Stephanie studied her face in the mirror. ‘Not bad,’ she thought, ‘not bad considering.’ Even at forty she wasn’t just pretty or attractive but incredibly beautiful.
Her childhood was happy, everybody loved her and school had been a breeze. She was popular with the girls who all wanted to look like her and feted by the boys who fought each other to get near her. In the end she chose Spike. He was tough, good looking and he made her laugh. She didn’t bother to study, she was having too much fun. The couple left school, married and were parents within a year. Spike came up with a pretty house, he showered her with presents and there was always money for holidays abroad, meals out and parties with friends. Stephanie didn’t ask where the money came from and she didn’t care until a police car arrived and two police officers took him away. She visited Spike a couple of times after he was sent down, but prison was no place for a young child and no place for her. It was ugly and deeply depressing. At least the jail sentence made it relatively easy to get a divorce. Stephanie found modelling jobs, (catalogues mostly, she’d missed the boat as far as the big time was concerned) she hostessed at night clubs, sold cars and expensive brands of make-up, while her mother looked after the child. By the time her daughter had grown up Stephanie was living with a married man and her child disowned her.
‘O.K.,’ Stephanie thought, ‘if that’s the way Marianne wants to play it she can suit herself’, although how she’d produced such an uptight, conventional young woman she’d never know. Marcus was good to her. With a well paid city job in finance he had a fabulous, penthouse apartment and his wife and kids were tucked away somewhere in the home counties. His generous allowance meant she could stop posing for leering photographers, wiggling her bum in the face of drunken old codgers in seedy clubs and smiling sweetly at potential customers. She was devastated when he dumped her at the first sign of trouble. The cowardly little shit gave her just hours to pack her clothes then kicked her out on the street. It all happened so quickly. If she hadn’t been so shocked she’d have never had the car accident which mangled her leg. After weeks in hospital her life savings were spent funding this convalescent home in St. Albans.
A sleek, low sprung sports car rolled into the drive. Unusual at a place like this and probably the most exciting thing to have happened in weeks. Stephanie, thankful that she’d had her hair and make-up done that morning, made sure she’d be in reception when the driver came through the doors. A smart, well groomed man about her age paused when he saw her and smiled. She deliberately fumbled with her Zimmer frame and nearly fell. The stranger rushed to her assistance.
‘Careful. We can’t have you hurting yourself again.’
‘Thank you. It was stupid of me to lose my balance.’
‘Glad to be of help. I’m Michael Ford-Bower by the way.’
‘Stephanie Parker.’
‘No, we won’t try to shake hands, it’s too dangerous.’
‘Nice car.’
‘You noticed.’
‘Hard to miss.’
He grinned. ‘I see what you mean. Well I’d better go and find Father. It was good meeting you.’ He strode away from her down the corridor then stopped and turned back. ‘Look, I know we’ve only just met but could you do me a favour?’
Stephanie waited.
‘Could you come with me and meet my Dad? He’s getting over a hip operation and doesn’t have any visitors except me. We’ve run out of things to say to each other and I’m worried he might have given up.’
Stephanie followed Michael into a shaded room, twice the size of her own, aware that a crumpled figure was sitting in a chair with his eyes closed. Michael drew back the curtains.
‘Hello Dad. I’ve brought someone to meet you.’
The figure’s eyes snapped open.
‘Dad, this is Stephanie Parker. Stephanie, this is my father, William.’
The old man struggled to get up.
‘I apologise. I’m not dressed for visitors. Michael should have warned me.’
‘We’ve only just met Father.’ Michael had opened a large drinks cabinet and was selecting glasses. His father kept his eyes on Stephanie.
‘Do, sit down Miss Parker.’
‘Stephanie please.’
‘You’re a sight for sore eyes, Stephanie. A very welcome change in a place like this.’
‘Thank you Mr. Ford-Bower.’
‘Oh do call me William.’
‘A toast I think.’ Michael handed them drinks. White wine for Stephanie and whisky for his father and himself. ‘Happy Days.’ They clinked glasses.
When the nurse arrived with William’s medication he refused to let Stephanie leave until she had agreed to return that evening and have dinner with him. The man who greeted her at 8.00 pm., looked very different. Clean shaven with hair combed and dressed in immaculate shirt, tie, sports jacket and slacks he seemed to stand taller. His shoes, though not new, were polished to perfection and had obviously cost a fortune. Stephanie had sensed from the start that she was in the presence of serious wealth. Not new money that needed to be displayed, a symbol of how successful the accumulator was, but inherited money that had been around so long it was taken for granted, a fact of life. Even at their first meeting that morning, she’d noticed that William’s crumpled dressing gown and scuffed slippers were of the finest quality. Something else struck her, his manners. Both he and his son had impeccable manners.
‘William you look so smart I feel almost underdressed.’
‘Nonsense. As I’m sure you’re aware, you could wear anything and still look wonderful.’’
Stephanie inclined her head in a regal fashion.
‘You’re too kind’ she mimicked, and encouraged by his amusement decided to take a chance.
‘If I may say so William you scrub up well.’
‘Ha. Do you hear that Linda?’ One of the staff had just arrived with their dinner trolly. ‘Miss Parker here says I scrub up well.’ Linda looked him up and down.
‘It’s a great improvement from this morning. Shall I open the champagne?’
‘Stephanie?’
Stephanie nodded.
‘Please do.’
Once they were alone sipping their dinks William asked her how long she’d been here.
‘Nearly three weeks.’
‘And how bored are you?’
‘I’ve almost lost the will to live.’
