Chapter 10 #2
Going home, I brushed my hair and put on some lipstick, then Gareth drove us to the pub.
Sitting outside, I watched the little families of waterfowl as he went to order us drinks, then came back with a menu.
Passing it to me, he added slightly selfishly, ‘Wouldn’t mind driving, would you?
It would be nice to have more than a pint. ’
I could have said, It would be nice to have more than one glass of wine.
And of course, I didn’t want to spoil the mood between us – but it took the edge off what was otherwise a lovely evening, the kind of evening that once, I would have dreamed of spending with someone special, sitting in the sun overlooking the water, eating delicious food.
If I was quieter than usual, Gareth didn’t notice.
Tucking into his steak and chips, he didn’t notice either that I only ate a little of my salad.
Instead, as I sat there, I was thinking about how we didn’t talk.
Not about anything important – other than the conversation about having children, which to my mind remained unresolved, while Gareth was acting as if we’d never had it.
It left me feeling trapped. If I brought up the subject again, I knew what Gareth’s reaction would be, that he’d fling it back at me for mentioning it when I already knew how he felt.
The only alternative was to say nothing – and that’s what I chose.
Yes, I was my mother’s daughter, already walking on eggshells.
The alternative, this close to our wedding, meant all hell would have broken loose.
After we’d finished eating, Gareth got up. ‘How about we take a walk? It’s a beautiful evening.’
I was taken by surprise. It was so unlike Gareth. Berating myself for misjudging him, I felt myself smile. ‘Good idea.’
We set off along the footpath that was edged by long grasses.
I felt Gareth’s hand brush against mine, before he took it in his.
It seems stupid to say it, but I felt fleeting, stabbing hope that despite my misgivings, we would have a long and happy future together.
That in his own, unemotional way, Gareth cared.
A family of swans came into view and we stopped to watch them glide past us on water that sparkled in the evening sunlight.
‘We should come here more often,’ Gareth said softly. Then turning, he took my face in both his hands and kissed me. Closing my eyes, in what should have been a magical moment, I kissed him back, searching for the faintest glimmer of how I used to feel.
* * *
Wasn’t it obvious enough? Weren’t there enough signs?
And the answer is well, yes, to all those questions.
But it wasn’t that simple. I knew that relationships changed.
That the early, giddy days of love gave way to something more enduring.
And Gareth and I had stood the test of time.
That we were together after so long was proof that we had something.
I remember a conversation with my parents, just before Gareth and I moved in together.
When I told them, the news had been greeted not so much with disapproval, but with my mother’s sideways glance at my father; his silence.
My dad didn’t mention living in sin, exactly, but he may as well have.
He held a view he wouldn’t be challenged on, that living together wasn’t morally right.
It didn’t matter that I had my own views.
When it came to challenging my parents, the problem was two-fold: my father was intransigent, and I wasn’t brave.
Don’t get me wrong. They were wonderful, caring parents. I’ve thought so many times, Lizzie and I were lucky. But we were different people; even as a child, Lizzie had an independent streak that I for some reason lacked.
Oh my God. And I’m sorry, God, that’s if you do exist and you happen to be listening to me instead of all the other billions of people. But how the heck has it taken me so long to see this?
* * *
Somehow I got through that week, mostly thanks to Lizzie keeping me sane – and busy. On Friday, we set up hundreds of jam jars of flowers on the tables in the marquee, stringing up some pink and silver bunting Lizzie had acquired at the last minute.
I dismissed Lizzie’s idea that I should be getting a massage or a manicure and generally be pampering myself. I knew if I was alone in my own company for too long, there was a very real risk I’d go mad.
Then the evening before our wedding, I piled everything into my car and drove over to my parents’ house.
I was doing the right thing, I kept telling myself.
This was my life now. Real, not some imagined set of maybes with a man I barely knew.
I needed to count my blessings, to remember how lucky I was.
But as I pulled up in my parents’ drive, I sat there for a moment, thinking about what I was turning my back on.
In the brief time Adam and I had spent together, I’d learned how it felt to instinctively know someone.
To feel seen for who I was. To not be judged.
