Destiny
The day had been a wretched one.
Such things happened, Edward knew that well enough, but still, it grated on him. He brooded over his life. What had he truly accomplished? Nearing forty, hed finished school, served in the military, and worked his way through trade college.
He had a flat, a wife, two children, and an old banger of a car that ferried him to that ridiculous cottage plotjust another place to toil. Lazing about with a pint wasnt his lot. There were vegetable beds to dig, weeds to pull, and rubbish to clear. Hauling soil in a wheelbarrow, mowing the grass, patching the sagging roof, propping up the rotting fenceit never ended.
The tram rattled and screeched like an old tin can, swaying along its route. Edward sat by the window, watching the streetlamps flicker and stretch into a glowing chain in the dusk, his thoughts heavy.
He thought about his life.
It was all perfectly ordinaryfamily, work, the cottage, payday advances, the children, his parents, the in-laws. Football on weekends, a pint after the steam at the cottage birthdays and holidays circled by family. Everything as it should be.
And yet, Edward realised, it had all grown dull. Quiet. Predictable. He longed for something morefestivity, new thrills.
It struck him thenhe had always been the steady one, the reliable one, the man who never strayed from the path laid out for him.
What if he could start again?
For some reason, his mind drifted to Lucy, his first love. He remembered strolling hand in hand, dreaming aloud, their first kisshow theyd kissed until they were lightheaded.
Edward wiped his misty eyes.
It could have all been so different
Lucybright, lively, always with a mischievous grin. How hed ached when they parted. Then came Margaret, Lucys oppositecalm, dependable. With Margaret, everything was measured. Adult.
“Fancy a tumble? After the wedding, dear.”
“Brought you flowers? Plucked from the town hall garden, no less? Foolyou couldve been fined, or worse, shamed at the parish meeting!”
So it went.
After the wedding, she called his parents “Mum” and “Dad” at once. She settled into domesticity effortlessly. His parents adored herclever, kind, dutiful, a proper homemaker.
But perhaps that wasnt what hed wanted. Perhaps hed
Edward slipped deeper into thought.
They hadnt even quarrelled. Hed simply faltered. Never taken that leap. And Lucy? Shed vanished, as if swallowed by the earth. Later, he heard shed married.
At the stop, the tram lurched, its doors creaking open. One stream of passengers spilled out; another flooded in, dispersing through the carriage.
Edward stood, edging toward the rear. Three stops to go. It had been ages since hed taken public transporthis old car wasnt much, but it was his.
He turned to the windowthen froze at a voice, bright and familiar.
“Eddie, do stand still, wont you?”
He spun, scanning the faces around him. Tired, worn-out folk, lost in their own troubles, staring blankly at windows or the floor
A stout woman gripped the hand of a boy, about ten, who fidgeted, bursting to tell her something.
“Mum, did you know”
“Edward, I said behave.”
“But I want to tell you”
“Later.”
“I dont want later! At home, youll be cooking, then listening to Annie drone on about her beaus, then Steven will yammer about uni for hours. Then you and Dad will natter about that stupid cottagewhat about me? Why was I born last? And whyd you give me this stupid name?”
“Dont be absurd. Its a fine name.”
“Oh, sure. Edward the sparrow, rode a horse, crashed into a birch, lost his breeches! Thats what they chant. Mum”
“You ought to listen to your boy,” piped an old woman with dyed ginger hair and a red beret. “One day, youll wish to speak with him, and he wont care to.”
“Whys that?” the mother snapped.
“He wont want to.”
The woman snorted, shooting a glare at Edward. Their eyes metjust for an instantbefore she turned back to her son.
“Go on, then. But keep it down.”
The boy babbled eagerly as she listened.
And then it hit himit was Lucy.
Of course it was. How had he not recognised her?
So this was the life he might have had. That boy could have been his. Those older children, ignoring the youngest, could have been his too. Those dull cottage talkshis.
Would he have been happier with her all these years? Unlikely.
She hadnt known him. To her, he was just another face on the tram.
A weight lifted. His days with Margaret and the children no longer seemed so grey. The cottage? A beloved retreat. His father-in-law and brother-in-law had planned a fishing tripEdward smiled. No, Margaret always listened to everyone.
His life was good. Better than good.
Funny, his car breaking down just then. A trifling fixhe and the lads would sort it in two evenings. Without it, he might still be wallowing in regret.
Edward moved toward the exit, pausing near Lucy and her son. He bent, whispering something to the boy, who gapedthen beamed, even giggling.
Stepping off at his stop, Edward headed home.
“What did he say?” Lucy asked.
“That man? Taught me how to answer that bully.”
“How?”
“If Im a sparrow, youre a starlingall squawk, no sense.”
“He always had a sharp tongue.”
“Who, Mum? That man? You know him?”
“Dont talk nonsense.”
Lucy sank onto a vacant seat, pulling her son close. The tram was nearly empty now. Her husband hadnt been able to fetch them todayjust as well. Lately, shed been irritable, discontented
Shed started wondering how her life might have been if shed never met Michael, if shed waited for Edwards proposal. And now fate had thrown them together.
A plain man in his forties, a little paunchy, thinning on top, riding home after a long days workall the glamour long faded.
“Eddie lets bake a cake tonight.”
“Really? A zebra cake?”
“If you like.”
“Hooray!”
“Hush, youll wake the dead”
Her husband had insisted on naming their son Edward, after his favourite grandfather. Lucy hadnt minded. A good name.
Edward ducked into a florist near home, just before closing. Three white carnations lay on the counterthe last left.
“How much?”
“Eh?” The shopgirl glared, exhausted.
“For the flowers.”
“None left. Cant you see?”
“These?”
“Take em.”
“I cant justheres a bob, at least.”
“Dont be daft. Go onblast it, let me wrap them.”
“No need.”
At home, he handed the flowers to Margaret. For once, she didnt scold him for wasting money. She just smiled, soft and quiet.
“Whats this?”
“Felt like spoiling you.”
That evening, sprawled on the sofa, he listened as she murmured into the hall telephone, door half-shut.
“Mine brought me flowers today,” she said, offhand. “No reason always was a romantic, even as a lad.”
