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The first time she and William met was at what was to be our final family summer holiday. I could tell immediately what was on her mind by the way she batted her eyelashes as she introduced herself to him on our arrival. But I wasn’t worried. I’d never seen William so much as look at another girl on campus and there had been plenty to choose from. He had picked me, he had wanted us to spend the rest of our lives together. He and Gwen were like chalk and cheese.
‘Keep your eye on that one,’ my grandmother warned me. We were sitting together in the garden watching as William and Gwen played tennis.
‘I don’t have any reason not to trust William,’ I said.
‘Honesty leaves when lust arrives,’ she replied.
I dismissed her comments, but gradually, her caution began to niggle. And I realised that each time I let William out of my sight, he and Gwen just so happened to be together. They’d be strolling around the gardens, they’d disappear for an hour to row across the lake, or I’d find her in the kitchen making him something to eat. I hated how she called him Bill and they began to share little in-jokes I wasn’t privy to. I had little choice but to retaliate. Each evening for the rest of that fortnight, I reminded him of what a better option I was with the most sex we’d ever had in our time together. In thebedroom, the bathroom, the woods and even up against a pier by the lake, I made sure to exhaust him. Nowhere and nothing was out of bounds.
And when the holiday drew to a close, I left victorious. Gwen had failed to snare my fiancé and William and I returned to university as happy as we had ever been. We saw nothing of her until the following Easter when her family came to stay with mine. By now she had another new boyfriend, but that didn’t prevent her from shamelessly flirting with William. And this time, I’d had enough. But when I confronted her about it and ordered her to stop, at least she didn’t insult my intelligence by denying it or suggesting I was imagining it.
‘Men like Bill don’t want girls,’ she hit back. ‘They need women.’
‘You’ve got no idea what he wants.’
‘And you’ve got no idea what he needs.’
The biggest mistake I have ever made was allowing that woman to creep into my head. Because she made me panic. William and I weren’t planning to marry until a couple of years after we’d graduated from university. And children weren’t on the agenda until we reached our thirties. But in my sudden desperation to hang on to him, I decided to bring forward those plans. And without his agreement.
I was pregnant within weeks of flushing my remaining contraceptives down the toilet. William tried to put a brave face on it, even though I know he was both shocked and scared. Even now, guilt hardens in my chest when I think about what I did, but I knew that a family of our own would solidify what we had. And I could justify it by reminding myself I wasn’t trapping him, I was only bringing forward the inevitable. We made plans to marry, and seven weeks later, our families and friends gathered at a church in Winchester, waiting to watch me walk up the aisle.
I had never been prouder of the man I was to marry as when I saw him standing by the flower-strewn altar, accompanied by his best man. My cheeks ached from how much I was grinning as my father walked me up the aisle. But as the vicar began to address us and the congregation, I realised William’s excitement was not mirroring mine.It’s just nerves, I told myself.That’s why he’s not looking at you properly. Then gradually I realised there was more to it than that. Something was wrong.
We hadn’t reached the chorus of ‘Give Me Joy in My Heart’ when he wiped a tear from his eye with the cuff of his morning suit, mouthed an apology and began to walk away.
‘William!’ I yelled as the confused congregation’s singing petered out. ‘What are you doing?’
But he didn’t answer me or so much as turn his head to look back. I clutched our unborn child as he reached the halfway point of the aisle, stopped, held his hand out, and I watched in horror as Gwen took it. The last time I ever saw either of them was as they pushed open the arched wooden doors and vanished into bright daylight.
For days afterwards, I was inconsolable, refusing to eat, unable to sleep and surviving only on caffeine. Then crippling stomach pains saw my father rush me to hospital where I miscarried our baby at eighteen weeks. And in the same week, on my twenty-first birthday, I contracted a serious internal infection that threatened my life. There was no choice but for me to undergo a hysterectomy.
In a few short days, I’d lost my husband-to-be, my baby, our future together and any chance of experiencing motherhood again.
Meanwhile, William and Gwen were uncontactable. Neither were answering their home telephone lines and our families didn’t hear or see anything of them. I also discovered through the grapevine that the whole time I’d thought I’d kept them apart theywere actually writing to one another and organising clandestine meetings.
