By ten in the morning, the dreary March sky had cleared, and the sun peeked through. The sea turned a cheerful blue, waves gently lapping at the pebbled shore. Even the air felt crisper, lighter.
Sitting indoors on such a fine morning was unthinkable, so Edward set aside the newspaper hed been reading after breakfast. With a little groan, he heaved himself out of the armchair and went to get dressed. The guesthouse lobby was emptyusually, small clusters of holidaymakers lingered here, but even they had abandoned the cosy sofas for the outdoors.
Edward strolled along the promenade, the thick soles of his boots crunching over the pebbles. Above him, seagulls wheeled and cried, their voices bright against the fresh sea breeze that filled his lungs and sharpened his senses.
Once the seaside guesthouses faded behind him, he climbed a gentle slope, treading through last years brittle grass, now dotted with timid new shoots. From a distance, he spotted the only bench along this stretchoccupied, naturally. Edward often wondered why there werent more benches here. It was the perfect place to sit and watch the sea, something he did whenever the fickle spring weather allowed.
He nearly turned back but reconsidered. The bench wasnt private property; thered be room for him too. Besides, company might make the view even better. As he drew closer, he realised the lone occupant was a woman. At the sound of his approach, she turned her head slightly, casting him a brief, indifferent glance before looking away.
Edward guessed she was around his age, perhaps a little younger. She wore joggers, a dark maroon hoodie, and trainers. Her short hair was streaked with silver, her features still striking. *”Mustve been a beauty in her youth. Still is,”* he thought, then immediately scolded himself for the observation.
“Lovely morning, isnt it?” he said by way of greeting.
The woman didnt reply, only arched one eyebrow slightly.
“Mind if I join you?” He didnt wait for an answer, circling the bench to sit at the far end. “Havent seen you here before. Just arrived?”
“Two days ago,” she said suddenly. Her voice was low, a little rough, like shed spent years laughing or shoutingor both.
“Ive been here a week. You could watch the sea forever, couldnt you? Calms the nerves.”
“Are you nervous, then?” She turned her head, eyed him briefly, then looked back at the water.
“What? Oh, no. Just a turn of phrase. Though, given the state of the world, theres plenty to be nervous about.” Edward already regretted starting this conversation. Words only got in the way of the view.
“And whats troubling *you*?” She sounded almost amused, as if she didnt mind the chat after all.
“Just like that, eh? Pour my heart out to a stranger?” Edward grumbled.
“Why not? Thats why you sat down, isnt it? Easier to confess to someone youll never see again.”
“Youve got a point.” He paused. “Thirty-odd years ago, I came here after my divorce. Climbed the walls with loneliness, drove my friends mad with complaints about my miserable life. Eventually, they packed me off to the seaside for a break.” He chuckled. “Back then, I was younger, the sky bluer, the sea more inviting. Early autumn, it wassome brave souls were even swimming. I took the plunge once myself. This bench wasnt here then. I used to sit further down, on those rocks.”
“One evening, I noticed a new face on the promenade. You know how *The Lady with the Dog* starts? Well, same thing. A young woman walking alone, smiling to herselfjust at the corners of her mouth. I felt an instant kinship. Went over to introduce myself. Her name waswell, no need for names now.”
“We walked, talked. She was married. Her husband was older, terminally ill. Hed called his sister to stay with him and persuaded *her* to take a holidayher first proper break in years. Thats why she kept smiling, I suppose. Relief.”
“The next day, we arranged to meet again. And she came! We spent every moment together after thatdays, nights. A handful of perfect days. She wasnt careless. Quite the opposite.” Edward trailed off, struggling for words.
“Id married for love, but over time, my wife and I stopped hearing each other. Even in bed, her mind was on whether to buy our son trainers or a scooter. Not that I blamed her. These things are never one-sided. But this it was a gift. To both of us. She loved me fiercely, desperately, like someone with nothing left to lose. But time ran out. When I left, she waved me off at the airport, smiling even as tears ran down her face. And me? It never even occurred to me to stay a few more days.”
“You never saw her again?” His companions voice was husky now. She stared at the sea, listening intentlyalmost too intently.
“No. I asked for her address. Mobiles werent a thing yet. Wouldnt have called anywaytoo risky for her. At first, I missed her terribly. Kept putting off the trip. Then the whole idea started to seem foolish. Her husband was dyingwhat good would my turning up do? More lies, more guilt. She had enough of that already. Nothing good wouldve come of it. Or so I told myself. Then I lost the address.” Edward fell silent. The woman said nothing.
“Chickened out, I suppose. A bad marriage does a number on your confidence. You start second-guessing everything.”
“Beautiful story,” she said at last. “You never remarried?”
“No. There were womenwont pretend otherwise. But nothing stuck. I kept remembering those days by the sea.”
“Maybe because it was brief. No promises, no disappointments, no consequences.” She stood abruptly.
“Leaving already?” Edward felt a pang of panic.
“Time to go. But you shouldve gone to her. She waited for you.” With that, she turned and strode off toward the guesthouses.
Edward stared after her, baffled. *”What did she mean by that? A lucky guess? Or”* But he didnt follow.
After lunch, restless with curiosity, he returned to the seafront, hoping to spot her again. No luck. No sign of her at dinner either. The next day, he lingered on the bench, scanning the promenade. Suddenly, he pictured her youngerdark-haired, laughingand a jolt of recognition hit him. *”Its her. Annie. Bloody old fool.”*
He rushed to nearby guesthouses, asking after her. At one, the receptionist confirmed a woman matching his description had checked out early that morning. Her name was Anna.
“Where did she go? Please, her addressyou must have it on file,” he pleaded.
“What if she doesnt *want* you tracking her down?” the receptionist pointed out reasonably.
Defeated, Edward blurted out his story. Moved, the young woman relented and scribbled down the address.
And so he found himself in an unfamiliar town, heart hammering as he climbed the stairs of a nondescript brick building. On the fourth floor, he hesitated, palm sweating over the doorbell. *”What do I even say? After all these years? What if shes married? Shell slam the door, and rightly so. But come on, manring the damn bell.”*
He took a shaky breath and pressed it. A muffled chime sounded inside. The door openedand there was Annie, smiling as if shed known hed come.
“Hello. I knew youd turn up eventually,” she said simply, stepping aside to let him in.
“Sorry it took so long,” he gasped, suddenly wishing hed stopped for flowers.
“Never too late. Just bad timing.” She handed him a pair of slippers. “Dont worrytheyre new. Not my husbands.”
They sat in her cosy kitchen, sipping tea while she filled in the gaps. Her husband had died eight months after her return. Before the end, hed told her he loved her, bore no grudgeshed sensed the change in her. Shed waited for Edward, then given up. On the bench, when he told their story, shed nearly confessed. Was glad he remembered. But he hadnt recognised hernot until shed dropped that hint on her way out.
“I was a coward,” he said days later, steeling himself. “Cost us years. But its not too late, is it? Weve got time. Annie, lets trytogether. I wont be a burden. Lived alone long enough to manage.”
“Were both set in our ways,” she said softly. “Starting overs hard. No time left for mistakes. But Im tired of being alone. What for? No children. Its not about wholl fetch the
