Page 49 of My Summer of Magic Moments

My granddaughter, Sarah, is kindly helping me to write this email. My magic moment was when my Valerie smiled across the dance floor at me at the Oxford Galleries Hall in Newcastle fifty-nine years ago. It gave me the courage to go and ask such a pretty lady to dance. I remember it was a waltz, and boy was I beaming when I held her in my arms. We never looked back. We were married for fifty-eight years, very happily, may I add. I lost my lovely Valerie last year. But never a day goes by when I don’t think of her, or her beautiful smile at me across that dance floor that day.

Yours sincerely,

Norman Jones

Claire’s eyes filled up, and her fingertips trembled at the keyboard. How lovely, how very sad. Life and love and loss. And the world carries on spinning. Each of us on our own journey, sometimes a very bumpy ride, journeys of happiness and sorrow, of love and of pain. Magic moments along with the sad.

Where was her journey taking her?

Another message pinged into her mailbox. Another with a Magic Moment header.

She pressed ‘Open’.

Hi Claire,

Great column by the way. My magic moment was meeting a wonderful, beautiful woman on a rainy, windswept beach. I got to know her a little, danced with her on the sands, and she made me smile again.

E.

Her heart went into freefall. Could it be? Or had she just got all sentimental and wrapped up in Mr Jones’s romantic story and let her imagination run riot? But E … No, come on, there were loads of names beginning with E. Edwin, Elvis … and it might be a lady – who knew? Eleanor, Evie, Emma, Edwina. And even if it was an Ed, there were thousands of Eds around, and thousands of beaches. And England was not a place where rain and wind were unusual. Button the excitement, girl. It was just a flukey coincidence, that was all.

Though … should she reply? Try and suss out the sender a bit more? Nah, she’d look damned stupid and lose her journalistic credibility if it was a total stranger. ‘Oh, by the way, were you the guy that kissed me by the open fire, that slept with me after a candlelit barbecue by the beach? Were you the bastard with a family at home while you were playing away with the next-door neighbour by the sea?’ ‘Sorry, love, no, not me. I was thinking of my girl Suzanne and I’ve never played away in my life.’

No, she’d made enough daft mistakes. There was no point risking her journalistic reputation, embarrassing herself and getting a bollocking from the boss. She’d just send a polite thank-you and add the message to her list of maybes for this week’s post. Mr Jones’s was a definite.

After work that day, and with Andrea’s reminder, she’d arranged for another training session with Bella’s Babes. Yes, she was busy, but the Race for Life was only four weeks away, and they needed to up their game. They had a pre-run warm-up routine organized by Lou, you could tell she was a teacher keeping them all in check, and they had now got up to a mile and a half in one go. And, they could actually manage to breathe and even stay upright thereafter. Onwards and upwards!

The muscles still groaned the next day, which didn’t help with the post-work packing, but it was going to be all for a good cause.

She was round at Sally’s again that evening after her run. Claire watched her nephews out of the kitchen window, as they kicked a ball round the grassy patch out back, Ollie in goal, Jack shooting. They were making the most of the last days of the summer holidays. It would be September next week, summer drifting into autumn. The first of the leaves would soon be starting to drop, the apples were plump and beginning to ripen on the old tree at the end of the garden. They’d be ready soon. In a couple of weeks she might take some apples if Sal didn’t mind, get the boys to fill a carrier bag for her, make a couple of apple pies or something – one for Sal and one for their mother.

Sounds of laughter, the thwacking boot of a ball, filtered through the kitchen window. She’d have loved a family of her own. But that dream seemed so far away. And who knew if cancer had stolen her chances at that too? Oh well … she had so much to be grateful for, she reminded herself. She had her health back, her new home to move into in a week’s time. And she was going to view a kitten soon too – she’d spotted an advertisement for a litter at the local sanctuary and given them a call. They’d be ready to collect from two weeks – perfect timing. She might have to peek in and view them; choose her little girl cat before anyone else got in there.

Her nephews were dashing about, boisterous, happy. She loved being Auntie and spoiling them. She would always have them in her life, whether or not she was destined to have children of her own. (Hah – she mused, that would be pretty difficult anyhow, with no man in her life.) Anyway, it was lovely that she and Sal were close again. Her sister had made her feel so welcome lately; she was making her supper again tonight, as most of her own kitchenware was all packed up and ready to go. One week to go. Sal and Mark were going to help her with that too. Family was just magic.

Sal passed her a cup of tea. ‘How’s the training going? Are you all geared up for your charity run?’

‘Well, the training’s going okay. Still on the build-up to two miles this week.’

‘Do you know what, I quite fancy doing it with you. It’s about time I got back into some regular exercise. I used to be at the gym every week. It’s kind of slipped. Would you mind if I joined in?’

‘Of course not – the more the merrier.’

‘Great. And I’m sure all the mums at the school gate will be really supportive with making donations. I can ask Mark’s work colleagues too, to drum up some more sponsorship.’

‘Sounds fab. You can be one of Bella’s Babes.’

Sal’s brow furrowed.

‘It’s our group name.’

‘Okay, I sort of get it. But … Bella?’

‘It’s the bar we were in at the time.’

‘Well, why not. It has a good ring to it.’

‘It’ll be lovely having you there, sis.’