Chance Meeting

The wheels of Julia’s bicycle crunched through fallen leaves as she came to a stop beneath a maple tree. Clouds of breath puffed through her self-knitted scarf as she rested the bike against the nearby bike rack. A short rummage in the wicker basket above the front wheel produced a battered U-lock. She stuck it through the bike frame and trapped the metal rack with the metal bar. There was no attempt to find a key since the lock had long since broken. She figured cycle locks were mostly a deterrent. Locking it was a waste of time – she had yet to be proven wrong. Standing, she shrugged her well-loved (tatty) rucksack into a more comfortable position and re-wrapped her scarf.

As she headed for the general store, a few hundred steps along the tree-lined street, Julia remembered the feeling of isolation she had felt when first moving here. The move from big city to small town, barely above a village, had been stark and sudden.

Turning 35 and having a series of underwhelming jobs and relationships had nurtured a yearning for a new start. That new start had come via a hobby of bookbinding, a decent amount of savings, and a glance through an estate agent’s window. Without the unexpected flat bicycle tyre, she never would have been daydreaming past the window. Three months later, she had found herself inside a barely habitable cottage on the edge of a wood. The spring rain had been hammering down, but a quick inspection had revealed a reassuring lack of leaks from the roof itself.

Over eighteen months Julia had brought two-thirds of the cottage into the twenty-first century. She was proud of completing most of the work. The only exceptions had been the rewiring and the fitting of two beams. Had there been more work to do, she couldn’t have afforded to pay anyone else, anyway. Starting a bookbinding business in the middle of nowhere with no experience, only basic skills, and no idea what you were doing made a solid income somewhat difficult.

Still, Julia was ‘making a go of it’, as her mum used to say. She paid all her bills, and she could literally do whatever she wanted. Every. Single. Day.

Smiling, Julia pulled open the sprung wooden door of the store. It jingled a collection of cowbells above her head. Dorothy, the store owner, looked up from her counter, her wrinkled face smiling warmly.

“Hello there.” She waved a thin hand and stood from leaning on the mechanical cash register. “A little earlier today,” she waved at the clock on the wall. It read ten-fifteen. “In for the usual, I assume?”

Julia crossed to the counter. “Absolutely. Thanks. I don’t suppose you have any more of those peppermint sweets?” Dorothy’s face tilted in confusion. Julia held up her hand, finger and thumb slightly apart. “About this big. Hard shell. Gooey inside.”

Recognition. “Ah. Peppermint Crispies.”

“That’s them. They were wonderful.”

Dorothy disappeared behind the counter, rummaging through unseen glass jars. “They should be. My daughter-in-law makes them.”

“Really!? How lovely. Maybe I could get the recipe?”

A large jar crammed full of white balls thudded onto the counter. “‘Fraid not,” said Dorothy, looking Julia sharply in the eye. “You wouldn’t need to buy them then.”

Dorothy’s direct gaze set Julia back a little. “I…er…”

The laugh from the woman was deeper than her ancient frame implied. “Don’t be daft. I’m just havin’ you on. I’m sure Debs will write it down for you. I’ll have it for next week.”

Julia relaxed. “Thanks. That’d be great.”

She waited for Dorothy to fill a large brown paper bag with her groceries. Bread flour, yeast, local butter, a dozen eggs, assorted fruit, and a few household items.

“How much?”

The register loudly crunched the numbers.

“Twelve thirty-seven. Call it Twelve.”

Julia smiled and shook her head. “You’re never going to make money, you know.” She handed over two notes.

Dorothy smiled. “It’s worked for the last forty-five years. Besides,” she handed back three coins. “You, I under-charge. Others,” she nodded at a man half-way through reading the daily newspaper, “I get it back again.”

Julia giggled – something she had never done before the move.

Picking up her parcel, Julia thanked Dorothy and pushed the door open with her back. The cold autumn air filled her eyes, causing them to water and blink. Snow came early in these parts, something she had discovered last winter. She might get a few more week’s travel out of her bicycle, then it would be time for the heavy boots. She owned a car. It was unused. One day she would need it and it wouldn’t start.

That sounded like a future-Julia problem.

Present-Julia placed the bag in the cycle basket, relocating a few items to her rucksack to save them from bouncing out. She tried to remember if there was anything else she needed to do. Nothing came to mind, so she reached down to remove the lock.

A breath of warm air moved the hairs on the side of her face.

Stopped mid-bend, she looked toward the movement. 

Nothing.

Standing, Julia surveyed the street but saw nothing that would have disturbed the air.

Another waft of warmth, this time full in the face.

As she blinked, her gaze settled on a coffee shop. It sat on the corner of the street at a crossroads. Julia knew they had shelves of beautiful-looking homemade cakes in the window. This was the reason she had avoided it, for fear of buying everything they made.

At that moment, a hot mocha and a pastry sounded like the best thing in the world.

Why not?

