by Millie Gray
‘That all may be so, but I still hope you won’t go ahead with the marriage. Dear Hannah, you should be the love of someone’s life. The love of Ewan’s life was Freda, who is now a ghost. A phantom that he is willingly allowing to haunt him . . . to consume his every thought.’
‘I know all that but by marrying him, in time . . .’
Angela sighed. Exasperation was engulfing her. ‘For goodness sake, Hannah,’ she exclaimed, ‘you cannot fight her and win!’
Hannah just shrugged.
Shaking her head, Angela accepted defeat. As much as she wished to, she knew that she would not be able to change Hannah’s mind. So all she did was cackle, before adding, ‘Talking of fighting, just you wait until his dear old mummy realises that he is going to marry you and not me.’ She halted to savour the picture. ‘Oh boy, Hannah, unless you are very careful, she could end up being your Achilles Heel!’
That was all in 1977. Now, it was 1979 and things had worked out better than Hannah had expected. However, she now knew Ewan very well and it was therefore only natural that she had guessed that he wished to discuss something with her – something very important to him. What could it be? Hannah acknowledged that she and Ewan were really good friends and recently she had thought that they might become more than that . . . but perhaps that was wishful thinking on her part. She dared not raise her hopes that Ewan might wish to talk about their relationship.
The family had returned from Angela’s wedding earlier that evening. The children were settled for the night and Jet had had her last wander around the garden; she had now taken up her position on the upstairs landing, where she thought she was guarding her three ‘pups’. Hannah was seated on the couch in the downstairs lounge, reading the Edinburgh Evening News. She looked up when Ewan came into the lounge, carrying a tray with two glasses of wine on top. She folded the paper and laid it down, because she knew that crunch time had arrived.
Looking directly at Ewan, Hannah quietly but forcibly stated, ‘No beating about the mulberry bushes, I know that you wish to get some things out into the open. To be truthful, I have felt for some time that there is something niggling you . . . Something that you wish to say to me . . . Something that requires some Dutch courage, in the form of a glass of wine.’
‘It’s Chianti from Valvona & Crolla,’ he replied, handing one of the glasses to Hannah.
‘That serious, is it?’
Ewan sat down on the couch beside her. Time seemed suspended; all that could be heard was the nocturnal singing of the birds in their garden and the rustle of the curtains as a welcoming, cool evening breeze blew in through the open French windows.
Eventually, Ewan began to rub his hands together. ‘Hannah, I need to talk to you – ask you to forgive me.’
Hannah’s pounding heart seemed to have taken up residence in her mouth. She swallowed hard in an attempt to allay her fears, but mounting anxiety had her thinking that he was about to confess to having an affair . . . he was going to say he was leaving.
Unaware of the rising panic that was causing Hannah’s imagination to run riot, Ewan sought for her hand. Her first instinct was to shy away from him, but she loved him and, to her shame, she knew she would put up with whatever he asked her to – just as long as he did not leave her.
Ewan took a deep breath and began, ‘Forgive me, Hannah, for not being entirely honest with you from the start. It is true that I would have paid any price to be involved in Poppy’s life, to be the main person for her. However, we do not choose whom we will fall in love with and, slowly but surely, Harry and Jackie also stole their way into my heart. I love them . . . and I couldn’t love them any more, even if I was their biological father.’ He paused before adding, ‘Life without them would be so lonely and meaningless. Last Friday, when I was finishing the evening surgery, I thought, “I must get home to my family”. Then I remembered that Friday is the day that Moira and Stevie have the children over for tea. That is something else that I admire about you – the way that you have made sure that the children’s grandparents are still welcome in our home and have an important part to play in the children’s lives. Now, back to what I was about to confess to you . . . Hannah, even though I knew that the children would not be at home last Friday, I was still rushing to get home so that you and I could spend a little time together. That got me thinking . . . I now realise that I have grown to love you so very much. The children are growing up. Poppy starts at Towerbank School in August, and the twins are off to Portobello High School then – and that is just the start of the children preparing to grow up and leave us. However, I know that is the right way for them to go and I don’t feel sorry, because when they have all flown the nest I hope that you and I are given time to just enjoy each other – to grow old together. Hannah, what I am trying to say is that yes, I loved Freda and I will always be grateful for the ten days we had together, but I adore you just as much. Now, whatever time I get to spend in this world, I wish to spend with you.’
Tears of joy were running down Hannah’s cheeks. ‘Oh Ewan, we found ourselves over the last three years, and then we found each other. You have only just discovered what I have known for over a year now. You see, my dear, when we first married you carried out the duties of a husband because you were obliged to.’ She pursed her lips and swallowed hard; the next words she wished to say to him were so very difficult for her, but it was important that they were said. Placing her hand on his cheek, she softly murmured, ‘Now, you are so considerate, tender and passionate when we make love that I have started to wonder if, at last, you see me as desirable, in spite of—’
Tenderly, Ewan put his hand over her mouth. ‘Hannah, please. From now on, never ever again say—’
‘No, I won’t ever say that I am not all there. I have found it hard to accept myself over the years, but I am learning to love myself, despite my insecurities. Thanks to dear Freda entrusting me with her children, I am now the loving and contented mother of three. And now thanks to you, my darling, I know that I am desirable, too. Oh Ewan, I finally feel fulfilled.’
