My first term at university ended in rain. Thick winter downpours that went on for weeks. Coming home from London on the train the whole countryside was shaded blue to grey, dull fields, smears of woodland. I had little interest of looking out the window so read a cheap paperback as the light faded to night. At each stop on the slow country line the doors would open, and the wind would blow in, stopping the train getting completely warm. And as the journey's first hour blended into the second the carriage emptied so by the time my stop came, I was the only one left.
Alton was a small village and its station had only one platform and one overhead light which put the worsening storm in a contrast of off yellow. The downpour was torrential, and the rain was whipped near horizontal by freezing gusts of wind. I had a five mile walk ahead of me. My family home was out of town. My parents weren't back until tomorrow; there was no hope of a lift.
I shouldered my backpack, drew the colour of my coat against the rain as best I could and turned away from town to start my walk home. The road had no pavement, its edges were streams of water, mud, and leaves. I crossed my arms, huddling into myself to keep warm, bent forwards into the wind.
I carried on like this for twenty minutes, everything about me was wet. As I turned a corner into a small wood, I saw a land rover ahead of me. Parked at the side of the road, engine running, its rear lights spreading a red glow over the leafless trees around it. I was half past it when I heard the driver's window wind down.
"God are you alright" a woman's voice "you need a lift anywhere?"
There was something about accepting a lift like this, from someone at the side of the road, even if from a woman, that made me feel awkward.
"Its fine, I live just down past the Coaches Inn," I called back over a particularly strong gust of wind. The tees shook. "I haven't got that long."
"The Coaches! Oh, for god's sake that's half an hour walk from here, get in, I'll drive you."
I could hear the heater inside and felt the warmth from the window. I couldn't make out the woman, but there some something in her voice that put me at ease.
"Yeah OK that would be great".
The window started to wind up and I ran to the passenger's side of the car and climbed up. I was immediately grateful, the car was so warm I started the shiver, soft pop music on the radio, leather seats. The upmarket land rover of the of a rich family, not farmers. It smelt of heavy perfume and coffee.
"William! God are you alright, I didn't realise it was you."
I looked up into the woman's face and I took me a moment to place her and another to check myself.
"Miss Newson. Thank you so much."
She had taught me maths all the way to eighteen at my school, a bus ride from home in the local town. I had last seen her on my results day, with a few other teachers in the corner of the old gymnasium, arm round a crying student who missed their grades. She had smiled at me and cocked her head towards the open door as I walked out. She must have known I had straight As, and her gesture gave me licence to only smile my thanks.
"Your soaked, what were you thinking."
"I couldn't get a lift; I didn't think it could be this much worse out here."
"You're a fucking idiot. Here have some coffee to warm up."
She passed her cup, white travel lid screwed on with a small hole to drink from. It was covered in smears of her lipstick. I made to screw the lid off, so I didn't have to put my mouth where she had put hers.
"Don't take the lid off, my husband will fucking kill me if we spill anything"
So, I pulled it to drink, and my tongue felt the grease of her lipstick half a seconds before the bitter coffee, no milk, no sugar. Seeing teachers since leaving school was awkward, old authority figures next to you at pub urinals, or in corners of bad parties hosted by my parents' friends where I had to hand out canapes. But seeing Mrs Newson now had an added edge of disorientation, she looked different. In school, hair tied up, thin, simple loose pastel cardigans over white cotton, she had never been striking. Now; blond hair down, white silk top showing the length of her tanned bear arms. Legs in tight black leather trousers. Her makeup was heavy and neat. Eye liner, burgundy lips. On her left wrist she had a gold watch, and on her right a bracelet of thick gold chain. A huge single diamond on an engagement ring, wedding band almost hidden beneath.
What struck me first was not how attractive she looked, but how wealthy. None of this, the gold, the immaculate land rover, had ever seen remotely possible for the teacher I had known. Strict and plain, she had seemed like the Mums of my friends, just ordinary.
She leaned back a little and her eyes took me in. "I just dropped my family at the airport, but my bloody daughter has just called to say she thinks she left her straighteners on. I have to pop home to make sure she hasn't burned the whole place down before I drive out to yours."
"Sure, of course. Just thanks for the lift."
"That's alright," she smiled. Her eyes were green, a fact I was not sure that I had known.
