Page 95 of Old Girls Go Off the Rails
‘Anything we can do to help?’ Harriet asks. ‘No? Nothing? Good. So, is there any sherry that needs finishing up seeing as Rupert is the designated driver today?’
They take their drinks into the sitting room and there is more noise and chatter when they meet up with Evelyn and Marjorie. Jack comes out into the kitchen and pours a sherry for me, and then he comes to stand behind me and he puts his arms around me.
‘A year ago today,’ he says, ‘I was getting on a train to Paris. I was in a bad mood.’
‘We knew by your expression,’ I say. ‘We called you Mr Grumpy.’
‘I’m not grumpy now,’ he says.
‘That’s because you’re looking forward to Sunday lunch. Simple pleasures at our age.’
‘No, not just that. I found that I’m not too old to love you, and you’re not too old to be loved. Isn’t that great?’
I am aware of my little tabby cat sitting hopefully at my feet now, looking up with amber eyes and willing me to give him the first scraps of beef. Which he knows I will.
Jack and I stand there together for a few minutes and I think how very fortunate I am.
It took some time for both of us, but we got there in the end.
It is so true that trust can be destroyed in seconds and takes a long time to repair. And yet with the right person and a willing heart, it can be easy. And it is the small details that matter, not the grand gestures. For the other person to care about someone’s thoughts and worries, both of us putting the other person’s feelings first, not last.
Jack bringing in a full log basket without being asked, me remembering that he doesn’t like walnuts. Him de-icing my car when it’s frosty, me buying him new flavours of ice cream to try.
Both of us knowing that there are very few things worth arguing about. Both of us just wanting to make the other person feel happy and safe and loved.
Of one thing I am sure: wherever I go, the journey of my life is far from over.
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