to make other people happy. I have never known Franklin to cause offence, or to lose his temper or snap or be grumpy. And goodness knows most of them in here have enough to be grumpy about. The incurable, dragging illnesses they suffer; the stacks of tablets to be dished out every day; the children and grandchildren who don’t visit but still expect Christmas and birthday presents and prime position in the will. There is a lot of talk about wills, and bowel movements, and food.
It could drag a person down if you let it. But then there’s the other side of the coin: the hope in the eyes when the post comes round and there’s a letter or a card addressed to them; the laughter and the mischief-making and the bawdy stories they love to share. There are the memories you get to hear about, thick with all of life, of lives well lived. And then, most wonderful of all, are the romances.
I’ve known for some time that Edie has a thing for Franklin. Not the same kind of benign love we all feel for Franklin; Edie’s regard goes far deeper. I watch her now out of the corner of my eye as Franklin teases Violet about her hearing aid. Edie’s face lights up when she looks at him – I’ve seen her giggle like a schoolgirl when he turns his bright light of affection on her, or blush and hide her face, or disappear from the room in confusion. Once I teased her about her toy boy – a whole five years younger than her – but the look on her face told me this was no laughing matter. This was love.
‘There are no wedding photos,’ I tell Violet and the others, ‘because … there was no wedding.
Violet fiddles with her hearing aid, shouting, ‘What? What?’ above the clamour of voices and exclamations. It takes me a while to calm them down enough to listen to my explanation, and of course I keep it short, missing out a few essential details.
‘You mean you just changed your mind?’ says Rosa incredulously. ‘But that man of yours, he’s gorgeous.’
I nod. There is no denying the truth of this.
‘He was a real catch. You’ve messed up there, girl. There won’t be another one like that.’
‘Leave her alone, Rosa. Can’t you see she’s upset?’ Edie puts her arm around me and pulls me close. Her hair smells of pears and her cheek is papery and dry next to mine. ‘It’s all right, Stella dear. You have a good cry.’
How is it that these people who I’ve known for such a short time can offer more comfort than my own family? Franklin goes to the buffet and gets me a cup of tea – their answer to every problem in here – while Edie strokes my arm and Violet tells everyone, in a voice that’s even louder than before, of a man she knew who was also jilted at the altar.
‘What happened to him,’ I ask, sniffing into Franklin’s handkerchief.
‘What?’
‘What happened to the man?’ I shout.
‘Oh,’ says Violet coyly, ‘I married him, is what.’
We all start to laugh at this, and at the look on her face, and for the first time in three days I feel better. I look around at my friends and offer a tentative smile.
‘You’ll get through this,’ Edie whispers, getting to her feet. ‘You made the right decision, you know.’
‘Did I?’ I wipe my nose and look up at her. Between her shoulders is a noticeable hunch – when the hairdresser visits each week Edie has to stand up and bend forward over the sink to have her hair washed. She says she doesn’t mind, but I’ve seen how she gets shampoo in her eyes and the back of her dress always ends up soaked through. She nods her neat little head and smiles.
‘How do you know, though? What if I’ve made the worst mistake of my life? That’s what everyone else thinks.’
Edie huffs and gives a brisk shake of her head. ‘There’s no such thing as a mistake, my dear. There are only paths taken. This was the right decision simply because it was the decision you made. That, my dear,’ she adds with a conspiratorial tap of the nose, ‘is the secret to
It could drag a person down if you let it. But then there’s the other side of the coin: the hope in the eyes when the post comes round and there’s a letter or a card addressed to them; the laughter and the mischief-making and the bawdy stories they love to share. There are the memories you get to hear about, thick with all of life, of lives well lived. And then, most wonderful of all, are the romances.
I’ve known for some time that Edie has a thing for Franklin. Not the same kind of benign love we all feel for Franklin; Edie’s regard goes far deeper. I watch her now out of the corner of my eye as Franklin teases Violet about her hearing aid. Edie’s face lights up when she looks at him – I’ve seen her giggle like a schoolgirl when he turns his bright light of affection on her, or blush and hide her face, or disappear from the room in confusion. Once I teased her about her toy boy – a whole five years younger than her – but the look on her face told me this was no laughing matter. This was love.
‘There are no wedding photos,’ I tell Violet and the others, ‘because … there was no wedding.
Violet fiddles with her hearing aid, shouting, ‘What? What?’ above the clamour of voices and exclamations. It takes me a while to calm them down enough to listen to my explanation, and of course I keep it short, missing out a few essential details.
‘You mean you just changed your mind?’ says Rosa incredulously. ‘But that man of yours, he’s gorgeous.’
I nod. There is no denying the truth of this.
‘He was a real catch. You’ve messed up there, girl. There won’t be another one like that.’
‘Leave her alone, Rosa. Can’t you see she’s upset?’ Edie puts her arm around me and pulls me close. Her hair smells of pears and her cheek is papery and dry next to mine. ‘It’s all right, Stella dear. You have a good cry.’
How is it that these people who I’ve known for such a short time can offer more comfort than my own family? Franklin goes to the buffet and gets me a cup of tea – their answer to every problem in here – while Edie strokes my arm and Violet tells everyone, in a voice that’s even louder than before, of a man she knew who was also jilted at the altar.
‘What happened to him,’ I ask, sniffing into Franklin’s handkerchief.
‘What?’
‘What happened to the man?’ I shout.
‘Oh,’ says Violet coyly, ‘I married him, is what.’
We all start to laugh at this, and at the look on her face, and for the first time in three days I feel better. I look around at my friends and offer a tentative smile.
‘You’ll get through this,’ Edie whispers, getting to her feet. ‘You made the right decision, you know.’
‘Did I?’ I wipe my nose and look up at her. Between her shoulders is a noticeable hunch – when the hairdresser visits each week Edie has to stand up and bend forward over the sink to have her hair washed. She says she doesn’t mind, but I’ve seen how she gets shampoo in her eyes and the back of her dress always ends up soaked through. She nods her neat little head and smiles.
‘How do you know, though? What if I’ve made the worst mistake of my life? That’s what everyone else thinks.’
Edie huffs and gives a brisk shake of her head. ‘There’s no such thing as a mistake, my dear. There are only paths taken. This was the right decision simply because it was the decision you made. That, my dear,’ she adds with a conspiratorial tap of the nose, ‘is the secret to
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