**A Second Chance**
Felicity’s heart was heavy, as it always was after visiting the cemetery. The bus was quiet, just a few passengers lost in their thoughts.
The bus turned off the ring road into the city. Outside, rows of one- and two-story houses stretched along the outskirts. Soon, they’d vanish—replaced by new developments with wide streets and towering flats.
On impulse, Felicity stepped off at the next stop. What if, the next time she came back, the neighborhood she grew up in was gone? She walked down the street, past peeling, squat houses, her chest tightening at the thought of not finding the home where she’d been happiest.
Most windows were smashed, front doors hung open like gaping mouths. The residents had already been moved to newer flats. The street was empty—just the occasional car or bus rumbling past. Then—there it was. Her house. A rush of warmth filled her, as if greeting an old friend.
Without life inside, the house felt hollow. The bench by the entrance still stood, though darkened by time. Two doors down, a crane loomed—ready to tear it all down.
Felicity closed her eyes and saw her mother leaning out of their second-floor window, calling her from the girls playing hopscotch in the yard. The clatter of dishes, the smell of fried onions, the muffled buzz of a telly. Auntie Margaret’s shrill voice carried from an open window—yelling at her drunk husband.
_”Felicity! Lunch!”_ Her mother’s voice rang from the past.
Felicity startled, eyes flying open. No mother. No one. Just the empty windows staring back.
But she couldn’t stop the flood of memories now.
***
_”Felicity! Lunch!”_ Her mother’s voice rang from the window.
She raced up the chipped steps to their flat, her mother’s voice already scolding from the kitchen: _”Wash your hands!”_ Her father sat at the table, newspaper in hand, waiting for the family to gather.
The memory was so vivid, she swore she smelled the tangy broth of her mother’s stew. Tears pricked her eyes, trailing down her cheeks. She swiped them away with her fingertips.
Another flash—her schoolbag slung over her shoulder. She hadn’t gone five steps before the pounding of shoes behind her.
_”Felicity, wait!”_ Eddie’s voice. He caught up, falling into step beside her.
_”Let me copy your maths homework?”_
_”Why didn’t you come round last night?”_
_”Your mum gives me that look—like I’m about to nick something.”_
_”Don’t be daft.”_ She stole a glance at his profile.
He’d shot up over summer, his dark hair sun-bleached, skin tanned. His shirt collar revealed a thin neck, a vein pulsing at the side. She didn’t know when he’d changed—when her childhood friend, Eddie from the ground floor, became this boy.
He felt her stare and met her eyes. She didn’t look away fast enough. That warm, tea-coloured gaze burned. Her face flamed.
Their fathers had worked at the same factory—the reason they had these flats. Eddie’s mum was an accountant there; hers, a nurse at the local hospital. The factory loomed nearby, chimneys puffing thick smoke.
_”Where are you applying?”_ she blurted.
_”Engineering school. Work at the plant, then run it one day.”_
_”Seriously?”_ She blinked. _”Who dreams of running a factory?”_
_”Just watch me.”_ His voice was sure. _”What about you?”_
_”University—not here, London. Maybe translator, see the world. Or a therapist. Haven’t decided.”_
That September, their class celebrated a mate’s birthday at his family’s cottage by the Thames. Golden leaves crunched underfoot. The autumn sun dazzled through the thinning trees.
After lunch, they wandered into the woods. That’s where Eddie first kissed her.
That year, they were mad for each other—clinging, kissing, dizzy with it. One evening, her parents were both working late. Eddie came over to copy maths problems.
It happened—quick, clumsy. Both froze after, unsure what to do. She made him promise never again. He nodded, crestfallen. The next day, they walked to school in silence.
Only days later did they speak.
_”We’ll marry after graduation,”_ Eddie said.
_”I’m leaving,”_ she whispered.
_”Don’t.”_
Their first row.
