yesteryear, now in battered boots and lumpen coat; he, once a country lad on a tractor, now a successful businessman. Wed swapped places.
Hows your boy, George?
Andy grinned. Three boys now.
Three?
Thats right. And you?
A son and a daughter, I replied, mopping my brow.
George is in the armywas posted to the Middle East. We worried sick. Gails hair went grey! But hes home in the spring, thank God. The middle ones at college, and the youngest is still in primary.
Gail… So, in the end, he married the same quiet neighbour.
I wanted, desperately, to confess how much I regretted running away all those years back. How often Id wished Id stayed. Especially seeing him now
Michael turned out to be a rubbish husband. At first, it was all righthe used his engineering degree, we even moved to Hampshire for a promising new post and were given a place to live. The kids were little, times were tough, but we managed.
Then Michael started quarreling at work, changing jobs, began drinking. We lost the flat, moved in with his mother. In the end, he wandered off elsewhere. That, too, fell apart.
I couldnt take it anymorefiled for divorce, returned to my mothers in London with my children. Dad, our family anchor, was gone by then.
I wanted so badly to tell Andy all thisto show I understood. Instead, I settled for,
My eldest is in year ten. My daughters in year eight. Time rattles on.
Yes. It does.
We fell into silenceeach of us wanting to speak of all the things that really mattered but believing it mattered only to ourselves.
A wave of guilt for Andrew passed over me. But then I remembered his mothers tears, Gail, the sensible oneId made way for her in the end. Even though my own feelings then had been a muddle of hurt and naive pride.
And you? he asked, offhandedly.
Me? Well, as you see. I was made redundant. Now I work for myself, I said, brushing my hair away. Its hard, on your own.
And your ex? Michael, was it?
You remember?
Natalie, of course. I saw you as a bride once. Drove behind your wedding procession, all the way to the restaurant.
What? I turned to him, shocked.
Yes. The day before, Catherine told me. Dont pine after her, shes marrying tomorrow. So I jumped in the car, drove like a fool. But you were so happydidnt want to spoil it. Drove home, asked Gail to marry me that night.
Oh Good Lord! If only Id known My voice was empty.
Wouldve just ruined your day. No, you were radiant. Giddy with happiness.
Perhaps. The wedding was a big deal. But I wasnt happy long. We split after five years. Ended up with my mother in London.
Shame, he said quietly.
Ive gotten used to it, I tried to sound bold. Turns out Im stronger than I thought. Kids are well, do fine at school. My eldest wants to study medicine. Could be worse. Still working the market, thoughstanding in the wind in these old boots. My spots exposed but great for businessI hold onto it for dear life.
I wanted him to see that not everything was diremy life wasnt a disaster, even if it wasnt as bright as his.
Andy listened in silence, a frown between his brows.
And your wife? Hows Gail?
He shrugged, seeming distracted.
Gails fine. Bakes bread.
Breadhome baking?
Started in the kitchen, now owns The Village Ovenshop and bakery.
I know it! Ive only wandered in onceshe Then I remembereda petite, efficient woman with a sharp bob, surprisingly young for such responsibility, running things in a spotless white coat and a pink scarf. I remember wondering: how does someone so small manage so much?
It all made sense, now.
Is it just up ahead? Andy checked for house numbers as we drew near. I snapped back to the present.
The next block.
But Andy stopped the car, jumped out.
And thenlike in a dreamI saw him dash across the street in his open sheepskin coat to the tiny Flowers kiosk. He returned, handing me a lush bouquet of white chrysanthemums. He passed them to me as I sat there in woollen trousers, mouth agape.
I stared at the flowers, blinking away tears. Here I was, insisting I was resilient.
Andy helped me pile my bags up to the flat. Our estatethe familiar, graffiti-tagged walls. Inside, I hugged the bouquet to my chest in confusion and wonder.
Coming in? I askeda part of me hoping hed refuse out of kindness, as the flat was in no state for visitors. Stock everywhere, boxes and bags in every corner. And Mum waiting inside, ready to explode with questions, thinking she could see everything with a glance.
But still, it would have been nice for him to come in, see it all, understand, and perhaps care.
No, Natalie, I have to run. Busy day ahead. He took my wrist, pressed it gently for a moment, as if in quiet farewell.
Then hurried off down the stairwell.
Should I call after him? Tell him everything?
Staring at his back, I suddenly understood how much heavier things were for him nowand somehow, that realisation eased my own heart.
I dragged the bags inside.
Mum was at the door with her questions, problems, and family news, but I hardly listenedstill feeling his hand on my wrist. I took off my boots and set them on the radiator, moving by habit, numb with thoughts.
She followed me, always talking, not noticing I barely heard.
Once Id changed and sat at the table, I asked,
Mum, do you remember before my wedding, I told you about a lad from my placement days? Courted me, back in Wrenfielda young farmer. Do you remember?
I think so. Why?
You told me then: Last thing you need is farming and mud on your shoes.
And I was right. Youd have been knee-deep in muck.
I saw him today.
Oh? Really? Where?
It doesnt matter. Mum, all those Pruden-brand sausages you likethats his business. And his wife runs The Village Oven. There you go.
Mum just stared. Then she set her teacup down, pain flashing in her eyes. After a pause, she gently said,
Cant choose your fate. If people could, theyd be fighting for it.
And I pitied her then, and myself too.
Come on, Mum. We have a good life. I sold two suits and three coats today. Well muddle through. Dont fret.
Youre right, love. If only we knew where life would trip us up, wed lay down straw. Youre right. But the news made her thoughtful and sad as she disappeared into her own thoughts.
My son soon came home, tall and serious, eyes with that hint of mysteryso like his true father. Years ago, the whole family believed he was a seven-month baby, tiny but strongnever a doubt. No one suspected otherwise. Id never been one to take chances.
He sat at the table.
Mumdont be cross, but I found a job. At the riding stableslooking after the horses. Pays decent. Dont worry, school wont suffer. Promise, Mum
I sighed. Yesterday I might have scolded. But today
Of course, Andy. Youre grown now. Any work is honest workand youll need the money. I dont mind.
He grinned, spooning stew, sensing something had changed in meunsure what, but happy all the same.
I couldnt sleep that night. I didnt cry. I wasnt heartbroken. Just something new settled over me.
I gazed at the white chrysanthemums, thinking of fate, todays unexpected meeting, of two lives that must move forward, into whatever comes nextapart.
Our encounter years ago had split my life in two: before him, and after. Now, here was that same feeling once more.
There are still surprises ahead for both of us, new chances for happiness. Even if we never meet again, well always shape each others lives in ways we can’t see.
Everything happens for a reason.
Perhaps this meeting was to help me understand something Id always needed to know.
