“How handsome he’s become. If only he were a bit wealthier and worked at a prestigious firm, I might have fallen for him,” thought Elaine.
“Right then, George, you’re in charge while I’m away. If anything comes up, give me a ring. I’m not vanishing to Mars—I’ll be around,” said James, extending his hand to his deputy and friend.
“Got it, don’t worry. By the way, you never said where you’re off to for holiday. The Maldives or Spain?” George shook the offered hand.
“Didn’t I mention it? I’m heading to Mum’s. The roof needs fixing, the fence could do with some work. Dad used to take care of the house, but since he passed, everything’s been falling apart. Can’t remember the last time I sat by the river with a fishing rod.”
“I’ve never even been fishing. Pure city boy. Makes me a bit jealous, honestly,” George sighed. “Tell me all about it when you’re back,” he called after James as he walked away.
James smiled to himself, glad he’d soon be far from the noisy, grimy city, hugging his mum and breathing in the crisp air of his childhood.
He’d grown up in a small village. His mother was a teacher, his father a builder. James often helped his dad on job sites and picked up all sorts of skills. His father had hoped he’d follow in his footsteps, but James was drawn to cars, computers, and digital tech. School came easily to him. When he finished, he declared there was nothing for him in the village—he’d go to London and make something of himself, more than just a builder like his father wanted.
“What do you mean ‘nothing’? The village is growing, builders will always be needed. You won’t starve. Fancy a modern house? Get married, kids’ll have room to run about,” his father reasoned.
“Too early to think about marriage. Need to stand on my own feet first,” James waved him off.
His father argued, but his mother soothed him. “Let’s not clip his wings. He’s clever—we’ll be proud of him yet,” she’d say.
They gave him money to start and let him go conquer the capital. James studied at university and worked construction. In time, he got everything he’d dreamed of.
At school, he’d been smitten with Elaine, a giggly, freckled girl. She was no scholar—dreamed of being a hairdresser, opening her own salon. They each had their dreams, then drifted apart to different towns, hoping to meet again one day.
Whenever James visited home, Elaine was always gone. He could’ve asked her mum for her number, but didn’t. Love would distract him from his goals. If they married, kids would come, and he’d be stuck grinding just to put food on the table. No—first, he’d build his business, buy a car, a house, then…
“Watch it, you’ll miss your chance. Elaine might not wait forever,” his father warned.
“No matter, there are other girls,” James would reply.
But he didn’t want anyone else.
Now James had it all—or nearly. A posh house in an upscale neighbourhood, a luxury car, a thriving business. Now he could think about marriage. He’d had women, but they wanted the house, the car, the money. He wanted to be loved for himself.
Visiting his parents, he secretly hoped to bump into Elaine. He kept his life vague with them. They lived modestly, frugally, earning their keep honestly—same as they expected from him. When he mentioned his success, his father scowled, his mother blinked in alarm. How could he afford a flat in London, a house, without cutting corners?
“Breaking the law, are you? Is that what we taught you? Better you’d stayed a builder than shame us,” his father grumbled.
So James visited in a modest used car borrowed from a friend, swapping his Lexus. Or took the train. Said he was just an engineer. His father nodded approvingly, proud of his Londoner son.
This trip was no different, though his father had died three years prior. He left the Lexus in the garage, bought a train ticket, and dressed plainly.
His bunk was the lower one, the upper meant for an elderly woman. James gave up his spot without hesitation. She thanked him profusely the whole way.
Lying on the top bunk, he watched forests, fields, and rivers flash by. Memories of his first trip to London surfaced. The rhythmic clatter of the wheels made thinking easy.
The village looked tiny and fairy-tale lovely. The air was fresh, trees lush green—nothing like the sickly city plants. Flowerbeds burst with colour.
Walking into his childhood home’s yard, his mother gasped, eyes brimming.
“Son! What a lovely surprise. I wasn’t expecting you. Staying long?” She studied him closely.
“Till you kick me out,” he said, hugging her.
She baked pies daily, spoiling her only son. He ate them, then fixed the roof, mended the fence, painted the shutters.
“You should rest, love. You’re on holiday, not here to work,” she fretted.
“All done. Where are you off to?” he asked, spotting a smart dress and a large cloth bag in her hand. She never left the house without dressing up.
“Need to pop to the shops.”
“I’ll take the bike. What do you need?” James offered.
She handed him a list. “You’re going like *that*?” she gasped.
“Why not?” He thought his worn jeans, rolled-up sleeves revealing tanned, strong arms, and trainers were perfectly fine for the village.
The trainers were expensive, branded. Couldn’t help it—he loved good shoes. Doubt anyone here would guess their cost.
He hopped on the old bike and rode to the shop. Women didn’t recognise him, staring openly, asking whose he was and who he’d come to see. They were surprised when he introduced himself, prying about his life. James kept his answers short.
Leaving the shop, he spotted a red Audi parked near his bike. Compared to the battered bicycle, it looked like an artifact from another era. James whistled, eyeing the Audi’s flat front tyre.
“Could’ve helped instead of whistling,” a bright voice said behind him.
Goosebumps prickled his skin. A person could change beyond recognition, but their voice stayed the same. Something like that was written in a book he’d read.
James turned and barely recognised the elegant woman as Elaine. She wore a knee-length dress hugging her slender frame, a chic short haircut, flawless makeup. Gold sandals adorned her feet.
His face flushed. He tried to whistle again but failed.
“James?!” she exclaimed, finally recognising him.
“You’ve changed. Unrecognisable. That your car?” He jerked his head toward it. “Gorgeous.”
She couldn’t hide her pleasure at the compliment, cheeks pinkening.
“Yes, but now it’s got a flat. The roads here were always terrible.”
“Got a spare? Tools?” James asked.
Elaine watched his deft hands, his strong, lean frame as he changed the tyre. He felt her gaze, resisting the urge to look at her constantly.
“Sorted. The flat’s in the boot—can be patched,” he reported.
“Thank you. So glad I ran into you. Hop in, I’ll drive you home,” she offered.
“No need. I’ll take the bike. Wouldn’t want to dirty your seats,” he said, dusting off his jeans.
Elaine waved and drove off. As he pedaled away, he spotted the red Audi stopped ahead. She rolled down the window.
“We’ve years to catch up on. Let me treat you to coffee—I owe you.” Her hopeful gaze held his.
*I don’t want to say goodbye again*, James thought.
“Haven’t been back in ages. Don’t know where the café is. Give me the address—I’ll drop the shopping and come,” he said.
“Where are you off to?” his mother asked when he set the bags down.
“Ran into an old friend. We’re grabbing coffee.” He hurried out before she could probe.
She watched him go. *That ‘friend’ is Elaine. Should’ve brought her home.*
James spotted Elaine at the café bar. They moved to a table. A waiter handed them menus. Without looking, Elaine ordered black coffee and a small pastry. The waiter glanced at James.
“Same for me,” he said.
They exchanged a few words before the waiter returned with steaming cups and plates.
“Here on holiday? How’s your mum? Mine’s poorly,” Elaine said.
“Mine’s holding up. Your salon’s doing well, then. You look stunning,” James complimented. “Not married?” He noticed no ring on her finger.
She moved her hand. “Didn’t work out. You?”
“Same. Just happened,” he said.
By the end, they’d shared much. Elaine’s salon catered to celebrities, wealthy wives.They never saw each other again, both too tangled in the lies they’d spun to ever find their way back to the truth.
