The lock clicked – my daughter Eleanor was home from university. Her footsteps approached as I knitted in the living room.
“Fancy supper?” I asked without looking up.
“Later, Dad. Need to talk.”
“Something wrong?” I glanced up to see Beatrice holding a massive bouquet of red roses.
“Blimey! Phillip popped the question, then?” I guessed immediately.
“Oh, Dad! Spoiled the surprise!” She pouted, placing the roses on the table and sitting beside me. “How’d you know?”
I set my knitting aside. “Easy. Known each other since primary school, dating two years solid, thick as thieves. Besides, huge bouquets aren’t usually *just because*. Proposed properly, did he? Get a ring?”
“Look.” Beatrice held out her right hand, proudly displaying a gold band with a clear gemstone. “Lovely, isn’t it?”
“Very. But… not thrilled?” I asked cautiously.
“I am thrilled. Just… unsure if marriage is now? I miss him terribly after a day apart. But I also love coming home to my own space, sleeping alone. Maybe I’m not ready for bigger things.”
“Could there be… someone else?” I offered tentatively.
“Nice when other lads notice me, true. But no, Phillip’s entirely my favourite. What if this isn’t… you know… real love? The forever kind, like you and Mum?”
“You’re grown but still daft sometimes,” I sighed, pulling her close. “You’ll only know real love by living it, Bea. Girls your age usually dream of weddings, white dresses, clinging to their beau. You hesitate. Maybe waiting *is* wise. What did you tell him?”
“I said yes… but asked to wait till graduation.”
“Smart move. Be engaged. Everyone rushes to be ‘wife’. Wives have duties, responsibility, caring for someone else… not just themselves. Disappointments too. Living cheek-by-jowl’s hard work. You learn flaws, can’t tolerate some. Only love makes that possible. Then children…”
“Exactly!” Beatrice brightened. “I adore how we are *now*. I miss him fiercely, yet crave my own space. Think I don’t love him?”
“Just taking it seriously. You’re thoughtful, Bea. Talk to him. Explain. If he loves you, he’ll understand and wait,” I advised.
“He was hurt,” she murmured sadly.
“Course he was! Proposes, expects joyous tears, and she asks for delay. That feels like rejection, love,” I offered a wry smile.
“Maybe my love isn’t as deep as his. What if it’s not true love? What if I regret it later? Folks marry then divorce.”
“Sadly, feelings cool. Not everyone’s ready for that reality.”
“And Mum? How’d you know *you* loved her?” Beatrice asked eagerly.
“Felt drawn to her even before I clapped eyes on her,” I chuckled.
“How? Dreamed of her? Tell me, Dad!” She squirmed cosily on the sofa.
“Alright. Your Mum, Elisabeth, was at Uni then. Her friend Philippa – stunning, but a bit… flighty. Philippa lived in halls. Before summer exams, my folks took a break. My Dad’s arthritis was bad, they went to Bath for the spa treatments. I suggested Philippa stay at mine – halls were chaos for studying. She moved right in. She’d been dating this chap, Victor. Not at her Uni. All I ever heard was how marvellous he was. Handsome, intelligent eyes, silky curls…”
“Sounds like Phillip!” said Bea.
“Bang on. Mum hadn’t met him, but pictured him vividly. Her ideal. Philippa turned every head; Mum felt ordinary.”
“No way! Phillip says you were a looker! Mum always said it too!” Bea protested.
“Hard to see yourself clearly then. Felt others were brighter, more glamorous. This ‘Victor Prince’ belonged to Philippa,” I shrugged.
“Then one day he met them after exams. Mum knew him instantly. Like meeting your own dream. But he was Philippa’s boyfriend – it was serious.” I sighed, Bea hugging my arm tighter.
“Another student, Simon, played guitar like an angel. Voice gave me shivers! Made all the girls swoon. Playboy. Changed lasses like socks.”
“You fancy him?” asked Bea.
“Me? No! He barely noticed me! Philippa though… they dated briefly. Simon constantly flirted, Philippa couldn’t stand it. Then Victor came along…”
“One day Philippa returned from a date with a huge bouquet. Glowing. Flashing a tiny gold band. Victor had proposed! Mum said, ‘If he offered *me* that ring, I’d be over the moon.’ Nearly caused a row. Mum felt dreadful. Apparently, Victor had wondered why lads overlooked a girl like *Mum*.”
“Two days later, Simon called Philippa. Mum begged her not to go – Simon wouldn’t like being rejected, his star ego bruised. Philippa yelled Mum was jealous, stormed out. Immediately, Victor arrived. Mum lied that Philippa went to the library to study. Philippa left her phone. Simon called again – Victor saw, looked crushed, left.”
“Philippa returned gushing; Simon declared undying love, serious intentions.”
“‘But Victor?’ Mum asked.”
“‘Victor? Couldn’t even fork out for a decent ring!’ Philippa scoffed. ‘Gave him back his flimsy thing. Love Simon now!’ She launched into tales of him singing her songs in the park…”
“‘Grasp it!’ Mum pushed. ‘He only said it to stop the wedding! How many girls hover round him? He’ll dump you quick! Where’ll you crawl? Back to Victor? That bridge is ashes!'”
“But Philippa raged, accusing Mum of envy – *she* had proposals, declarations, Mum had nothing. Massive row. Victor came round upset, asking Mum if Simon was serious. Mum admitted Simon just hated losing. They walked for hours talking… discovered shared loves: films, books, even dreams. Somehow, they started dating.”
“What happened to Philippa?” Bea breathed.
“Went home. Simon ‘promised’ to visit. Vanished. Ignored calls. Philippa returned, found him with someone else. Ran to Mum, sobbing. Asked about Victor. Mum confessed truthfully – ‘We’re together now.'”
“‘You’re with Victor?! Snake! Used me, stole him behind my back!’ Philippa shrieked, cruel names flying. Mum felt awful. Philippa hoped to grovel back to Victor… dashed hopes. Another row. Philippa left.”
“Victor proposed to Mum a month later. Mum worried it was too rushed – merely a rebound from Philippa. She still said ‘yes’. Couldn’t refuse. Felt he was her soulmate. She loved him deeply. He came to love her too. Mum called Philippa called, invited her to the wedding.”
“She came?!” Bea gasped.
“Aye. They patched things up. Philippa brought gin. Mum barely sipped; Philippa downed most. Moaning about life, regretting dumping Victor – *she* should be marrying him! Drunk by the time Victor came round. She bolted, staying with another mate.”
**The next day Phillip reassured Beatrice he would wait indefinitely for her, and after the young couple departed arm in arm, I drew Elisabeth close, quietly reflecting how vividly our own proposal felt like yesterday despite the years, and reaffirmed my vow that her steadfast friendship remained life’s greatest anchor, words I’d gratefully echo forever, darling.**
