Ive known Emily ever since she was a little girl, and Ive always been amused by her odd little ritual. Every year, on the night before NewYears, shed make her way to a fortunetellers stall in the market square of London. Living in a metropolis made it easy enough to find a new seer when the old one retired.
The reason Emily kept going was simple: she was painfully single. No matter how hard she tried to strike up a conversation with a respectable young gentleman, it was always a dead end. It seemed all the decent blokes had already been swept away by the citys relentless pace.
This year youll meet your destiny! declared the darkeyed prophetess, peering into a glittering crystal ball, I remembered her telling me.
Where? Where will I meet him? Emily demanded, impatient. Every year I get the same promise. Years pass and I still havent seen my fate.
She had a reputation for being blunt, and she didnt mince words with the woman. Ive been told youre the best in the business. I need you to tell me the exact place! Otherwise Ill write a scathing review she warned, her tone sharp.
The prophetess narrowed her eyes, realizing she was dealing with a restless soul who wouldnt let go. She knew that if she didnt give Emily something to cling to, the young woman would sit at her table all evening, blocking the queue of hopeful patrons.
On the train! the seer whispered, eyes shut tight. I see him now tall, fairhaired, handsome as a storybook prince.
Emilys face lit up. Oh! Which train? When?
At the very edge of the year, the woman chuckled. Head to the station. Your heart will tell you which direction to buy a ticket.
Thank you! Emily beamed.
Emily burst from the seers little kiosk, hailed a black cab, and rocketed to Kings Cross. As she stood before the ticket office, her enthusiasm began to wane. She stared at the timetable, bewildered, unable to decide which service to board.
Excuse me! the clerk barked, snapping her out of her daze.
London on the 30th of December. A firstclass carriage, please, Emily muttered.
She imagined herself tucked into a cosy compartment, sipping tea, when suddenly the door would swing open and her future husband would step inside.
Back home, Emily hurriedly packed the essentials for her overnight journey, because the train left late that night. She paid no mind to the practicalities of spending NewYears Eve in an unfamiliar town; she only wanted the fortunetellers prediction to come true as quickly as possible.
It felt terrible to be useless, especially during the festive season when families huddled together around the Christmas table, exchanging gifts. Everyone but her.
A few hours later, Emily found herself in the carriage, a steaming mug of tea in hand, just as she had imagined. All that remained was to wait for the handsome stranger to appear.
An elderly woman shuffled in, lugging a massive suitcase, and called out, Excuse me, wheres the other seat?
Emily, flustered, pointed to the empty bench opposite. Is this your carriage?
No, dear, Im not lost, the old lady replied with a smile, dropping onto the free seat.
Sorry, Id like to get off, Emily whispered, suddenly realizing how foolish shed been. Please let me out! Ive changed my mind.
The woman hesitated, then said, Hold on, Ill stash my bag.
The train lurched forward, and Emily sighed heavily. What now?
Did you forget something? the old lady asked, bewildered.
Emily turned her gaze to the window, understanding that the lady was innocent; it was Emilys own restlessness that had brought this mess.
At that moment, Margaret Hughes, the ladys daughterinlaw, produced a tin of warm scones from her bag and offered them to her fellow traveller.
I was heading to my daughters house, Margaret explained. Now Im rushing home; my son and his fiancée will be arriving soon. Well ring in the New Year together.
Emily managed a weak smile. I suppose Ill spend NewYears at the station then, she muttered.
She confessed everything to Margaret, who shook her head. Youre a fool, love! Why chase after these charlatans? Your destiny will find you in its own time. Patience, dear.
The next morning, Emily stepped onto an unfamiliar platform in a town shed never seen before. She helped Margaret out of the train and lingered, unsure of what to do next.
Thank you, Emily! Happy NewYear! Margaret called out.
And you as well, Emily replied, a hint of sadness in her voice.
The older woman stared at her, not knowing how to lift her spirits. She realized that spending NewYears alone at a railway station was hardly the start anyone desired.
Emily, why not come to my house? Margaret suggested suddenly. Well decorate the tree, set out the feast
I Im not comfortable, Emily stammered.
Is it comfortable to sit alone at a station? Margaret smiled. Come on, its decided.
Emily eventually accepted. Outside, a snowstorm began to howl, making a trek across the platform pointless.
My son Tom and his fiancée Emma are already home, Margaret said, beaming.
Tom, watching from the window as his mother arrived in a taxi, hurried to the lift and helped her with the heavy suitcase.
Tom, love, Im not alone. This is the daughter of an old friend, Emily, Margaret whispered conspiratorially.
Wonderful! Tom exclaimed, pulling a chair out for Emily.
When Emily saw the tall, fairhaired Tom, her cheeks flushed. Shed imagined exactly this man on the train; fate, it seemed, loved a good joke.
Wheres Emma? Margaret asked.
Mom, Emmas not coming. Shes never coming back. Lets not talk about it, Tom snapped, his brow furrowing.
Fine Margaret muttered.
That evening the four of themMargaret, Tom, Emily, and little Harrygathered around the table, ringing out the old year with mince pies and Christmas pudding.
Emily, will you stay with us long? Tom asked, placing a salad on her plate.
No, Ill be gone by morning, she said, a trace of melancholy in her voice.
She didnt want to leave the cosy house so quickly. It felt as if she had known Margaret and Tom all her life.
Why are you in such a hurry? the elderly woman protested. Stay a bit longer, love.
Really, Emily, stay a while. We have a lovely iceskating rink, we could go tomorrow night. Dont rush off, Tom pleaded.
Youve convinced me, Emily smiled. Ill gladly remain.
That NewYears Eve they celebrated togetherfour of them: Margaret, Tom, Emily, and little Harry.
Do you believe in NewYears miracles?