‘Obviously.’ She smiled at him. ‘I understand that, not wanting to give up because something good came out of it.’ Lilly coughed, now feeling slightly uncomfortable as her emotions surged, wishing they could go back to discussing mint humbugs and sunsets spied from the top deck of the bus. ‘I mean, I’ve never been married. That all ... all passed me by.’
‘How did it pass you by? If that’s not being too ...’
‘No, no, it’s a good question. How did it all pass me by?’ It struck her then as the saddest of statements, that marriage, children, a shared life, things that seemed to fall into the laps of just about anyone who wanted them with varying degrees of success, had not come to her. She took a beat. ‘I always thought it would be easy, just what happened. You grew up, got married, had babies, worked hard, died. That was kind of the blueprint for life.’
‘Sounds bloody miserable!’ he added.
‘With obvious pockets of pure joy, if you knew where to look! Fulfilment in your career or whatever, a love of music, yada ... yada ...’ she added to appease him. ‘It honestly didn’t occur to me that I might not do those things. My mum and dad’s marriage didn’t work out, and I think that was the first time I was aware of this feeling of otherness, that my life wasn’t the same as other people’s because my mum walked out. I was an oddity back then.’
‘Yep.’ He nodded, of the same generation as her, when couples stuck together no matter how miserable or due to economic necessity, societal pressure or lack of choice. Everyone seemed to have a mum and a dad and at least one sibling under their roof, and if you didn’t, well, what was wrong with you?
‘That otherness seemed to stay with me, I don’t know why really, but my life wasn’t like other people’s. I look at my friend Glenda, and it’s been very simple for her. She’s followed the blueprint without trying, really. It all just fell into place for her.’
‘Do you resent that?’
‘No, no!’ She was emphatic. ‘Not at all. It’s more that I didn’t realise I wasn’t in the race until it was too late and everyone else had crossed the finishing line, if that makes any sense. I kind of had my head down and then had my head turned and then had my head messed up a little bit, and by the time I came up for air I was in my early forties, and everyone around me was paired up.’
‘Forty? No age at all!’
‘Not now it isn’t, but at the time ...’ She smiled at him, knowing he’d get it, how every decade helped you realise how very young you were only ten years ago. There it was again, that darn bulge in her throat of sorrow at just how quickly the decades had indeed passed. ‘My nan once said to me, and I remember this even though I can only have been maybe six or seven, that you might be like the last sock at the back of the drawer, one of those odd socks that lingers until another oddsock comes along and, just for the sake of neatness, someone brings you together and you become a pair. I wonder if maybe that affected my perception of myself, my view of having a relationship with another person. Maybe it was that lingering, almost subconscious view that I was the oddest of socks?’
‘You never met another odd sock?’
It made her think about Rex, who for a while had so very nearly fallen into place for her. Lovely Rex, a fling ... She hadn’t thought about him for the longest time ... One thing Lilly did know was that pondering what might have been didn’t get you anywhere; another lesson Bertie had taught her.
‘Not really.’ She coughed to budge that lump. ‘I did have a dear, dear friend; love of a different kind, someone who you could definitely describe as an odd, vibrant, wonderful sock!’ She smiled now to think of the glorious Bertie Barnes. ‘And romantically, I have had a couple of ...’ She ran out of words, unsure how to phrase what she had experienced without that, too, sounding bloody miserable. ‘I did meet someone, but there was nothing odd about him, not at first. I was curiously drawn to him, as if fate had put him there.’ Lilly was aware that she had been more open than was comfortable. ‘Anyway, don’t know how we’ve veered on to that stuff and nonsense! I guess, in short, I was never really drawn to the idea of a summer wedding, a floaty frock, pastel flowers and all the shenanigans that go with it. I never felt like it was for me.’
‘You don’t believe in fate?’
‘No, I don’t, not at all. But I believed in him.’ She drew a sharp breath; it was not only painful to make such an admission but also a shock that she had felt comfortable enough to do so.
‘Hmmm.’ Alfie started walking, at a slower pace this time, and she matched him.
‘I don’t regret the way my life has turned out, not now. I’ve been freer than a lot of my friends, unencumbered by the day-to-dayrunning of a kitchen, looking after a family, kids and all of that.’ The words sounded a little hollow, even though there was some truth in it.
‘Do you think your obsession with the river, if I may call it that, is because you have been freer, not distracted by the routine of caring for a family, cooking meals, and all the stuff that goes with it? I’m not sure if that’s okay to ask. I am having to remind myself that we have only just met and this has taken a very deep dive!’
‘Yes, it has.’ She chuckled as he echoed her thoughts. ‘So, are you suggesting I am married to this river, and that it holds my attention in the way my children might, or a devoted husband? And that the hours I would spend defrosting fish fingers or darning socks, odd or otherwise, packing lunches, or whatever it is parents do – are you saying the time I would spend on all of those tasks, I instead lavish on this body of water?’ she asked, half in jest.
‘Well, I suppose I might be!’ He smiled at her then, a warm, connecting smile that promised another day just like this one.
‘And I suppose you might be right.’ She held his eyeline.
‘Not that it’s anything to do with me, of course. I mean, each to their own.’
He raised his hands over his face as if she might strike him; instead, she laughed. He was funny and smart, and she knew this was the kind of moment that made life in this city wonderful.Exactlythis.
1973 – aged 17
‘Is your dad coming? We do like Robert!’ Bertie Barnes clasped his hands under his chin.
‘We do like Robert, but sadly, no, his orchestra is playing in Weston-super-Mare.’
‘Oh, of course! Yes, Chris said he’d be away this weekend.’
Such was the lovely closeness of Lilly’s friendship with Bertie, it was often easy to forget that their introduction had come about via their orchestra connection.
‘In that case, I’m thinking of coming across as a concerned parent and asking this Wilkie chap outright what his intentions might be!’
