Chapter 24
DAWN
I’d have to be dead not to notice that Laurence is flirting with me. Since the moment I climbed into the basket, I’ve noticed his lingering eye contact, his subtle smiles and the way his questions are directed mostly at me. The attention is most welcome.
Laurence is probably my age, maybe a little older, and incredibly sexy.
He’s undeniably handsome with those amazing green eyes, tanned skin and sophisticated, well-trimmed greying facial hair, and the French accent is working wonders on me.
Not to mention the man oozes charm. And his arms, my god, I couldn’t work out if it was the late evening sun, my MS or his flexing muscles as he steered the balloon that was making me hot under the collar earlier when we came into land, but I was forced to get out my little electric fan and direct it at my face as I watched him control the burners and pull on the ropes.
When we cracked open the champagne after climbing out, he poured me a glass and said, ‘Madame,’ in a low, growling voice that sent my pulse accelerating, and when Megan was taking a moment to steady herself now she was back on land, he asked me if my partner would be joining us at any point?
‘There is no partner, Laurence,’ I said, before I held up my glass to toast his.
Our gaze locked, his smile became deadly, the air between us charged and intense.
Now that Megan has had a few minutes to collect herself, she’s looking a lot better, a broad grin taking over her face, her eyes wild with joy that we’ve returned in one piece.
‘I did it. I can’t believe I did it!’ she’s saying as Laurence happily pours her a glass too and she downs the whole thing in one.
‘Goodness!’ I exclaim with a light laugh as she refills her glass herself. ‘That adrenaline is pumping through your veins.’
‘Oh yeah,’ she confirms, taking another large gulp.
‘I survived that.’ She points a finger at the balloon in the field.
‘I would never, ever in a million years back myself to go on a hot air balloon, especially without any Valium, but I did. Never again. I’ll never do it again.
But I now have nothing to prove. If anyone comes at me, like, “Hey, why do you never go on flumes at water parks? Are you scared?” I’ll be like, “Whatever, I’ve been in a hot air balloon. ”’
Giggling at her frazzled, frantic behaviour, I raise a glass to her bravery and she whoops before taking another drink, her hands shaking a little.
‘Fuck,’ she says breathlessly, leaning a hand on the bonnet of Laurence’s truck. ‘I did it. I actually did it. I’m alive.’
‘You’re alive.’
‘It was beautiful, too. The view was—’ she exhales, running a hand through her hair ‘—I could see for miles and miles. It was so fucking quiet up there.’
‘Yes,’ I agree, admiring this fascinating version of Megan, inhibitions forgotten for a moment, a smile so wide it’s mesmerising. ‘You faced your fear. You should be proud of yourself. Well done to your father for getting you to do it.’
‘And to you for getting me through it,’ she adds.
‘Oh.’ I look down at my glass modestly. ‘I did nothing. It was all you.’
She checks her phone. ‘Nico will be here in a minute to pick us up.’
I glance at Laurence over my shoulder and then turn back to Megan, lowering my voice. ‘Yes, about that, our handsome pilot has invited me to join him for dinner.’
Megan’s eyebrows shoot up. ‘Are you serious? When did he do that?’
‘While you were taking a breather and he was pouring me the champagne.’ I hesitate. ‘I’d quite like to go. How would you feel about that?’
She snorts. ‘I appreciate you asking, but considering I’ve been fine with you dating other people since you and Dad broke up fifteen years ago, and you’ve been married and divorced again since then, you can probably guess that I’m fine with this.’
‘Yes, yes, but, you know, this is a special trip,’ I say impatiently. ‘It’s been quite the day, too. You conquering your fear. Us talking about . . . things.’
‘Yes, it’s been moving,’ she says drily. ‘But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t go out and have fun. He seems nice.’
‘Doesn’t he,’ I gush, biting my bottom lip and taking another moment to admire him from over here, before saying to her conspiratorially, ‘I have to say, I’m very pleased the vulture took off with my nude bra and prompted me to wear the lacy one I’m wearing today.
Much more appropriate for this evening, should things go well. ’
‘Oh god, Mum, gross!’ Megan hisses, screwing up her face with disgust.
‘What?’ I can’t help but laugh at her reaction. ‘Parents are people, you know.’
‘I know, I know, but still, come on! There are boundaries,’ she huffs.
‘Anyway, given what we’ve talked about today and what you’ve told me, are you sure you should be, you know—’ she gives me a pleading look, searching for the right words but I don’t help her ‘—partaking in . . . any physical activity that might . . . you know . . .’
‘What?’ I say innocently.
‘You know,’ she repeats, sighing in frustration. ‘Should you be doing anything that might overexert you?’
‘Oh, I see what you’re saying. No, don’t worry. It’s not like having MS means my heart is going to give out should I have an orgasm, Megan.’
She recoils in horror, clamping her hands over her ears. ‘Mum! What the— Okay, please just don’t.’
‘Don’t what?’ I say, amused.
‘I cannot believe we’re having this conversation,’ she mutters, shaking her head as though that might shake away the memory of this. ‘Mum, I beg you, please don’t use that word in my presence ever again!’
‘Which word?’
