Page 54 of For One Moment With You
She sighed. ‘I don’t think it will be long.’ She was silent for a moment. ‘Tilly?’ Her eyes gazed into mine. ‘You deserve happiness as much as any of us. You do know that, don’t you? If you’re not happy with Gareth, why don’t you leave him?’
I stared at her, shocked. ‘The trouble is, I don’t know how to. And there’s the boys…’
‘The boys are going away before too long.’ She was silent again. ‘Life is short, Tilly. Happiness doesn’t come our way all that often. But if it does, promise me. This time, you’ll grab it with both hands.’
‘OK,’ I said shakily, wiping away a tear. ‘Thanks, Mum.’ My emotions were all over the place. ‘You’re the best.’
‘I’m not, am I? Or I would have said something a long time ago.’ She was on a roll. ‘If at any point your father starts up about the evils of divorce, don’t listen to him.’ She sounded determined. ‘Far better to cut your losses than waste the rest of your life with a man who doesn’t – who’s never – deserved you.’
It was the last conversation we had, just the two of us, as too soon, it was followed by the saddest day. After rallying to see Lizzie married, my mum waited until she and Rick were back from their honeymoon, before passing away peacefully in her sleep.
We’d known it was on the cards, but it made no difference. Coming sooner than any of us were prepared for, our entire family was devastated. I knew from that point onward, life was never going to be the same. There were the inevitable calls to people to whom my mum had been important, her funeral to plan; her loss weaving a thread of sadness into all our lives.
Meanwhile, Lizzie had the bright idea of giving my dad a cat. She also had an answer to my objections, that our dad was struggling to look after himself, let alone anything else.
‘It’s company, Tills. Another heartbeat in the house – don’t you see?’
The cat proved a distraction, if nothing else, as our lives slowly morphed to fit this strange world we found ourselves in. After worrying about my mum, now I was worrying about my father. When it came to the practicalities, my mum had always done everything. See the recurring theme? It meant that without her, I had no idea how he was going to cope, which meant someone had to help him. With Lizzie newly married, and hard at work on her interior design business, it was the unspoken yet nevertheless obvious solution that that person was going to be me.
With hindsight – that word again – my mum’s death should have galvanised me into taking a good hard look at my own life. Into seizing each day; to make the most of the rest of my life, as she’d urged me. But instead, the disconnect between me and Gareth seemed less important than it ever had. Our marriage was reduced to coexisting in the same house, as I busied myself looking after everyone else.
Then in what seemed like no time, the boys left for uni and I found myself a part-time job as everything changed yet again.
15
Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not.
EPICURUS
Lying unconscious in the hospital, whiteness surrounds my unresponsive body, the only sounds the electronic noises of the machines that are keeping me alive, buying me more time, as I become aware of people moving around me; faint voices speaking accented English.
‘We have traced her family. A friend is contacting them. It will be good for them to come here.’
Euphoria fills me at the thought of seeing the boys. But then panic wells up inside me. The boys will be so worried. I don’t want them to see me like this. But suddenly the realisation dawns on me that maybe my time is running out.
I have another sudden wake-up call. It’s seismic; the magnitude of when I met Adam. You see, it’s never been more obvious to me that what’s important is what you see in other people. How you go about your days. What’s in your heart. Time takes on new significance as I lie here, fighting off fear, while sadness overwhelms me. Regret, that I haven’t done half of what I wanted with this precious life of mine. That maybe I never will, as I consider.
Maybe I’m not coming out of this.
16
Nothing endures but change.
HERACLITUS
So here I am. Back on the last leg of the journey that’s brought me to Crete. At the time, I remember feeling a little proud of myself. After all, as one forty-something soon to be ex-wife who’d never been anywhere alone, I was moving swiftly and impressively on to the next chapter of my life. And coping pretty bloody admirably, I couldn’t help thinking – albeit still with the hindrance of my rather large suitcase.
I remember it briefly crossing my mind that pride comes before a fall. But only briefly. But given what I was coming through, I was doing OK – with one caveat – as long as I didn’t stop and think too much. To be honest,not thinkingis probably what kept me going.
* * *
Meanwhile, there were plenty of other things to occupy my mind, such as the views from the train and exploring new cities, before I found myself at the airport in Rome, where, after leaving my suitcase in the bag drop, I was busying myself trying to find the right departure gate.
As I walked, I was marvelling how everyone around me seemed to know where they were going – and not just at that. They had a distinctly European look in a kind of effortlessly stylish way, while I looked very English – and not in a good way.But you are English, I reminded myself. I also looked more than a bit frumpy, as it occurred to me it really was time I did something about that.
Imagining getting a very European haircut and a snazzy new pair of jeans, I wondered what the shops in Crete would be like. Lingering in duty free, I picked up the bottle of perfume I’d planned to buy at Heathrow, fantasising briefly about spending some of Gareth’s money on presents for the boys and expensive make-up I’d probably never wear – it was just as well I wasn’t travelling light. But this morning, there wasn’t the time. There were more urgent things to attend to – like making sure I caught my flight. Having found the gate, while I waited to board, for no reason, my brain slipped sideways as I had a sudden pang of longing for the familiarity of home, for my empty old house, even Rick’s sorrowful presence.
But then I shook myself. If melancholy had become my comfort zone, I needed to work on that. Pushing all thoughts of home aside, I looked out of the window where aircraft were taxying. I was in Rome, for goodness’ sake, about to board a flight to Athens, where I was going to take a ferry to Crete. It wasn’t the time for feeling maudlin. This was the stuff dreams are made of.
