By ten in the morning, the dreary March clouds had cleared, and the sun peeked through. The sea turned a welcoming shade of blue, waves lapping gently at the pebbled shore. Even the air felt crisper, lighter.
It was too fine a morning to stay indoors, so Edward set aside the newspaper hed been reading after breakfast. With a grunt, he pushed himself out of the armchair and went to get dressed. The guesthouse lobby was emptyusually, small clusters of holidaymakers would lounge on the sofas, but today even they had wandered outside.
Edward strolled along the promenade, pebbles crunching under his sturdy boots. Overhead, seagulls called to one another, their cries carried by the salty breeze. The fresh sea air filled his lungs, invigorating him.
Once the guesthouses faded behind him, he climbed the gentle slope, his boots brushing through last years brittle grass, now dotted with timid new shoots. From a distance, he spotted the lone bench by the shorealready occupied. Edward had always wondered why they hadnt put more benches there. It was the perfect spot to sit and watch the sea. He came often when the fickle spring weather allowed.
He almost turned back but changed his mind. The bench wasnt bought and paid forthere was room enough. Besides, sharing the view with a stranger might be nice. As he neared, he realised the figure was a woman. At his approach, she turned slightly, her gaze flickering over him with indifference.
She looked about his age, perhaps a little younger. Dressed in joggers, a burgundy sweatshirt, and trainers, her short grey hair framed a face with sharp, elegant features. Mustve been a beauty in her day, Edward thought idly. Still is.
Lovely morning, isnt it? he said instead of hello.
The woman didnt answer, only arched a brow.
Mind if I join you? he asked, not waiting for a reply as he circled the bench and sat at the far end. Havent seen you here before. Just arrived?
Two days ago, she answered suddenly, her voice low and rough.
Ive been here a week. You could watch the sea forevercalms the mind.
And does yours need calming? She glanced his way, briefly, then turned back to the water.
What? Oh, no. Just speaking generally. Though God knows theres plenty to fret about these days. Edward regretted starting the conversation. The words only spoiled the quiet.
Whats troubling you, then? She seemed willing to talk after all.
Bit forward, isnt it? he muttered.
Why not? You sat down beside me, didnt you? Easier to spill your heart to a stranger.
Suppose youre right. Edward paused. Thirty-odd years ago, I came here after my divorce. Climbed the walls with loneliness. Drove my friends mad with my moaning. They shipped me off to the coast just to be rid of me. He chuckled. Back then, the sky was bluer, the sea more inviting, the sun hotter. Early autumn, it was. Some brave souls were still swimming. I took the plunge once myself. No bench back thenI used to sit on the rocks over there. One day, I spotted a new face on the promenade. Remember how The Lady with the Dog starts? Well, I noticed her straight away. A young woman, walking alone, smiling to herself. Something in her felt familiar. I went over.
He hesitated. Her name well, no need for names. We talked. She was marriedhusband much older, terminally ill. Hed sent for his sister and persuaded her to take a holiday. First proper break shed had in yearsthats why she kept smiling. Next day, we met again. And the day after. Spent every moment together. It wasnt sordid. Just the opposite. He fumbled for words, then fell silent.
Id married for love, but we grew apart. Even in bed, her mind was on whether to buy our son trainers or a scooter. Not that I blamed her. These things take two. But this it was a gift. A desperate kind of love, like she was living on borrowed time.
His voice thickened. Then my holiday ended. She saw me off at the station. Smiling, wavingwhile tears rolled down her face. And me? Never crossed my mind to stay.
And you never saw her again? the woman asked, her voice rough.
Edward glanced at her. She was staring at the sea, but her posture was tense.
No. I asked for her address. Mobiles werent a thing then. Wouldnt have called anywaytoo risky. At first, I missed her terribly. Kept putting off the trip. Then it seemed pointless. What good would it do? Her husband dying, me swanning in Making her lie, making it harder. So I left it. And then lost the address. He trailed off. The woman said nothing.
Cowardice, I suppose. Bad endings make you doubt yourself.
Pretty story, she said. Never remarried?
No. Had women sincewont lie. But nothing stuck. Kept remembering those days by the sea.
Maybe because it was short. No promises, no disappointments. She stood abruptly.
Leaving already? Edward frowned.
Time to go. Stillyou shouldve gone to her. She waited. With that, she strode off toward the guesthouses.
Edward stared after her. *What did she mean by that? A lucky guess? Or* But he didnt follow.
That afternoon, restless, he returned to the shore, hoping to see her again. She never came. No sign of her at dinner either. Next morning, he sat on the bench, scanning the promenade. Suddenly, he pictured her younglong dark hair, that same smileand his chest burned. *Bloody fool. It was her. Anna.*
He ran to the nearest guesthouses, asking after her. One receptionist mentioned a woman matching her descriptionchecked out at dawn. Name was Anne.
Whered she go? Give me her addressyou must have it, he pleaded.
What if she doesnt *want* you following her? the girl reasoned.
Defeated, Edward blurted out the story. Moved, the receptionist scribbled the address.
Now he stood in an unfamiliar city, heart hammering as he climbed to the fourth floor of a red-brick block. His finger hovered over the buzzer. *What do I even say? Thirty years. What if shes married? Shell slam the doorand shed be right.*
Summoning courage, he pressed the bell. A muffled chime sounded inside. The door openedand there she was, smiling as if shed expected him.
Hello. Knew youd come, she said simply, stepping aside.
Sorry it took so long, he gasped, belatedly wishing hed bought flowers.
Never too late. Just badly timed. She handed him slippers. Not my husbands. New.
They sat in her cosy kitchen, sipping tea as she told her side. Her husband had died eight months after her return. He said he loved meno hard feelings. He knew. Shed waited for Edward. Given up. On the bench, hearing their story retold, shed nearly confessed. Then left him a clue.
I was a coward, he said days later. We lost so much time. But not all of it, right? Fate brought us back. Lets try, Anne. Were not done yet. I can look after myselfwont be a burden.
She studied him. Were set in our ways. Starting overs hard. No time for mistakes. But Im tired of being alone. No children. Whats the point? Maybe weve earned this.
What came next was theirs to decide.
Love in youth is drunk greedily, in great gulps. With age, it mellows, deepenssavoured sip by sip.
Two lives, shared at last. No promises, no grand hopes. And yethow glad I am for them, finding love when they least expected it.
Its never too late.