‘You know which word,’ she seethes, glowering at me.
‘We’re both adults.’
‘Still!’
‘Fine. I won’t use that word.’ I take a sip of my drink, before adding, ‘You have to agree, from Laurence’s confidence, I’d guess he certainly seems like the kind of man who might be more than capable of giving me that word, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Thank fuck, there’s Nico,’ Megan cries, standing up abruptly and literally sprinting away towards the car rolling down the dusty path towards us.
***
The first two weeks after my diagnosis, I chose to go out and live my life as though nothing had changed.
Yes, I’m free for drinks! Yes to an eye-wateringly expensive lunch!
Yes, I’ll go to the theatre! Yes to a weekend away!
Yes to everything! No to sitting around and feeling sorry for myself!
It was exhausting, but I simply didn’t know how else to deal with it.
I had no intention of thinking about what this meant for me.
Around the time of that fateful appointment with my consultant, I was dating a lovely divorcee named Caleb, who I’d been set up with by a friend of a friend.
I didn’t tell him about the pains or the numbness or the fatigue or the diagnosis.
Instead, I said yes to a fifth date of dinner at his house and then sat at my laptop and googled whether I would kill myself by having sex. As hoped for, the answer was no.
I read through the information about how MS could cause some problems for women such as loss of libido (no problem there yet, I mused), some dryness down below (they have marvellous products to help with that, which were much appreciated by myself during a misguided dalliance I had with a man I dated years ago who was into poetry slams) and difficulty achieving orgasm (we’ll see who’s up for the challenge then).
Having done my research and feeling positive that I was unaffected, I approached the date at Caleb’s with excitement and vigour.
The dinner was delicious, which was his triumph, and the sex was fine, which was my failing.
I don’t think Caleb noticed anything, he messaged a lot afterwards which backs that theory. But I was knocked by the experience.
My confidence had . . . gone. Without me noticing it had flit away.
The moment we were in bed, I felt like I was a different person.
I had a body I couldn’t necessarily control now and therefore didn’t recognise.
I was scared of moving into a position that might hurt.
I felt like I wasn’t as beautiful or sexy as I’d been a few days before when I didn’t have the diagnosis yet.
All these questions and fears and doubts were whirring around my head.
They were shaking my poise and dissecting my sense of self.
I was devastated. I liked meeting new people and finding a connection and I liked great sex. I was perfectly content on my own, but I suppose the romantic in me had always hoped I might meet someone else again. But who would want me now?
After that, I found myself slowly retreating from everything and everyone. I ducked out of events; I kept my distance from friends. I didn’t want the world to see this version of me that I couldn’t even understand. I wasn’t who I was. I didn’t want to explain why.
But now I’ve jumped from a boat into the sea. I’ve trekked the Pyrenees braless on a horse. I’ve held my daughter’s hand when she was frightened as we soared across the skies.
Suddenly, I’m open to getting to know this new version of me.
Maybe she shouldn’t be hidden away.
***
Laurence and I have a fabulous dinner at an intimate and charming restaurant that has candlesticks in wine bottles and an owner who comes out to introduce himself to the diners before sitting at the bar to chat to the staff over a beer.
I ask many questions about Laurence’s career choice, desperate to know how he got into the field – it turns out to be a family affair, his father was a hot air balloon fanatic – and hear about his children, of which he has three, two boys and a girl.
Two still live nearby, the other lives in Norway with his wife.
Laurence is divorced and not on good terms with his ex-wife, who now lives in Barcelona with her much-younger boyfriend.
He asks me about Megan and I tell him what we’re doing here and when he asks about our strained relationship, I reveal to him my various failings and how I got married fairly young to a man who was seven years older and had a baby when I was at the height of my career.
With a touch more wine, I reveal to him what Henry and I both knew.
which was that I couldn’t help but feel a little resentful towards motherhood at the time, and how the guilt of that still plagues me and forever will, no matter how much making up I try to do.
That is the heaviest part of the conversation – except his reflections on his own divorce – but we also have a lot of fun and silliness, laughing at each other’s anecdotes and delightfully sharing opinions.
This is a type of evening of which I’ve always been particularly fond.
The kind where you meet someone you may never meet again, but you find a temporary connection and feel grateful to have met them even once. The world is filled with these people.
After generously paying the bill, Laurence invites me back to his apartment. I say yes. We hold hands as we wander down the street, and I remark on the beautiful night sky.
‘You must know these skies very well,’ I add.
‘Yes,’ he says, stopping to point upwards.
‘You see that cluster of stars there, the two bright ones and the other two with them? That is a constellation visible at this time of year that is associated with the tale of two lovers who were kept apart by two mythological creatures. The lovers sacrificed themselves to be together as stars in the night sky.’
We gaze up in silence together.
‘Laurence, darling,’ I begin in a soft whisper, ‘was any of that true?’
He sighs wistfully. ‘It was all bullshit, but it sounded good, no?’
I burst out laughing, squeezing his hand, and we continue down the road. Later, when I’m lying on his bed, he kisses my neck and tells me in French how beautiful and sexy I am, and I choose to believe him, even if it’s just for tonight.