Man, please stop following me everywhere I go! I told you already, Im mourning my husband. Dont pursue me like this! Youre starting to scare me! my voice rose despite myself.
I remember, I remember But it feels as though youre wearing that black dress for yourself, not just your husband. Forgive me, my admirer wouldnt give up.
Id come to the spa looking only for peacethe kind accompanied by nothing but the rustle of trees and the song of the birds, not the advances of tiresome men. My husband had died so suddenly just recently, and I was trying to come to terms with the magnitude of that loss.
Adam and I had just started refurbishing the flat, saving every penny, allowing ourselves little. And then, suddenly, Adam fell ill, and the ambulance couldnt save him. It was his second heart attack. When the funeral was over, I found myself both without a partner in life and with wallpaper halfway stripped from the walls. I was left as the only adult for my two teenage boys. It was almost impossible to keep going. How does one move through grief like this?
My workmates managed to get me a voucher for a spa retreat. Honestly, I resisted; I barely wanted to leave my home. But my colleagues were insistent:
Youre not the first widow, nor will you be the last. Your boys need you. You have to move forward, Claire. Go, give yourself some space. Clear your head.
So, reluctantly, I went.
Forty days after Adams passing, the pain hadnt softened in the slightest. At the spa, I was paired up in a room with a spirited girl named Tiffany.
She radiated endless joy and lightit was borderline irritating. I had no intention of pouring my heartbreak out to Tiffany. And what need has a young thing like her to know about grief? She quickly attracted the attention of the activities organiser, one of those lively types spas always seem to employthe kind whos either divorced or a lonely widower. I saw right through him I warned Tiffany about his type; likely on his second or third marriage.
Shed just laugh and say,
Oh, dont worry about me, Claire! Im no innocent.
And off she would skip every evening to her dates like it was nothing. I, on the other hand, spent the entire first week holed up in the room, reading a book I can no longer recall and watching TV without taking in a thing.
One morning, however, a rare good mood took me by surprise. Sunlight spilled through the windowa calmness, a kind of grace. I decided Id walk the woods, listen to the birds, and absorb the fresh air. Thats when I met him.
Id noticed him before, in the dining hall. I had no fondness for this short, bold man with his unashamed gaze. He was a head shorter than me. Unpleasant, I thought.
Still, he was meticulously tidy, clean-shaven, and dressed sharply. Each evening, hed give me a deferential little bow at dinner. Id nod in returnout of politeness. One evening, though, he took it a step further and joined me at my table.
Feeling lonely, madam?his voice rich and soft.
No, I tensed at his question.
Dont fib, miss. Grief is written clear across your face. Maybe I can help? he insisted.
Youre observant. I do grieve my late husband. Any more questions? I dabbed my hands and rose slightly, hoping hed take the hint.
Forgive me, I didnt know. My condolences. Still, allow me to introduce myselfJames, he hurried to say.
It was clear James feared hed lose contact with me.
Claire, I responded tersely before making my escape.
After that, James would come sit with me every dinner, always bringing a posy of bluebells. They grew everywhere around the spa. Admittedly, it was sweet. Still, I had no plans to further anything. There was no need
But James was persistent. Before I knew it, he was joining me for my evening walks. I even started wearing flats to minimise our height difference. James, though, wasnt the least bothered about being shortor his shiny bald head. I realised his charm was all in his voice; Id never heard such a compelling male voice before. It seemed Id fallen into a carefully woven net.
Now James and I started attending evening dances together, and took little trips to town for fruit More than once he tried to lure me back to his room. I held firm.
As the last day approached, James asked, almost plaintively,
Claire, I leave tomorrow morning. Wont you join me for a cup of tea in my room this evening?
Ill consider it, I replied airily.
That night, knowing full well how it would end, I decided not to disappoint James and joined him. The table was elegantly set, brimming with treatsI suspected hed borrowed the cutlery from the dining halland there was a bottle of prosecco.
