She wondered what to do with her life—whether to start afresh with her career and retrain, or just accept that she was stuck in retail for good. It was a conundrum. Sarah hated that it had come to this. Her whole life she’d drifted from one retail job to another, going through the daily grind and meeting people who were sometimes nice, sometimes awful. Surely there was more to life than this.
This particular Tuesday was uneventful as usual. She opened the health food shop, methodically organised the shelves, and waited for the delivery van. Her mind wandered, drifting back to all the jobs she’d wanted to do as a child. A roadside mechanic came to mind—she’d met plenty growing up thanks to her parents’ unreliable VW campervan. Her grandmother used to remind her she’d also wanted to be a fireman.
There was a theme there. Maybe something to do with driving. She did enjoy it.
“Sarah!”
She jumped. “Sorry, morning Glen, miles away. What d’you need?”
“Signature,” he said, hopping down from the van. “What were you thinking about?”
She shrugged. “Nothing much. What did you want to be when you were a kid?”
“Dinosaur expert,” he said, pulling open the back. “Didn’t know the word for it back then. Used to mess about in the stream near ours, pretending I’d found fossils.”
Sarah smiled. “Sounds better than this. You ever thought about doing it properly? Uni or something?”
“Nah. Did a bit of college. That was enough for me. I wanted to be out driving, not stuck in a classroom.”
“Is it nice, though? The open road?”
“Yeah,” he said, lifting a box onto his shoulder. “Getting up into the Dales, or the Peaks on a clear day… can’t beat it. Proper views. Big sky.”
“That does sound nice.”
“It is. You ever go, go in the afternoon—the light’s better.”
She nodded.
“What’s brought this on?” He glanced at her. “You just look like you’re somewhere else.”
She hesitated. “Just feels like there’s probably more out there than this town.”
“Yeah,” he said simply. “There is. You’ve just got to go find it.”
He carried two boxes inside, then added, “You’re young. Fit. Nothing really stopping you, is there?”
“Motivation, maybe.”
“That’ll do it,” he laughed. “I dunno—I make lists sometimes. Stuff I’ve done, stuff I still want to do. Helps a bit.”
“Maybe I’ll try that.”
“Worth a go,” he said, handing her the clipboard.
After Glen left, Sarah slowly put out the delivery, rotating stock in a bit of a daze. Maybe she should try that. She ran through her achievements in her head. History degree—tick. Mortgage on a one-bed house—tick. Car—tick. And… that was about it. That was depressing. No family. No proper travelling—unless you counted childhood holidays to France. No, amazing job. The phrase stuck in a rut crept in and refused to leave. She had to get out—but how? And where would she even go?
“Morning, Sarah.”
Her boss breezed in, looking immaculate in an orange two-piece suit and oversized sunglasses.
“Morning, Beth,” Sarah said.
“You look a bit off. Everything alright?”
“Yeah. Just one of those days. Thought I might go for a walk at lunch, clear my head.”
“Fresh air fixes most things,” Beth said. “Go on, take your time.”
At lunchtime, Sarah grabbed her packed lunch and headed down to the river. She found a bench in the sun and sat watching the water ripple while ducks nudged each other about. She was halfway through her crisps when a man sat at the other end of the bench. She glanced at him briefly. Smart—older. Navy trousers, waistcoat, blazer, crisp white shirt and a Trilby hat. He carried a dark wooden cane that caught the light when he moved it. Bit much for this town, she thought. But no one here would bat an eye.
“Lovely day,” he said suddenly.
She jumped slightly. “Yeah. Shame I’ve got to go back to work soon. I’d happily stay here all afternoon.”
“I’ve been all over the UK,” he said, “and I still come back to Devon. Hard to beat it.”
“I wouldn’t know,” she said. “Haven’t travelled much. Heard Yorkshire’s nice, though.”
“It is. The Dales, especially. It feels like the sky goes on forever.”
“It sounds nice. The closest we’ve got is the beach about half an hour away. Or I used to go to Dartmoor, years ago.”
“You should go back,” he said. “Make the effort. It’s just as beautiful as anywhere else. New Zealand, for example.”
She blinked. “You’ve been to New Zealand?”
“Yes”, he said. “Very nice. A bit like here. Better weather, though.”
He smiled, tipped his hat, and stood.
“Enjoy your afternoon,” he said, before walking off.
That evening, Sarah made a decision. She’d start small. Local places. Somewhere easy. Dartmoor. The weekend came, and—miraculously—it was warm and clear. Perfect.
She drove up to a well-known car park on the ridge, her sat nav taking her the long way through winding villages. But when she reached the top, it took her breath away. Rolling moorland. Rocky outcrops. Heather stretching out in every direction. She’d planned a small circular walk—nothing ambitious. About three miles, with a decent viewpoint halfway round. This time, she left her headphones in her pocket. Just listened to the wind, the birds, the occasional bleat of sheep, and passing walkers.
Halfway round, she climbed onto a large boulder and unpacked her lunch. Cheese and chutney sandwich. Warm sun on her face. Then she felt it—that odd sense of someone nearby. She looked up. It was him, the man from the bench. This time, his outfit made more sense—light linen suit, proper hiking boots, and a square picnic basket slung over one shoulder. Still oddly formal, though.
“Hello again,” he called, walking over.
“Hi,” she said. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Good day for it,” he said. “You made it up here, then.”
“Yeah. It’s… amazing, actually.” She glanced at the basket. “That looks heavy.”
“It is,” he said, smiling.
He set it down and sat on a nearby rock.
“So,” he said, “now you’ve had a taste of it—what’s next?”
“What d’you mean?”
“Will you go somewhere else?”
She shrugged. “Maybe. On a day like this, I suppose anywhere could be nice. Yorkshire, maybe.”
“Then go,” he said.
“Just like that?”
“Why not?”
She laughed. “A bit far for a Sunday afternoon.”
“Doesn’t have to be Yorkshire,” he said. “Anywhere you like.”
“Anywhere?” she said. “Even Mars?”
“If that’s what you want.”
She smiled, shaking her head, and turned her face to the sun. It felt warm—comforting. He handed her a can.
“Here,” he said. “Cold lemonade.”
She took it. “Thanks.”
It was properly cold. She frowned slightly, but didn’t question it. Just opened it and took a long drink. She leaned back, closing her eyes for a moment, letting the warmth sink in.
“Anywhere…” she murmured.
When she opened her eyes, she wasn’t on the moor anymore. The air hit her first—thick, stifling heat. She sat bolt upright. Gone were the rolling hills, the sheep, the wind, the distant chatter of walkers. Now there was only rock. Jagged, endless rock. She was perched on a craggy ledge, the ground uneven beneath her.
The sky above looked wrong—too harsh, too bright. The silence was absolute. No birds. No wind. Nothing. Her heart began to race. Slowly, she turned her head, taking in the alien landscape stretching out in every direction. Dry. Barren. Endless. Her grip tightened around the empty lemonade can.
“Right,” she muttered under her breath. A beat.
“…should’ve picked New Zealand.”
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