15October2025
Tonight I was at my motherinlaws flat in Notting Hill, where Ivy Bennett was fussing with a vase on the coffee table. The place smelled of freshly baked scones and a faint hint of lavender that always lingered in the air. Nellie Bennett, the formidable seventyfiveyearold matriarch, was putting the finishing touches on the house before the guest arrived.
Please, Gran, dont grill James with too many questions, Ivy pleaded, eyes wide. Hes shy, and you could see right through him with that stare of yours.
Nellie smiled, smoothing the lace shawl draped over her shoulders.
If James is worthy of you, my look wont bother him. If not even better. Relax, love. Ive lived long enough not to frighten young men.
The doorbell rang. Ivy rushed to answer it. Standing on the doorstep was James, holding a handsome bouquet and a slightly guilty grin. He was athletic, with an open gaze and easy manners.
Come in, meet my grandmother, Nellie, Ivy whispered, holding her breath.
James stepped into the sitting room, handed over the flowers, and bowed politely.
Its a pleasure, MrsBennett. Ivy has told me so much about you.
Nellie, standing in the centre of the room, seemed to freeze. She gave no reply. Her normally sharp, assessing eyes softened, looking past James as if into some distant past. A faint smile lingered on her lips, turning into genuine astonishment.
Gran? Ivy called, uneasy.
Nellie shivered, then, as if in a dream, reached for the bouquet.
Sorry, dear youve taken me by surprise. Thank you for the flowers. Very kind.
James shifted, feeling a touch of awkwardness, and exchanged a glance with Ivy, who simply shrugged. The evening began oddly. Nellie sat unusually quiet over tea, not asking her usual teasing questions, but watching James intentlyhow he held his cup, the way he laughed, the way he tucked a stray hair behind his ear. Ivys anxiety rose; what if Gran didnt like him?
James, however, kept his composure. He talked about his work and, with humour, recalled how he and Ivy had met at a dog show. Slowly the tension eased.
Did you ever have suitors walking to you on foot back in your day, MrsBennett? he joked, picking up a biscuit.
Nellies eyes brightened.
Why not? We did. In fact, once She paused, then looked at James with that piercing stare again. Excuse my bluntness, but did any pilots run in your family? From the flying school up in Birmingham?
James raised an eyebrow.
No, all engineers or doctors here. Why do you ask?
Nellie lowered her gaze, hiding a smile.
Just a thought. You have a striking looklike a young man from my own past. His name was Alex. He was a cadet when I was studying nursing. Same build, same eyes and a dimple on his cheek when he smiled.
Ivy stared between her grandmother and James, amazed. Shed noted Jamess good looks, but never imagined a resemblance to anyone else.
So what happened to Alex? James asked gently.
Life pulled us apart, Nellie sighed. He was posted to the Far East, and I stayed here. At first we wrote letters, then the correspondence stopped. First love seldom lasts long, but it stays with you forever.
She rose and returned with a faded photograph. In it a young, slender woman in a lovely dress stood beside a man in flying gear; he had his arm around her shoulders, both laughing carefree.
Ivy and James leaned over the picture.
Gran, he really looks like James! Ivy exclaimed. Exactly the same!
James examined the photo closely, a look of respect forming on his face.
Its a strong likeness, he agreed. Im honoured to be compared to such a respectable man.
Nellies stare softened into something warm, almost motherly.
You know what, Ivy? she said without looking away from James. Your James has my approval. He has good, honest eyesjust like Alexs.
The evening stretched past midnight. Nellie questioned James not as a stern examiner but as a wise conversationalist, sharing memories of her youth. When they left, she embraced James and whispered in his ear:
Take care of her. And be happy together.
Outside, Ivy clung to James.
See, I was nervous. She almost took you for a kin.
James smiled thoughtfully.
It feels like a responsibility. I want to live up to the trust not only yours but also that of the man in the photograph. Its a strange feeling.
I like it, Ivy replied. Now we have our own family legendhow my grans first love returned to us through you.
They walked hand in hand through the nightlit streets, the silhouette of the elderly woman still visible from the fifthfloor window, smiling as she watched them disappear into the future.
Later, Nellie stood at the window until their figures faded into the darkness of the square. The flat fell silent, broken only by the measured tick of the antique mantel clock. She returned to the table where the photograph lay, took it in her hands, and ran a thumb over its surface.
