Page 5 of One Moment in Time
The tea was working, and the words were flowing now. ‘I really don’t want to hurt him. Any passion we had is long gone, but I still love him as a friend. I just want more than that now. I want more than the same thing, day in, day out. I need to sit him down and make him understand…’
‘You do,’ Bernadette agreed.
‘And I need to tell the girls too. I think that’s what I’m dreading most. They’ll be devastated. They love their dad and we’ve always been so close, the four of us…’
‘But they love you too, Brenda. Even if it’s a shock at first, they’ll come round when they understand that you’re doing it for the sake of your happiness.’
‘But at the expense of theirs and Colin’s?’ Brenda challenged, repeating the same argument that had raged in her head since she had first contemplated leaving.
‘Yes, even then. They’re lovely girls and they’ve got good heads on their shoulders. They’d hate to see you stay in an unhappy situation just for them. I’ve no doubt they’ll be worried about their dad’s feelings, but if you all pull together, hopefully you’ll be able to help each other through the tough bits.’
Brenda took another slug of tea. ‘I hope so. Bernadette, thank you – it’s such a relief to talk.’
‘I just wish you’d said something sooner. Preferably before I went warbling on about my newfound happy life.’
Brenda shook her head. ‘No! That’s exactly what I want to hear about. Happy ever afters. Gives me hope that I might get one too. I don’t mean a new bloke. I just mean a life where I feel things, have a purpose, where there’s excitement and surprises and even bits that bloody terrify me. S’pose telling the girls will be good practice for that.’
‘So when are you going to do it?’ Bernadette asked, apprehension causing tiny wrinkles on her forehead. ‘Just so I know to book a day off and bring wine for afterwards.’
Brenda had already thought this through. ‘Not yet. You know it’s our thirtieth wedding anniversary in a few weeks, and the girls have planned some kind of family trip to celebrate the occasion. I don’t have the heart to tell them before then because it’s already all arranged. No idea where we’re going. Probably a week in the Lake District – we always took the girls there when they were younger and we loved it. Anyway, Zara told me we were doing something months ago because she knew I’d have to book the time off, so I know it’s all organised. I’ll wait until after that. And when we’re away, I’ll put a face on and just enjoy every second of our last trip all together, the four of us.’
‘Are you sure you’ll be able to keep up the pretence of being happy?’ There was an edge of doubt in Bernadette’s voice that Brenda understood, but she nodded firmly.
‘I’ve been doing it for years, Bernadette, so I can manage it for a while longer. When we get back from the trip, I’ll start looking for somewhere to live, just a wee flat somewhere nice would be fine. Then I’ll tell everyone and do everything I can to make it as painless as possible. I’m dreading it, but it’s the only way. I want to have a future I can look forward to, but first, heart-breaking as it will be, I need to close the chapter on my life with Colin. You never know, maybe when we’re away, he'll realise that he wants more than this too.’
Even as she was saying it, Brenda knew she was clutching at broken straws. She was going to have to be the one to end this marriage. She just had to wait for the right place and the right time to do it.
3
AIDEN GREGG
April 2023
The South Carolina sun was reflecting off the ocean, glinting in the waves that lapped up on the Hilton Head Island sands. The only child of Scottish parents, Gary and Eileen Gregg, Aiden had grown up in Charleston, about a two-hour drive away, but he’d spent every summer and vacation on Hilton Head, so the sands behind his parents’ beach house had been his first and only choice for his wedding to Layla. Or, rather, his dad’s beach house. His dad had kept the house as part of the divorce settlement and had to pay his mum half the value. He’d be ranting and moaning about that until the end of time. Which was probably around the same time Layla would get here. Punctuality had never been her strong point. It would probably have been a good idea to tell her that the ceremony was taking place an hour before it actually was, because she was already half an hour late and he could see his mom was beginning to wilt in the noon heat. Or maybe that was more down to her proximity to his father.
They’d been divorced for around a decade now, but Aiden knew his mom still found any encounter with his dad a challenge. Especially when, like today, his dad had pitched up with a twenty-nine-year-old nightclub hostess called Mitzy, who was on her third espresso martini and was already threatening to demonstrate that she could do the splits in heels. Right now, Mr Gregg senior and Mitzy were standing over at the bar, shooting back tequila with his best man, Trevon. Trevon was his closest friend, former housemate, entrepreneur, successful owner of a chain of fitness centres and the man he loved like a brother, but still, Aiden made a mental note to disown him if he got wasted and lost the rings.
