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Weathering the Storms

 

 

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– 1 –

Swimming

 

 

The water was warm.  It was comfortingly warm.  She could swim forever.  Submerged. Submerged in warmth, submerged in life.

She could not swim far.  Mainly because there was not any distance to go.  She did not want to swim far.  She was fine where she was.

It was rhythmic, the waters spoke to her, kept her safe.  She could not swim far – every day she could swim less.  The walls, it appeared, were engulfing her – sucking the life out of her life. There was no room.  There was not room enough to swim.

 

There was hardly any room enough to move.

 

She didn’t want to leave.

 

She did not want to leave her sanctuary.

 

Everything was safe, everything was safe, everything was warm.

 

Then the waters oozed away.

 

She was gasping for breath.

 

Fearful of the experience.

 

She did not want things to change.  Change brings fear.

 

They were bullies; trying to tear her from her world.  All she could hear was their noise – she did not understand their noise.

 

Can you be stubborn before you understand what the word means?  She was too young to understand what any word meant.  She only knew one emotion and that was fear.

 

She refused to leave, determined to stay put.  If time in life is measured it was a blink of an eye.  In her life-span it was an eternity.

 

It was decided that she needed assistance to complete this mission, to complete her journey.

 

The inevitable would happen.

 

The truth will out.

 

She was forced out.

 

The pool seeped away.  There was nowhere for her to swim.  Shallow waters.  Still she refused.

 

The truth will out.

 

She was forced out.

 

She came screaming into the world.  Screams of fear.  Her first communication to the world.

 

She was a bruised individual – gasping, gasping for air.

 

Her lungs were filling.  A first breath; the first bruises, engrained into her being, a pain in the side, a pain in the side of her head.

 

She was forced out.

 

Forceps.

 

 

– 2 –

Tears for Souvenirs

 

 

There was only the three of them.  She did not remember meeting anyone else ever.  Looking back, she knew this could not be true.  Even at the young age of five she must have encountered others.  But if she did, she did not remember.

 

Levels in a hierarchy and she was on the bottom rung because she was the youngest, the smallest; always in the back of the car – never allowed to sit in the front.

 

It was a wrench. It was a wrench that was never explained – this separation; this meeting with others.  Isolated amongst many.

 

Her head throbbed; the sides of her head where it always hurt when she was afraid.  She was fearful of the experience.  Change brings fear.  Although she was isolated, she was not alone in her feelings of being adrift.

 

She did not notice George’s tears; she could not see through her own.  And, it didn’t seem natural to talk to a boy.  She had always believed that boys were tougher.  George was a boy.  George was not tough.

 

Both her tears and those of George were trickles.  If they had been combined the trickles would have become a stream.  Strength in numbers.  Combined forces are always stronger but their efforts even in crying were individual and they never noticed each other.

 

They could not see through their tears.

 

Over time the tears stopped.  They got used to their environment.  Some days were still fearful but the majority were carefree.

 

She made friends and George made friends.  Girls together.  Boys together. That was how it started and that was how it remained for many years.

 

They all wanted to remain individual.  They all wanted to be the same – not to stand out in the crowd.  But there was an itch from the start.  Clothes not used to.

 

Over time through lots of washes the itches stopped and the pain at the sides of her head eased.  Everything comes out in the wash.

 

She still remembers the first time she wore those clothes; everyone the same, their new roles, everything in uniform.

 

Some people don’t recall but she always remembered the day, the feelings.

 

 

*

**

​

Her first day at school.

​

 

 

– 3 –

Suction

 

 

To her he was the devil; the most evil man in the world - certainly in her world.  She had nightmarish visions of him and every feature of him was engrained in her mind.  If truth be known her real impressions were indistinct.  In her mind’s eye Dr Atwell towered above her, looking down at her despair, cackling as he enjoyed her torture.

 

In reality Dr Atwell was a modest, rather small man with a round face that displayed a friendly and sunny disposition.

 

To her he was the devil.

 

It was the sound, it was always the sound.  They told her not to eat sweet things but afterwards they gave her a lollipop.  She was too young to understand.  She just hated the first part and loved the second.

 

The sound in itself brought her pain.  She wanted her ears to be blocked.  Her temples trembled, the sides of her head where it always hurt when she was afraid.  She was fearful of the experience. 