At the New Year’s dance, she saw him kiss Louise in a dim classroom. Felicity ran home sobbing. Winter break made avoiding him easy—until he showed up at her door.
_”Why are you dodging me?”_
_”You’ve got Louise. I saw you.”_
_”She threw herself at me! Was I meant to shove her?”_
Felicity knew Louise—she’d chase any decent-looking lad. And Eddie *was* decent-looking now. The jealousy ate at her.
But time passed. No sign of Louise. By their final year, they were madly in love again—yet held back, pretending to be just mates.
After graduation, their class took a boat down the Thames. On a sandy bank, they spread a picnic. Someone brought wine. Their teacher even had a sip. Felicity and Eddie slipped into the pines. Kissed.
_”Don’t go. Study here.”_
_”Come with me.”_
_”Mum would never let me. Dad’s heart’s dodgy. Plus, the plant’s good for experience. Five years’ll fly. You’ll come back and—”_
_”Thompson! Harris! Where are you? We’re leaving!”_ their teacher shouted.
They returned to the boat flushed, lips swollen.
They revised together—until Eddie’s dad came home early and caught them kissing. He didn’t speak, just shut the door. After that, Eddie stayed home. After graduation, he was sent to his gran’s to help with the garden—missing Felicity’s London send-off.
At first, they called constantly. Then their parents complained about the bills. Mobiles weren’t what they are now. Calls dwindled. Then Eddie married Louise.
Felicity nearly failed her first year. A year later, she dated someone—married him by final year. Realised quickly it was a mistake. Divorced.
She became a translator, travelled often, settled in London. When her dad died, she moved her mum up. Sold the flat, used savings for a modest London place.
Two years ago, her mum passed. Felicity buried her beside her dad. She visited yearly, tidying the graves. No sign of Eddie—he’d moved long ago.
***
_”You looking for someone?”_ A raspy voice.
Felicity turned. A bent old woman squinted at her.
_”Been watching you. Just standing there.”_
_”Auntie Margaret?”_
_”Aye. Who’re you? Can’t place you.”_
_”Felicity. Felicity Thompson. Lived on the second floor.”_
_”Felicity? Blimey. You took your mum to London.”_
_”Yes. I’m visiting their graves.”_
_”So, Evelyn’s gone too.”_ The old woman crossed herself. _”When?”_
_”Two years.”_
_”Changed, haven’t you? I’m still here. Can’t die, seems.”_ She sighed. _”I come here often. New flat’s nice, but… never settled. Lived here all my life. Thought I’d die here. Now? They’ll knock it down. Build posh flats. No one knows their neighbors anymore.”_
_”Eddie Harris runs the plant now. His idea—knocking these down. Says it’s better. Better for who?”_
A black SUV pulled up. A tall man in a sharp suit stepped out—another, older, beside him.
_”Speak of the devil. Important now, our Eddie. I’ll ask when they’re flattening this place.”_ She shuffled toward them.
Felicity didn’t wait. Walked away fast. Her heart hammered. She’d thought it was all buried—but seeing him, the love, the hurt—it all surged back.
She took the bus to her hotel, collapsed on the bed, and wept.
Dinner. She needed food. She dressed, checked the mirror—then a knock.
Eddie stood there. Flowers in hand. Tall. Handsome. Older.
_”Hello, Felicity. Thought I imagined you earlier. Auntie Margaret said you were back. Not hard to find—only one Felicity here. Different surname, though. Married?”_
She couldn’t speak.
_”Going somewhere?”_ His eyes flicked over her black dress.
_”Dinner.”_ Her voice was hoarse.
_”Put those in water. Let’s eat. The restaurant here’s decent.”_
Over wine, they talked. Soft music played. The room was half-empty.
_”Knew we’d meet again. You look well. Married?”_
_”You married Louise. Why did you stop calling?”_
_”What could I offer?Felicity reached across the table, her fingers brushing his, and whispered, “We’ve wasted enough time—let’s not waste another minute.”
