Page 62 of The Golden Girls’ Road Trip

‘I haven’t done the right things, I know. I seem to be repeating some of the mistakes I made all those years ago, but I’m ready to change now, Alex, and I really wished you had stayed so you could see.’ I drop the piece of paper inside.

32

‘My mother’s gone,’ I tell Diana when I curl my legs up underneath me and sit back in the armchair. I’ll regret it in a bit when I want to move, but for now, folding myself up seems the natural thing to do. ‘I should have been there really, but—’

‘But, you were with me,’ Diana says. ‘I’m sorry, Connie.’

‘Don’t be. I wanted to be with you. You’re important to me. Not because of the baby, but as well as the baby. I hope you know that.’

‘I do,’ she says, ‘especially now.’ She still has the crocheted blanket in her hands and she runs her fingers along the stripes. ‘You did go and see her, though. That’s important – something you can carry with you.’

We are silent for a while, sipping our tea, lost in our own thoughts.

‘I’ve been difficult, I know,’ Diana says. ‘I found it quite hard seeing you being such a brilliant mum to Simon. My parents didn’t want me – I’m sure you know. It’s not like they’ve ever made it a secret. And then to find Simon, who is so lovely to me, and to see how you both are together, is tricky for me. That’s a hard thing to admit to, being jealous of your mother-in-law. Most of my friends say that they wish their husbands loved their mothers as much as Simon does. I just wanted all of his love. It’s pathetic. And,’ she continues, looking very much like she wishes she didn’t have to, ‘I’m a bit worried that he might love the baby more than me. God!’ she says, putting her hands over her eyes. It’s heartbreakingly childish and makes me want to give her a hug. ‘I’m such a bad person, how can I possibly be a good mother, like you are?’

‘Diana, you’ll be a wonderful mother and Simon adores you, that won’t change when you have the baby. In fact, he’ll love you all the more. But me, well, thank you for saying I’m a good mother, but I’m not a good daughter – that’s the truth. My mother was eighty-nine and just died alone in hospital. My father died ten years ago and I didn’t go to his funeral. And I didn’t, because… because I was so bloody ashamed of myself. I thought that if I didn’t think about them then they would just go away. And look, turns out, I was right.’

I don’t even realise I’m crying until Diana gets up and hands me a tissue. I take it and dab my eyes and blow my nose. The thing I’ve waited my entire adult life to happen, has now happened. I’ve lived as if my parents didn’t exist and now they don’t. Will it be enough that I saw my mother before she died, or will I always live this guilty half-life?

‘What happened Connie? With your parents?’

I look across at Diana and contemplate brushing it all away, fobbing her off and saying it was nothing, but I have a sudden desire to talk to her and perhaps we need this; a confidence between us, but I can’t tell her everything, that would be too much of a burden.

‘When I was eighteen I had a fling with a friend of my parents. He was forty and married with two children. I had flirted with him a bit at one of my parents’ parties. I’d had a couple of drinks and thought I’d practise my skills to try on the boys I knew. I was so square, had no idea what I was doing. He was actually quite drunk and something happened between us in the bathroom.’ I pause for a moment to hear this half truth in my mouth, but I can’t possibly leave her knowing something she’d feel compelled to keep from Simon. ‘It was unfortunate,’ I continue, ‘because his wife was waiting outside to use the loo and started shrieking at me when he opened the door. My parents appeared and it was clear to all what had happened. He told them all I’d thrown myself at him and that he barely knew what he was doing because he was so drunk. And, because they thought I was becoming a bit wild after seeing me drinking at another of their parties, and the fact my grades had slipped a bit because I wasn’t trying hard at school, and because they wanted everything to be hushed up – he was a GP, you know – they believed it was all my doing. They were all talking at each other, at me and, to be honest, I just wanted them to stop. So, I agreed that it was on me, it was my fault, and they believed me, but how they could have I’ll never know, because I was a complete mess.’

‘Christ, Connie, that is awful. I’m sorry.’

Diana looks so troubled, I wonder if I should stop. Is she really the person to offload onto?

‘Maybe I shouldn’t be talking about this with you.’

‘I think you need to talk about it, to be honest,’ she says.

‘My parents sent me straight away to Scotland to work in my aunt’s hotel for a few weeks until it all blew over, like I was the problem, and to them I suppose I was. I was irrationally angry with them for not guessing the truth even though I hadn’t offered it. Anyway, while I was there I met someone, who turned my head.’

‘Simon’s father?’ Diana asks, clutching the blanket to her chest, her face hopeful. I really shouldn’t have started this.

‘No, a woman actually: Alexandra Mackenzie.’ I watch her expression change to surprise and then to the possibility that this story does have a happy ending. How disappointed she’s going to be.

‘The woman you’ve been travelling with? Simon said you’d been delivering her paintings.’

‘Yes, that’s her, but it’s the first time I’ve seen her since that summer. We were eighteen and we spent the next six weeks falling in love. We planned to run away together, to borrow her brother’s car and take off where no one would judge us. We would say we were friends, and who wouldn’t believe us?’

‘Who would judge?’

‘It was 1970, plenty of judging going on, and let’s be honest, Diana, plenty of judging going on now, too.’

‘True,’ she says, ‘but not by me. So, you’re a lesbian then?’

‘No,’ I say, ‘well, yes, I don’t know. I fell in love with a woman, that’s all. I never felt the need to label it.’

‘Maybe it was just a teenage crush. You’d been sent away from home; she must have felt safe.’

I think about that for a moment, that Alex was safe, and maybe she was that, too, but I know the deep love and intense passion we shared. I wasn’t looking for safety, particularly. Maybe I was looking for escape, though.

‘It wasn’t just a crush; she was the love of my life.’

‘Have you been with other women?’ she asks me and her face is so straight and without judgement, I answer her honestly.