Years later, Wendy would often think back to that weekend. She had flown out a day before everyone else for her mother-in-law’s birthday. No sooner had she dropped into her plane seat than she flinched—someone had called her name.
Her fingers tightened around the strap of her handbag as she stood in the check-in queue. There was still a full day before her ex-mother-in-law’s birthday, but Wendy had deliberately chosen the early flight. She knew Jack, as usual, would leave everything to the last minute; he would probably fly the following morning. Three years had passed since the divorce, and in all that time they had managed to live in the same city without once crossing paths. Now Wendy wanted to disturb that fragile arrangement less than ever.
Seat 12A, she read on the ticket. By the window, just as she liked it. On the plane she reached, as she always did, for her book—a new novel she had started the day before and could not put down. It was a story about love, betrayal and forgiveness. In the past she would have avoided such a story, but time healed.
“Wendy?” A familiar voice made her shudder. “What a coincidence.”
Slowly she looked up. Jack stood in the aisle, the handle of his suitcase in his hand. He was as well turned out as ever, wearing his favourite grey jacket. Only at the temples a touch of grey had crept in that she had never noticed before.
“You’re always late,” she said instead of a greeting.
“And you always plan everything in advance,” he answered with a smile, pulling out his ticket. “Hmm, 12B.”
Wendy felt her cheeks burn. Three hours in the air beside the man she had carefully avoided for all those years. Fate seemed to be having a joke at their expense.
“I could swap seats with someone,” Jack began.
“Leave it,” Wendy cut in. “We’re adults.”
Jack nodded and sat down next to her. His familiar aftershave drifted over to her, and the scent struck her like a blow to the heart. How often had she woken up with that smell in her nose?
“How’s work?” he asked after take-off, when the silence became unbearable.
“Good. I’ve opened my own yoga studio,” she answered quietly. “And you? Still in the same job?”
“No, I moved into consultancy. Remember how I always dreamed of that?”
Of course she remembered. And she remembered the endless arguments about it. She had been afraid of change; he had longed for it. Now, years later, they had both got what they wanted. So why did her heart still ache?
“Mum will be thrilled to see you,” Jack said after a pause. “She still keeps the ceramic vase you gave her for her last birthday.”
“Edith was always…” Wendy stopped, searching for the right words. “…so good to me.”
“Even after the divorce, she said you were the best daughter-in-law anyone could wish for.”
Wendy felt her eyes sting. She reached for her book to hide how moved she was.
“What are you reading?” Jack glanced at the cover.
“A Time for Forgiveness,” she replied, and they both fell silent as the irony of the title sank in.
The rest of the flight they spent without talking, but it was a different silence—not taut like a stretched wire, but almost comfortable, the way it used to be. When the plane landed at Heathrow, Jack helped her lift her bag down from the overhead locker.
“Shall we share a taxi?” he suggested. “We’re going the same way anyway.”
Wendy hesitated. Three years earlier they had separated, certain they would never stand side by side again. Yet here they were, and the world had not ended.
“All right,” she nodded. “But I’m keeping an eye on the sat nav—you always argue with technology.”
Jack laughed, and that familiar laugh made something tremble inside her. Perhaps, sometimes, you had to let go of the past so the present could grow brighter.
As they left the plane, she realised it was the first time in a long while that she did not regret an unexpected encounter. Ahead lay the birthday: a table set for the party, the uncertain looks of relatives. But now she knew they would manage. They always had.
The taxi wound through the evening streets of London. Wendy, as promised, kept her eye on the route, while Jack sat beside her, separated only by a bag on the middle seat.
“Right here,” said Wendy, and Jack had to smile: she knew the way to his parents’ house better than he did.
“Do you remember the first time we drove to Mum’s?” he asked suddenly. “You were so nervous.”
“Of course!” Wendy snorted. “I changed my clothes three times, I was in such a state. I wanted to make a good impression.”
“And then you poured soup all over yourself.”
They both laughed, and for a moment time seemed to stand still. Then the taxi stopped in front of the familiar house, and the moment faded into dusk.
Edith met them at the door and threw up her hands in astonishment. “You came together? What a surprise!”
“We met by chance on the plane,” Wendy explained quickly, catching a glimmer of hope in her former mother-in-law’s eyes.
“Come in, come in! Wendy, I’ve prepared your room, the same one as always.”
Wendy froze. Her room—the upstairs bedroom where she and Jack had always stayed when they visited. Where the morning sun painted playful patterns on the wallpaper, and from the window you could see the old apple tree.
“Mum, perhaps I’d better take the guest room?” Jack tried.
“No arguments!” Edith interrupted. “The guests sleep there tomorrow. Wendy stays in the bedroom, and you’re in your old room. Just like old times.”
Just like old times. The words echoed in Wendy’s mind. In truth, nothing was like old times, but nobody dared argue with Edith.
The evening passed with preparations for the party. Wendy helped in the kitchen, while Jack sorted through old boxes in the attic—a job his mother had been waiting for him to do for years. They deliberately avoided being alone together, but under one roof that was not easy.
That night Wendy could not sleep for a long time. The bed felt too big, too empty. Behind the wall, in the boyhood room, floorboards creaked—Jack could not sleep either. She recognised the sounds: three steps to the window, four steps back. That was how he had always paced when he was thinking something over.
Then, suddenly, everything fell quiet. Wendy turned on her side and looked out of the window. The apple tree rustled in the wind, and for a moment it seemed as though the last three years had never happened. Even now, looking back, she could still picture it and remember that feeling exactly.