 

She visited when she was told to.  It was free.  Given the choice she would not visit at all.  However, parents give instructions.  It was always the same.  She thought she followed the rules yet every time there was trauma; an incessant sound, a sound that drove into the heart of her.

 

A pain that made her gag.  She struggled for breath.

 

Experiences common in children.

 

​

*

**

 

She was a child no more.

 

The dread was still there, dormant – dormant memories.

 

Now she didn’t have to go, didn’t have to listen to the noise.  She still didn’t want to go.

 

But her world was crumbling.

 

And so were her teeth.

 

*

**

​

Her weight had yo-yoed her entire life.  The range of sizes in her wardrobe was measured in extremes – slight to obese.  It was always something she measured and something she was measured by.  People measure people by their perception – by how they look.

 

Looking in the mirror is often seen as a sign of conceit.  She looked in the mirror often and more than often these days.  The reason for her reflections was because she was self-conscious rather than self-confident.  It had always been the case but even more so recently.

 

Her teeth were falling out.  She could fool friends and family and even colleagues with claims of recent meals, baggy clothing hiding the truth.

 

Something had to change.

 

This situation had to be remedied.  She was fearful of the experience. 

 

Something had to change.

 

Change brings fear.

 

She couldn’t hide the truth from Dr Atwell.  Acid can be poisonous – it can kill.  The acid from her stomach that was often raised in her mouth worked as a river erodes its banks; cliffs that fall into the sea.

 

He knew and she knew he knew but something had to be done to repair the damage.  It was her first step in recognising what she was doing to herself.  In her mind she was selling out to the devil.

 

Dr Atwell wasn’t the devil.  He was a concerned and caring man.  So, she admitted to him what had been happening.  It was the first time she had said the words.  He spoke gently to her.  He was understanding, telling her how many people like her he had seen, men and women – even his own daughter had had the struggle but had won her personal battle.  Dr Atwell asked her if she would like him to put her in contact with someone that could help.

 

She did.

 

 

*

**

 

It was a long road ahead and she had taken the first step.  It was a small step but she would put her best foot forward.

 

She was his last patient he confided.  Dr Atwell was due to retire in a week’s time.  He was looking forward to all the things he was going to do and going to see.  Dr Atwell had a vitality of life that oozed out of him.  It was infectious.

 

How could she ever had hated him?

 

He gave her her smile back.

 

He made her smile.

 

The dentist is in the detail.

 

 

​

 

– 4 –

Fountain of All Knowledge

 

 

Emily had always been her best friend.  She couldn’t even really remember when they first met.  They were drawn to each other in primary school.  Girls together.  Boys together.  She didn’t look at the boys.  They were so much more confident than the girls.  That was her perception.  That was what she thought she knew.

 

She knew nothing.

 

Emily and herself were in the middle level of the hierarchy – not the most popular – not chosen last for playground games.  They had drifted together and stayed together.  Their initial friendship may have been a bit shaky but, in the years that passed it gathered firm foundations.

 

However, there was a difference between them.  It was one they both knew but never spoke of.  It became obvious in secondary school when they did not have each other by their side in all lessons.  But they met every break and ate their lunch together every day, and walked home together every evening.

 

She knew the day would come, the separation.  There was no prom, no shirt signing or autograph books for them.  They promised to keep in touch.  But it was a time of change and they had to walk separate paths.  Change brings fear.

 

They were both bright but, in reality, Emily was brighter.  They had been in different streams in school.  Brighter lights were ahead for Emily.  Cambridge.  She made it to university but in a provincial town.  It was once called a Polytechnic.  They kept in contact for a while but the gaps between letters grew as did the chasm in their friendship.  They moved in different circles.  Emily would undoubtably make great waves.  She knew she would only cause minor ripples.

 

The wrench at leaving home was horrendous.  She had spoken with Emily often about their bright futures ahead.  Maybe she got caught up in her dreams; maybe she got caught up in Emily’s dreams.

 

If truth be known she did not want to go.

 

It was all change.

 

Change brings fear.  She was fearful of the experience.

 

When the day came for her to go, she wanted to be prepared.  Preventative measures.  She told her Mother she wanted to protect her feelings.  It was a lie.  She wanted to protect her own.  So, she told her Mother to be strong and not to cry.

 

Her Mother did not cry.

 

Things were fine.

 

Her Father dissolved into tears.

​

*

**

​

She dissolved.

