**ITS NEVER TOO LATE**
By ten in the morning, the grey March clouds had cleared, and the sun broke through. The sea turned a welcoming blue, waves lapping gently at the pebbled shore. Even the air felt crisper, sharper. On a morning like this, staying indoors seemed a waste, so Edward set aside the newspaper hed been reading after breakfast. With a grunt, he heaved himself from the armchair and went to dress. The guesthouse lobby was emptyunusual, since small groups of holidaymakers usually lounged on the sofas. But even they had ventured outside, lured by the fine weather.
Edward walked along the promenade, pebbles crunching under his thick-soled shoes. Seagulls wheeled overhead, their cries bright against the sky. The tang of salt air filled his lungs, invigorating him. Once the guesthouses faded behind him, he climbed a gentle slope, treading through brittle grass where tentative green shoots poked through. From a distance, he spotted the lone bench by the shoreoccupied. It puzzled him why there werent more benches here. Sitting by the sea was one of lifes simple pleasures. He often came when the fickle spring weather allowed.
He nearly turned back but changed his mind. The bench wasnt private property; thered be room for him too. And company might make the view even better. As he neared, he realised the figure was a woman. At his approach, she turned her head slightly, giving him a brief, indifferent glance.
She looked about his age, perhaps a little younger. Dressed in joggers, a maroon hoodie, and trainers, her grey hair was cropped short. Her features were fine. *She mustve been a beauty in her youth. Still is,* Edward thought, surprising himself.
“Lovely morning, isnt it?” he offered instead of a greeting.
She didnt answer, only raised an eyebrow.
“Mind if I join you?” Without waiting, he circled the bench and sat at the far end. “Havent seen you here before. Just arrived?”
“Two days ago,” she said suddenly, her voice low and slightly rough.
“Ive been here a week. You could watch the sea foreversoothing, isnt it?”
“And youare you in need of soothing?” She turned, studied him briefly, then looked back at the water.
“What? Oh, no. Just an expression. Though these days, theres plenty to unsettle a man.” Edward already regretted speaking. Words only spoiled the view.
“What unsettles you, then?” She seemed willing to talk after all.
“Just like that, eh? Pour my heart out to a stranger?” he grumbled.
“Why not? Isnt that why you sat down? Easier to confess to someone youll never see again.”
“Youre right.” Edward paused. “Thirty-odd years ago, I came here after my divorce. Drove myself mad with loneliness. Pestered my friends with complaints about my wrecked life till they packed me off to the seaside for a break.” He chuckled. “I was young then. The sky bluer, the sea more inviting, the sun brighter. Early autumn, some still swimming. I dared it once. No bench back thenId sit on the rocks further down. One day, I spotted a new face on the promenade. Remember how *The Lady with the Dog* starts? Well, I noticed her at oncea young woman walking alone, smiling faintly at nothing. I felt a kinship and introduced myself. Her name well, no need for names.”
They walked, talked. She was married. Her husband, much older, was dying. Hed summoned his sister and urged *her* to take a holiday by the sea. For the first time in years, she was free of worry, hence the quiet smiles.
The next day, they met again. And the next. They spent every moment together, day and night. A stolen handful of perfect days. She wasnt recklessno, quite the opposite Edward searched for the right words but found none and fell silent.
“Id married for love, but we grew deaf to each other. Even in bed, my wife fretted over whether to buy our son trainers or a scooter. Not that I blamed her. It takes two. But this it was a gift to my starved heart. She loved me fiercely, desperately, like a condemned woman. But times cruel. My departure day came. She waved me off at the station, smiling through tears. And I it never even occurred to me to stay longer.”
“And you never saw her again?” his companion asked hoarsely. Shed listened intently, eyes on the seaalmost *too* intently, Edward thought.
“No. I asked for her address. No mobiles back then. Wouldnt have called anywayrisked exposing her. At first, I missed her terribly. Kept putting off the trip. Then it seemed unwise. Her husband dying, me swanning in? More lies, more strain. She had enough hardship. And what good would it do? So I decided against it. Then the address got lost.” Edward trailed off. The woman stayed silent.
“Chickened out, I suppose. Bad relationships ruin your confidence. You second-guess everything”
“Beautiful story. You never remarried?”
“No. Other women, yeswont lie. But nothing stuck. Kept remembering those days by the sea.”
“Maybe because it was brief. No promises, no disillusion, no aftermath.” She stood.
“Leaving already?” Edward asked, uneasy.
“Time to go. Still you shouldve gone to her. She waited.” With that, she turned and walked briskly toward the guesthouses.
Edward stared after her, baffled. *What did she mean? A guess? Or* But he didnt follow.
After lunch, restless, he returned to the shore, hoping to see her again. She never came. No sign of her at dinner either. The next day, he watched from the bench, imagining her youngdark-haired, radiantand his chest burned. *Its her. Anna. Bloody old fool.* He rushed to nearby lodgings, enquiring. At one, the receptionist said a woman matching her description had checked out early that morning. Her name was Anne.
“Whered she go? Please, her addressyou must have it,” he pleaded.
“What if she doesnt *want* to be found?” the girl countered.
Defeated, Edward spilled his story. Touched, she relented and scribbled the address.
Now here he was, in a strange city, heart hammering as he climbed to the fourth floor of a red-brick block. He hesitated at her door. *What do I say? Thirty years. Why am I here? What if shes married? Shell slam the door, and rightly so. But you camebe a man.* Sweat beaded on his brow; his heart stuttered. *Dont collapse now.* He took a deep breath and rang the bell.
The door opened. Anne smiledas if shed expected him.
“Hello. I knew youd come,” she said simply, stepping aside.
“Sorry its so late,” he gasped, suddenly wishing hed brought flowers.
“Not late. Just not sooner. Hereslippers.” She gestured. “Not my husbands. New.”
In her cosy kitchen, over tea, she told her story. Her husband had died eight months after her return. Before the end, hed said he loved her, bore no grudge. Hed sensed the change in her. Shed waited for Edward, then given up. On the bench, hearing him recount their tale, shed nearly confessed. Thrilled he remembered. Hurt he didnt recognise her. Only as she left had she dropped a clue.
“I was a coward. Robbed us of years. But its not too late, is it? Fate brought us back. Anne, lets try. Were not old yet. Dont worryI can look after myself. Lived alone long enough. I wont be a burden.” Days later, he broached the subject properly.
“Were both set in our ways. Hard to start anew. Too late for mistakes. No time left. Youre rightbad love makes us cautious. But Im tired of being alone. What for? No children. Its not about needing help when were frail. People arent meant to be solitary. Maybe weve earned this, after all the heartache. Alright. Lets try,” she said.
What their life would be was theirs to decide.
Youth drinks love like winegreedy, headlong. Age lets it mature, sipped slow, savoured drop by drop.
*Two lives shared. No promises, no grand hopes. And yetIm glad for them.*
**Its never too late.**
