Stella made a New Year’s Resolution. But it was now late February, and she was no nearer tackling it. Decision making and being proactive were not her strong points.
She needed to address her housing situation. It was no
good pretending that the landlord had not issued an eviction notice, but it
made her angry. Which is why she tried not to think about it. He had no right.
She had always been a good tenant, paid her rent on time, kept the flat clean
and tidy. He said he wanted to sell, but Stella suspected he simply didn’t like
her. Thought she was too bolshy. Which she was, but then, since Mike had
abandoned her years ago, leaving her with two energetic children, life had been
a struggle. She needed to be bolshy to survive.
She had three months to find somewhere else, or more
precisely, two months, since she had spent a month procrastinating. She thought
she might buy a flat. She had rented long enough and wanted a place of her own.
She deserved a bit of security. Now that the children had left home, she would
only need two bedrooms, one and a half would do at a push. She looked at a flat
locally, turned out it was too near the river, in a flood risk zone, so she
would never manage to insure it. Then she hit upon the idea of moving further
away, where prices would be more favourable.
And so, on a sullen February morning, when sleet and rain
were lashing against each other, she found herself waiting on Platform 3 for
the train to Leamington Spa. Her friend said it was too far away, but she
argued with herself that it was only fourty-five minutes on the train, a
perfectly reasonable commute, even if the walk from the station to the office
added another ten minutes. She was sure it would be fine, it would all work
out.
Arriving at Leamington Spa, she hesitated, not sure which
exit to take.
‘Well, you’re dressed for the weather!’ came a voice from
behind her. She turned to see a tall chap appraising her in her long brown
puffer coat. She smiled at him, pulling the coat more tightly around her,
snuggling into it like a duvet, and hoping it showed off her shapely hips. It
was a good investment, this coat. Good old M and S sale.
‘I needed it! It was jolly cold when I left home this
morning, ’she laughed.
‘It’s still freezing now. That’s the wilds of the
Cotswolds for you; the wind fairly blows across from the Northeast. Not the
kind of day to be standing around on a station platform. Which way are you
headed?’
‘I wish I knew. I was trying to work out which exit I
needed.’
‘There’s a nice café just across the road. D’you fancy a
coffee? Then I can point you in the right direction.’
‘Thanks, that’s kind.’ Crikey, it feels like he’s
asking me on a date! Calm down. Play it cool.
Stella hesitated. ‘I’d
love to, but I’m not sure I have time. I’m due to meet an estate agent in 10
minutes to view some flats.’
‘Oh, you thinking of moving up here then?’
‘Maybe, I’m just looking at different possibilities.’
Stella left this remark hanging elusively in the cold air.
There was an
awkward silence, until Stella showed him the address of the estate agent, and
he explained how to get to the office on the high street.
‘Well, you’d better get to your business meeting then! Nice
chatting, take care of yourself.’ His face had lost its former enthusiasm. He
walked slowly away, leaving the station by the other exit.
Stella soon found her way to the agent and turned her
mind to the serious business of finding a flat. The agent was young, annoyingly
cheerful, and too talkative for Stella’s mood. They entered the first flat,
which was adequate, in good condition, and well located on the ground floor
with immediate access to outside space. The agent continued to point out the
benefits of the flat, and although Stella feigned interest, her mind had
already moved on. Looking at the agent’s animated face, she thought that his
eyes were nowhere near as kindly as those of the man at the station. The second
flat, with a larger second bedroom, was of more interest. The view from the
main bedroom was over a park, which she liked. But the kitchen was pokey, just
a galley kitchen, and she wouldn’t enjoy cooking there. As the agent carried on
with his persuasive talk, she wondered whether it would have mattered if she
had accepted the invitation for a coffee, arriving half an hour later. Probably
not.
By the third flat on the list, Stella was becoming more
immune to the sales patter of the agent and filtered it out quite successfully.
His voice became edgy as his desperation to make a sale increased, and she
remembered the gentle tones of the friendly chap on the station. They had
fallen into conversation quite easily. When the agent had exhausted his supply
of suitable flats, and Stella had sat with a coffee and sandwich, mulling over
the events of the morning, she walked back to the station, and waited for a
train back home. It was a long twenty-five minutes waiting in the cold, and she
suddenly felt a very long way from home. She realised that Leamington Spa was
too far from work, her friend was right, and she didn’t want to leave familiar
surroundings so far behind.
As she sat on the train, she mused about how events might
have unfolded if she had gone for the coffee when invited. Would they have
carried on talking, so that coffee merged into lunch? And then? A drink
in a pub? A walk together? An invitation back to his place? Her thoughts roamed
over a romantic landscape, filling out an idyllic canvas with companionship
that developed into romance and love. But in her heart she knew he was not the
one. It was the rural accent, which, although endearing at a first meeting,
would become tiresome if she had to listen to it for too long.
Looking out of the rain spattered window as the train
rattled its way towards Banbury, it dawned on her that housing was not the real
priority, or at least, not buying a flat. She could just continue renting,
which would be so much simpler. Perhaps her New Year’s Resolution should have
been to find a suitable man, like the man on the platform, but with a less pronounced
accent. Was it too late to make a new resolution?
Bio:
Judith English has taken writing courses at UEA and City St George’s. Her first novel Layers of Silk is currently out on submission. She was longlisted for the Henshaw Short Story Prize, and winner of City Writes Autumn 2025. She loves kayaking on the Thames.
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/people/Judith-English-author/61566359135133/?_rdr
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