 

 

*

**

 

Her head throbbed; the sides of her head where it always hurt when she was afraid.

 

It was her first day again.  This time she was not at primary school.  This time she was at university.  This time, she told herself, she was too old for tears.  So, this time she could see clearly, and could clearly see that others were also afraid.  The fear of others made her relax. 

 

She was not alone.

 

Some showed bravado.  She did not.

 

A tap.  A trickle that would become a stream.  There was a tap on her shoulder.

 

“You scared too”?  A question she hesitated to answer.  The face that confronted her stirred a memory, but, if truth be known, her memory was vague.  She didn’t really remember him.  He forgave her.  He remembered her.  Of course, he did.

 

He had thought of her every day since they were five.

 

He became her best friend throughout the university years.  They stayed up late through desperation and elation, through partying and studying.  They listened to each other - as best friends do.

 

He was the best of friends.

 

 

*

**

 

George.

 

 

– 5 –

Baptism

 

 

Some would consider it a failure to return home.  But to her it was natural.  Emily had moved, as she inevitably would, to London and a career in marketing lay before her.  She was not sure exactly what Emily’s job entailed despite the congratulations she offered to Emily on the position she had obtained.

 

Her position was square one.  Back to it.  Still she was ecstatic to receive a job offer.  Herself and George drank cheap champagne.  He was working close but not near enough for her.  She was back in the family home.  Protected.  She could not afford to move away.  So, again she was sheltered.  The bubbles from the champagne soon went flat and reality kicked in.

 

Her first day at work.

 

She was fearful of the experience.  Change brings fear.  Things were changing and, despite the comfort of home encompassing her, the warmth and the protection which was extended to her, she was afraid.  Afraid to take the first step.

 

She had to admit to herself that it was the first step into reality; the first step of being an adult.

 

She never wanted to be an adult.

 

She never wanted to grow up.

 

Children are protected, looked after.

 

She did not want to have to look after herself.

 

 

*

**

 

It was like a shared secret.  They spoke every evening, herself and George.  They spoke of their fears.  However, their conservations brought laughter too.  They outlined characteristics of their work colleagues.

 

It made it easier.

 

She could not comprehend how she was now entitled to call older people by their first name.  It wasn’t like at university where some lecturers had wanted this because they thought it was cool.  The students, including her, thought it was affected.  They secretly laughed behind their backs.

 

She had always been respectful of her elders.  Now it seemed that it was a level playing field.  She was now part of a team.

 

Team players work together towards a common goal, a common victory.  Of course, there would be rivalries; there were hierarchies.  Everyone knew their place.  What she did not understand was the viciousness of wanting to succeed.  People had to beat people, even if – like herself – they weren’t in their way.  Constant competition.  Plots and plans and people last.

 

She hated it.

 

​

*

**

 

Her head throbbed; the sides of her head where it always hurt when she was afraid.

 

Every day when the alarm went, she felt the same feeling in the pit of her stomach.

 

Another day.

 

Another dreadful day.

 

Another day of dread.

 

 

​

​

– 6 –

Tasty Geyser

 

 

George didn’t mention the lack of telephone calls.  They trickled off and the trickle became a stream.

 

Looking back, she knew she had not been a good friend.  Distracted.  She had been distracted.  This was how she would look back at this episode in her life.

 

George watched from distance, as he had done in primary school.  Suddenly, he did not seem to be part of her new life, as he wasn’t back then.

 

It wasn’t as if he was the most attractive, the most popular.  If there was hierarchy he wouldn’t even had been placed at any level.  Outside the triangle – outside the box. 

 

The Outsider.

 

​

*

**

 

Martin had noticed her in a competitive field.  The university chess club.  She had been surprised at her own competence.  She had never considered herself particularly bright.  She had always been in Emily’s shadow.

 

Change brings fear.  This she was used to.  However, this time change also brought excitement.  Attention made her excited.  Her first boyfriend, her first kiss, her first …

 

George was suddenly secondary.  He was not her primary concern.  George continued to call her but now, he was the distraction.  She wanted to get on with her own life.

 

Martin revelled in his obscure tastes – always wanting to stand out in the crowd – but always side on.  Never full frontal.  So, art galleries, museums, nature trails, expensive restaurants with the recent gastronomic trends.

 

She loved it all.

​

​

*

**

 

George had never heard her want any of these things before.  Martin had transformed her.  George kept the belief that she was the same fearful girl he had met on the first day at school.

