Chapter 32
ELSA
‘Wasn’t she marvellous?’ I say to Frank and Marleen, sitting outside a traditional patisserie tucked away in a quiet enclave near Gare du Nord.
‘An absolute triumph!’ Marleen agrees, digging her fork into her Tarte Tatin.
‘And a new book deal in the making. It makes my heart sing to see her confidence shine again. We couldn’t have wished for a more thrilling end to our trip!’
‘Someone taking out that Frenchman might have improved things,’ blusters Frank, taking a mouthful of Paris-Brest.
‘She dealt with him superbly,’ I reply, proud of how she stood up to him, just as Nancy would have done. ‘I knew there was something about him from the start.’
‘A saboteur,’ Frank laughs wryly.
‘Poor Carly, I think she had a soft spot for him,’ I say, wondering how she must be feeling after the debacle; I’ve never seen anyone shrink in her seat the way she did when Nicolas said what he said.
‘It’s always the ones we least expect who turn out to be the bad ones,’ says Marleen, uncharacteristically cynical.
Frank and I both stop what we’re eating, surprised by her comment.
‘I shouldn’t have said that,’ she says hurriedly, reaching for the meditation beads in her coat pocket.
Rather than rushing in, I say nothing, enjoying my almond and pear tart mouthful by mouthful, allowing Marleen a moment of reflection. Thankfully Frank is too consumed with his bun to steer the conversation elsewhere.
‘A very long time ago, I was married,’ she offers, her meditation beads in hand.
I nod quietly, neutrally, giving her space to continue.
‘He was my whole world, everyone thought he was special: fun, good-looking, warm-hearted. Then, from out of nowhere, he told me he was leaving; he’d met someone else – the marriage was over.’
‘Men like that give other men a bad name,’ says Frank after we’ve both digested Marleen’s news. I can tell, in spite of his brisk tone, that his heart is full of compassion.
‘I’m ashamed to say I was consumed with anger for a very long time. I felt bruised and attacked, and full of resentment.’
‘Quite rightly,’ says Frank. ‘No man should be forgiven for such behaviour.’
Marleen and I share a quiet smile at Frank’s chivalrous attitude.
‘It was a long road through cognitive therapy, and I found yoga, which helped, but it was letting go of my ego, finding simple awareness, that really led to transformation.’
‘Simple awareness,’ I repeat, recalling the conversation with Fran.
‘Exactly,’ she says. ‘To know that peace is not simply within us but is the essence of our very being, of everything in the universe. We are nothing separate or other; we are all one loving unity.’
I’m fully expecting Frank to chime in with something completely contradictory and inappropriate, so it takes me by surprise when I notice instead a contemplative look in his eye.
‘I remember a monk telling me something similar when I was stationed in the Far East.’
Marleen smiles. ‘Compassion, including self-compassion, is the answer to everything – to love yourself as you love others – to be one loving being. And ultimately to take ourselves less seriously. There’s a lot to be said for simple laughter and curiosity, to explore what comes your way and to enjoy it – just like a child.
I wish I’d learnt that earlier in life.’
‘I’ll second that,’ says Frank, his eyes, fixed on Marleen, full of warmth and admiration.
‘We all wish for things to be different in life,’ I say.
‘But we shouldn’t,’ says Marleen. ‘This is where suffering stems from. Accept things as they are, let go of the fight. Don’t cling to the past. Don’t desire anything of the future. There is nothing to fear. Life is only awareness in the now.’
‘But what of our memories?’ asks Frank, and I know from his sorrowful expression that he’s thinking of Lillian.
‘Let them come and go like clouds, just as Lillian did; don’t cling.’
‘But what about when we want to remember the one we loved?’
‘That love is still with you, their energy is in you, has shaped you, and is around you. There is no reason to feel guilt. We are never without or alone; we are all swirling eddies together in the deep, peaceful river of life.’
‘Food for thought,’ says Frank, finishing his Paris-Brest with a flourish.
‘Indeed,’ I ponder, a feeling of lightness I haven’t felt in years beginning to flow through me. ‘I think I might walk to the station alone, if you don’t mind, consider the practicalities of Bill’s care while I retrain.’
‘Very good,’ says Marleen. ‘In attending to your needs, you are practising self-compassion while also considering Bill’s.’
‘Thank you,’ I reply.
‘You are welcome, and remember, you are never alone, you are one with everything. With self-compassion, laughter and curiosity, you’ll find your way through fear.’
‘Quite,’ I answer with a smile, just as my phone begins to ring, Aleks’s name flashing on the screen.
‘Aleks?’ I answer, my breath catching, terrified that something has happened to Bill.
‘It’s OK, Elsa, Bill’s fine,’ she says brightly, before I even have to ask, and I know from her voice that she’s not hiding the truth. ‘I’m calling about something else.’
I signal to Marleen and Frank that I’ll take the call while walking to the station. They give a little wave, too engrossed in conversation to really notice my departure.
‘The care home is cutting costs. They’re halving my hours.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ I say, selfishly hoping that she won’t have to take on another job that might impact her ability to continue to care for Bill.
‘I was thinking I could help more with Bill, if you’d like the support.’
I stop where I am on the pavement, the sun bathing me in light. I feel as if I’m basking in some divine realm, as if all the stars have suddenly aligned simply for Bill and me.
‘Hello? Are you there?’ Aleks asks, and only then am I aware that I’m standing, stock-still, on a busy pavement.
‘Yes,’ I answer, dumbfounded that a weekend in Paris has led to me being able to study while Aleks shares caring responsibilities for Bill.
‘Yes, you’re there, or yes, you’d like the extra help?’
‘Both!’ I laugh, elated, feeling as if my world is no longer ending, that instead Bill and I are, and will for ever be, part of the ongoing flow of life.