Before she knew it, she was crossing the street, looking both ways first, of course.

#

Jake had his foot hard on the brake. His Master’s in Computer Science had not prepared him for knowing how to turn off the electric car he had rented. He looked at the laminated cheat-sheet the company had provided.

Select park. Left foot on the tiny spongy parking brake. Press Start/Stop button.

All the lights went out.

Gingerly, he lifted his feet. The car remained where it was, despite being on a gentle slope. Good enough.

Stepping out of the car, Jake inhaled the crisp air and stretched. Feeling his body click and pop, he scratched his head, making a mental note to wash his hair. The sleepy surroundings had really worked their magic on him. Less than a week into his month-long holiday, he was slowing down. His brain rarely let up, which was perfect for work. Writing code required thinking parallel thoughts, seeing multiple possibilities, and carefully reducing the options until one path remained. Jake was good at his work. He enjoyed it. A little too much.

It had been a surprise, during a rare office day, when his boss had come to him, suggesting he should take a holiday. He’d been confused. Projects would suffer if he were not around. He’d been quickly told he looked terrible, was a little insufferable to be around, and would likely burn out soon.

Jake had logged off two days later.

Waking up the day after, he stood at his desk, just like any other day. He had gone through all the usual motions, even to the extent his laptop was open and a cup of steaming coffee was in place.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

Slamming the laptop shut, work tasks still racing through his mind, he threw himself into his comfy chair and flicked on the TV. Idly, he grabbed his phone and began scrolling social media. An image of a woodland cabin flicked past and something tugged at Jake’s mind. Scrolling back, he found a sponsored ad for back-to-nature breaks.

Three minutes later, he had booked a month in a cabin five hours up the road.

That was six days ago. Since then, Jake had walked more than he could remember. His calves certainly thought so. He had left most of his technology back home, although he had his phone – he wasn’t insane. He’d also brought an ageing iPad, not charged for a year. His final concession was that the cabin had good internet.

The first three days he either walked, ate, watched YouTube or slept. Turns out, working fourteen-hour days for over a year results in needing a good night’s sleep. In Jake’s case, three nights. Since surfacing, he felt like a new man. He found a few ratty books in the cabin. A mixture of fiction, biographies, and one half-finished set of crosswords. Hours had just flown by sitting and reading in various chairs, occasionally on the deck, wrapped in a blanket.

Jake was returning to nature.

He loved it.

Two days ago, he had run out of food. A drive into town had been an adventure. Interacting with pleasant people who wanted to chat and had all the time in the world had been a new experience. Jake responded in kind. He had probably spoken more words to more humans in the last forty-eight hours than in three years at a company of 400.

Back in the present, Jake walked the twenty steps to the library, carrying three books he had borrowed only yesterday. As he approached the mahogany double doors, he almost ran into a man.

“Sorry,” said Jake.

“No worries at all,” smiled the man. He pulled open the door and waved a held book at the opening. “Looks like we’re here for the same thing.”

Jake nodded. “Yeah. Must be something about the place.”

They both chuckled.

Jake never chuckled.

Thirty minutes of browsing later, including an impromptu chat with a random stranger, Jake exited the library with his prize of three new tomes. A fantasy, a crime thriller, and some autobiography of a woman he had never heard of. He had been drawn to the…well…striking cover.

Jake was half-way to the car when a breeze caught at the corner of his jacket. The unexpected motion brought him to a halt, half-turning as he stopped. His eyes caught sight of a wooden sign on the pavement, only four trunks up the tree-lined street. ‘Hot Coffee’ elegantly written in liquid chalk.

Suddenly aware of his lack of caffeine, Jake checked his watch. Ten-seventeen. He barked a laugh. Who cared? He had absolutely nothing to do for twenty-two more days.

He threw the books in the car and headed up to the cafe.

#

Julia reviewed the window’s contents. Her nemesis looked back at her. Macaroons. They even had a cherry on top and edible paper underneath. Damn. Now she had to go in.

The thin, double glass doors opened to allow the sweet warm air of the bakery to wash over Julia. Movement caught her eye as she glimpsed a man approaching on the adjoining street. She returned her attention to the counter filled with sweet and savoury delights and sighed.

This was going to be expensive.

#

Arriving alongside the bakery, Jake watched the doors clatter shut behind a slim woman wrapped up in a knee-length coat and a massive knitted scarf. Her nose rested above the wool, pretty eyes smiling at the girl behind the counter.

Not looking where he was going, Jake tripped on the edge of a paving stone. He threw out his hands to catch himself, only finding air. His left wrist took the brunt of the impact.

Sharp pain shot up his arm.

“Nuts,” was the word that fell out of his mouth.

“You alright?” asked a deep voice.

Jake looked up from his prone position. A portly man in a smart jacket and bow tie gazed down at him, arm outstretched.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled, accepting the offered hand.

The man yanked Jake to his feet. “Anything hurt?” he asked.