The string quartet at the other side of the sandy aisle were on their third rendition, or was it the fourth, of the piece of music Layla had chosen. His side of the family had provided the venue and he’d paid for the honeymoon. Layla’s mom had been none too pleased at the low-key vibe of her daughter’s big day, so she’d insisted on organising the string quartet, a theatrical celebrant, and a buffet that was right now being prepared at the house. And, of course, the dress, which Layla had hinted had cost more than his car.
He wasn’t surprised. In the months they’d been together, his bride had made no secret that while she could hang out at the beach and tag along to a ball game, she enjoyed the finer things in life too.
They’d met when she taken the treadmill next to him during one of his daily 5 a.m. workouts at Trevon’s gym in the city centre. It was a Monday morning and Aiden had smiled and nodded. On the Tuesday morning he’d said hi. On the Wednesday morning, he’d introduced himself. On Thursday morning they’d chatted while they ran and he had established a brief bio. Layla. 29. Single. Worked in marketing, mainly in the lifestyle and travel sectors. Lived in an apartment just a few blocks from his. Liked to socialise, travel and drink coffee while the sun came up.
On the Friday, he’d asked her out for dinner that night. The dinner had turned into breakfast the next morning, then Saturday night dinner, then Sunday brunch, and they’d both been so intoxicated with each other that they’d had to force themselves not to carry their immediate and intense romance on for several more days, mainly because he didn’t think the partners at his law firm would appreciate their top matrimonial lawyer showing up wearing the distracting Aroma De Sleepless Nights, with top notes of Lust and Jack Daniel’s.
Yep, despite living in the waste ground left by the battle of his parents’ split, there was the boot in the irony bollocks. He was a divorce lawyer. A choice that was no doubt inspired by his parents’ marriage dissolution while he was at college. They’d tried not to let any of it affect him, but every time he saw his mom and dad he could read the stress on their faces and a scan of the divorce petition told him that although they were putting amicable faces on for his sake, there were accusations of infidelity against his dad (which were almost certainly true), and plenty of demands and tussles over the division of twenty years’ worth of assets. Call it subliminal messaging, but when he’d graduated with his degree from the University of South Carolina School of Law, family law had been the speciality he'd immediately gravitated towards.
Anyway, back to finding the love of his life. Sure, it was the physical stuff that had attracted him at first: the long mane of dark Camila Cabello waves, the huge brown eyes and the perfect smile that – clichéd as it was – had him at hello. She was very recently divorced, which in hindsight, might have been a red flag to some people, but he preferred to disregard that and just call himself lucky.
Layla was stunning, she was smart and she was crazy enough to have fallen in love with Aiden just as hard and fast as he’d fallen for her. Within three weeks, she’d moved in with him, six months later they were engaged, and now, not even a year after they’d met, they were here, on the golden sands, with rows of white wooden chairs under two huge beige tarpaulin shades, an arch of white flowers at the end of the aisle, a celebrant and everyone they loved. Or rather, he was here. Layla was late, as usual. It was her one habit that drove him crazy, but he’d chosen to overlook it and focus on the stunning and smart stuff.
‘I’m sure she’ll be here any minute,’ he told the celebrant, a large gent who was beginning to perspire in the heat. ‘Can I get you a drink? Some water?’
‘Yes, please. And a bride. A bride would be excellent.’
Aiden had been under the impression that wedding celebrants were supposed to spread joy, but this bloke – a friend of Layla’s frankly terrifying mother – clearly hadn’t got the memo. Her mother wasn’t even here to placate him. Layla was having her one sister as a bridesmaid and both her parents were walking her down the aisle. Aiden loved that choice. He was all in favour of the moms getting centre stage too.
On the way to the makeshift bar at the back of the chairs – it was a laid-back affair with two bartenders serving beer, wine and cocktails – he crouched down beside his own mom, sitting at the end seat on the front row. She’d brought a plus-one of the male variety, Kurt, a guy she’d first mentioned a couple of months ago. This was the first time Aiden had met him, but just on aesthetics he could see why his mom was into him.
