As the grey- haired female stranger signed for the parcel that I’d just delivered, I shivered. It was a cold, dark, evening. She was a lady of mature years, dressed in worn trousers, a baggy jumper and fluffy pink slippers.

‘Heck, lovey, you look chilled to the bone. Come in for a cuppa. I’ve a tray of ginger biscuits about to come out of the oven, and I need a taste tester.’

Yet I hesitated. This was my last delivery, and although I appreciated the kind gesture, this client was a woman (living on her own?) and I was a much younger man. This stone cottage was isolated, in the middle of the countryside, so it was an awkward situation. But the lady seemed to read my mind.

‘You’re alright lovey, my hubby’s here with me,’ she explained.

I smiled. ‘Go on then.’

She opened the kitchen door and I stepped in. The warm aroma of home baking, a brown tabby cat curled up in a basket, a dining table and stripy coloured rugs scattered on the flagged floor gave the kitchen a homely, vintage feel.

She indicated an armchair near the stove, scooped up pair of oven gloves, took a steaming tray out and laid it on a wire rack, placed on the worktop.

‘Take a seat, lovey. Now, these biscuits will be hot, so I’ll give it a minute or two before I serve them.’

I peeled off my jacket and settled into a comfy armchair. Then I was given a warm cuppa and two biscuits on a plate.

‘This is very welcome. Thank you,’ I said.

Yet I frowned. She reminded me of someone… only I couldn’t think who. As I tucked in, I reflected on this delivery. It was odd that the address on the parcel was correct, but there was no name provided for the householder – it was just to ‘The occupier’.

Well, I mused, it wasn’t up to me to tell companies how to address their post.  I simply made sure it arrived safely.

I’d set up my own local courier company three months ago, but I was seriously struggling.  

I hadn’t attempted to compete with the big firms who normally dealt with online orders. I’d concentrated on regional companies who needed someone reliable to deliver properly – not simply throw the goods over a hedge, leave them out on the doorstep in all weathers, foist the parcels on unwilling neighbours or shove the ordered products in dirty dustbins and recycling containers. My clients appreciated a high level of service.

Even so, sometimes, the days dragged and I only just managed to cover my monthly expenses.

My fiancée Helen had a full- time admin job at the council, but she was kind enough to help me with the paperwork in the evenings – invoices, emails etc. However, a mate of mine, Barry, had recently got in touch. He’d mentioned that he needed a car mechanic at his garage. I knew the basics. It sounded great – the only snag is, he’d emigrated to Australia…

Naturally, Helen wasn’t keen on the idea of leaving friends and family to live on the other side of the world.

‘Look, why don’t we compromise?’ I’d suggested. ‘We could give it six months out there, and if we don’t like it, we’ll come home.’

‘It doesn’t work like that. It’s an all or nothing thing, isn’t it, Tony? Even if we can stay there for six months, I’ll still have to resign. If we return, the council won’t give my job back to me when I tell them we made a mistake!’

I sighed…the woman’s voice broke into my thoughts. ‘Could you help me take this in to my hubby?’

She indicated a biscuit loaded plate and a mug of tea. I nodded. I picked up the mug while she took the plate.

‘He’s in the living room. He’ll appreciate some company.’ I followed her down the hall. The cat decided to join us.

‘We’ve got a visitor!’ she called out. ‘A courier. He’s just delivered my parcel, lovey. He looked like he could do with a break.’

With the curtains shut, and very low lighting, their living room was quite gloomy, but I managed to find the coffee table and sofa.

‘I’m sorry it’s dark lovey, but my hubby’s got an eye condition. Bright lights hurt his eyes.’

I smiled. ‘No problem.’

I sat and faced an elderly, thin man. The moggy jumped onto his lap and settled itself. He stroked it fondly.

‘I’ll get started on the evening meal. It’s home-made meat and potato pie with peas, carrots, mash and gravy. Are you staying to eat with us?’ she asked.

The meal sounded lovely.

‘Er -‘ Was I? Before I could answer, the lady left me with her husband.

‘It’ll be a book,’ he declared.

‘Sorry – what?’ His voice was gravelly with old age.

‘The parcel. A novel. She buys ’em online from that book shop in town. We don’t get out much, and we’re out of the way.’

‘Right.’ Helen was an avid reader, too.

Suddenly, I was stuck for words.

‘The scenery must be nice around here,’ I stuttered.  The sat nav in my van had led me down a rural lane, surrounded by fields.

‘We take the grandchildren on walks.’ He waved a hand towards a collection of framed photos arranged on a shelving unit.

It was a sea of happy faces. Children, grandchildren, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews and cousins… then it struck me that this was a perfect opportunity to ask for help with my problem.

Here was a man of many years with decades of marriage, family and life experience behind him.

‘Do you mind if I ask your advice about something?’

‘Eh?’ He was almost asleep. I felt bad about disturbing him, yet I was desperate. I needed to find a solution.

‘I need some advice.’

‘About what?’ he barked.

I outlined my situation. He listened, and then studied me carefully.

‘Do you love her?’

‘Of course I do, but -‘

‘There’s your answer.’

I chuckled. His manner was similar to my late grandad’s, who was famous for getting straight to the point.

His wife returned, and I took this as my cue to leave. I thanked them for their hospitality (I politely refused the offer a meal) started the van and headed towards the main road.

When I arrived home, over our own evening meal, Helen turned to me.

‘Look Tony, I’ve been thinking. If you really want to go to Australia, let’s give it a try.’

My heart ought to have soared, yet strangely, it didn’t.

‘You’re only saying that to please me,’ I said.

‘Maybe I am. I’m fed- up of going round in circles.’

I thought about the couple I’d visited. They’d seemed so content. I remembered the family photos… the chap had told me that love was the answer. In an instant, I suddenly knew what I had to do.

‘We’re not going to Australia,’ I announced.

Helen looked up. ‘Do you mean that?’

I nodded and took her hand. ‘Yes.’

The man’s advice was spot on – within six months of my decision, Barry went bust and was forced to return home to the UK. He works for me now.

The day after I met that couple, I jumped on to social media and I began promoting my service. Word quickly spread about how reliable I was. Even though we’ve stayed fairly local, we’ve branched out and now we can boast a regular client list.

Later, Helen and I married. No kids yet (But we do have a cat). Well, there’s plenty of time…

We liked to spend our weekends going out for drives in the country.

One warm sunny Sunday, I realised that we’d found ourselves in the area where I’d visited the elderly couple. I’d already told Helen about them.

‘I’d like drop in and thank the chap for his advice,’ I said.

‘Yes. If it wasn’t for him, we could have made a big mistake,’ she added.

I found the lane and parked up.

‘What a gorgeous cottage!’ Helen remarked. ‘The countryside here is so beautiful. Do you know, Tony, I’d love to live here one day.’

We rang the doorbell and a middle- aged woman answered.

‘Oh hello,’ I began. ‘We’re looking for a senior citizen couple. This was their address.’

‘Have you a name?’

I recalled that we hadn’t actually introduced ourselves. There’d been no name on their parcel, either.

‘No.’

‘I’m sorry, I can’t help you.’ The door was gently closed in our faces.

Helen sighed. ‘That’s that then!’

I shivered. It was as if a sixth sense had kicked in… I suddenly felt very cold and sick.

The woman had reminded me of someone. I now realised who it was.

It was Helen. My spine tingled. Had that kind woman really been a future Helen?

Well, if she was Helen… I gulped.  The man must have been me…