 

Martin told her on their first night that she should never be fearful again.  If truth be known she was fearful of the experience and the change it would make to her life.  She could never be the same again.

 

It hurt.

 

Her head throbbed; the sides of her head where it always hurt when she was afraid. 

 

It hurt her.

 

Nature’s way.  She wasn’t forced – but she wasn’t ready.  In her heart she knew it, but Martin had a forceful personality.  He was deep and that was what attracted her to him.

 

It hurt when he left her.

 

Martin left her for another.  Someone who was more akin to his personality she realised.

 

Shallow.

 

 

*

**

​

George did not mention that she had not called in ages.  George did not mention that she now called him all the time.  George did not mention that sometimes it was inconvenient, sometimes he was in company, sometime he was asleep.

 

George did not mention that.

 

 

 

​

– 7 –

Water into Wine

 

 

Sting resonated from the Juke Box.  ‘Every Breath You Take’.  She felt she was suffocating.  She couldn’t breathe.  She should have been ecstatic.  She was.  She was also very scared.  Her head throbbed; the sides of her head where it always hurt when she was afraid. 

 

This time she knew she should not be afraid.  The rest of her life was planned.

 

George cried when she told him.  He did not know why.  She assumed he was happy for her. 

 

People should never make assumptions.

 

They both should have shared their happiness.  They shared, but secretly shared their sorrow.

 

There were no plans yet, nothing concrete, but the foundations had been lain.

 

On Saturday they were to shop for the ring.  She was glad that Malcolm hadn’t just presumed what she wanted as far as the jewellery was concerned.  However, she had a suspicion that Malcolm had presumed.

 

Malcolm presumed that she would pay.

 

She was taken aback.

 

Stabbed.

 

Malcolm was steady; they had been going steady.  Malcolm was nice.  Malcolm was secure.  They were to be married.  Secure.  Tied together.

 

Sting stuck in her throat.  She couldn’t eat.  Her friends fluttered around her saying it was excitement, but it was also uncertainty.  The worry, the fear, the change.  Change brings fear.

 

This change was a choice; a choice she should not have taken lightly.

 

Being engaged was a new experience.  It was an experience that she was fearful of.  If only she could admit this to herself.

 

George felt that she should stand up, be counted.  He did not want to burst the bubble.

He was right.  She let Malcolm plan and she let Malcolm take control.

 

So, he took care of all of the plans.

 

 

*

**

 

 

It was a sign.

 

A warning sign.

 

A sign she did not see.

 

She did not see it coming.

 

 

*

**

​

The wedding could have been from the pages of a magazine.  Malcolm had chosen well.  Her dress was demure, respectable and vows were exchanged in the traditional manner.  Everyone well behaved; on their best manners.

 

She was disappointed that Malcolm told him it was inappropriate for George to sit with the family.  To her, George was her family.  She even had to scrape to a second cousin for a bridesmaid.  She had asked Emily, but she was unavailable.  To her this was a pity.  To her it was pitiful.

 

This was not a day for pity.

 

This was supposed to be a day for joy.

 

 

*

**

 

 

And for a while she was joyous. 

 

The Wedding Feast at Cana.

 

The first miracle.

 

*

**

​

It was a miracle that she survived.

 

 

 

​

– 8 –

Baby Shower

 

 

The first he knew of it was when his gift was returned.  There was no note.  A gift returned.  The end of a story.  A short story. 

 

George had been surprised by the whole turn of events.  Announcements were not usually made early.  It was a superstition, but in this case, a superstition based on reason.  So, the announcement came early, as did the delivery; everything before it’s time.  And it came from Malcolm and it enclosed a list of presents to be selected and sent.  George had never heard of such a request before.  Nor had the other recipients. 

 

Gifts for a child that did not exist.

 

Gifts sent back.

 

The child did not exist.

 

*

**

 

It had all been done in a rush.  She didn’t know why Malcolm has wanted to tell everyone, to tell the world their news.

 

The news of their change in circumstances.  For her, as always, change brought fear.

 

When the gifts started to arrive, she was embarrassed.  It wasn’t the custom; it wasn’t how things were done.

 

It happened all in a rush.  It was over in no time.  They didn’t question what had happened.

 

The fall.

 

The fall from grace.

 

*

**

 

It was a fearful experience.  The doctors gathered around her.  Her head throbbed; the sides of her head where it always hurt when she was afraid.

