**Fate**
The day hadnt gone well.
These things happen, Andrew knew that, but stillhe was fed up. He found himself brooding over his life. What had he really achieved? Nearly forty, hed finished school, gone to trade college, done his National Service.
He had a flat, a wife, two kids, and an old banger of a car to drive to that ridiculous allotment where he had to graft. Lying about with a beer wasnt his stylethere was always digging, weeding, clearing dead plants. Carting soil in a wheelbarrow, mowing the grass, fixing the rotten shed, propping up the fence.
The tram rattled and squeaked like an old tin can as it swayed along the tracks. Andrew sat by the window, watching the streetlights flicker and stretch like a bright chain into the darkness, lost in thought.
His life was ordinary. Just like everyone elsesfamily, job, the allotment, payday, the kids, his parents, the in-laws. Football on weekends, a pint after a sauna at the plot. Holidays and birthdays with the family. All very normal.
But suddenly, it all felt dull. Too quiet. Too predictable. He wanted something moreexcitement, something new. It dawned on himhed always been the steady one, the reliable one. The bloke who never strayed from the path laid out for him.
What if he could start over?
His mind drifted to Lucy, his first love. Holding hands, dreaming together, that first reckless kiss. His throat tightened, and he wiped his eyes. Things couldve been so different
Lucybright, cheeky, always laughing. Hed been heartbroken when they split. Then he met Margaret. The complete oppositesteady, dependable. With her, everything was sensible. No games.
*Fancy a night in bed?* *Wait till were married.*
*Brought her flowers?* *Plucked from the park beds?*
*Dont be daftyoull get fined, and theyll have a go at you at the residents meeting.*
Always like that.
Right after the wedding, she started calling his parents *Mum and Dad*. Slipped into domestic life effortlessly. His parents adored herclever, kind, the perfect homemaker.
But maybe that wasnt what hed wanted. Maybe
Andrew sank deeper into his thoughts.
They never fought. Hed chickened out back thennever took the leap. And Lucy? She vanished. Later, he heard shed married someone else.
The tram jolted to a stop, doors screeching. A wave of people poured out, another flooded in, dispersing through the carriage. Andrew stood, squeezing toward the backthree stops to go. He hadnt taken public transport in years, used to his own car, even if it was a clunker.
Then he heard ita voice, bright and familiar.
*”Andrew, hold still, love.”*
He turned, scanning the crowd. Tired faces, worn-out expressions, people staring blankly ahead. Then he saw hera stout woman gripping the hand of a boy about ten, who was fidgeting, desperate to tell her something.
*”Mum, guess what? Vicky”*
*”Andrew, behave.”*
*”But I wanna tell you now!”*
*”Later.”*
*”No! At home youll be cooking, then Anniell bang on about her blokes, then Stevell drone on about uni. Then you and Dadll yammer about that stupid allotmentwhat about me? Whyd I have to be the youngest? And this stupid name”*
*”Thats enough. Its a lovely name.”*
*”Yeah, right. Andrew the sparrow, rode a horse, hit a tree, lost his trousersthats what they call me!”*
An old woman in a red beret chimed in. *”You ought to listen to your boy. One day, youll want to talk, and he wont.”*
*”Why not?”* the mother snapped.
*”Because he wont care to.”*
The woman huffed, then glanced at Andrew. Their eyes metjust for a secondbefore she looked away, bending toward her son.
*”Go on, then. But keep it down.”*
The boy chattered excitedly, and as she listened, it hit Andrew*Lucy*. Of course. Thats what his other life mightve been. That couldve been *his* son she wasnt listening to, *his* older kids shed fuss over. *His* allotment shed complain about.
But would he have been happier?
She hadnt recognised him. Just another bloke on the tram.
Suddenly, the weight lifted. His routine with Margaret didnt seem so grey anymore. The allotment wasnt so bad. Hed planned a fishing trip with his father-in-law and brother-in-law. And Margaretshe always listened.
Life was good.
Funnyif his car hadnt broken down, hed still be stewing over how things *couldve* been.
At his stop, he edged past Lucy and her son, leaning down to whisper something. The boys eyes widened, then he burst out laughing.
*”Whatd he say?”* Lucy asked as Andrew stepped off.
*”That man? Taught me how to shut up the kid who calls me names.”*
*”How?”*
*”If Im a sparrow, youre a starlingall squawk, no brains.”*
*”He always had a sharp tongue.”*
*”Who? That man? You know him?”*
*”No one. Dont be silly.”*
She sat, pulling her son close. They had a long ride ahead. Her husband hadnt been able to pick them up todayjust as well. Lately, shed been restless, dissatisfied wondering if her life couldve been different.
If shed waited for Andrew instead of marrying Mike.
But seeing him nowjust an ordinary bloke, pushing forty, a bit paunchy, thinning on topall the magic had gone.
*”Andy lets bake a cake tonight.”*
*”Really? Chocolate?”*
*”Yeah, chocolate.”*
*”YES!”*
*”Hushno shouting.”*
Her husband had insisted on naming their son Andrew, after his grandad. Lucy hadnt minded. Good name.
Andrew ducked into a florist near homeclosing time. Only three white carnations left.
*”How much?”*
*”What?”* The tired cashier glared.
*”For the flowers.”*
*”Sold out.”*
*”These?”*
*”Oh, take em.”*
*”Cant do thatheres a quid.”*
*”Dont be daft. Theyre past itwait, let me wrap”*
*”No need.”*
At home, he handed them to Margaret. Instead of scolding him for wasting money, she smiled.
*”Whats this for?”*
*”Dunno just wanted to.”*
Later, sprawled on the sofa, he overheard her on the phone.
*”Mine brought me flowers today. Always been a soft one, my Andrew. The carnations sat in a chipped mug on the windowsill, drooping but still bright. Outside, the rain began to fall, soft and steady, washing the citys grime into the gutters. Margaret hummed in the kitchen, stirring soup, the steam fogging the glass. Andrew closed his eyes, the days weight now a quiet warmth in his chest. He wasnt chasing ghosts anymore. He was home.
