Alan is an old man living in the countryside of England. When a familiar woman appears in his restaurant, he tells his daughter the tale of an old love that he never had the courage to chase.
It was an ordinary day, the kind of day on which most stories begin. It was sunny outside, although Alan hadn't seen much of it as he had been busy working. Their town was small but there were a lot of tourists. Sometimes it seemed the locals were outnumbered by them. Especially after some website featured their town in an article called 'Britain's top 10 country towns'. Seeing as this was the only restaurant in the neighbourhood he did not have time for a break. No rest for his squeaky bones. The kitchen was filled with delicious scents. Alan took the bread out of the oven, added some spices and signalled the waitstaff. A young woman, who looked like him, put the bread on a plate along with some butter and took it to the front of the restaurant. Three, four, five minutes and she was back again. "Dad," she said, "a woman is asking for you." Alan put down the frying pan he was holding and quickly washed his hands, then walked up to his daughter. "Do I know her?" "Don't ask me."
He opened the kitchen door and peeked into the restaurant. There he saw her, sitting at a table in the corner, alone. Sipping a cup of tea. She'd gained some wrinkles, grey hairs and some class - but still, he instantly recognized her. Of course he did. "Bloody hell..." he stammered, standing in the doorway, staring in awe. "So, I guess you do know her," the girl said. Alan panicked, closed the door and leaned his back to it. His daughter looked confused. "Go to her!" Her father stared back. "No, no I can't just talk to her... Look. I haven't seen her in over twenty years, Beth!" She crossed her arms. "Well clearly she remembers you," she grinned. "You can't keep her waiting, dad. Don't be rude." Alan sighed and took off his apron. Beth brushed his hair back and sweeped some dirt off his clothes. "I'm way too old for this." Then he pushed the door back open and walked up to the table in the corner, trying to keep cool. Those awkward seconds felt like minutes. When he stood near enough, she looked up to him. There was an instant smile on her face - as broadly as he remembered. She had beautiful thick lips and white teeth. "Hey, Al," she greeted. "Hello Frankie," he said quietly and sat down across of her. They stared at eachother for a moment, not knowing what to say. It was a pleasant silence. "Look at you, old chap," she laughed. "Still got your curls.. I can no longer call you a redhead though. You look horrible, by the way," she said jokingly. Alan chuckled. "You came all this way to tell me that?"