Chapter Sixty-Two
I stared at Dylan, both surprised and stunned. My jaw seemed to be overcome by gravity. A gormless expression prevailed.
For heaven’s sake, Maggie, change the face. Village idiot comes to mind.
‘Sorry,’ Dylan apologised. ‘I can see you’re horrified by the idea. My fault. I’m going along at a hundred miles an hour, planning my new life, and expecting you to fall into it. Please disregard–’
‘N-No,’ I stuttered. Touched his arm. ‘It’s fine, honest,’ I assured. ‘You just caught me unawares. And I’m not horrified,’ I promised. ‘More… flabbergasted. But also’ – my mouth curved into a vast banana grin – ‘delighted. And… well… if you’re sure…’
‘Never been surer,’ he murmured.
‘Then… omigod... yes! Yes, I’ll move into Catkin Cottage with you.’
Bloody hell. We were going to live together. What would my parents say?
Never mind your parents, said my inner voice. What about your kids?
I paled. Yes, indeed. What would the children say?
Ruby: (morphing into Victor Meldrew) I do not believe it!
Ella: (turning into Lance-Corporal Jones) Don’t panic!
Tim: (looking eerily like Geoffrey Adams) Good God!
And never mind my children. What about Dylan’s daughter? What might she think? Would Terry be aghast that another woman was potentially stepping into the shoes of her mother? I gave Dylan an anxious look.
‘Will Terry mind?’ I asked.
‘What has my life got to do with Terry?’ he asked with bemusement.
Fair comment. And actually, a flipping good one. Yes, if any of my children protested, I’d point that out – my life, my decision. But would they protest? Might they not – now I came to think of it – be rather pleased for their old mum.
Less of the old, Maggie.
In fact, might they be relieved? Happy that someone else could shoulder the concerns they’d had about me?
‘Gosh, all those mad conversations she kept having with Dad.’ This from Ruby. ‘At least she won’t be able to do that any longer.’
Ella nodding her head in agreement.
‘Yeah, and all the photographs of Dad everywhere. Mum can’t do that if she’s shacked up with another man.’
Then Tim adding his thoughts.
‘Unless this guy has pics of his dead wife everywhere. Then the two of them can turn Catkin Cottage into a shrine.’
But, deep down, I suspected my children would approve of Dylan. Once they’d properly met him. After all, he was a decent guy. A catch as my mother would have said, before dementia claimed her. And would my parents really be against their daughter finding happiness again? If anyone was going to be surly, it would be Dad. And purely for his own selfish reasons. I could imagine him now. Mouth pursed.
‘I suppose you won’t have time for us anymore, Maggie.’
I’d have to reassure him. Guide him to be a little more flexible, and less vehement about employing a carer. But I knew in my heart that it would take something monumental before Dad sought alternative help. Hmm. I’d have to pick the right moment before breaking the news to my father.
And then there was Dylan’s daughter to consider. Despite him stating that his decisions were nothing to do with Terry, they were to a degree. After all, having someone in a stepmother role was massive. Hopefully Terry would give me the thumbs up.
But, all that aside, right now I felt deliriously happy. Over the moon.
‘You’ve gone very quiet,’ said Dylan. ‘A penny for your thoughts.’
I leant my head on his shoulder. Took his hand in mine.
‘Sorry, I was miles away. Just trying to gauge everyone’s reactions. Wondering if they will tell me I’m being ridiculous for finding love again in my sixties. Or whether they will be happy for me.’
Dylan squeezed my hand.
‘If someone loves you then they will have your best interests at heart,’ he assured.
‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘You’re right.’
‘And listen’ – he squeezed my hand again – ‘if it turns out that you think you’ve made a mistake… or that my little ways annoy you…’
‘Little ways?’ I bantered. ‘Tell me about them.’
He looked bashful.
‘You know. A typical man who forgets to pick up his socks. Or leaves the cap off the toothpaste. Or forgets to spritz the smallest room after being in there with the Sunday papers. I won’t blame you if you say, “Sorry, Dylan, but I’m off.” Remember, I was going to rent Catkin Cottage anyway. So, if at some point you have a change of heart, it won’t be hugely different for me. If that makes sense. However, it’s monumental on your part. I simply want you to be sure.’
‘I am,’ I said, looking up at him. ‘And anyway, your reasoning works both ways. After all, you might be exasperated by my makeup littering the dressing table. And I, too, leave the cap off the toothpaste. Also, you might find yourself competing for the smallest room with the Sunday papers. That said, I never forget to spritz.’
Dylan roared with laughter.
‘In that case’ – he twinkled – ‘I’d venture to say we might just be the perfect match.’ He cleared his throat. Suddenly looked a little shy. ‘Maybe one day we will buy a place together.’
I gave him another huge grin and hugged him tightly.
‘Omigod,’ I squeaked. ‘I’m so excited. I don’t think I’ll sleep a wink tonight.’
‘Me neither.’ His expression shifted. Became furtive. ‘Er, there’s something else I want to tell you.’
‘Go on,’ I prompted.
‘Well…’ He took a deep breath. ‘I’ve had this ambition…’
‘Y-e-s,’ I said.
‘It’s something I’ve always wanted to do. I’m hoping you might be up for doing it too.’
I looked at him curiously. What was it? Dancing naked in the moonlight? Joining a cult? Becoming a vegan?
‘What is it?’ I prompted.
‘I’d like to buy a campervan. At some point, I’d like to take a month off work. Tour around the UK. I’ve travelled abroad extensively but never properly explored the island upon which I live. I’d like to visit’ – he raised his hand and began ticking off on his fingers – ‘Devon, Dorset, Hampshire, Cornwall, the Lake District–’
‘Oooh, yes,’ I interrupted, squeaking again in excitement. ‘Loch Lomond, the Isle of Skye–’
‘And don’t forget Wales,’ Dylan added. ‘I’ve heard Shell Island has stunning views of the Welsh countryside.’
‘We’ll need more than a month,’ I pointed out.
‘That’s to begin with,’ said Dylan. ‘We can spend the rest of our lives hopping in the campervan and exploring.’
‘Oh, Dylan,’ I said, my eyes shining. ‘It sounds wonderful. We can take Charlie and Bess with us and not have a care in the world.’
‘Indeed,’ Dylan agreed. He grabbed hold of me. Hugged me fiercely. ‘I love you, Maggie. You’re my dream woman.’
‘And I love you, Dylan.’ I kissed him hard on the mouth.
‘How much?’ he asked.
‘More than words can say,’ I assured. ‘What about you?’
‘To the moon and back,’ he said without hesitation.
I gave him an enquiring look.
‘What about to the kitchen and back?’
He frowned.
‘I’m not following.’
I gave him a playful punch on the arm.
‘I fancy another cuppa. And it’s your turn to put the kettle on.’