**Wait for Me**
James stepped off the train and took a deep breath. There was something about the air in his hometown that you couldn’t find anywhere else in the world, no matter how far you’d travelled. And he’d been plenty of places. Still, something always pulled him back here.
He walked the familiar streets, noting every tiny change. And there it was—his old courtyard, tucked between four red-brick blocks of flats. Two longer ones with five entrances each, two shorter ones with just two. The space was divided: one side had a children’s playground with a colourful slide, a sandpit, and a couple of rusted pull-up bars. The swings and the climbing dome—the one he’d fallen off as a kid, leaving the scar above his eyebrow—were long gone. The other half was a fenced-off football pitch with a basketball hoop on one end. In winter, they’d flood it for ice-skating. The courtyard was empty this early. If only he had a ball, he’d have taken a shot at the goal, just like old times.
Simpler days. Scott had moved somewhere up north, married, two kids now. And Danny, well—Danny was doing time again. Life had scattered them all.
A man stepped out with his dog, and James called out, asking him to hold the door. The dim bulb inside barely did anything. He stood still a moment, letting his eyes adjust. No matter how many times tenants swapped in brighter bulbs, someone always switched them back to these feeble things. Amazing no one had broken their neck on these narrow, shadowed stairs.
He paused on the second floor, outside the steel door on the right. Valentina used to live here. Not Val, not Tina—Valentina. That’s what she’d insisted on being called. His first love, fierce and hopeless.
Back then, he’d ring the bell and bolt upstairs to his own flat on the third floor, waiting to hear her open the door. The thought crossed his mind to do it again, but he wasn’t as quick on his feet these days. And a grown man playing silly games? Besides, he wasn’t even sure she still lived here.
Smirking, he continued up to his own front door. Mum had always been the one to answer, even when Dad was alive. He’d passed two years ago. James had been at sea then, couldn’t make it back for the funeral.
He pressed the doorbell. The lock clicked, and the door opened a crack before flying wide when his mother saw him.
“James!” She pulled him into a tight hug right there on the doorstep, then held him at arm’s length. “Let me look at you.” Then she hugged him again.
When Dad was alive, she’d dyed her hair, styled it neatly. Now a streak of grey ran through it.
“You were in my dream last night. I knew you’d come. How long are you staying? Oh, standing here like this—come in, come in.” She closed the door behind him, arms tight around him once more.
Once the joy of reunion settled, James kicked off his shoes and grabbed his slippers from the rack—still waiting for him, same as always. Dad’s pair was gone.
“This is for you, Mum.” He handed her a bag of gifts.
“You’re the best gift I could ask for,” she said, peeking inside anyway. “I’ll put the kettle on. Hungry?” She bustled into the kitchen, setting the table.
“Oh, silly me. Forgot the bread. The shops aren’t open yet—” She stopped, blinking helplessly.
“It’s fine. I’ll go later. Sit down,” he said, steadying her.
The kitchen felt cramped. His cabin at sea was bigger. How did she keep it so spotless?
“How’ve you been?” He brushed his thumb over her work-roughened hand.
“Getting by. And you? Still not married?” Her eyes dimmed.
“Not many women want to wait half a year for a sailor.”
After breakfast, Mum started on his favourite beef stew, and James went out for bread. On the stairs, he hesitated outside Valentina’s door again.
It took him days to finally ring the bell. The lock clicked, and the door opened a sliver. His heart hammered against his ribs like it wanted to leap straight out to her. She’d barely changed—fuller now, but it suited her.
“Can I help you?” she asked, scanning him up and down.
“Sorry.” He stepped back toward the stairs.
“James? Is that you?” Her voice stopped him.
*She recognised me.* His heart soared.
—
“You lost us the game!” Scott’s voice cracked with rage, nose running as he jabbed a finger at him.
“We’ll get them next time,” James said quickly, guilt gnawing at him.
“Yeah, right.” Scott turned away. “If you can’t play, don’t bother.”
“*I* can’t play? You let Lenny walk right past you!” James jogged after him, grabbing his arm. “Scott, wait—”
“Piss off!” Scott shoved him.
James shoved back. A few seconds of scrapping later, they were rolling in the grass, fists flying.
“Oi, pack it in!” A girl’s sharp voice cut through the scuffle.
They froze, looking up at a dark-haired girl standing over them. Panting, they got to their feet. Scott brushed himself off and stalked away. James just stared after the girl, then followed her. At her doorstep, she turned.
“Why are you following me?”
“I’m not. I live here too.”
“Same building, then? You look a state.” She nodded at his torn shirt.
James lifted the fabric. “Where?”
“Come on. I’ll sew it.”
Upstairs, she unlocked the door.
“The old lady who lived here—you her granddaughter?”
“Hardly. She passed. I rent it now. Shoes off, shirt too.”
James tugged it over his head, standing there in just his jeans. At least it wasn’t his trousers ripped.
She eyed him. “How old are you?”
“Fourteen,” he croaked.
“Well-built for your age. You’ll be handsome one day.” Heat flooded his face. “Don’t just stand there. Wash up.”
In the bathroom, he scrubbed his hands, staring at the pink satin robe hanging behind the door. After drying off, he couldn’t resist running a finger over the silky fabric.
Back in the living room, she sat by the window, stitching his shirt. Feeling his gaze, she glanced up.
“Tea?”
Nodding, he headed to the kitchen—cramped as his own. He found the lighter and flicked the stove on.
“Here.” She tossed him the repaired shirt.
“Thanks. You live alone?”
“Planning to rob me? Cups are above the sink.” She left, returning with a box of chocolates. “Sit down, then.”
He fumbled with his teacup, sloshing boiling water on his hand. Hissing, he shook it. Instead of laughing, she took his hand and blew on the burn. Electricity shot down his spine. He bolted up.
“I should go.”
“Out of breath already?” Mum asked when he got home.
“Football.”
“Wash up. Lunch is ready.”
After that, he saw her often in the courtyard. Every time, his chest tightened.
“What’re you staring at? Fancy her?” Danny spat neatly through his teeth—a skill James envied.
“Piss off,” James muttered, heading inside. Laughter followed.
Upstairs, he hesitated, then rang her bell.
“What do you want?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why are you here?” Her gaze bored into him.
James floundered.
“Come in. I’m Valentina. Not Val. *Valentina.* Got it?”
“Got it. I’m James.”
“Fighting over football, or just showing off?”
“I missed a save. We lost.”
“Gonna be a footballer?”
“Nah. Captain. Like my grandad.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Really?” She motioned him inside.
The wardrobe door was ajar. Peeking out was white fabric. He nudged it open—a wedding dress. Guilt prickled.
“I’m getting married,” Valentina said behind him. He jumped. She shut the wardrobe. “Not sure I want to, though.”
They stood eye to eye. The downy hair on her neck made his throat dry. She turned sharply.
“Why’d you come?”
“No reason. You’re not happy about the wedding?”
“What makes you say that?”
“Just how you said it.”
For a moment, they just looked at each other.
“You don’t understand. Shouldn’t you go?” Then, unexpectedly, she kissed his cheek—not a peck, a proper kiss, lips lingering.
Upstairs, he pressed his hand to the spot. Now he thought of her constantly.
Once, he found her crying on the stairs. She let him in. Inside, shredded white fabric littered the floor, the wedding dress in tatters onShe smiled through her tears and whispered, **”You waited for me after all,”** and in that moment, he finally understood—some loves are worth crossing oceans for.
