that's life (Australia)

ANOTHER TIME

Tom had no idea what his neighbour Imogen had been through

- By Helen Castles

Tom looked around the living room at the boxes waiting to be unpacked. The divorce had been painful, but this was his new beginning.

As he unpacked his books, he stared out the window and took in the solitude.

It was a far cry from his apartment in the middle of the city, and the nagging tones of his ex-wife, Emma.

His mother, Clare, had warned him about Emma – her controllin­g nature and self-centrednes­s.

After the divorce, his mother had told him there would be another – there was someone for everyone. But Tom wasn’t so sure.

He wasn’t completely isolated, living far enough out to have only one neighbour, but close enough to see the lights of town at night. Tom’s neighbour lived three paddocks over in a cute little cottage.

He hadn’t met the cottage’s occupant, until a

knock came at his door that afternoon.

Standing on the verandah was a lovely woman with a wide smile and a big bag of apples in her hand.

‘Hi,’ she said, brushing a wisp of hair from her eyes. ‘I’m Imogen from next door.’

The apples were from her tree. She had too many this season to make use of them all and suggested Tom make a pie, but he confessed that he was no cook.

Over a coffee, he got to know Imogen, and although he had vowed that for the next year, at least, he’d remain alone, there was something so very familiar and lovely about Imogen.

She had a story, too – an unpleasant past, an abusive boyfriend. A broken heart.

‘Would you stay for dinner?’ he asked, hoping it wasn’t too forward.

Imogen smiled. ‘I’d love to,’ she replied. Tom made a quiche – the only dish he did really well – while Imogen made apple pie for dessert. They talked and talked. The conversati­on flowed easily, and it was after midnight when Imogen left.

‘Can I walk you home?’ Tom asked.

‘No, thank you. I’ll be fine.’ She was just about to step off the verandah when Tom blurted, ‘Can I see you again?’ Imogen turned back. ‘I just wanted to welcome you,’ she said.

‘I understand,’ he replied, and he did. They were both nursing broken hearts. Not the way to start something new. ‘I’ve really enjoyed this evening,’ she said, brushing his cheek gently with her hand. ‘And who knows, Tom? Perhaps in another place, another time.’

The next morning Tom got up early and ventured into town. He knew Imogen was right – that it was too soon. That didn’t stop him from thinking about her though.

In town he went to buy some supplies. Wendy was behind the counter. ‘Settling in?’ she asked. ‘Yes, thank you,’ he replied. ‘In fact, I met my neighbour yesterday.’

‘Really? I didn’t know anyone had moved into that house after Imogen?’

Tom laughed. ‘After Imogen? It was Imogen. And I don’t mind telling you,’ he whispered, ‘she made quite an impression.’

Wendy’s face went ashen. ‘Tom, Imogen was killed in a car accident two weeks ago. That no-good boyfriend of hers was at the wheel.’

Tom went home in a daze. Had he dreamt it?

A wave of sadness washed over him as he finished unpacking, thinking about Imogen the whole time.

Stumbling into the kitchen to make dinner, Tom was taken aback. On the counter sat apples and the remainder of the pie. She had been there – and real.

Smiling, Tom remembered Imogen’s parting words: ‘Perhaps in another place, another time.’

She had a story too – an abusive boyfriend, a broken heart

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