Page 25 of Things We Never Said
‘Compassionate, eh?’
‘Uh-huh. And you know what I’m like about anything that even remotely smacks of mumbo-jumbo. I suddenly felt like I was paying the most unstable girlfriend I ever had at college for counselling. It’s funny really, because half the time the women who become counsellors can’t even make a cup of tea without bursting into tears. It’s nearly always the emotional wrecks who suddenly want to become counsellors.’
Sean laughs. ‘Yes, I know what you mean, actually. There’s definitely some truth in that.’
‘Oh!’ April reaches down for her handbag and rummages inside it. ‘She actually gave me a bit of compassionate quartz. I’ve got it here somewhere.’
‘Yeah?’ Sean asks.
‘Ha!’ April says, producing a small rose-coloured stone from the depths of her bag. ‘Ta-da!’
‘Ooh, my,’ Sean says mockingly, peering at the stone. ‘That does look like a compassionate bit of rock.’
‘You can have it,’ April offers, pushing it towards Sean with her fingertip. ‘I think it’s healed me now, so ...’
‘Well, thanks,’ Sean says, taking the stone and rolling it between finger and thumb. ‘I, um, don’t know what to say.’
‘Om, maybe?’ April suggests.
‘Om?’
‘As in,ommmmmmm,’ she says, making meditational ‘O’ signs with her fingers and thumbs.
‘Ah,om... Yes.’
A waitress appears at their table. ‘Cod and chips and a niçoise salad?’ she asks.
‘Yep,’ Sean says, sliding the stone into his trouser pocket. ‘Yep, that’s us.’
Snapshot #8
35mm format, colour. A young couple stand in front of a red-brick council building. The woman is wearing a simple white satin dress with translucent lacy sleeves. She has back-brushed her hair to increase its volume and is holding a posy of pink flowers. The man is dressed in a black, wide-lapelled, pinstripe suit, a white shirt and a wide red tie. He’s wearing oversized aviator-style glasses and grinning broadly.
Sean studies the photo as he eats his Sunday breakfast of toast and Marmite. He can remember the sensation and the mothball smell of the too-big suit, purchased from the local Oxfam shop.
He looks at his own beaming grin, his wispy beard and his huge NHS prescription glasses. ‘The eighties ...’ he mumbles. ‘Jesus!’
It had been an incredibly stressful day and he had been smiling because that was the moment he realised that they had made it through. They had, despite all of the objections, managed it.
His father had refused to come. Because his mother had made an excuse for him, Catherine had never known this. Cynthia had said that her husband’s back was bad. But yes, he had refused, point blank, to come. If Sean wanted to ruin his life, that was up to him, he’d said. But he was damned if he was going to bear witness to it.
Cynthia had come, though, driven by Perry in his brand-new Jaguar. Perry was in real estate and these were the Thatcher years. Perry’s double-breasted suit had probably cost more than Sean’s entire student grant.
But the truth was that it would have been better if they had all just stayed away. Perry seemed to think that his brotherly duty was to ask Sean repeatedly if he was absolutely certain he wanted to get married. And his mother had spent the day looking thin-lipped and inexplicably angry.
Even Catherine’s mother had been against the wedding to start with. But being of a more pragmatic nature than Sean’s mum, she had performed an impressive U-turn once she realised that it couldn’t be stopped. The second her daughter had entered the register office, Wendy had switched from sucking lemons to become their most enthusiastic cheerleader. Once the deed was done, she had even, somewhat bizarrely, thanked Sean.
‘I think this is incredible, what you’re doing,’ she had said. ‘Thank you so much.’
When he had asked Catherine about this a few days later, she had simply laughed. ‘She’s just thankful someone’s taken me off her hands,’ she said. ‘She never thought anyone would be mad enough.’
Cassette #8
Hello fiancé.
So, the big day! The 27th of November, 1982. I was freezing in that dress, but I didn’t have a nice coat I could wear, so I grinned and put up with it. Just look at how young we were!
Looking at this photo now, I can see why Mum was so upset. Weweretoo young to get married. And I was too young to have a baby. Not that I regret any of it, but lord, can you imagine how we would have felt if April had got pregnant at eighteen? You would have had a hissy fit.
