“Mum, if you won’t accept my choice, I’ll leave. For good…”
Anthony stepped into the train carriage and glanced around. Plenty of empty seats—take your pick. He settled by the window. Every now and then, the doors slid open with a hiss, letting in new passengers.
Opposite him sat an older couple. The woman rustled in her bag, pulled out two buttered rolls, and they began eating. The warm, yeasty scent of fresh bread filled the air. Anthony politely turned toward the window.
“Young man, have one,” the woman offered, holding out a roll.
“No, thank you,” Anthony smiled.
“Go on, it’s nearly two hours till the next stop.”
He took the roll and bit into it—better than he’d expected. The tannoy crackled to life, a muffled voice cutting through the noise: “This service will depart in… minutes… calling at… with stops at all stations except… Repeat…”
“Young man, what did he say? Which stations are being skipped?” the woman fretted.
Anthony shrugged. He was going all the way to the end—he hadn’t been listening.
“I told you we should’ve taken the slow train, the one that stops everywhere. You never listen,” she scolded her husband. “What do we do now? We’ll have to get off early and wait for the next one…”
She only calmed down when a man across the aisle assured them their stop was still on the route. The bickering stopped. Anthony finished his roll and stared out at the blur of trees, sunlight filtering through spring leaves, the fleeting glimpses of towns. The carriage grew stuffy; sweat trickled down his back beneath the thick fabric of his army uniform.
He pictured arriving home, his mum’s delight, stepping under a hot shower… God, he just wanted to be back—shed the uniform, pull on jeans, a T-shirt, trainers, forget early wake-up calls and drill sergeants. He’d sleep a full day on his sofa, and in the morning, he’d find a plate of golden-brown pancakes under a tea towel on the kitchen table, left by his mum…
*Wonder how Ellie’s doing. Only a year’s passed—doubt she’s changed much.* The image of a slender girl with chestnut hair and green eyes flickered in his mind. A year younger, lived in the next estate over, just finishing school when he’d left. He’d never paid her much attention before. Just another girl.
The night before he’d shipped out, they’d all sat together on the estate’s playground benches. Matt had called him an idiot for dropping out of uni, for rushing into the army. Jamie had backed Anthony, saying if it weren’t for his mum, he might’ve enlisted too. The girls had sighed about the group falling apart but mostly scrolled their phones, giggling.
Then Ellie—who they’d all treated like a kid—suddenly said, dead serious, *I’ll wait for you.* Everyone went quiet. She blushed and bolted.
“Looks like you’ve got yourself a fiancée, Tony,” Jamie had laughed.
“Piss off,” Ellie muttered before fleeing.
“Let her laugh. I’ll come back and marry her,” Anthony had joked—half-joked—shoving Jamie so hard he nearly toppled off the bench.
He’d never told anyone the real reason he’d enlisted—not even Jamie or Matt. He’d started uni to please his dad. Stayed till spring. Then his dad walked out. Turned out there was another woman, another baby on the way. Just like that, his world—and any respect for his father—collapsed. He dropped out and marched to the recruitment office. A protest, pure and simple.
His mum had cried, of course. He’d promised he’d figure things out once he got back—maybe go back to uni, but part-time this time.
Now, a year later, he was nearly home. The anger at his dad had faded. He missed his mum, his flat, the estate, his mates. He’d done the right thing. His whole life was ahead of him.
At the next stop, the couple left. A young guy and girl took their seats, holding hands in silence. Anthony’s thoughts drifted back to Ellie. That night, her words, his reply—it didn’t feel like a joke anymore.
The train slowed. Anthony stepped onto the platform and strode toward the underpass, his steps echoing. As a kid, he’d loved that sound, pretended an army marched with him. His dad had laughed—*Just echoes, son.*
Emerging onto the station square, he walked the rest of the way. Needed the air, needed to stretch his legs. Near the estate, a neighbour spotted him.
“Anthony! Back in one piece! Your mum’ll be over the moon…”
He skipped the lift, took the stairs three at a time. Rang the bell—then froze. What if she wasn’t home? He hadn’t said exactly when he’d arrive.
But the lock clicked. The door swung open. His mum gasped, pulled him into a hug, held him at arm’s length, as if checking he was real. Fussed about no warning, fluttered off to the kitchen. While she cooked, he showered. She’d left fresh towels and clothes on the washing machine.
The jeans were tight, the T-shirt too short.
“You’ve grown!” she laughed when he walked in. “No matter—I’ll pop to the shop, get you new ones.”
“These’ll do,” he said, sitting down.
“In that? No girl’ll look twice.”
As he ate, she filled him in.
“Jamie had an accident. Spent months in hospital. Wheelchair now. Doctors say he’ll never walk. Lucky to be alive, really. Took his dad’s car drunk, wrapped it round a tree. Thank God no one else was with him. If he’d gone with you—maybe none of this…” She sighed. “Haven’t seen Matt in ages. Sarah’s married…”
Anthony burned to ask about Ellie. But she avoided the topic, like it was deliberate.
Later, she left for the shop. Anthony wandered the flat, touching things, reacquainting himself.
She returned an hour and a half later. He pulled on the new shirt, jeans, his old trainers, and went to Jamie’s. His mum answered. Jamie sat in his wheelchair, barely reacting. The conversation stuttered. Anthony asked about Matt, desperate for a subject.
“Hasn’t visited. Came to hospital a couple times, then nothing.” Jamie eyed him warily, like he was bracing for something.
Anthony left, promising to come back.
Matt, though, lit up, hugged him. Anthony asked what had soured between him and Jamie. The accident?
“The accident? That’s not—Look, I’m not saying anything. You’ll find out.”
“Find out what? What happened while I was gone?”
“You’ll see. Drop it. What’s your plan? Work? Uni?”
“Dunno. Maybe both.”
Too late to visit Ellie now, though he ached to. Needed to see her, know if she’d waited. But he went home—enough drama for one day. Tossed and turned, replaying the day, puzzling over the gaps.
In the morning, he heard his mum leave for work. She peeked in a few times, but he pretended to sleep. Finally, the front door clicked shut. He got up, stretched, headed to the kitchen. The kettle was still warm. Under a tea towel—just like he’d imagined—a plate of pancakes.
After breakfast, he dressed and went to Ellie’s. Hoped to catch her alone.
Heart hammering, he rang the bell. Silence. Tried again. Was about to leave when the lock turned.
There she stood—just as he remembered.
“You said you’d wait. I’m back,” he smiled.
For a second, joy flickered in her eyes—then died. She stepped back.
Beneath her patterned dressing gown—a rounded belly.
“Come in,” she murmured, moving aside.
“You’re married?” he asked, toeing off his trainers.
“No.”
“Then…?”
“The father’s James.”
It took a beat to process.
“But he’s—”
“The accident was after. Two days later. I’ll put the kettle on.” She hurried to the kitchen. He followed.
“Not at uni?”
She shook her head, not turning.
“Dropped out. Hard to study with a baby.”
“Does James know?”
“Yes. I told him in hospital.”
“Did he… force you?” The words tasted foul.
“No. I don’t… We ran into each other on the estate. He and Matt were already drunk. James invited me to his birthday. Said more girls were coming. No one else showed. I had one glass of champagne, then—I just blacked out. Maybe he spiked it. Bragged about buying something at a club.”
Her hands shook as she poured tea.
“My parents wanted him to marry me. Then the accident…He took her hand, kissed it gently, and whispered, “We’ll raise her together, and I’ll love her like she’s my own.”
