The winds OF CHANGE

Grace’s hair whipped around her face, and the trees that lined the pavements of Sweetcroft Avenue thrashed together, sending leaves rattling along the street. A light breeze had given way to a brisk wind and Grace knew that, even though it was still winter, beyond the prim hedges and picket fences that hid the neatly mowed lawns of the suburban neighbourhood, washing lines would be duly loaded with the weekly wash.

Grace sighed and rummaged in her bag for her mother’s house keys, already anticipating the monotony of the day ahead. Her mother’s chatter about the neighbours’ new patio or the renovation work on the library.

Since leaving her home town for university 14 years ago and starting work as a chartered surveyor in London, Grace couldn’t help but resent the chunk these obligatory two-monthly visits took out of her precious free time, and she was already planning her evening back in Hammersmith. The theatre, perhaps, or a few cocktails at Flicks with her old school friend, Sarah.

Grace had just passed the entrance to the park and stepped onto the road to avoid a gigantic elm whose trunk and roots had sprawled across the pavement, when she noticed the man coming up the hill towards her. He was wearing a baggy rainbow-striped jumper and his face was partly obscured by a scruffy mop of dark hair. In his right hand he held a full plastic carrier bag of shopping, and in his left fluttered a newspaper.

Grace averted her eyes and focused on a spot just beyond him on the pavement. Something about the man was familiar and the last thing Grace wanted was to have to make small talk with someone from her school days, especially someone dull