Lucy, are you out of your mind at your age? Your grandchildren are already in school, what on earth do you mean, a wedding? Thats what I heard from my sister Margaret when I told her I was getting married.
But what was there to wait for? In a weeks time, Tony and I would be signing the register, so I had to let my sister know, I thought. Of course, she wouldn’t be able to join us for the ceremony; we lived at opposite ends of England. Nor were we about to throw a grand party with all the fuss and commotionat sixty, neither of us was interested in that. Wed simply be wed quietly and enjoy a modest meal, just the two of us.
It would have been perfectly easy not to marry at all, but Tony was insistent. Hes a true gentleman in every sense: always holding doors open, offering his arm as I get out of the car, helping me on with my coat. No, he wouldnt be satisfied without that proper stamp in the register. Im not some young lad, he said. I want something proper and committed. And to me, Tony really is a lad at heart, white-haired or not. At his workplace, people only address him formally as Mr. Anthony, always respectful, always reserved. But whenever he sees me, its as though forty years fall away from himhe sweeps me up in his arms and spins me around on the street. As much as I feel pure joy, I cant help but feel a tad embarrassed, and I say, Tony, people are watching. They’ll laugh. Let them look,” he replies. “Youre the only one I see! Sometimes, when were together, I really do feel that the whole wide world has vanished, and its just us two left.
Still, I had my sister Margaret, and she had to hear it from me. I was afraid shed judge, like many others, but more than anything, I longed for her support. Eventually, I plucked up the courage and rang her.
Lucy! Are you serious? she exclaimed when she heard I was going to be remarried. Its only been a year since we buried Victor, and already youve found someone else! I knew my news would come as a shock, but I hadnt expected that her dismay would be for my late husband.
Maggie, I broke in, I remember, of course I do. But who decides these things? Can you tell me an actual number? How long should I have to wait before Im allowed to be happy again, without anyone looking down on me?
She fell quiet. For decencys sake, Lucy, Id say at least five years.
So Im to tell Tony: sorry, come back in five years, Ill be in mourning for now?
Margaret stayed silent.
What does it accomplish? I carried on, Even in five years, wont there be people wagging tongues about us? Honestly, Im beyond caring what they say. But your opinion does matter. If you insist, Margaret, Ill call the whole thing off.
Oh, I wouldnt want to be responsible for that, she finally sighed. Get married if you must, but know I dont understand or support you. You always were a bit of a maverick, but honestly, I cant believe youd be so reckless at our age. For goodness sake, wait at least another year. But I wouldnt yield.
You say, wait a yearbut what if Tony and I only have a year left, who knows?
She sniffled, trying to compose herself. You do as you think best. I get it, everyone wants their bit of happiness. But Lucy, you lived such a happy life already
I laughed aloud. Oh, Margaret, do you really mean that? Did you, too, always think I was truly happy? I suppose I used to believe it myself. Now I see what I truly was: a workhorse. I hardly even realised life could be differenta life thats full of joy!
Victor was a good man. Together we raised two daughters, and now I have five grandchildren. He always told me the family came first, and I never argued. First we worked ourselves ragged for the girls, then for their families, and then for the grandchildren. Looking back now, life was just a race for comfort, with not even a pause for lunch. When our eldest daughter married, we had acquired a small cottage in the country, but Victor wanted to expandgrow our own meat for the grandkids.
We leased a few acres outside Oxford, took on livestock, and with it, far more burden than we could have guessed. He bought sheep and chickens; they had to be tended daily. We never went to bed before midnight, up again at five. Spent nearly every week of the year at the cottage, only going to the city on urgent errands. If I found a spare moment to phone friends, they’d boastone had just come back from a seaside holiday with her granddaughter, another had been to the theatre with her husband. For us, there was no time to go to the theatreor even pop round to the shops!
There were days when we had no bread in the house, tied down as we were by the animals. The only consolation was knowing our children and grandchildren were well-fed. Our eldest swapped her car for a newer model thanks to our produce; the youngest managed a home renovation. Our toil wasn’t for nothing. I recall a visit from a former colleague, who took one look at me and said,
Lucy, I hardly recognised youI thought youd be out here breathing fresh air, full of life. But youre worn to a rag! Why are you putting yourself through this?
How else? Someones got to help the girls, I replied.
Theyre adultstheyll look after themselves, she said. Why not try living for yourself once?
At the time, I didnt understand what living for oneself meant. I do now. You can sleep in, take leisurely strolls to the shops, go to the cinema, to the pool, even skiingwithout feeling guilty for a moment! And life doesnt crumble as a result. The children dont go without, the grandkids arent hungry. Ive even learned to look at the ordinary in a new light.
Whereas before, bagging up dead leaves in the garden made me crossthey were just another messnow leaves lift my spirits. When I wander through the park, I kick through them like a child. I love the rain because now I neednt dash about herding goats under shelterI can watch it from a cosy café window. Ive noticed the clouds, the sunsets, the delight of fresh snow underfoot for the very first time. Our cityBathstrikes me as beautiful at last. I owe this awakening to Tony.
After Victor died, I lived as if in a daze. His heart seized up, and he was gone before the ambulance could do a thing. The girls sold the animals, the cottage, and brought me back to the city. The first days I wandered from room to room, waking at five without a clue of what to do next. I was utterly lost.
When Tony appeared in my life, I clearly recall the first walk he took me on. He was our neighbourknew my son-in-lawand had helped us move from the cottage. He told me much later that he hadnt thought of romance at first; just saw a faded, broken woman and felt for me. He realised there was someone lively in me, buried deep, and wanted to coax her back. So, one day, he invited me to the park. We sat on a bench, Tony bought us ice creams, then suggested feeding bread to the ducks at the pond. Id kept ducks at the cottage, but never once had I stopped to simply watch them. Who knew they could be so comical, all that diving and flapping!
“I cant believe I can just stand here and watch ducks,” I confessed. Back home, all I had time for was boiling up their grain, mixing feed, mucking them out. Here, I can just enjoy them.
Tony squeezed my hand. Wait and see,” he said, “Ill show you a whole new world. Youll feel reborn.
And he was right. I felt like a child again, enchanted by ordinary things. The life Id lived before started to seem like a heavy dream. I cant remember the moment I realised how much I needed Tonyhis voice, his laugh, his gentle touch. But one day, I woke up knowing that without him, and this new life, I couldnt go on.
My daughters were in open revolt at first, claiming I was betraying their fathers memory, which hurt deeply. I felt guilty before them. Tonys children, in contrast, were delighted, glad that someone would be there for their dad. All that remained was to tell my sister, which I put off till the very last minute.
So when is the registry? Margaret asked after our long talk.
This Friday.
Well, what can I say? Best wishes in your old age, she closed the call, sounding resigned.
That Friday, Tony and I bought some nice food, put on our Sunday best, hailed a cab and set off for the registry office. When we got out, I stopped in shockoutside were my daughters with their husbands and children, Tonys grown-up children with their families and, best of all, my sister Margaret! She was clutching a huge bouquet of white roses and smiling through her tears. Mags! Did you really come all this way for me? I cried.
Well, I had to see who I was giving you away to, didnt I? she laughed.
It turned out theyd all got in touch and planned everything together, and had even reserved us a table in a little café for afterwards.
Just this week Tony and I celebrated our first anniversary. Hes entirely part of the family now. And even now, I can scarcely believe this is my life: I am so unashamedly happy, I almost darent speak of it, for fear I might lose it.
