Something More

The quickest route isn’t always the best in this charming short story by Rebecca Holmes. I had a great life here with Adam, yet I wanted to see the world . . .

THE sun was already low and dazzling through the bare trees as I walked home over the fields. I’d just had lunch with three of my oldest friends in a nearby village.

The food had been good traditional pub fare, perfect for a February Saturday, the company amenable, and the fire in the stone hearth warming, yet I’d felt restless and impatient to leave.

Recent frosts had hardened the ground, making routes usually bogged down in mud fit to walk on.

I made the most of it, taking the less frequented paths across the silent winter landscape, my companions the fieldfares that flocked down every year from Scandinavia.

The longer route gave me not only a chance to walk off the meal, but also space to think.

Why couldn’t I be like my friends, settled and contented? On paper, I knew I should be. I had a good job, a busy social life and supportive family.

True, I was renting because I couldn’t afford to buy a house, but I was getting there. The fact was, I wanted more.

There was a big world out there, beyond the sleepy market town where I’d lived all my life and where everyone else seemed happy to stay. The years were slipping by, each one similar to the last.

In four months I would be thirty. More than that, a job I’d recently applied for in Switzerland, where I could have used both my language and computer skills, had come to nothing.

It was small wonder I was kicking my heels.

The last part of my route passed the brook at the bottom of the field approaching the edge of the town. I paused before following a trail through rough grass over the rise and clambering down the slope.

In summer, the spot was popular with children and teenagers, being out of sight of adults walking their dogs, but at this time of year the place was deserted, so I had it to myself.

Signs of occupation remained. Some old tyres in the brook, almost submerged at this time of year, provided effective if unusual stepping stones to the far bank and a shortcut to another field.

Best of all, though, was the rope swing suspended from an obliging willow. There had been several versions of the swing in my teenage years, and I fondly remembered the good times we’d all had there.

I tugged the rope to check it was secure, then sat astride the short piece of wood attached to the end, swaying gently at first, before swinging higher as I gained confidence.

I leaned back and looked at the sky above the

branches, creeping orange with the last of the sun on one side and green-blue on the other. Everything else seemed far away. All that mattered was this moment.

Frantic barking, followed by shouts of, “George! No!” brought me back to reality.

A brown and white dog of indeterminate breed appeared over the top and hurtled down the bank, followed, a few seconds later, by a tall figure.

I had an impression of a shock of fair hair and a black padded jacket before the now thoroughly wet dog splashed along the brook towards me and shook, showering me with water.

To say his owner looked mortified would have been the understatement of the admittedly young year.

“I’m so sorry,” he began, only to stop and look around, taking in the scene. “Wow. I didn’t know this was here.

“I really am sorry,” he added, bringing himself back. “I got George from the rescue centre when I moved here and he still gets excited about the slightest thing. I hope you’re not too soaked.”

George looked up at me with big brown eyes while his tail whipped from side to side.

“My jeans caught a bit, but I’m well wrapped up. I’ll survive.”

“That still can’t be good in this cold.” George’s owner hesitated. “Let me buy you a coffee in town by way of apology and to help you warm up. Assuming any of the cafés let in dogs, that is.”

“I know one that does,” I found myself saying. “They also serve the most amazing homemade cakes.”

That produced a grin I couldn’t help responding to, grinning in return.

“Brilliant,” he replied. “Can you wait a minute? There’s something I have to do.”

****

The moon was rising above the houses as we walked into town and its little selection of shops.

George’s paws were muddy from jumping in and out of the brook, while Adam’s hair was still messed up and his cheeks red from his time on the rope swing.

We’d introduced ourselves to each other, but conversation had fizzled out as the serious business of having fun took over. It was the best laugh I’d had in ages, especially when it was Adam’s turn to get wet.

It wasn’t until we were in the warmth of Mia’s Café with George snoozing at our feet that we really got talking, with curious glances cast towards us from behind the counter.

I’d forgotten how gossip spread like wildfire here.

Adam told me about his job with a large international company, working in Hong Kong, various places across Europe and, most recently, London. I almost fell off my chair with envy.

“That was where things went wrong,” he admitted. “I was burnt out. I worked such long hours that it cost me a relationship.”

“A serious one?” My mouth spoke before my brain got into gear.

He nodded and swallowed.

“I was off work for nearly three months. My boss suggested that maybe I should take a transfer to somewhere with a more laid-back lifestyle, as he put it,” he continued.

