Chapter 17 #2
‘You know, there are menopause support groups, there’s Alcoholics Anonymous and there are grief groups, but you have to fit in a box for all of them. This group’s great, because you don’t need to be just one thing. So, well done, you.’
‘It was good tonight,’ I say. ‘Emotionally exhausting, but good. You didn’t want to speak?’
Fiona had remained quiet throughout the session.
‘Oh, I just, well… I’m not sure about it all yet.’
‘No stories to share? Good-looking woman like you, I know you’ll have broken some hearts.’
Fiona laughs and shakes her head. ‘It’s not that. It’s just, well, okay, I’ll be honest. I don’t like the idea of sharing my deepest, darkest struggles with the whole village. I’m here for the giving support part, but I’m not planning to ask for it, if that makes sense?’
She shifts from one foot to the other as she perches on the edge of her seat.
‘I would like to open up, but I’m not sure how well people would react.’
‘You can tell me, if you like. I may be able to help.’
She clutches the empty mug of tea tightly, blowing her short hair out of her face.
‘The love of my life left me years ago, when I was in my early twenties, and I’ve not seen them since.
That’s my story. When I heard you were starting the support group in the bookshop, it stirred up old memories.
It seems so stupid to still be hung up on it all these years later. ’
‘Oh, Fiona! I’m sorry. Just because it was a while ago, that doesn’t make it any less traumatic. I’m sure everyone would be very sympathetic.’
She shakes her head emphatically. ‘I don’t know if I can. I went through too much when it happened and… I just can’t go back there. I’m not sure how people here would take it.’
‘What do you mean? Was he cruel to you?’
‘No, nothing like that. There was no… he. It wasn’t… a heterosexual relationship,’ she says, uncertainty in her tone.
‘Ah, Fiona. Tell me all about it. I’m here to listen.’
Fiona sighs, her shoulders slumped. ‘I’ve never told a soul.
I don’t know if anyone would care now. But when I was young, it had to be secret.
Or so we thought. Her name was, is – I don’t even know if she’s alive or dead.
Her name is Lillian.’ Fiona smiles wistfully, before her face darkens again.
‘But her family found out somehow and they were terrible. I’m sure they moved away because of it. ’
‘Oh, Fiona, that’s awful!’
‘Her dad was the worst. He talked about Lillian as though she wasn’t in the room. He thought attending church would save her. I think they joined some sort of religious group and then moved away altogether. I don’t even know where they went.’
She blinks and I move forward to give her a hug.
Poor Fiona. I can’t imagine falling in love with someone and being ripped apart from them, never able to move on, because there was never an end to speak of.
My split with Seb is difficult enough to manage, but I’d chosen to leave.
It would be so much worse if you both still wanted to be in a relationship and loved each other dearly but couldn’t be together.
‘Did you ever try to get back in contact with her? Or hear anything about her?’
‘I think she wrote to me. I saw my mum burning letters in the fireplace. She never told me they were from her, but I always suspected they were. My mum knew I was gay; she was fine with that. She just couldn’t stand to see me upset.
I cried for weeks after Lillian left. Months, maybe.
I’ve only had a couple of relationships since – a summer fling and some dates that never really led anywhere – but I’ve never forgotten her.
Seems stupid, now I say it out loud. But since you mentioned the support group, she’s all I can think about.
I hope you don’t mind that I can’t talk about it openly.
It’s just… it’s a little bit complicated. ’
‘Oh, no, I don’t mind at all!’ I say. ‘Have you ever tried to track her down? Online, maybe?’
‘I used to look periodically, but I never found anything. She was a very private person, I doubt she’d be the kind to splash her news all over social media.’
‘Ah, come on, everyone’s traceable,’ I say. ‘Give me her full name and I’ll get my detective hat on. I bet we’ll find her.’
I clutch my mobile phone, ready to rush to the bins for reception as soon as Fiona gives the signal. Instead, she shakes her head.
‘Honestly, I couldn’t. She’ll have moved on. She probably got married and had children, the way her family wanted her to. She wanted it too, but she always said she wanted it with me. I couldn’t turn up out of the blue to satisfy some silly curiosity of mine.’
I nod. I don’t want to make Fiona uncomfortable by pushing any further, but I can’t help but think it is such an awful thing to carry regret with you for your whole adult life.
What if Lillian didn’t have a family? What if she was single too, living a parallel life to Fiona’s, just waiting for her love to return?
Bloody hell. What the hell is wrong with me? Despite being dumped and betrayed myself, I’m still holding a torch for happily ever afters.
‘Look, I better go,’ Fiona says, standing up. ‘I guess I wanted to say, well, thank you. You’ve given me something to think about with this breakup bookshop. I’d like to keep coming along, but I wanted you to know that I might not say much and why. I hope that’s okay with you?’
I gather Fiona into a hug. ‘Of course it is. There’s no pressure to say anything, Fiona. But I’m always here to talk, if you want to.’
She nods on her way out of the door.
‘And if you change your mind and want a hand with some detective work, I’m your girl!’
‘Thank you, Ava. I’m so glad you came here.’
‘I’m glad I’m here too,’ I say with a smile.