Page 70 of A Midlife Marriage

‘I’m not going anywhere.’ Lawrence coughed. ‘Libby can... well, he’s a handful, Ben, but I think I can be of some help, while you’re away.’

‘I’m sure,’ she said quietly, ‘that you can be of a lot of help.’ As she looked up, she smiled. ‘If you get the right-shaped bananas, that is.’

And although he returned the smile, his eyes were glassy. ‘Well.’ He paused, his jaw grinding side to side. ‘If it’s OK with you, I’ll still be selling the house.’

‘Lawrence …’

‘It’s you who made it a home, Helen.’ His voice sounded like metal scraping on metal. ‘Without you, it’s gone back to bricks and mortar.’

‘Lawrence.’ It seemed to be all she could say. As she gripped her purse, her mouth turned down. She didn’t want to cry, but she had made that house, a home. A warm and inviting home. A sanctuary for her children, a haven for the family. Her greatest achievement.

‘So.’ Lawrence took a great breath, his shoulders rising and falling again. ‘There’s still a wedding, I hear? And you’re sure it’s OK to come in?’

‘There is.’ Helen smiled. ‘And I’m sure. It was the bride and groom’s express wish. The more the merrier.’

47

Caught in a shaft of sunlight, the embroidered pearl on Caro’s dress shimmied like a mirage. Deep in thought, she sat towards the back of the room, because who would want a jilted bride in the front row?

Lizzie, that’s who.

It had been Lizzie who had asked if she wanted to stay. Lizzie who had pressed Caro’s hand between her own and whispered the story of a wedding bouquet she had once ordered. And, as Caro sat gazing up at the dripping tiers of the chandelier, she was trying to understand why she had agreed. Why, instead of escaping to the solitude of her flat, she was still in a designer wedding dress, about to watch another bride take their vows. Maybe it was Lizzie herself? A woman who had taken the word the world had forced upon her – spinster - and re-spun it, threading it through with seams of achievement and adventure. A woman, who as Kay had explained, had lived life on her own terms, in a time when women didn’t do that. Who had taught thousands of children, travelled extensively. A woman who was an example and a reassurance, reminding Caro as she did,of herself. Who wouldn’t want to stay and witness this? Who wouldn’t want to enjoy such a last-minute bloom?

Behind her, the creak of a hinge pulled her out of her daydream. She turned just in time to see Lizzie wheeled in, the bouquet in her hands almost taller than her. Caro smiled. How perfect. Lizzie would not have suited the blousy heads of a hydrangea, either.

‘You, OK?’ The whisper came from Kay.

‘Fine.’

‘Sure?’ This time it came from the other side. Helen.

‘I’m sure.’

And as everyone settled back in their seats and waited for the service to begin, Caro put a hand to her chair to steady herself. Across London, when it was all over, the silence of empty rooms beckoned. She could see it clearly, her sofa with its plumped-up cushions, that only she would sit on, the empty space in the toothbrush holder. This was where she would land, right back where she had started. The thought wasn’t anything more frightening than a wide-open door she wasn’t quite ready to walk through. Not right now. Not just yet. Still gripping the seat, she glanced first to Kay, then back at Helen, and then she knew. Nestled between them like this soothed like a rocking chair, held her like a safety net that soon enough she knew she would be able to get up and walk away from, but right now she really needed. And that was why she had stayed. To be with her friends.

48

Cloak/poncho on, lipstick reapplied, Chloe opened her black binder. ‘We are here today,’ she read, ‘to witness the union of two people in the autumn of their lives. Two people who have experienced much and whose decision today shows us that there is always room for a new chapter, a new adventure, a new journey.’

Always room for a new chapter.Helen’s eyes smarted. Never had words carried more meaning and listening to the echo of them in this elegant room she didn’t know what she was feeling more surprised at. That Chloe, with her fringed cape had read them, or that she was listening to them alongside her ex-husband, as he cuddled their grandson.

‘This,’ Chloe continued, ‘is a joining together of two people who have come to know the value of companionship. Because marriage is not just for the young. It is for the ever-wise, the ever-hopeful. Those who know the quiet strength that comes from sharing a life.’

She moved her eyes sideways to look at Lawrence. Ben lay against his shoulder, a saliva-sodden thumb in his mouth, cherubic cheeks filling and falling as he slumbered on. Helooked like his mother. Or his uncle. Or both of them. And as she watched him, all her babies seemed to morph into one. She reached out and stroked his tiny hand. When she was very young, her heart had been whole and uncompromised, and life had been easy. But she had broken it up and given it away. First to Lawrence, then to her children. Now to her grandchild. It was time, to take back a piece for herself. Not all of it. Never all of it. Just enough to be able to kickstart herself into the rest of her life. Enough to be able to mail,Stronger Togetherand accept the job. Enough to get her jabs done, her suitcase packed, her new email set up. Enough to provide the sustenance needed to board a plane and fly six thousand miles away. No one else could do it for her, and she was only just beginning to know, only just beginning to feel, all the tiny recalibrations needed for a woman to live life on her own terms. Each turn of the screw as impossible as it was necessary. She took Ben’s thumb and pressed it between her fingers. Each tiny turn of the screw.

With the ceremony over,the bride and groom had gone ahead in a taxi, accompanied by Alex. ‘I’ve got so much food at my house, it’s coming out of my ears,’ Kay had insisted as a hasty wedding breakfast was arranged. ‘And I’ll drop into Tesco for a sponge cake.’Lawrence had also gone ahead with Libby and Ben, to collect the car. Kay and Caro were outside and only Helen lingered, alone in the sombre reception room. She’d wanted to say a personal thank you to Chloe. The words had been perfect, and Chloe had conducted the affair faultlessly, bending low to accommodate Lizzie, annunciating clearly and loudly, for Kay’s father. It had been a beautiful ceremony, and against all the odds the morning had provided joy. From behind the desk a door opened, the squeaking of hinges loud in the silent space.

‘I’m glad I caught you,’ she said, as Chloe approached. ‘I wanted to say thank you. You really rescued the morning.’

‘Oh, it was nothing.’ Chloe beamed. ‘I’m quite accustomed to thinking on my feet. I used to be a weather girl. Live TV prepares you for all kinds of storms!’ She laughed. ‘Excuse the pun!’

Helen’s lips twitched. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I suppose it does.’

‘Have to rush.’ Chloe waved a hand. ‘I’m off to officiate at a funeral now.’

A funeral?The cloak and the lipstick were still in place.

‘It shouldn’t be too sad an affair,’ Chloe said thoughtfully. ‘He was fifteen.’

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