20September
I never imagined, at twenty, the road my life would take. I was still a university student, head over heels for James, already talking about a wedding.
James was a few years older; hed finished his National Service before I even started my Alevels. I still remember the night of the autumn formal at our old school in Manchester. Hed just walked in, scanning the room for familiar faces, and his eyes met mine.
What a handsome lad, I thought, breath catching. He spotted me, smiled, and I felt instantly swept away. It seemed inevitablehe was charming, unlike any other boy Id known.
Hi, Im James, he said, leaning toward me, cheeks flushing pink. May I have this dance? He took my waist and we spun across the floor.
Emily I whispered, feeling light as a feather, as if I were floating. James guided me confidently, his movements precise, and I sensed every step he made.
Youre a natural dancer, he grinned, and the whole evening we stayed close. He promised to see me off later, and after the party we lingered, unwilling to part, though I knew I should be homeMother would be worrying.
James never let a dull moment slip by. After school, I went straight to university in the same city, while he took a job with the local council. He never seemed to know boredom; his optimism lifted everyone around him. He had a wide circle of mates, and I began joining them at weddings and socials.
Even in the dead of winter hed bring me roses, turning every date into a little celebration. Wed spend hours in cafés, escape to the countryside, or simply wander with friends.
When I was in my third year, James surprised me.
Over the Christmas break were heading to the ski resort in the Lake District, he announced, waving two tickets. They have topclass instructors; youll pick it up fast.
Yay, James! Youre the best, I squealed, throwing my arms around his neck, then, giggling, added, Im a bit of a scaredycat on the slopes, thoughdid you know that?
The trip was unforgettable. I learned to descend the slopes with confidence and loved it, though I dreaded the end of that fairytale weekend.
On 8March, James turned up at my flat bearing two bouquets.
Happy International Womens Day, he said, handing one to my mum, Margaret, and the other to me. For you, my love. He kissed my cheek and I was over the moon with the beautiful roses.
My dear, youre spending a lot, Margaret whispered, eyes widening.
James smiled. Its nothing, love. My mates Tom and Luke are heading out to the powerline crew; theyre pulling me in too. The pays decentenough for a wedding and a car.
I felt a pang of fear. Dont go, I blurted.
Its only a few months, Emily. Ill be back, well be talking every day. I want a beautiful wedding, and you want that too, dont you?
I do, but even a modest ceremony would be fine. What matters is that we stay together, I answered, my voice a little shaky.
James was resolute. He left with Tom and Luke, earning a good wage and calling me often.
One afternoon, during a lecture, a vague unease settled over me, then faded. The night before, wed spoken on the phone, so I didnt expect a call today. Yet my heart felt off, and I dialed James anywayhe never let me down. The line was silent.
Why isnt he answering? I thought, panic rising, and I tried again, five times, to no avail.
Desperate, I rang Tom.
Tom? Wheres James?
His voice was flat. Hes gone.
A cold shock rippled through me, and I screamed, Mum! I burst into tears.
Later, the truth emerged: James had been electrocuted on a highvoltage pole while working. His mother, Mrs. Clarke, was a shadow of herself, her face drawn and pale, waiting for his father and younger brother, Luke, to return home. The funeral was a blur of darkness and grief.
I spiralled, numb, visiting Mrs. Clarke often, sitting in silence beside her, or driving together to his grave. She clung to me, insisting I stay over the summer, taking me to churches, sharing tea.
One day, lets go to the coast, she suggested one morning. I agreed, not really wanting to leave James behind, but yearning for a change.
We drove to Brighton, basked in the sun, and spent afternoons resting in a cosy guestroom. Mrs. Clarke seemed a little steadier, yet I felt a hollow ache. I stared at my phone, unable to sleep, while she dozed.
Life buzzed around me, but I felt alone. I walked down to the pier, the sea meeting the sky, a tiny boat drifting near the horizon. Seagulls shrieked, cars honked, children laughed. The world thrummed with activity, yet I was isolated.
Quite the sight, isnt it? a male voice called.
I turned to see a young man, his face oddly familiar, perhaps a shade of James.
Why does the beautiful never seem to get happiness? I replied, oddly melancholic.
He shook his head. I dont agree. Im Oliver, by the way.
Im Emily.
We exchanged a few sentences, then I spun away. Oliver watched me go, having observed me for days, feeling sorry that I was always accompanied by Mrs. Clarke.
He was determined to learn where Id come from; there was something about my sorrow that drew him in. Hed been watching the beach, waiting.
Two days remained before we left. After shopping, I ran into Oliver again. He snatched a bag of groceries from my hand.
Can I help? No need to be shy, he said, instantly on familiar terms.
Help if you like, I replied.
Emily, I need to talk. Theres something important I want to ask. Come sit with me at the little café by the supermarket.
Im leaving in three days, I told him. Were heading home tomorrow night; tickets are in hand.
Oh, I felt it, Oliver said, surprised. Where do you live? I mentioned the town, and his eyes widened.
No mistake? I live there too. He laughed. Great, we wont lose each other.
Oliver had studied at my university and worked in the councils design department. He wasnt married; a recent breakup had sent him on this holiday, hoping to forget a failed romance. Meeting me, he confessed, was love at first sight.
I told him about my grief and Mrs. Clarkes clingy presence. He was surprised.
Why are you with his mother? Usually families let a daughter move on after a sons death.
I dont know either. I dont want to hurt her.
We swapped numbers and arranged to meet back in Manchester. I had to go. When I returned, Mrs. Clarke pretended not to have seen me.
Emily, where have you been? she asked.
Just shopping, then a walk. Whats wrong?
Being around her felt increasingly oppressive, as if I were trapped in the remnants of Jamess life. My own mother urged me to free myself, saying, Let go of that weight. Her presence is suffocating you. Yet my kindness kept me from abandoning her completely.
Eventually I decided to return home, to start a new chapter. That evening we packed, and I tried to convince Mrs. Clarke that I would build a different future. She stared at me, then said,
So a new life, then you have your whole future ahead, and I consider you family. I thought perhaps you were pregnant, that youd have a child with James I have a son too, maybe you could be his mother
I snapped, No, I need no ones child. Im done. Tears streamed down her cheeks, the first time Id seen her cry since the funeral, and strangely the weight lifted from me.
Now the thought of a fresh start feels right. The ringing of home, home echoes in my head, and perhaps meeting Oliver was a blessinghe opened my eyes to the possibility of moving on.
The new academic year began. Oliver and I grew close, and one day I visited Jamess grave alone.
Goodbye, James, I whispered, tears barely audible. You gave me so much joy. You left too soon, but I must keep living. Im different now, with a new life without you.
I left the cemetery and walked to the car where Oliver waited. With him, I felt alive again. Mrs. Clarke and I hardly see each other now, our paths crossing only by chance.
A few years later Im married to Oliver, expecting our first child, and finally embracing the life I never thought Id have.