“He told me he’d been in a similar situation some years ago and found stepping back from the fray saved his sanity.

“He could recommend me for a post in one of their regional offices, but advised that I should buy somewhere nearer the country with good commuter links.”

It was no secret that our town had become popular with commuters, thanks to being only a short drive from one of the stations on a new rail link.

“I bought one of the new houses near the fields and moved in a few weeks ago. I saw George in the rescue kennels and I knew I couldn’t leave him.”

If my background sounded dull by comparison, he was polite enough not to say so. He was even sympathetic about my recent Switzerland rejection.

“It sounds as if you came close. I’d ask for feedback and tell them you’d be interested in similar vacancies.

“If you do get to travel, don’t make the mistake I did of getting bogged down with the work side of things. Personally, I’m looking forward to feeling more settled.” He frowned.

He had a lot of lines on his forehead for someone only a year older than me, no doubt due to the reasons he’d just shared with me. They looked oddly in contrast with the rest of his face, which was open and friendly.

“It’s taking longer than I expected. I’m used to the anonymity of cities, but here everyone already seems to know each other, so I feel I’m barging in. That’s why I suggested a coffee. It’s nice to chat to another human being.”

While I smiled, I couldn’t help feeling disappointed at his remark. It would have been nice if there had been something more.

Still, I supposed, one more bruise to my ego wouldn’t make much difference.

In fact, there did turn out to be more. Over the next weeks, we met up for coffee, then drinks, trips to the cinema and a romantic meal. As the weather improved, we shared long walks with George.

I’m not sure when we became a couple, or if either of us asked the other out. It just happened.

Adam joined the local cricket club, reviving his old interest in the game which he hadn’t had time to indulge for years, and making friends.

I’d never been a fan of the sport, but went along partly to support Adam, but also because he did look good in cricket whites.

I still met up with my friends, putting up with a whole host of questions as well as gentle teasing, in the easy way that develops when you’ve all grown up together.

Still, there was one question that caught me out.

“Do you still feel restless, now you’ve got someone to stay for?”

I’d never really said anything about that. Well, they do say you can’t keep secrets from those who really know you.

One more bruise to my ego wouldn’t make much difference

“Not as much,” I admitted, but wouldn’t be drawn further.

My wanderlust might soon be partially satisfied, as Adam and I started planning a holiday.

“It’s good to have a change of scene sometimes,” he said.

Even with the inevitable restrictions of budget and annual leave, the choices seemed endless. Should we opt for sunshine or adventure, beaches, or lakes and mountains? It was a dilemma, but an enjoyable one.

Then a more difficult dilemma reared its head.

I waited till we went for a walk by the brook, to the spot where we’d first met, before I broke the news to Adam.

“I need to talk to you about something,” I said as we stepped over the rise. He tensed.

“That sounds ominous.” “It’s nothing bad,” I added, remembering what he’d told me about his previous relationship.

I didn’t say more, though, as we stopped in our tracks at the sight that met us.

For various reasons, it was the first time we’d been there for a while. Summer had gone quickly. The trees seemed tired, while the brook was sluggish after a dry spell.

Far worse than that was the way the bank was littered with

biscuit wrappers and drinks cans. The swing was in a sorry state, too. A large chunk of the wood had broken off, and the rope looked frayed.

It felt like a bad omen. Adam looked as dismayed as I felt.

“How could they let it get like this? If you’ve got something that’s special, you should look after it.”

I agreed, yet at the same time his words made me feel worse for what I was about to say.

As if knowing what I was thinking, he turned to me.

“So, what’s this something you want to talk about? It’s clearly serious enough for us to come somewhere quiet.”

I took a deep breath. “Remember that job in Zurich? Well, I followed your advice, and they’ve just offered me a similar post, also in Zurich, but for six months.”

He blinked.

“Are you going to take it?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Why?”

“It’s temporary – and I have more reasons to stay here.”

“But you’re still restless?” he asked.

My answer came as a whisper.

“Yes.”

For the next few seconds, everything around us felt very still.

“If you want me to stay,

I . . .”

Adam took my hand. “Take it. You’ll always regret it if you don’t. Zurich isn’t that far away. We’ll see each other at weekends. My sister can dog-sit,” he replied.

My boss was understanding, too, even offering to hold my position open.

“You’ll learn from the experience, which means we’ll also gain. Just give me sufficient notice if you decide not to come back.”

That brought up another question. What if six months wasn’t enough?

****

Zurich, with its architecture, mountain scenery and lake, was beautiful – and expensive. People were polite, but also somehow distant.