“My wrist.”

“Right!” the man almost shouted. “You won’t believe this, but I’m the local doctor.”

Jake raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to comment. The man beat him to it.

“My practice is only a couple of minutes away. My ham and cheese toastie will have to wait. I don’t think I will waste away soon.” He rubbed his rounded stomach as evidence.

Jake allowed himself to be led away.

#

Julia was in the middle of selecting her third item from the baked goods when she heard the synchronised gasps of several voices. Looking round, she saw everyone staring out the window.

“He’s alright,” said a man.

“Donald’s right there,” said his table companion. “What’re the chances?”

The man nodded.

Julia looked past them and saw two men, one being helped to his feet. He held his wrist carefully, the other man inspecting it. A moment later, they walked off together.

“Is that everything?” asked a voice.

Julia snapped back to the girl serving her. She focussed through the glass and bit her bottom lip.

“Perhaps one of the apple turnovers as well,” she said. There was some guilt in her voice.

#

Donald could not have been more helpful. Another stark example of the difference between village and city life. Jake went straight into Donald’s surgery for a thorough examination. Over a conversational twenty minutes, Donald assured Jake his wrist was unbroken, but would need a brace for a few days. Best rest the stretched tendons.

Brace applied. Pills prescribed and provided.

Fifteen minutes later, Jake was back in his car. He decided he had plenty of coffee at the cabin. Enough excitement for one day.

#

The wind chilled Julia’s uncovered face as she freewheeled down the road. Trees lined one side, open farmland the other. The scarf was lower now she had the central heating of a hot beverage. The extra energy of an apple turnover also helped.

She allowed her gaze to wander across the open fields. It was remarkable how so few people lived here. If they only knew how peaceful it was.

A flash of movement snapped her attention to the road ahead. Something large and orange was only meters away.

Fingers gripped the brake levers sharply. Feet scuffed along the floor. Julia hadn’t been going fast, but it was still a sudden stop.

An apple leapt from the paper bag in the bicycle basket. It flew in an arc to be caught in the mouth of a fox.

A fox!

For a long moment, Julia stared at the animal.

The fox stared back; the apple appearing huge in its mouth. A second later, it sprung into the trees.

Julia unfroze with the movement and quickly shuffled to the nearest trunk, leaning her bike against the bark. Grabbing her phone, she ran into the woods.

#

Arriving back at the cabin, Jake dropped the books on the table beside the sofa. He held up his braced arm and flexed the fingers. Their movement was quite restricted.

“At least it was the left hand,” he said aloud.

His mind wandered back a week. He could not imagine trying to code with only one hand. Keyboard shortcuts would be a nightmare.

Then he laughed.

Work was such a distant memory, he couldn’t believe how deep he had been. What had he been thinking?

An amusement came to mind. How about posting an image of his arm? A caption like: “I couldn’t work, even if I wanted to.” It might get a laugh.

He soon had a photo of his damaged wrist. A few swipes later and he discovered no internet.

No bars.

Odd.

He walked to the kitchen window, where the 4G internet router sat. He had spent over an hour, the first day, finding the best signal. So many speed tests. Worth it, though. This window, for example, was three times as fast as the one in the bathroom.

An orange light flashed.

Jake didn’t know what orange meant. He only knew blue was good.

He checked his phone again. No signal.

After considering his options, he popped the kettle on and headed out to hunt for a few moments of connectivity nearby.

#

She’d run, stumbled, walked, then limped a bit, all in pursuit of the damn fox. It had seemed like such a great idea. Julia loved to take pictures, and she had a growing social media following. It was a significant part of her marketing strategy, which would definitely benefit from a stunning image of a fox in the trees.

She would have given up ten minutes ago, had the fox not reappeared every time she stopped. Like now.

She waited, gripping her phone tightly. Surely it would peek out again soon?

Julia turned slowly, not wanting to spook anything. As she completed a circle, so she realised she did not know which way was back to the road. A tiny nugget of fear settled in her stomach.

The fox appeared. It looked straight at Julia, eyes glistening in the undergrowth.

The picture would be perfect.

Slowly Julia raised her arm, phone already set on camera.

#

Jake had walked for a good five minutes. He knew exactly where he was. Three days of walking around his cabin had established quite the map in his head.

He walked slowly, holding his phone. Occasionally, he would get a flicker of one bar. Then it would vanish, as quickly as it had appeared.

Concentrating so hard on the phone, he barely noticed anything in front of him. He had just enough time to look up and register a patch of orange before there was a blinding flash!

#

The fox stayed exactly where it was. Julia lined up the shot and pinch-zoomed in. It would pixelate, but she could fix that in the edit. Carefully, she moved her finger to the shutter button.

Suddenly, the fox looked sharply to its left.

Julia instinctively followed with her phone.

A figure was emerging from the gloom.

Julia’s flash went off.

Fate is resourceful.