Goose by Dawn O'Porter Page A

my wedding dress and you both laughing at it and seeing it played out in front of me reminded me of how much of a fool I feel for getting married. I should have thrown my dress away, but I just couldn’t.’
    â€˜You’re not a fool. You only got divorced, loads of people get divorced. Mum and Dad got divorced, quite a few people in my class have divorced parents. It’s normal.’
    She puts her hands on her face and groans.
    â€˜But I never wanted to get divorced, Renée. In front of all my family and friends I stood up in that stupid bloody dress and told the man I loved that I would spend the rest of my life with him. He said the same, but I knew, I knew he didn’t mean it like I did, but I still went ahead with it.’
    â€˜Do you really think he didn’t love you?’
    â€˜He loved me, of course, but not the way he should have. I think he thought I would do, but that he had always hoped for something better. He used to point out all of my faults, which put me in my shell. He thought he was being helpful, telling me how to better myself all the time, but all that meant is that I got smaller and smaller until I was completely invisible to him and he wanted to be with somebody else.’
    â€˜He sounds really mean. I didn’t realise Uncle Andrew was like that,’ I say, shocked and quite upset that I was ever nice to him.
    â€˜It’s subtle. He was perfectly nice to me on a daily basis, but he obviously wanted me to be a different person so found it hard to hide that,’ she says, sitting up. ‘People don’t have to think each other is perfect in a relationship, but if you want to change someone you have to be gentle, filter it through in other ways, not just constant criticism; offer advice and encourage, not slam them for being who they are. I lost my confidence and he let me drown, never once trying to save me.’ She drops her head a little. ‘I’d have divorced me too. And now look at me. Forty-four, single and loveless. I will almost definitely never have a child of my own because I married the wrong man. That dress is a symbol of all of that. It’s hard to see any humour in it, you know?’
    I feel so sad. I never thought Aunty Jo had struggled like this – she has always been so private about her marriage. But of course it broke down because it was awful – why else would it?
    â€˜Sorry,’ she says, and blows her nose with a tissue that’s in her hand. ‘I shouldn’t tell you these things. You have dealt with enough, and you don’t need to hear about sad old spinsters with tragic love lives.’
    I put my arm around her.
    â€˜To be fair, Aunty Jo,’ I tell her, ‘you’re not the one who just married a dead transvestite.’
    That makes her laugh.
    â€˜How was your date?’ I ask, hoping it went well.
    She rolls her eyes.
    â€˜Turns out the only thing we have in common is the way we like our lamb chops cooked. By the end of dinner I wanted to burn him to a crisp, to be honest. Ah well, I’m sure Mr Right is out there somewhere. Thanks, darling. You go to bed, I’ll be all right.’
    â€˜Sure?’
    â€˜Sure!’
    Just as I get to my bedroom door, Aunty Jo calls out, ‘Renée?’
    â€˜Yeah?’
    â€˜That skeleton won’t stay in the lounge, will it?’
    I turn and smile. ‘Night, Aunty Jo. Sleep tight.’

4
Too Much
    Flo
    Lying back on my bed I listen to the lyrics of Gordon’s music. The chorus of one song is:
    Christ, you are my smile
    Christ, you are my sight
    Christ, you are my every thought
    Christ, I love your might.
    How can Christ be your smile? I try not to overthink it and attempt to lose myself in the music. I want to have learned all of the words in time for the gig tonight. I have an hour before I have to leave. That would be a pretty cool thing to do. Cool in a going-to-a-God-themed-rock-concert kind of way.
    I