Shall we, Claire? I dont know how Ill manage tomorrow when we part. Leave me your addressI promise Ill visit, James said rather sadly.
Youll forget in a day or two. I know your sort. So what are we drinking to, James? I asked, realising Id finally let down my guard.
Isnt it obvious? To love, Claire. To love! he raised his glass.
The next morning found us wrapped around each other. For heavens sake, why had I resisted him for so long? Why hadnt I come to Jamess room sooner? So much wasted time! As daft as it sounds, I fell for him like a schoolgirl. Yet, that afternoon, I had to pack my things and leave.
I said goodbye to Tiffany, who sat on the bed in tears.
What on earth, Tiff? I asked.
Im pregnant, Claire, and I dont know who the father is, she sobbed.
Was it your party organiser? I prodded, trying to make sense of it.
Im not sure. There was another lad, too From the neighbouring guesthouse. Hes married, she confessed.
Oh, Tiffany. Call your parents, darling. Have them come, get things sorted. How did they even let you come along? For now, lets see the manager. Maybe we can untangle this mess, I advised.
She darted out of the room in tears. Poor girl, shell learn her lesson about cheeky charmers soon enough
Packing my things, I realised just how much I really didnt want to leave. Everything had grown familiarespecially James.
The coach arrived. James came to see me off, holding another bunch of bluebells. I welled up and hugged him closely. That was it. A brief romance at its end. My heart squeezed; I knew that if James called me back, Id have dropped everything, right then and there.
James and I lived in different cities, so the only way to keep in touch was by letter. But it wasnt Jamess letter that arrivedit was from his wife. She wrote that she knew everything, and that nothing would come of it: after all, she was thirty and I was forty. I didnt write back. What would be the point?
Half a year later, out of the blue, James turned up at my door. My sons were surprised by this unknown visitor, but said nothing.
James? Just passing through or? I asked hopefully, (I longed to hear Im here for good.)
For good if youll have me, Claire? James hesitated in the hallway.
My sons, flustered, scuttled to their room.
So, what brings you? You brought a letter from your wife? I quipped.
Forgive me, Claire. I wrote to you, but she found my letter My fault, I know. Weve divorced, James confessed.
I had no idea you were married If Id known, thered have been nothing between us. So, what now? I was uncertain of his intentions.
Lets get married, Claire, James proposed quite suddenly.
I dont know. Ive childrenyouve just seen them. How will they react? I cant just rush into it, I hesitated, though his offer made my heart lift.
Children are brilliant. I have a daughter, ten, James surprised me.
You left your daughter? I was confused.
Not at all. Im planning to bring Sophie to live with us. Her mothers fond of a drink. Well make a real family, he promised.
Hold on, James. I dont even know your daughter, yet youve made me her mother already. I think youre moving a bit fast. Give me time. Ill talk to my boys. Well see. Come on, you must be hungry, groom with a past, I smiled.
Of course, it wasnt all a picture-perfect family. There were arguments, slammed doors all sorts. Were all different, and its not easy to back down during rows.
Time always rushes forward.
My elder son, Andrew, and SophieJamess daughtergrew up and married each other, but then ended up turning against both James and me. They dug out old childhood grievances, blaming us for breaking up old families. They insisted James shouldnt have left his drinking wife and I, as a widow, should never have remarried. Finally, Andrew and Sophie left for a rented flat of their own.
James and I could only shrug, and carry on loving one another despite it all.
A year passed.
Our prodigal children stayed away. Sophie would only call James on his birthday.
Three years on, though, they invited us round. James and I were as nervous as we were surprised, but of course, we went.
Turned out, Andrew and Sophie had a sona grandson for both James and me, the ties that bound us. At the family table, they asked us to forgive them. They said, Life can take you anywhereyou must learn to forgive, and honour your parents, for they gave you life. Thats why, they said, they named their son Oliverto remind the family of kindness and peace.
Thats our own new happiness, born anew, between James and me.
