Fate
The day had not gone well.
Such things happened, Edwin knew that, but still, it wore him down. He pondered his life.
What had he achieved? He was nearing forty, had finished school and technical college, done his national service. He owned a flat, had a wife and two children, drove an old car to a wretched little cottage that demanded endless work. Lazing about with a pint wasnt for himthere were vegetable beds to dig, weeds to pull, leaves to clear. Carting soil in a wheelbarrow, mowing the grass, the sagging roof, the rotting timber, the fallen fence.
The tram rattled and screeched like an old tin can as it swayed along the tracks. Edwin sat by the window, watching the streetlamps flicker and stretch into the darkness like a glowing chain, his thoughts drifting.
He thought about his life.
It was all so ordinaryfamily, job, the cottage, payday advances, children, his parents, the in-laws. Football on weekends, a pint after a trip to the bathhouse at the cottage… holidays and birthdays with the family, just like everyone else.
Yet suddenly, Edwin felt it had all become dull, quiet, bland. He wanted something moreexcitement, new sensations. He realised thenhed always been steady, reliable… convenient for everyone.
A strange feeling crept over himas if hed walked a path laid out by others, never once daring to stray.
What if he could start again?
For some reason, he thought of Lucy, his first love. He remembered walking hand in hand, dreaming together, their first kiss… the way theyd kissed till they were breathless…
Edwin sighed and wiped his damp eyes.
It could have all been different…
Lucybright, laughing, always with a mischievous grin. How hed grieved when they parted. Then hed met Margaret, the opposite of Lucycalm, steady, dependable. With Margaret, everything was sensible, measured.
Want to take her to bed? Only after marriage.
Brought her a bouquet? Picked from the flowerbeds outside the town hall?
“Fool, someone couldve seen you! Youd get fined, and theyd drag you before the parish council…”
And so it went.
Right after the wedding, she started calling his parents “Mum and Dad.” She settled into family life effortlesslyhis parents adored her. Clever, kind, obliging, a proper homemaker.
But maybe that wasnt what he wanted. Maybe he
Edwin lost himself in thought.
They hadnt even argued… Hed just hesitated… never taken that final step. And then shed vanished, gone somewhere. Later, someone said Lucy had married.
At the stop, the tram lurched, doors groaning as one tide of passengers spilled out, another flooding in, spreading through the carriage.
Edwin stood and pushed toward the backthree stops till his. He hadnt taken public transport in ages, used to his car, old as it was.
He turned to the window, then froze at the sound of a familiar voice.
“Eddie, please stand still.”
He turned, searching the crowd for the speaker, but couldnt place her.
Tired, weary faces, lost in thought or staring blankly ahead…
A stout woman gripped a boys handten years old, fidgeting, eager to tell her something.
“Mum, did you knowVeronica”
“Edwin, I said behave.”
“But I want to tell you”
“Later.”
“I dont want later! At home, youll be cooking, then Annie will talk about her suitors, then Stanley will drone on about university, then you and Dad will go on about that stupid cottagewhat about me? Why was I born last? And why this stupid name?”
“Dont be silly, its a lovely name.”
“Oh sure. Edwin the sparrow, rode a horse, crashed into a tree, lost his trousersthats what they chant at me! Mum”
“You should listen to your son,” interrupted an old woman with hennaed hair and a red beret. “One day, when hes grown, youll wish you had.”
“Why?” the woman snapped.
“He wont want to talk then.”
She scoffed, then glanced sharply at Edwin. Their eyes metjust for a secondbefore she turned back to her son.
“Go on then, but quietly.”
The boy chattered excitedly as she listened.
And then it struck himthat was… Lucy.
Of course it was Lucy. How had he not recognised her?
So this was the life he might have had… That could have been his son she ignored, his elder children she favoured. It couldve been him she complained about, that wretched cottage…
Perhaps, if shed stayed all these years… he might not have been happier.
She didnt recognise himjust another stranger on the tram.
A strange lightness filled Edwin. The daily grind with Margaret and the children no longer seemed so grey. Even the cottage felt dear again.
And the fishing trip planned with his father-in-law and brother-in-law… Edwin smiled. NoMargaret always listened to everyone.
His life was good. Better than good.
He mused that his car breaking down had been timelyjust a minor fix, easily sorted in a couple of evenings. If it hadnt, he might still be brooding over imagined failures.
As he moved toward the exit, he paused near Lucy and the boy, leaned down, and whispered something.
The boy blinked, then grinned and laughed.
Edwin stepped off at his stop and walked home.
“What did he say?” Lucy asked.
“That man? He taught me how to answer the bully.”
“How?”
“If Im a sparrow, youre a starlingloud, but useless.”
“He always had a sharp tongue.”
“Who? That man? You know him?”
“Of course not. Dont be silly.”
Lucy sat on a freed-up seat, pulling her son beside her. A long ride still ahead, nearly to the terminus, the tram emptying… Her husband couldnt fetch them todayjust as well. Lately, shed been irritable, dissatisfied…
Shed begun to wonder what her life mightve been…
If she hadnt met Michael, if shed waited for Edwins proposal… Things couldve been different. And now fate had brought them face to face.
A plain man in his forties, a slight paunch, thinning hair, heading home after a long days work…
All the magic, all the charmgone like smoke.
“Eddie… lets bake a cake tonight.”
“Really? Chocolate?”
“Yes, chocolate.”
“Hooray!”
“Hush! Dont shout…”
Her husband had named their son Edwin, after his favourite grandfather. Lucy hadnt objected.
A good name, after all…
Edwin ducked into a flower shop near home, just before closing. Three white carnations lay on the counternothing else left.
“How much?”
“Eh?” The shopkeeper, weary and cross, glared at him.
“For the flowers.”
“None left, cant you see?”
“These?”
“Oh, take them.”
“I cant justheres a shilling.”
“Dont be daft. Go onwait, let me wrap them.”
“Dont bother.”
At home, he handed the flowers to Margaret. Instead of her usual grumbling about wasted money, she smiled softly.
“Whats this?”
“Just… fancied making you happy.”
That evening, stretched on the sofa, he listened as she murmured into the telephone in the hall, door half-shut.
“Mine brought me flowers today,” she said, as if in passing. “No reason… hes always been like thata romantic at heart. The rain began to patter against the windowpane, soft and steady, like a lullaby. Edwin closed his eyes, the days weight slipping away. Somewhere out there, the tram carried on, its lights fading into the night, but here, in this quiet room, with Margarets voice a gentle hum and the scent of carnations in the air, he felt, finally, like he was exactly where he was meant to be.