 

She knew before they told her that the baby had gone.  She had expected this, more than she had expected the baby.  Deep in her heart she knew it couldn’t last.

 

She felt dead inside.

 

What she had not expected was the sense of relief and this led to a feeling of guilt.  She had the sense of being a bad person, unnatural. 

 

What she had not expected was being told that there were no chances of any other.

 

Of this fact she grieved and others mistook her tears.  She grieved not for past loss but for loss in the future.

 

She had not wanted the child, this child – his child.  She did not want this child to be his.  This child would have had to be under his control – as she was.

 

Everyday things had to be perfect; the table set at the right angles, the dusting done, the cooking ready, the budget met.  She was not a domestic goddess.  Malcolm reminded her of this; he reminded her often; recently he reminded her daily.  She did her duty throughout the day and throughout the night.  Hers was a life of duty.  She didn’t want to be a domestic goddess.  Neither did she want to be a kitchen maid.  She had just wanted to be a wife.

 

What chance would the child have had?

 

The three Rs.

 

Rules.

 

Regulations.

 

Restrictions.

 

She had lost the child.  She wasn’t told the sex.  Malcolm thought it would be too upsetting, that it would encourage an attachment.

 

She had been detached from her child.

 

She had lost the future with Malcolm.  Offspring seemed to be all he wanted and she could not deliver.

 

He didn’t think of that when push came to shove.

​

​

*

**

 

She had lost the baby and she had now lost him.

 

*

**

 

The tears seemed misplaced and certainly mis-interpreted.

 

They were tears of joy,

 

It was a joyous occasion.

 

She had never felt so free.

 

 

​

 

– 9 –

Drowning

 

 

Some people trust each other in their partnership.  Some people demonstrate their trust by not asking questions – questions that are unnecessary.  She discovered that everything was in her name.  This had not resulted in her obtaining property.  This resulted in her obtaining debt.

 

She had signed on the bottom line – countless times – without asking.  That is what you do when you trust your partner.  She had not asked.  Why should she?  All she had wanted in life, all she ever wanted, was to be looked after and protected.  Now the bills, the paperwork were insurmountable.  She thought that she had nowhere to turn.

 

She only had to turn around.

 

Turning around to face the one who had always been there.

 

And George was there.  It was as if he had been waiting for her call.

 

George had always been waiting.

 

 

*

**

 

There was a deluge of paperwork; paperwork that she suddenly felt herself accountable for.

 

Storms threatened.  Her thoughts were flooded.  She had never understood figures.

 

Literature was the subject she had studied at university.  It did not stand her in good stead for this situation.  Education seemed to be in vain.  The reality was that she needed to deal with matters that she had previously thought she was protected from.

 

Her head throbbed; the sides of her head where it always hurt when she was afraid. 

 

Literature was of no use to her now.  Malcolm had held all the winning cards.  She knew nothing about figures and could not figure out an escape route from this situation.

 

It must have seemed strange to outsiders – best friends, friends who didn’t really know what each other did, even though they had spent years together at university.  She hardly knew what George did, and he hardly knew what she did.  They had not asked – they had been too wrapped up in living. 

 

George was a family lawyer, although he did not have a family.  He was not allowed to sit in her family pews at her wedding and she was sad.  It was something she had not forgotten.  To her George was always a part of her family.  In many ways George was her family.

 

 

*

**

​

George was never invited on family outings, so that was why he enjoyed it so much.  He did not consider it a particularly attractive part of his personality but there was one word for his feelings.

 

Smug.

 

George took Malcolm to the cleaners, cleaned him out.  He exposed that Malcolm was not whiter than white.  Malcolm could spin a tale but George put up the fight of his life.  Perhaps he should have fought sooner and in other ways. 

 

It was a clean sweep.

 

She was mesmerised.  She saw her friend, who she had seen for years, in a different light.

 

There was no joy.  It was not a joyous occasion.

 

She was no better off than she had been.

 

It was better than she had expected.

 

She was no better off than she had been.

 

For better or worse.

 

She had got over the worse.

 

​

​

 

– 10 –

Not Plain Sailing

 

 

The worse was to come.

 

It started with a trickle and the trickle soon became a stream.

 

This time it was not tears.

 

This time it was blood.