All things I could never have explained to Gareth because he wouldn’t have understood.
Discomfort churned inside me. Then the front door opened, and Lizzie came running out. ‘Tilly!’
In jeans and a halter-necked T-shirt, her long hair was messily tied back, her eyes anxious as she came over to me. ‘Are you OK?’
Getting out, I nodded. ‘I’m fine.’ I forced a smile. ‘I can’t believe it’s tomorrow.’
She held my gaze. ‘You are sure, aren’t you? Because if not, if you want to call it off, it isn’t too late. Everyone will get over it.’
As I looked at her, I knew I wasn’t sure.
But just the thought of calling it off triggered a wave of nausea.
Instead, I told myself yet again, that on the eve of committing the rest of their life to someone, it was natural to be having a wobble about things.
‘I’m fine. I’m really looking forward to it.
’ Saying what anyone would expect a bride to say the day before her wedding.
Frowning slightly, Lizzie opened her mouth to speak, closing it again as our mother came walking towards us.
‘Tilly.’ She kissed me on the cheek. ‘You’re just in time to eat.
Shall we take your things inside?’ She went around to the back of the car, then opened it.
‘It’s going to be the most wonderful day tomorrow.
I went to the church earlier. It looks divine!
The flowers are just perfect… And the weather forecast is clear skies and sunshine…
I’ve also checked in with the caterers, so you’ve no need to worry.
Everything’s going to be just as you wanted it,’ she said happily, barely pausing for breath.
I caught Lizzie’s eye briefly, before smiling at my mum. ‘Thank you,’ I said quietly. ‘You’ve done so much.’
‘It’s your wedding day.’ For a moment, she looked surprised. ‘I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Now, hurry along. Your father’s about to open a bottle of rather nice champagne.’ She picked up one of my bags and started walking towards the house.
After grabbing another of my bags, Lizzie linked her arm through mine. ‘We haven’t finished talking,’ she muttered under her breath.
‘It can wait.’ But it didn’t matter what anyone said any more. I could feel time slipping through my fingers like grains of the finest sand. The decision was made. Here, in the bosom of my family, there was nothing more to talk about.
* * *
Now, it seems incredible. Every part of it, not least that I was marrying someone who was more like a best friend rather than a man who made me want to be my best self; who would inspire me to embrace every precious second of my life, to follow my dreams. Adam, Lizzie, they’d both had been right.
I should have been buzzing with happiness, boring everyone half to death about Gareth’s and my wedding plans.
And I wasn’t. A wave of sadness washes over me for the younger me, that I felt so trapped, so obligated.
So misguidedly loyal to a man who proved over time that my instincts had been right; that I’d been so unable to do what was right for me.
That I couldn’t see I was committing to spending my life with a man with whom I was so unaligned in almost every sense.
But I’ve gone through most of my life adhering to the same philosophy.
What the heck’s that about? Talk about Tilly-with-her-head-in-the-sand.
More than twenty years on, I’ve been too busy being what other people expect; that hub, as I’ve always described it, instead of chasing my dreams. The realisation makes me really sad.
* * *
And then it was here. I remember everything about that morning, but watching it all over again, I see what I didn’t the first time around.
The sun streaming through the window of what had been my childhood bedroom, the beautiful dress I was wearing, which had been altered to fit me perfectly but was now loose because of the weight I’d lost in the last week; my carefully made-up face wrinkling into a frown as I’d thought about the afternoon I’d spent with Adam, the memory of his lips on mine.
The realisation that I’d found someone special, the heartbreaking reality that the timing was out, that he was someone I had to let go of.
With just hours to go, I’d been trying to rationalise my feelings again; telling myself that Gareth and I were the real deal, instead of listening to my heart, paying more attention to my doubts.
I watch myself stand in front of the mirror, my eyes wandering disbelievingly over the beautiful dress again – I’d forgotten how slim I was.
It was closely fitted and off-white – pure white has always made me look translucent, for want of a better word.
My long hair was falling in loose curls, some of which were invisibly pinned up, and I was wearing the familiar white gold necklace my mum had worn on her own wedding day.