So. Size eight Sara wants to be back in my life. In the past few years when we’d meet up, I always felt like a large lump of whale meat next to her ‘not an ounce of fat’ frame, but curiously, since meeting my astral pal and experiencing the sea of light, none of that seemed to matter any more. I’d spent my whole life criticizing myself and my body, hating the way I looked. Such a waste. I wanted weight loss for health reasons and curiously, now I wasn’t so down on myself, the pounds were melting off. Plus, there was something else. Whilst lying in my hospital bed, I’d realized I’d spent the majority of my time looking after everyone else – family, friends, animals, waifs and strays – and look where it had got me. Heart attack hotel. My health had suffered. It was time to look after me for a change, and to have some fun whilst doing so. Sara had always been excellent company. It would be good to see her and renew our friendship.
Chapter Twelve
Ally
Present day, December
Finally I was on my own. I didn’t like it at all. Night-time was the worst. I’d never thought about intruders before. Michael was always there, either in his study or watching TV, then later, a reassuring shape in the bed beside me. Now I heard every creak of the floorboards, every bump of a radiator once the heating went off or came on again, every sound outside. The house had six bedrooms, all empty now. Michael liked to entertain so wanted a place with space for guests, as well as for his vast collection of books. Michael also liked quiet so he could write without disturbances, so we’d bought a detached manor house with a large garden down a lane a short distance away from the village. Anyone could try and break in as there were no neighbours to hear. I was on high alert, unable to let go and sink into deep sleep. I was listening to noises that the house had probably always made but that I was never aware of before. For the first time, I felt uncomfortable; aware I was a woman alone.
On the Sunday a few weeks after the funeral, I’d been invited to lunch with my nearest and dearest. Philippa and John, Jane and Ray, Geoffrey and Maris, Becca and her partner Angie. Over the years we’d shared our Christmases, New Years, weekends, birthdays, summer barbecues. I loved them and they loved me but, as the meal went on, I knew something had changed. There was no denying it. Someone was missing: Michael. He’d been the one with all the hilarious anecdotes, making people laugh, pouring the wine, drinking a lot of it, staying up until the early hours, putting the world to rights. When he’d tell one of the many stories that I’d heard a hundred times from his repertoire, I used to catch Philippa’s eye. ‘Number forty-four,’ I’d mouth. She’d laugh. Her husband was the same, with a list of tales to tell that we as spouses had heard over and over again. If Michael caught me, he’d pull a face of mock offence and carry on regardless. I didn’t mind listening to the repeat performances. I was the moon to his sun. Our roles had been long established. I knew what was expected of me, but today and from now on, there would only be me at social occasions and I was aware more than ever of how much quieter I was than he had been. Plus I felt my friends were walking on eggshells, unsure whether to mention Michael or not, wrapping me in cotton wool. As Philippa served cheese and her home-made chutney, I wished that Lawrence lived closer so that I wouldn’t be the only singleton at gatherings, but he’d gone home to Sussex a few days after the funeral.
I realized that I needed to cultivate some single friends, people like me who’d maybe lost their partner but still wanted company. Sara Meyers had been in touch again. She’d suggested that we go and visit Jo, who was recuperating from a heart attack. Sara’d been working on a programme idea and I’d listened to her talk about it, but not a lot of it had really gone in. My head had been full of fog.
As soon as I got home from the lunch, I called her.
‘Tell me more about what you’re up to,’ I said. ‘Your new programme.’
‘God, Ally, I’m so sorry about that,’ she said at the other end of the phone. ‘I shouldn’t have gone on about it last time we spoke but, you know me, I never did know when to shut up. Inappropriate is my middle name.’
‘Nonsense. I did ask you and you talking about it was exactly what I needed. It was refreshing to hear about life beyond death and now probate.’
‘How’s that going?’
‘Long and arduous, endless papers, far too boring to talk about. Tell me about you.’
‘I’ve been busy working on the new programme idea, plus I’ve been thinking about our time of life, how things change, priorities shift. Like for you, what you’ve just been through, or rather are going through: it’s a huge and unexpected life change. You’re lucky you have such good friends around you.’
‘True, I am, and I’m having to revaluate so many things, that’s for sure, but there’s no question about it, friends are
