A Love Kept Faithfull.
They carefully edged their way into the coffee shop, he a little painfully, aided by his two lifelines: his walking stick which he grips as tightly as his no longer supple hands will allow, and his good wife of many years firmly grasping an elbow as she guides him to the nearest table. There she pulled out a chair and gently, carefully lowered him onto it, then went to the counter to order their usual drinks, then did her best to maintain a flow of almost one-sided conversation.
But it had not started like that. Fifty plus summers ago, both had been in their early teens, just reaching the tipping point of taking note of, in the boys case, those soppy creatures who wore skirts, and in the girls case, those rough lads with dirty knees. James could not help but be drawn to Patricia. He would need to have been dumb, deaf and blind not to have done so. She had just turned fourteen and was showing every sign of breaking free of her chrysalis and morphing into the most delicate, colourful butterfly. He followed her every movement with eager, almost worshiping eyes. They were still just a little too young to start going out on dates, but he took every opportunity to be in her company, at times going out of his way to do so. She did not show any sign of objecting. Far from it. She relished their time together, brief as it normally was, since if he had noticed her, she also had taken note of him. Being, a rather precocious girl Patricia had started earlier than most in sizing up the boys and when her radar had picked up James, she homed in on him. Had he but known it at the time, James never stood a chance. Barely into her teens Patricia had already made up her mind that he will be the father of her children. By the time they were fifteen they had become an item, one’s name was rarely mentioned without the other’s being spoken of at the same time. Both sets of parents smiled indulgently on their friendship, wondering just how long it will last. Much to their surprise James and Patricia were still together at age seventeen and had started to go out on real dates. A little over a year later they were separated as each attended a different university but remained faithful to each other. Letters flew between Oxford and Cambridge, carrying messages of love and affection, till three years later both graduated with excellent degrees. Good careers followed, so by the time they were in their late twenties James knew it was time to solemnly go through the formality of going down on one knee to propose to Patricia, even though he was assured of her answer. It was a bit of a pantomime, but he knew it would please her. After all these years together, she could read James as if he were a favourite book, dipped into many times. The moment she woke that morning a sixth sense told her that this was to be the day. Of course, her answer would be in the affirmative, but to please and further encourage him she took more than usual care with her attire, her hair and make-up. When they met that evening his breath was taken away. She looked not simply lovely, but positively dazzling. He had engineered the sequence of events for this special evening: a private room, a champagne dinner, her favourite music playing quietly in the background. The meal over, James savoured a sip of his fine brandy, took a deep breath, removed the box from his pocket, went down on his left knee, and with a slight tremble in his voice asked Patricia the question she has known almost from the first moment she laid eyes on him, that he would some day ask her. In response she mouthed a quiet yes and plants a kiss on his eager mouth.
Nine months later they are married amid much rejoicing. Late that afternoon, their car packed with luggage, they set off on the start of their honeymoon, heading for a quiet, remote spot in Scotland. After a simple dinner that evening, they indulge in a special toast to each other, then retire to their room. Despite having been an item for all those years, against the prevailing trend, they had never shared the same bed. They knew that the majority of their contemporaries, once engaged, took that as carte blanche to sleep together, but not them. For them that special physical relationship is reserved for man and wife. Their first night between the same sheets should be something special, to be treasured and remembered for the rest of their lives. But in the here and now, being alone like this for the very first time, both felt shy and nervous. Who should make the first move? To break that moment of tension Patricia took her vanity case and repaired to the bathroom, where she undressed, showered and changed into her special wedding night nightdress. The vision that emerged from the bathroom robbed James of his breath; he could hardly believe that she is his. To cover his confusion, he quickly went into the bathroom and likewise showered and changed into his specially purchased pyjamas. Patricia had been eagerly keeping watch on the bathroom door, awaiting the emergence of her young groom. Both gingerly got into their chosen side of the bed, sat up and waited for the other to make that important first move. Eventually James lent over, placed a chaste kiss on Patricia’s specially rouged lips, which she returned in like manner. A little later they exchanged kisses that had something of the passion of a wedding night, but their touching did not get beyond that. About an hour later both yawned ostentatiously, exchanged a final goodnight kiss, turned over and pretended to sleep. It was some four nights later when both were sufficiently at their ease, they started to touch each other intimately, exploring each other’s body, discovering what each liked to have done to them. It was then that nature took its pre-ordained course and they started to make love. An hour later they were finally married, in the fullest sense of the term. For the final few days of their honeymoon, they eagerly raced to their room, quickly undressed and were soon between the sheets, making passionate love for about half the night. It was on one of those blissful nights that their first daughter was conceived, born nine wonderful months later to the great delight of the new parents and grandparents. By now they were accomplished lovers, so over the next few years another daughter, then a son came along.
Theirs proved to be a peaceful, happy marriage, with little upsetting the even tenor of their days. A little over twenty years later their eldest daughter, as pretty as her mother had been at the same age, walked in one evening firmly grasping a young man’s hand to announce they had just become engaged. A year later they married and a year or so after that presented them with their first grandchild. Over the next five years first their other girl and then the boy, flew the nest, starting their own families. Once more on their own, James and Patricia made much of the free time they now had. But the years were now catching up on them: Patricia’s hair had lost much of its blonde sheen; there were signs of crow’s feet around her eyes and her figure was now somewhat fuller than it once had been. James’ hair was now no longer the fine, silky black of his youth, but had turned almost totally white, plus he was a little stooped, but nothing untoward for a man of his age. It was though just a few years later that Patricia noticed him slowing up and finding difficulty performing tasks which just a short time before he carried out without thought. Then one day he stumbled and fell. He tried to pass it off as just a slip, but Patricia was not fooled, she understood only too well this could be the start of something rather more serious. Reluctantly he agreed to an appointment with the doctor. After a thorough and careful examination his GP advised that his bones were simply showing signs of the normal wear and tear if you lived past a certain age; there is no cure, yet, for that. Just slow down a bit and take it easier. Patricia felt more reassured by this than James, who, despite being a little over seventy, simply could not think of himself as being an old man. But after a little gentle persuasion from his wife, he allowed her to buy him a fine, sturdy walking stick. Much to his own surprise this did much for his morale. He felt quite the dapper gentleman when he stepped out with it for the first time. Perhaps growing old was not so bad after all. Patricia felt quite proud of him, the way he had adapted to all this. She also was no longer the sprightly female whose heart she had eagerly allowed him to take captive, those many years before. It was some years now since they had last made love, the spirit was still willing, but time had now placed a barrier on that, but they still held each other closely at night. While doing so they could reflect gratefully on the many happy years they have had and pray that when the good Lord called time, they will then be together on the other side of the divide, to continue being together through eternity. Patricia wonders when they get there will they still be encumbered by these now worn bodies, or will they turn back into those handsome youngsters of yesteryear?