When Adam arrived, I threw myself into his arms.

“Culture shock,” was his verdict. “If I know you, you’ll soon adjust. Now, let’s be tourists.”

Over the many weekends of the next few months, we explored the old town, with its museums and cathedrals. We shopped, sat outside cafés and people-watched, and took boat trips on Lake Zurich.

Autumn drew in, then winter. As we drank hot chocolate against a backdrop of snow-capped mountains, I noticed Adam looking at me speculatively.

“Your time here is doing you good. You look more confident, more polished.”

I already knew my confidence had increased. My Zurich boss had told me so. I took another sip of my drink and felt its warmth slide down my throat.

“They’ve asked me to stay on.” Adam’s eyes crinkled. “I’m not surprised.” “It’s another dilemma, though. What should I do?”

“What do you want to do?”

I sighed. My life in Zurich had improved. I’d made friends, found my way round the city and proudly shown it to my parents when they’d come to visit for a short holiday.

The place had worked its charm to the extent that I could almost see myself staying and becoming a part of it. Almost.

“If it helps, I could move out here,” Adam suggested.

His words sent a surge of happiness through me, but didn’t fully answer my predicament.

I don’t know why I thought of the swing at that moment. After all, our last time there had been hardly encouraging. It was where we’d discussed my coming to Zurich, so maybe that was the connection.

“Have you visited the rope swing lately?” I asked.

****

The next time I saw the brook it was February.

Leaden skies glowered over heavy clay fields. A few snowflakes drifted down, threatening more, as I shivered in my coat.

Adam had texted to say he’d be late, and made me promise not to go down the bank or peer over the rise without him.

Whatever my other faults, I always tried to keep my promises.

Soon I saw him hurrying along the path, George bounding ahead.

“Sorry. The errand took a bit longer than I thought.”

He looked tense, possibly wondering how my afternoon meeting with my previous boss had gone.

“You’re not that late. Mind you, if you’d been much longer, I might have been tempted to take a peek,” I teased.

“I had best not keep you waiting, then. I warn you, it’s changed since your last visit.”

“Surely it can’t be even worse?”

“You’ll see.”

Even so, I was completely unprepared for what I saw as we topped the rise, holding hands.

The mud had been grassed over and someone had placed an old tree trunk on the bank, perfect for sitting on.

All the litter had gone, as had the old swing. Instead, a thicker rope and sturdy piece of wood big enough for two people hung from the ever-obliging willow.

“See how it’s varnished? That’s to make it last longer,” Adam said eagerly. “Me and some blokes from the cricket team worked on it in that fine spell after Christmas.”

“It’s amazing.”

As I started heading down, Adam touched my arm.

“Can I ask you something first?”

“About my chat with my boss?”

“Partly.”

We sat down on the log. Adam pulled off his gloves, even though it was bitterly cold.

“I told him about the offer in Zurich and he understood,” I told him. “In fact, he was ready for it.”

He squeezed my hands.

“That’s great. If it’s what you want, do it. Wherever you decide to go, I’m happy to follow you. I can work remotely or find a new job. And George would have to come along.”

“Naturally,” I agreed. We’d already discussed the possibility. “But I think you’ll find . . .”

My words trailed away as Adam fumbled in his coat pocket, knelt, and produced a small package.

“In that case, I – I was wondering if you’d consider marrying me.”

My throat tightened.

“You mean you had to ask?” I managed to croak after a few seconds.

“It seemed only polite.” He opened the box. “I hope you like this. Your friend who works at the jeweller’s helped me choose it.”

I said nothing stayed secret in our town, didn’t I?

“So,” Adam said after he’d placed the engagement ring on my finger and we’d admired it. “Shall we start looking for some dog-friendly accommodation in Zurich?”

A smile crept round my lips.

“There’s no need. My boss was so impressed with my experience gained working abroad, he’s offered me a promotion, working with the firm’s overseas customers.

“I’ll get to travel, but I’ll still be based here, so George can splash in the brook to his heart’s content.”

Speaking of the brook, if anyone passing by a few minutes later heard shrieks, as well as excited barking, and peered over the bank to investigate, they would have been met by the sight of a man and woman on a rope swing, swaying higher than was probably wise, and sticking out their tongues to catch the snowflakes that were falling.

After all, what better way to celebrate one’s engagement, as well as a new job?

I might have taken the longer route home, but I’d gained more than I could have ever dreamed of.

The End.