A Hopeless Romantic

‘What?’ said Laura, wondering what on earth she could mean. ‘It’s not wonderful. I feel like a complete fool. I’ve lost my best friend; I’ve lost my job; I’ve behaved like an idiot.’

‘I think it is wonderful,’ said Mary, standing up. She went into the kitchen. ‘You fell in love, well, that’s wonderful. All right, it was with completely the wrong man. But it’s over now, and the best of it is no more secrets. No more living your life in half-shadow, which is what it seems to me that you’ve been doing these last few months.’

‘Yes,’ said Laura, staring into the gloom of the kitchen. ‘I hadn’t thought of it like that. But – I’m always doing it, always falling for the wrong person. I’m so stupid.’

‘No, you’re not,’ said Mary. ‘You just haven’t met the right one yet. And until then, at least you’re not lying to everyone you know any more.’

‘I know,’ Laura said. She squirmed a bit in her seat. ‘But…I know this sounds awful, but –’

‘What?’ said Mary.

‘I quite liked all of that,’ Laura confessed. ‘The secrecy. The drama of it. If I’m completely honest, I think that was partly it. Isn’t that awful? That’s what makes me feel so bad about it all. What a nasty person I must be.’

It was dreadful, when she thought about it with the tiniest bit of hindsight, to admit this was the case. That a small part of herself was such a masochist, so enjoyed putting herself through all of this. That she liked hearing sad songs on the radio and staring gloomily out of the window late at night. Liked the tears in her eyes as she walked home of an evening, thinking about how much she loved Dan and how great they were together. It was so adolescent.

‘Laura, darling, every woman does it at some point in their life,’ said Mary. ‘You’re not a nasty person. You’re an honest person. You’ve absolutely shown how incompetent you are at cloak-and-dagger stuff, my love, and that’s wonderful too. It’s not in your nature, Laura, it never has been. You’ve always been honest, since you were a tiny thing. It’s best that way. Let me get another drink.’

‘It’s boring that way,’ said Laura.

There was silence from the kitchen. Laura thought her grandmother hadn’t heard her.

‘I mean, it’s such a boring way to live your life,’ she said.

Mary appeared in the doorway, holding two more gin and tonics. She put them down on the raffia mat at the centre of the table. She put her hand on Laura’s shoulder.

‘Darling, never say that.’ She spoke quietly. ‘Never say that. Living an honest life is the best gift anyone can have, believe me.’

She sat down heavily in the wicker chair.

‘Really?’ said Laura.

‘Really,’ said Mary firmly. ‘Besides which, I think you may have had a lucky escape. No, listen –’ because Laura’s expression was mutinous ‘– honestly. This way, you’ll come to realise you were better off without him. I promise, you will.’

‘Don’t, Gran,’ said Laura. ‘I know. I know. It’s just – really hard.’

‘It’s true,’ Mary said. She drummed her fingernails on the table. ‘You never got to the next stage, thank god. The stage when you’re together with him, and both of you are walking down the street, and a girl walks past who looks exactly like – whatever the girlfriend’s name is, what is it?’

‘Amy,’ said Laura.

‘Yes, exactly,’ said Mary, as if this was further evidence. ‘And instantly the guilt starts up in your mind. The recriminations. Is he looking at her, is it awkward, does he still find her attractive? Does he think he made an awful mistake?’

‘Well,’ said Laura.

‘It’s a life half-lived. That’s what you would have had, believe me.’ Mary drained her drink. ‘And that, my darling girl, is not your destiny.’

‘Well –’

‘Trust me.’

Laura didn’t know what to say, but something about her grandmother’s expression told her further questioning would be dangerous. After a few seconds Mary sighed, and smiled, and the twinkle reappeared in her eyes.

‘You are a very great girl, Laura darling, you do know that?’

Laura didn’t know what to say, it seemed such a completely untrue remark, apart from anything else. So she was silent.

Mary watched her, and she said, ‘I know you don’t think so, but you are. I am so proud of you, of the way you are. Guy would be so proud to see how you’ve turned out, you and Simon.’

‘Hardly,’ said Laura. ‘He’d disown us. Well, me. If you can disown your step-grandchildren, which I don’t think you can.’

‘You’re not listening,’ said Mary slightly sharply. ‘I am proud of you, Laura, and do you know why?’

‘I am listening. Why?’ said Laura, hastily swallowing some more of her drink.

‘Because the quality you castigate yourself most about – your tendency to fall in love with the most inconvenient people – is what I love about you, darling.’

‘Oh, Gran,’ said Laura, trying not to sound impatient. ‘That’s just not true. It’s awful – I should get a grip, not –’

Mary interrupted her. She banged her ringed hand on the arm of her chair, as if she were Elizabeth I inspecting the English fleet. ‘No, darling. You have a great capacity to love. Be careful. Use it wisely. But be proud of it. So much love in your heart. That’s why I worry about you.’

She coughed. Laura listened, relieved to be talking about it at last, but not really knowing what to say.

‘I worry you will walk away from that. That this will close you up, make you forget how wonderful falling in love can be. Don’t.’

‘Are you saying I should go out there and pull the first man I see?’ said Laura, trying to make light of it.

‘No, no,’ Mary shook her head crossly. ‘Just – promise me, darling. Don’t run away from it, not now.’ She closed her eyes briefly. ‘I worry that you will. That’s all. Now, tell me,’ she said, changing the subject and lifting the glass to her mouth and holding it there. ‘If you have nowhere to go on holiday next week, might this mean that you want to keep me company with your parents in Norfolk? And that you’ll be there for my birthday lunch? Which, darling, I note you would have missed otherwise.’

Laura’s hand flew to her mouth.

‘Oh shit,’ she said. ‘Sorry.’

‘What’s that?’ Mary said, alarmed.

‘Holiday.’ Laura croaked, then stood up. The buried memory of her financial situation came rushing back. ‘Holiday. With Dan. All booked. Have to cancel. No insurance.’ She sank back into her chair.

‘Well,’ said Mary. ‘Ain’t that a pretty pickle.’

‘No one in a western ever said that, Gran.’

‘Yes they did.’

‘What am I going to do?’

‘I’ll lend you the money,’ Mary said instantly.

‘No,’ said Laura, shaking her head slowly. ‘No. I got myself into this mess. God. I’m going to get myself out of it. And then I’m never, ever looking at another man ever again.’

‘Really?’ said Mary, smiling.