Alex what a meeting, even if only in a reflected glow, she murmured.
She settled into her armchair, and memories of longago summers swam before her eyesapple trees blooming by the cadet hostel, his shining eyes as he handed her a modest bouquet of lilies of the valley, their farewell at the station, his firm embrace, the scent of his uniform, promises to write every day. The letters started thick and ornate, then grew sparse, and finally stopped. She waited a year, married another, had a daughter, lived a long, reasonably happy life. Yet the faint scar of that first love never fully healed.
After all these years his smile, his build, that dimplelike a ghost checking on me, she thought, a melancholy smile forming.
She was no sentimental old woman; life had taught her pragmatism. Yet this encounter stirred something buried deep, not selfpity but a genuine wonder at fates quirks.
The next morning Ivys mother, LauraNellies daughtercalled.
So, how was it yesterday? Did Gran grill your James? she teased.
You wont believe it! She almost blessed him at the door! Turns out James looks just like her first love, a pilot named Alex. She even showed us the photohes practically a twin!
Silence lingered on the line.
Alex? A pilot? Lauras voice tightened. The one in that leatherbound album you keep?
I know a bit, Ivy replied. Anyway, glad for you both. Send my regards to James.
Ivy hung up, puzzled by her mothers restrained tone.
Meanwhile, Nellie, spurred by a sudden impulse, opened the deep drawer of her chestpiece. Inside lay not only the leather album but also a small bundle of letters tied with a blue ribbonletters she hadnt read in years. She decided it was time to revisit the past.
She untied the ribbon and pulled out the latest letter, dated the year she married Lauras father. It was from Alexs fellow pilot, informing her that Alex had died during a test flight of a new aircraft. The news had arrived long after her life had taken a different path. The pain, the sense of betrayal, the lingering guiltshe had long buried all that.
She traced the yellowed paper with her fingertips. So we finally meet, Alex, she thought. Your smile, your laugh now they live on with my granddaughter. Perhaps this is your continuation, after all these years?
A knock sounded at the door. Nellie startled, hid the letters and album, and went to answer. Standing there was her daughter, Laura, looking perturbed.
Mom, Im here about something. Ivy just called and told me everything.
Come in, Laura, Nellie let her in. What did she say? About James?
Yes, Laura sat at the kitchen table. I understand its touching, your memories, but dont you think youre romanticising? You told me Alex left you, stopped writing
Nellie met her daughters gaze. She always sensed Lauras hidden jealousy of that first, unfulfilled love. Laura, a practical woman from a marriage of convenience, never possessed such passionate fire.
He didnt leave, Laura, Nellie said quietly, firmly. Alex died. I only learned it from a letter after I was already married to your father. I never told you because I didnt want you to think I could have chosen a different life. I have no regrets. The truth stayed with me because until yesterday it served no purpose.
Lauras eyes widened.
He died? Why never tell me?
Why? So youd grow up thinking your mother might have lived another life? That your father was a second choice? No. I lived the life I lived, and Im at peace with it.
Laura absorbed the revelation, her resentment melting into a strange mix of pity and respect.
Im sorry, Mum, I didnt know
Its alright, dear. And now listen. James is a good man. I see through people, and he resembles the brightest person from my past. I want Ivy to have a better story than mineone that ends well.
Laura nodded, and for the first time in years she embraced her mother sincerely.
That evening Ivy and James returned for dinner. Nellie watched them bustle in the kitchen, prepping the meal, laughing, whispering. She caught Jamess dimple and smiled softly.
Look, Alex, she thought, addressing the memory of the young pilot. Our lives have tangled again, on these strange roads. Seems all for the best.
Ivy slipped her arm around Nellies shoulders.
What are you thinking about, Gran?
Happiness, loveinitsunexpectedform. Appreciate it, she said, nodding toward James. Cherish every minute.
Ivy pressed her forehead to Nellies silvered hair.
I will, Gran. I promise.
James, meanwhile, pulled a fresh apple crumble from the oven, his smile in the kitchen light matching the one in that faded photograph.
Looking back on the night, I realise that love can reappear in the most unlikely guises, and that the past, however quiet, can lend strength to the present. The lesson I take from this evening is simple: never underestimate the way old memories can guide new beginnings, and always value the moments that catch us unawares.