 

She was fearful of the experience, but strangely not fearful of the change.  If you only have one thing to fear, one thing to focus on then there is not room for other fears.  So, she was afraid all the time and conversely, she was content all the time.

 

She was almost used to pity.  It had been her shadow for all her life.  She had also been used to advice.  It had always been given to her.  She had wanted protection but was resentful of people that wanted to protect.  She knew this was a contradiction.  At this time in her life she did not look for solutions; she sat back and waited.

 

She wanted to talk to everyone; she wanted to talk to nobody. 

 

She wanted to scream.

 

 

*

**

 

How could people suggest that there is a ‘fight’ against disease?  This implies that people have choice and that those who are the bravest are more worthy and will therefore be more likely to succeed; most likely to win the battle.

 

This is a war against preconceptions.

 

This is a fallacy.

 

Disease, whatever its name, will strike you for no reason, for no back story linked to your behaviour.  The scales of balance towards fairness do not apply to illness.  It strikes as its wont.

 

Disease is diverse.  No matter how good or bad you are, at the end of the day, life is a levelled playing field.  It is biology that will decide.  That is all.  There is no divine intervention.

 

If it is a battle, the victors and the losers are not predetermined by their lives or their natures.

 

The victors do not have more courage and the losers are not cowards who have conceded.

 

It is the luck of the draw.

 

“Why me”?

 

“Why not me”?

 

 

​

 

– 11 –

Spring in her Step

 

 

It had been five years.  She had convinced herself she would celebrate.  She wanted to frame the final document, the one that stated the fact.  She wanted to state the obvious.  It would be her release form.

 

On the day she did not have the courage to ask for it, so it remains in a file, in a cabinet, in an institution; it was the document she had wanted to hold for five years.  She never touched it.

 

In her heart she wanted a party, a statement.  Although this was not in her nature, she knew she was being presumptuous.  It was like an exam where you could not, with certainty, predict the outcome.  She had been studious and had worked hard for her exams.  In reality she had always known the outcome of these tests.

 

She always knew when she had done well.

 

Still, she was not confident enough to take the chance.

 

On the day when the results came through, she was fearful of the experience.

 

She thought, with stoicism, that whatever the outcome, her life would not really change.

 

 

*

**

 

 

In the waiting room everyone had a story; everyone had a story about illness.  The stories were all different yet the stories were all the same. 

 

All fearful stories.

 

For some it was apparent, no mask could hide the disease.  However, she looked normal.  Maybe that was why people didn’t pity her.  Pity was an emotion she could have dealt with; pity was something she was used to.  Her life was framed by pity and protection.

 

Her head throbbed; the sides of her head where it always hurt when she was afraid.

 

It was difficult to hear the results; difficult because she was on her own.  Of course, others knew her situation but not the date, not dates that were engraved into her existence.  The situation was hers alone and that was how she chose to deal with it.

 

Today she did well.

 

She passed.

 

With flying colours.

 

​

*

**

 

When she reflected on this moment in her life, she was disappointed in herself and the choices she had made.

 

The first person she called was Emily; a friend she had hardly spoken to in years.  Emily was delighted to hear from her and the conversation flowed.  Emily enthused about her own life, her own family.

 

She had never told Emily about her illness.

 

So, she never told Emily about her recovery.

 

 

*

**

 

In a calendar somewhere there was a record.

 

He wouldn’t mentioned it if she didn’t.

 

He waited for the request to accompany her. 

 

The request did not come.

 

He waited all day for the call concerning the outcome. 

 

The call did not come.

 

He would not mention it if she didn’t.

 

Maybe she didn’t want to?

 

She didn’t mention it.

 

So, he didn’t.

 

Things left unsaid.

 

*

**

​

There was no party and no celebration.

 

It was a relief.

 

She had been too scared to ask.

 

 

 

​

– 12 –

Submersion

 

 

It comes to us all in time.  It is inevitable.

 

Death and taxes.  Strangely enough for her it was not a taxing time.

 

It was inevitable.  The doctors were stoic. 

 

It was a matter of time.

 

 

*

**

​

George had waited his whole life for her, but he had waited too long.

 

It was not that the moment had passed.  There had never been a moment for them.

 

He had waited too long and time was running out.

 

George had been afraid his whole life.

 

Common ground.

 

 

*

**

 

When the time came …

 

… it was the first time that they had ever held hands.

 

*

**

 

It was the first time in her life that Clemency Piggott was not afraid.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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