He was born in London, she in Nottingham. They first met aged six on family holidays near Weymouth. Their mothers told how they sat with their exposed legs dangling in the stream singing nursery rhymes.
He schooled in London, she in Nottingham. On a school visit to Weymouth aged 13 he was was hiding from bullies when he heard a familiar voice that he couldn’t place. They spent the day together. He bought her ice-cream then they swam together and sung their favourite songs by the same stream.
In Cambridge as a fresher he waited for registration scared by what the next few years would hold. Then from nowhere her familiar face approached him. They read different subjects but joined the same societies and danced in the same dances. Neither would admit they capitulated to the other but by the time they left they were engaged.
After their wedding they had little money so they honeymooned in Waymouth and this is where developments started to strike a different, darker chord. The hotel they had stayed in as children was gone and a new car park made their stream less romantic. She became irritated by his perpetual humming, something she had found charming before their wedding. After three miscarriages and a massive row over something she walked out.
He aged in London, she in Nottingham. When his cancer became critical he was moved into hospital. One day sitting outside his ward in the sunshine he saw an old lady helped out of an ambulance into A&E. They held eye contact only for a second but he knew. When he found her they sat in the sun and told each other of their lives, she had remarried and had two children; he had lived a life never giving up hope he would smile to her again. Her recapitulation came that day, as she hugged him his cancer made its final move on his frail body.
He died in her arms smiling.