stomach. The meeting fulfilled in acute spasms of rapture. I jerk with sex. I jolt with sex. And when he screams out that he loves me I brim over with a feeling of gladness.
Suddenly everything is crystal. This is the last piece of the jigsaw, the glass of freezing water on a blisteringly, stifling day, the hot, creamy chocolate after an afternoon on the piste, the sunshine on a wet pavement after a summer storm, the thing the songs go on and on and on about. He’s it.
Exhausted and sweating, we fall on to each other.
I watch him execute the logistics of falling asleep: peeing, putting a glass of water on the bedside table, adjusting the air conditioning, discarding the duvet and selecting a sheet instead, and I’m fascinated. I watch him turn on to his side and see that, as his breathing calms, his shoulders rise and fall steadily. I tuck tightly into him. My breasts on his back. His bum nestling in my pubes. My legs folded into his, finishing with my toes in the arch of his ankle. And it starts to fade. The throbbing anger, cynicism and mistrust that I’ve carried around for twenty-six years start to fade. As does the terrible feeling of loss and grief that I’ve been soused in since January. I am simply full of love and hope and possibility. The revelation that we are imbued with something more interesting than physical gratification is velvety. The recognition that I, too, have a need for and ability to give respect, friendship, love and passion sings around my head. This man is my destiny. This man is my life. Fuck it, I’ll risk it. So he doesn’t come with a warranty – so what? I’ll risk it. And I’m so lucky to be able to.
‘Cas, you awake?’ Darren’s whisper interrupts my thoughts.
‘Yes,’ I whisper back, although I’m unsure who we’re being careful not to disturb.
‘I was just wondering.’
‘What?’
‘Will you marry me?’
‘Yes.’
I know. It’s slightly unconventional that I am technically engaged to two men.
18
Here I am in the middle of realizing a dream, a dream I didn’t even realize I had, and it’s good. Really good. Wow. That shit about better to travel hopefully than arrive. Losers. Better to arrive spectacularly and I have.
I have! I’m drunk on euphoria (and only a little bit of fear). I want to bottle the experience and keep it on my dressing table. I know he is
We stay in the hotel all morning, excitedly talking about when and where we’ll get married. Darren is thrilled when I admit that there’s nothing I’d like more than to marry in St Hilda’s Abbey, Whitby.
‘You mean the church near the abbey. The actual abbey is decayed. It doesn’t have a roof.’
‘No. I mean the abbey. I want to be outside in the open.’
‘We can look into it. I’m not sure of the rules. I suppose once ground is consecrated, it’s always consecrated, long after the roof has fallen in.’ He pauses and kisses a mole on my back. T didn’t think you believed in God. What are you doing? Keeping a foot in each camp?’
‘No, it’s not that. It just feels right. The abbey is so beautiful. I felt calm there.’
We both confess to a hankering for a winter wedding.
‘Although it will be freezing, so I have to consider erect nipples if we are getting married outdoors. They can ruin a photograph,’ I comment.
‘Can they?’ From his tone it’s obvious that he doesn’t think so.
I can see me in a long fur dress and him in navy velvet. I can see it all so clearly. We talk about children, how many and their names! Then we agree that we had better get up and start telling people. I freeze. Telling people that I’m marrying Darren necessarily means telling them I’m not marrying Josh. I’m terrified and horrified. I can only imagine the pain and disappointment I’m going to cause. I turn to Darren and consider confessing everything to him. I’m sure he’ll guide me, and advise me on how best to handle this awful situation. But the words don’t fall out of my mouth. Instead we agree to negotiate a late checkout. I try to thrust Josh to the back of my mind. We order champagne and drink it in our room. Later we order lunch, ‘our meal’ (because we already have ‘our’ things) – cheese on toast which I can’t eat. So instead we celebrate with more loving. At four o’clock the chambermaid and the manager hover, then hammer outside our door, insisting that the room has to be cleaned, as it is booked by someone else for tonight. Reluctantly we drag ourselves out of bed and into our clothes.
We say goodbye to one another in the hotel lobby, but then can’t quite separate, so Darren walks me to the tube even though he is catching a bus. We say goodbye again at the ticket barrier but then decide to buy a ticket for him, just so that we can say a final goodbye on the platform. We wouldn’t have parted at all but I have arrangements to meet my mum and Issie at my flat to do a final fitting of the wedding dress. The wedding to Josh, that is.
‘I expect his reluctance to let you out of his sight was because he isn’t sure when, or indeed if, he’s ever going to see you again,’ snaps Issie.
‘Of course he knows he’ll see me again. He trusts me. I trust me. We’re going to see each other every day for the rest of our lives.’ I giggle and do a small on-the-spot jig. I’m just so full of energy! My mother and Issie stare at me from their seats on the settee. Their faces sort of spoil the moment.
‘Aren’t you pleased for me?’
They exchange looks.
‘Aren’t you going to congratulate me on my engagement?’
Issie tuts, ‘Which one, Little Miss Changie-Mindy?’ I notice my mother put her hand on top of Issie’s in a futile attempt to calm her.
‘It does seems a little sudden,’ comments my mum. Trying to walk the tightrope between tact and instruction.
‘It’s not sudden, I’ve felt like this for a long time, I’ve just found the courage to admit it. I haven’t changed my mind, just my heart. I am still sure that infidelity, shallowness and cruelty are out there. I just no longer believe they are my only option.’
‘You know, you’re right. Infidelity, shallowness and cruelty are out there,’ shouts Issie. ‘And do you know something else? They are right here too.
Of course I haven’t forgotten him. I admit that I’ve worked hard in the last twenty-four hours not to think of him, but he’s been with me all the time. He’s the shadow on my intense euphoria. Which is heartbreaking, because I do believe that all he ever wanted to do was make me happy.
‘I can’t marry Josh,’ I state sadly.
‘Well, I realized that you weren’t planning on becoming a bigamist,’ screams Issie. Her mouth is wide open and her face is the same colour as her tonsils.
I kneel in front of them, hoping, rather than expecting, they’ll understand. Issie flings herself back against the settee; my mother moves a fraction closer to me. Although it’s hardly a herald of angels, I take this as a sign of encouragement.
I try to explain. ‘I didn’t believe in love – I couldn’t understand why anyone would. When people talked about love it was like reading reports about war in a faraway country – it just didn’t seem real. And then I… well… I guess… I…’ Issie and my mother are staring at me, which is a bit offputting. ‘Well… fell in love.’
‘Visited the war zone, so to speak?’ says my mother. She sounds unsure.
I plough on regardless. ‘But it was really scary, so I… well… I…’ Bugger – when did I start stuttering? ‘Ran away.’ Issie tuts like a budgie. ‘But once I knew the war zone was real, really real, I found it impossible to ignore. Marrying Josh would be a halfway measure, like sending food parcels.’
‘You want to be a foot soldier rather than part of the Red Cross,’ says my mum. She still doesn’t sound confident. Hearing her repeat it back to me like that, I realize how bizarre my analogy is. So I try something more conventional.
‘I am so sorry that I’m going to hurt Josh. But don’t you see? It would be much worse marrying him when I don’t feel about him the way he does about me.’
‘Yes, I see that,’ says Issie. ‘That was my point all the way along.’
‘Darren makes jokes funnier if he laughs at them and he makes the room more homely when he enters it. He makes water cleaner, nights blacker and stars brighter if he notices them. I hadn’t wanted to admit that love