It was only later I discovered that while I was losing my baby, they had taken a ferry to the Isle of Wight and were staying at the hotel that William and I had booked for our honeymoon. They also married there and, by their own choice, with no family or friends in attendance. Soon after, William transferred university courses to a college in London, and on his graduation they spent much of their first year apart with him working for a German bank in Munich. I assumed that would be the kiss of death for their relationship because without his constant attention, Gwen wouldn’t be able to help herself and would search for it elsewhere. But by all accounts she didn’t. Instead, they remained devoted to each other until William’s death. And oh boy, did that knowledge hurt. It still does, learning from Connie that they were better suited together than he and I were. My only consolation in this sorry mess was learning that, like me, Gwen never had children. William ruined motherhood for us both.
I allowed my inability to trust another man or to give him a family to prevent me from finding love again or marrying. For many men back then, adoption was out of the question when they could create a biological child of their own. So eventually, I stopped looking for love. I remained in the first house I bought, alone, and with no distractions I should have thrown myself into my career as a chemist for a pharmaceuticals company. But without ambition or an end goal, I stayed in the same level of role without seeking promotion until I retired at seventy-five. Since then, I have wallowed in self-reflection and dwelled on wasted opportunities. If I could do it all again, I’d have changed everything.
And then Connie and Paul appeared in my world. Neither of them will ever know just how much they have done for me. And Ihope that Gwen is rolling in her grave watching every penny of her savings being spent on my happiness.
It’s not all bad news for Connie, though, as I didn’t leave her completely empty-handed. She has Tom, our grandmother’s porcelain cat. Gwen and I loved that ugly-looking thing, but it was me who Gran gifted it to as a wedding present. Mum sent all of the presents back the week after I was jilted, and when Gran died a couple of years later, I did wonder where it had gone. Gwen must have beaten me to the punch and taken it. I doubt it’s worth anything, but you never know, she might get a few pounds for it at a car boot sale whenever she’s released from prison again.
I return to the present when the sound of another small motorboat’s engine catches my attention. It’s making its way from the ship to the shore, another wave of guests ready to explore El Mirador. I had planned to catch it on its return to the ship as I have a pilates class booked this afternoon. I’ll use the app on my phone to cancel it, as I’m enjoying myself too much here. I smile to myself as I think of these champagne problems.
I reflect again on how I have found my home on oceans and seas and how I intend to live and die on them. I’ve half joked to the crew that if I pass away en route to somewhere, they must simply throw me overboard. But if I have a suspicion my time is running out, I might just find a way of straddling the railings and disappearing under the waves on my own terms.
When Luís finishes helping the passengers from the boat and on to the beach, I beckon him over again. ‘I’m sorry to be an annoyance, but do you have some matches?’ He returns from the bar with a packet and I ask for his assistance to help me to the shoreline, as my feet aren’t terribly stable on sand. The sea is wonderfully warm as it covers my feet and laps at my ankles. I glance down at my chipped toenails and make a mental note to see that lovely young Filipino pedicurist again after my hair appointmenttomorrow. And I need to look my best because I have a date! It’s my first in more than twenty years and I know that I should be nervous, but I’m feeling quite relaxed about it. Derek, a recently retired charity worker, joined the cruise back in Florida and fitted in with our group like he’d been with us for the whole journey. But he often made me the focus of his attention. When he asked me if I’d like to join him for dinner I thought he meant a group of us but it turned out it was just me. And I can’t deny I was flattered. He’s a quirky chap, never without a tartan flat cap on his head despite the temperature. Some of the girls have been teasing me, calling him my toyboy, which makes me chuckle. Anyway, I don’t know if anything will come of it, but nothing ventured, nothing gained.
I remove from my pocket a photograph Connie gave to me of Gwen and me. It’s the one Paul tried to burn, so it’s already a little scorched. I strike a match.Look at us, I think, as the edges begin to curl. In another life, we could have been friends, or at least equals. But not in this one. Because in this one, I have won and she can burn in hell like the flames igniting our picture.
Then I drop it gently into the water and turn my back as my one last reminder of the past floats far, far away from my present and oceans from my future.
