Chapter 28

Three days later - Monday morning - Robert & Sarah [Sarah]

Robert was waiting for me outside my digs. I slid into the passenger seat, reached over and kissed him lightly. My heart was pounding with excitement. My waiting time was up and I was ready. I looked for a hint.

"Good morning," he said, driving off. My heart sank, excitement fading.

Here I am your willing bride. All revved up and ready to go.

"What a lovely day!" he said as we drove through the town. He glanced at me smiling.

Hopeful.

"Aren't we lucky!"

Oh well. Make the best of it. After all, things have improved a bit since Thursday.

I sat quietly as Robert drove on this mysterious expedition, picking his way through the mid-morning traffic. I was content, at peace, sitting beside him.

The weekend had been good. We'd done the same on both days. Met for lunch, feeding me up, permanently hungry now. Robert being kind and gentle. Then squash after work. Robert being unkind and not at all gentle. I'd been lucky to win the odd point. I planned to practice secretly with Barbara and surprise him. Still, the exercise was good after a day in the library. Then we'd walked, damp from the shower, into town to find a place to eat. We'd found a little cafe that neither of us had been to before. It was so good to be sharing something new for both of us, even if the place wasn't extra special. The staff were kind to lovers and we were left on our own. We carefully avoided talk of past or future. We were in limbo, both immersed in work, realising just how much we had to do to catch up. We drank enough wine to make us cheerful and I ate enough to make me welcome the walk back to Polly's, holding hands. We'd sat with Polly, Arthur, Barbara and Michael for a while, talking about the little domestic triumphs and disasters of the day.

Robert and I had kissed goodnight at the front door, casually, trying not to excite, but the tension underneath had been crackling. The oddest limbo.

Barbara had come into my room and talked. She was kind and gentle too. Encouraging me. I'd poured out my heart about Robert and we'd cried together. She was inquisitive about what was in plan for my 'wedding night'. When I told her that there didn't seem to be anything special in plan, she'd looked at me oddly, saying that it didn't sound like Robert to let me down over something like that.

And I'd worked. It was an enormous relief to find I could work again. No nagging distractions, uncertainties. I was in love and loved. Whenever I had a panic, I could fall back on that love and get back to work. None of the pencil chewing staring out of the window of the last weeks - and months. Now I was working well, I realised how bad things had got, slowly sliding down over the months. Ever since Elizabeth had made me realise that loving Robert might not be hopeless after all. From that time on, there had been doubt, black thoughts and hopelessness waiting to distract me. Now, I was free from all of that. There were plenty of uncertainties, but they didn't threaten and I didn't have to face them alone.

Whoops! Daydreaming.

The car was crunching on the gravel parking-place outside the church. It was just over three weeks since I'd said my last farewells to Elizabeth. I'd run from the church because I couldn't face Robert.

Today, he seemed happy. He took my hand without explanation and led me round the church. We stopped by the heap of earth covered by wilting flowers and wreaths. He stood looking down for a long moment, biting his lip, then turned away suddenly decisive.

He looked up at the sun. It was warm and bright. A surprise for May. Spring was the end of my long winter too. Robert led me beyond Elizabeth's fresh grave to an older stone monument.

"Barbara beloved wife of Andrew Lawley, died 7 July in the 48th year of her age," Robert read, squatting to brush at the lichen on the stone.

"She was born Barbara Fleming, just about a hundred years ago. She was Andrew's first wife and Elizabeth was his second. And here's Andrew, between his two wives." Robert stepped sideways and bent to the next slab.