couldn’t look after him I took him round to my mum. She adored having him, and she was really sorry about…Well, she was really sorry.’
‘You didn’t tell her, did you?’
‘No. Of course not.’
‘Good. What did you say?’
‘I just told her that you’d broken up with Alexander, that you were camping here while the work was being done, and that it was a…difficult time.’
‘That’s fine. You’re the only person who knows,’ I added quietly, as she put down her bags.
‘Don’t worry—my lips are sealed. But didn’t you even tell your mother?’ she asked as she sat down. I shook my head. There are so many things—huge things—that I’ve never told her. I’m too ashamed, so I’ve bottled them up. ‘But why not?’ Daisy asked, looking puzzled.
‘Well, because she’s rather jaundiced about marriage, so I knew what she’d say. I just told her the engagement was off. She mostly seemed relieved that she wouldn’t have to see my dad again.’
‘But didn’t she want to know why it had ended?’
‘She didn’t, actually. But then she’s always so busy—you know how it is. What with three teenage girls to look after, not to mention the boys.’
Daisy nodded diplomatically. ‘Of course…the boys…’
‘Anyway, the fewer people who know, the better I like it.’
‘But it’s not as though you did anything wrong.’
‘No, but…’
‘But what?’
I stared at a rhombus of sunlight on the wall. ‘The whole thing makes me feel somehow…ashamed. The thought that I could have made such a mistake.’
‘But you couldn’t have known. You couldn’t have known that Alexander was like…that,’ she said delicately. ‘He seemed so, well…’ she gave a helpless shrug. ‘Perfect.’
‘Yes,’ I said quietly. ‘He did.’
‘So not a whisper from him then?’ she asked as she took off her cardigan.
‘No,’ I said bitterly. ‘But as we both know it’s over, what’s the point?’
‘I don’t blame you,’ she agreed. ‘Some things one can get over,’ she said carefully. ‘But I really don’t see how you could have got over that. Anyway—today’s the summer solstice,’ she went on purposefully, ‘which is a turning point—and this is a turning point for you too. You’re about to start a new, busy, happy phase of your life, Miranda, and I know it’s going to be good. Now, will you give me the guided tour?’
I stood up. ‘It won’t take long—it’s a good job Herman and I are both small.’ I’m five foot one and a half (at that height, the half matters) and my frame is slight. People often say I’m ‘petite’ or ‘gamine’. Daisy, on the other hand, is five foot eight and rather curvy. At Bristol we were called Little and Large.
Daisy admired the consulting room with its pale beech flooring, and yes, psychiatrist’s couch—in a practical beige—then we went into the tiny galley kitchen at the back.
‘Sweet garden,’ she remarked, as we looked out of the window into the minuscule courtyard. ‘It’ll look great when you fill it with pots.’ Then we went up the narrow stairs. I carried Herman because dachshunds get back problems. ‘I like the skylight over the bed,’ she remarked. ‘Very romantic. You can lie there and look at the stars.’
‘I’m not feeling romantic,’ I pointed out matter-of-factly.
‘Not now. But you will be. One day.’ She squeezed my arm. ‘You will get over this, Miranda. You’re only thirty-two.’
‘I feel fifty-two. It’s the stress.’ And not simply the stress of Alexander, though I didn’t say that to Daisy. As I say, I’ve always bottled things up.
‘Thank God the wedding plans weren’t very far advanced,’ she breathed as she peered into the wardrobe. That was true. Our engagement was so recent that we hadn’t got round to putting in the announcement. All we’d done was chosen the ring. Daisy looked in the tiny en-suite bathroom.
‘I must say your builder’s done a great job. It’s enough to destroy all one’s prejudices about them.’
‘I know. He did it to budget, and on time. He also did loads of extra things, just to help. He assembled my bed, and the desk; he even installed my computer. He obviously felt sorry for me.’
‘Did he know what you’d been…?’ Daisy’s voice trailed away.
‘Well…he was too tactful to comment, but I think he could tell.’
‘And how are you…feeling?’ she added as she sat on the bed.
I heaved a painful sigh. ‘Much better than I was.’
She picked up my bottle of sleeping pills. ‘Are you still taking these?’ I nodded. ‘Well, try not to. And you must eat more, you’re much too thin.’
‘Mmm.’ I’m about seven stone at the moment, though I ought to be eight. Interestingly, my size was one of the things that first attracted Alexander to me because he’s six foot one, and well built. He loved the fact that I was so small and boyish—he said it made him feel ‘manly’. He loved the fact that I came up to his chin. He liked to pull me into him then tuck me right under. I felt as though I were sheltering beneath a huge rock.
‘It was…incredible,’ I heard Daisy murmur as we went downstairs. ‘And what a let-down,’ she added indignantly. I shrugged. Men have let me down all my life. ‘Anyway, I’ve brought you some eggs and bread and some tomatoes, and I’m going to make you eat.’
As she opened one of the packing crates and found a bowl and a fork, I wondered, as I often do—I simply can’t help it—what Alexander was doing now. Just because it’s over doesn’t mean I don’t miss him; and I knew that he’d be missing me. We’d become great friends apart from anything else; we’d had such an easy, almost effortless, rapport.
I’d met him just over a year ago, not far from here, at the open-air theatre in Regent’s Park. I went with Daisy and her boyfriend, Nigel, to see The Tempest, a play I love. It was one of those magical summer evenings we sometimes get, with a clear sky, and a sliver of moon; and, as dusk descended, the lamps at the edge of the stage began to glimmer and shine. And when Alexander first appeared, as Ferdinand, a slight frisson went through the crowd. He looked just so, well, beautiful, I suppose—he has a beautiful face, with full, curving lips that you want to trace with your fingertip, fine cheekbones, dark hair, and blue eyes. I remember the actress playing Miranda declaring him to be a thing divine. And he called her Admired Miranda! Indeed the top of admiration, as though she were some rare work of art. And, although I hadn’t seen the play for years, so many lines from it still stay in my mind. Ariel singing Full Fathom Five so hauntingly, Miranda’s ecstatic O brave new world; then, finally, the wonderful moment when Prospero is redeemed.
