A Trip to the Sea
At fifty-nine, William Edward Harris found himself a widower. His daughter, Emily, suggested he move in with her right after the funeral.
“Dad, come live with us. How will you manage alone? It’s too hard. Just for a little while, until you feel better.”
“Thank you, love, but I’ll stay. Don’t worry about me. I’m not helpless—I can take care of myself. What would I even do at your place? Better you stay here a bit longer,” William said, hope flickering in his eyes.
“Dad, Lucas and James are on their own. Lucas is a teenager now, and James is swamped with work. I have to go,” Emily replied guiltily, hugging him tightly.
“I understand.” William patted her hand.
“Promise you’ll call if you need anything?”
“What would I need? I can cook, the washing machine does the laundry, and I can mop floors. When your mum was ill, I learned everything. She just guided me. Or do you think the place is dirty?” His voice carried a hint of hurt.
“Of course not, Dad, it’s spotless. I’m just worried about you,” Emily murmured, leaning against his shoulder.
“I won’t drown my sorrows in drink. Never fancied whisky, even when I was young—too late to start now. Don’t fuss, go on.”
And that settled it. William packed a bag of treats for Emily. She lifted the heavy bag, sighing.
“Dad, this is too much. We have everything.”
“Try refusing your mother. Take it—it won’t go to waste. The train will get you there, and James will meet you,” he grumbled without malice.
They arrived at the station minutes before departure. The conductor checked her ticket and urged her aboard.
Emily hugged her father one last time, kissed his stubbly cheek, and hurriedly took the bag, blinking back tears. As the train pulled away, she waved through the window, forcing a smile.
William stood watching until the train vanished into the distance, his heart heavy. Now he was truly alone. He’d put on a brave face while Emily was there, but now tears came freely. The bustle of the station faded around him as he trudged toward the bus stop, lost in thought.
“Oh, Margaret, how do I go on without you? Maybe I should’ve gone with Emily.”
He decided to walk home, delaying the return to an empty house.
As he wandered down the dusty street, memories of meeting Margaret flooded back.
***
From school, Will had been smitten with Daisy—a fragile girl with a scattering of golden freckles and copper hair. The freckles never faded, even in winter, just grew faint. He called her his sunshine.
In their final year, her father was diagnosed with tuberculosis. Doctors advised moving south, away from England’s damp climate. Their family sold their London flat and relocated to the Devon coast, buying a cottage.
At first, Will and Daisy wrote often. His mother scolded him for daydreaming by the window or scribbling letters instead of studying for university entrance exams. But his mind was already there, with Daisy.
After his first year at uni, he joined a summer labour crew to save for the trip, refusing to ask his parents for money. He returned in August, lean and sunburnt, and announced he was going south to see Daisy.
His mother balked.
“You can’t just show up unannounced! Write first, ask her parents. A year’s passed—things change.”
Mobile phones didn’t exist then, and landlines were scarce, especially in rural homes. Will had to write another letter, waiting impatiently for a reply, regretting his delay.
When the reply came, train tickets were nearly impossible to secure. Everyone seemed to have flocked to the coast that summer. He never made it to Devon.
Bitter, he wrote to Daisy, vowing to visit next summer—they had their whole lives ahead.
She never replied. Will sulked, snapped at his parents, wrote letter after letter—still nothing.
One rainy autumn morning, rushing to the bus stop, he collided with a girl. Her bag tumbled into a puddle. He never made it to class that day.
They sat in a café, talking. With Violet, it felt effortless, as if they’d known each other forever. She was studying nursing. Her sodden textbooks dried by the radiator.
“Did I make you miss anything important?” Will asked.
“An anatomy exam. The professor’s strict—I’d have failed anyway,” she said lightly.
Her dark eyes mesmerised him—bottomless pools. For a while, he still thought of Daisy, but she was far away, and this new love was right beside him.
His mother adored Violet—modest, steady, with a respectable profession. Safe hands for her only son. Their love was calm, gentle, just like Violet. They graduated, married, and a year later, she gave birth to Emily.
Daisy still haunted his dreams sometimes. He’d wake restless, but the sight of Violet and Emily soothed him. Daisy probably had her own family by now. No use dwelling. What happened, happened.
***
Back home, William refused to wallow. He tidied up: removed black drapes from mirrors, washed the sheets Emily had used, flung windows open, mopped floors. The clean flat buzzed with city noise, feeling less empty.
“See, Margaret? I’m managing. Don’t fret over me. We’ll meet soon,” he murmured, glancing at her photo. He’d refused to let Emily tie a black ribbon around the frame. “She’s alive to me, right here in my heart,” he’d said firmly.
At work, his boss called him in.
“I know it’s tough right now. We’ve arranged a trip to the coast for you. Go, relax. It’s the quiet season—peaceful, fresh seafood.”
“But I’ve used my annual leave.”
“Take unpaid time. I’ve approved a bonus—consider it recognition for your dedication.”
William booked a train ticket for mid-September and filed for leave.
He and Margaret had only gone south once, when Emily was five and constantly ill. The doctor recommended sea air to boost her immunity. After Devon, she’d thrived. Then Margaret’s heart troubles began—travel became impossible.
On the train, William dozed and reminisced to the rhythm of the rails. “What if I bump into Daisy? See how she’s doing, if she resents me…” The thought flickered, then faded. “She’s got her own life. No point.” Another replaced it: “Retirement’s a year away. Maybe sell the flat, move closer to Emily?”
His hotel room was spacious, modern, with a sea view. He visited Exeter, took tours, but most evenings, he sat by the shore, watching waves lap lazily at the pebbles. He wished Margaret were there. It’d have been merrier together. “Oh, Margaret, I miss you so,” he’d sigh.
One evening, perched on a rock, he watched the sunset paint the sky orange. Each dusk was different, each breathtaking.
A slight woman stopped nearby. Though warmer than London, where autumn rains stripped trees bare, she bundled in a thick grey cardigan, her hair tucked under a crocheted hat. Something about her reminded him of Daisy. He longed to see her face.
“Beautiful, isn’t it? I come here every evening. Never gets old,” he said.
She didn’t reply. Maybe she thought he was flirting?
“I live here. I watch the sunset whenever I can,” she finally said, eyes fixed on the sea.
“Is it this lovely in winter?”
“Depends. Storms often roll in.”
“I’ve only been here once before. Believe it?”
“Why wouldn’t I? Some come every year—we nod like old friends. Others prefer abroad.” She turned. The sunset gilded her face, hiding any freckles.
“You seem familiar. Not a line—just an observation.”
She eyed him warily.
“My wife and daughter stayed in Torquay once. Were you there?”
“Excuse me, I must go.” She turned and hurried off.
The next day, he scanned the shore, but she didn’t come. He chided himself: “Lost your marbles, old man?”
Then a storm hit. From his balcony, William watched waves rage.
The following day, he spotted her crocheted hat from afar. This time, she wore a raincoat.
He greeted her. “You live nearby?” he asked after discussing the storm.
“Yes, in a cottage. But I don’t rent rooms, if that’s what you’re after.”
“I worried I startled you yesterday, saying you looked familiar.”
She stayed silent.
“I’m William. Call me Will. And you?”
“Dorothea,” she said after a pause.
“Funny—I was in love with a girl named Daisy in my youth. Wanted to marry her.”
“What stopped you?” Dorothea asked, not looking at him.
“Her father fell ill. Tuberculosis. They moved south. I promised to visit, even worked all summer to save up.”
She listenedHe smiled at the fading sunset, knowing some paths were never meant to cross again, and turned toward home.