‘We’ll have to do something about that.’
William taught her to play chess and plied her with books which he insisted they discuss. He borrowed countless D.V.Ds – films, plays, documentaries, anything that he thought might interest her. As the weather warmed and they both became more mobile they began to enjoy the grounds. William told her about his travels, his wife Barbara who had died three years ago after a long illness and bit by bit he learnt Stephanie’s life story. Michael arrived one weekend and surprised Stephanie by asking her out to dinner.
Once they were settled in a quiet corner of the local pub, he asked her how she was getting on with his father.
‘Very well. He’s an interesting, knowledgeable man.’
‘Not too demanding I hope. He still tries to educate me even now.’
‘I’ve got a lot to learn. I never really tried at school.’
‘As long as he’s not wearing you out.’
‘I can always plead tiredness and retreat to my room when I’ve had enough.’
‘Good. There’s something I wanted to mention.’
Stephanie waited.
He’s beginning to fret about what happens when you both leave. You’re recovering well and it can’t be long now.’
‘I hadn’t thought about it.’’
‘He’s determined to go back to the old house which is far too big for him. It’s down on the south coast. I’ll be able to visit from time to time but not as often as I do here.’
Stephanie nodded sympathetically.
‘I’m worried that he’ll be lonely and become a bit of a hermit.’
There was silence as they both concentrated on their meals. Michael took a gulp of wine.
‘He thinks he’s found a solution.’
Stephanie looked up.
‘He’s going to make you a proposition.’
‘What’s it to be?’ she thought. ‘Housekeeper? Secretary? Companion?’
‘ He’s going to ask you to marry him.’
Stephanie froze, mid bite as Michael ploughed on.
‘There’s the age gap of course and nobody would expect you to — er — there’d be no thought of physical er —’
Stephanie couldn’t contain her giggles. Looking at Michael’s horrified face made her laugh even more. She put her hand on his arm.
‘This is the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had.’
‘Me too.’ Michael relaxed and began to chuckle himself. ‘There’s always the money.’
‘Yes’ she thought. ‘There is that.’
They were married in a quiet, civil ceremony at the convalescent home, much to the delight of patients and staff. Surprisingly, Marianne had arrived. She looked disapproving but stayed longer than Stephanie had expected. William’s chauffeur/mechanic/handyman Tom, drove the couple to an exclusive hotel in Kent for a few days before transporting them to the family home in Bexhill on Sea. The three storey house had hardly been touched during Barbara’s illness and the three years since her death. It was decorated to her taste. Stephanie studied Barbara’s many photographs throughout the house and made a decision. Barbara had been, and her memory was still a large part of William’s life. She would not try to eradicate her. On a whim she phoned her daughter who agreed to come down the following weekend and advise on the re-decoration. Most of the neutral tones were refreshed with splashes of colour added in alcoves on chimney breasts and soft furnishings. Stephanie’s room was the only one in the house to be completely changed. As the weather improved Mr. and Mrs. Ford-Bower extended their walks along the promenade and explored the local restaurants. Tom ferried them to concerts, theatres and friends in London who were wary of Stephanie at first but gradually came to realise that she was ‘good’ for William.
‘She’s given him a new lease of life’ was the general verdict, although Michael’s wife, for some reason failed to accept her.
Michael arrived one Friday night, very drunk, upset and aggressive. He told them his wife had left him and he was living in a small flat owned by a friend. He continued to drink through dinner, shouting, banging the table and insulting his father. Stephanie escaped and retired to bed hoping that William would soon follow. She lay awake, listening and soon heard William’s steady tread followed by his door opening and closing. Next, stumbling footsteps came down the corridor. When they stopped outside her room and the door flung open she was out of bed ready for Michael when he lunged at her, trying to push her onto the bed.
‘C’ on Steph,’ he slurred, ‘you know you’ve always wanted to. You’re the only one I’ve ever loved. I love you, I —-’
Stephanie kicked him smartly in the groin and he collapsed, groaning onto the floor. William’s emergency alarm went off and she ran to his room.
‘William are you all right?’
‘Are YOU all right?’
‘Yes, yes, I’m fine.’
Tom arrived from his flat in the basement.
‘Tom, please help Michael to his room,’ William instructed. ‘I’m afraid he’s had too much to drink.’ William turned to Stephanie. ‘Are you sure you’re not hurt.’
‘Quite sure.’ She held his hand.
‘I sometimes think Barbara and I spoiled Michael. He was our only child and everything’s come easily to him until now.’
Stephanie slid under the counterpane. ‘Don’t be too hard on him. He loves you very much, you know. He brought us together.’
‘Yes,he did, didn’t he? Perhaps we should allow him this one slip.’
They reached for each other’s hands again and fell asleep.
Michael had left by the time they woke. He sent flowers and an apology to them both and the incident was never mentioned again. As time went on and his divorce seemed inevitable Michael would often arrive for overnight visits and Stephanie would leave father and son alone to chat in William’s study. Holidays abroad would include Michael and his children and later when they grew older the grandchildren would visit on their own. Stephanie got used to the role of step Grandmother and Marianne revelled in being an honorary aunt. One summer they rented a villa in Italy and William caught a bug on the flight home. Despite Stephanie and William’s doctor’s efforts, he rapidly went downhill and never recovered his old vigour. As the months went by he became more frail until one morning he was so short of breath that he couldn’t get out of bed.
‘Thank you Stephanie for making my final years so memorable.’ He patted her hand and closed his eyes for the last time.
‘Did you love him?’ Marianne asked her mother after the funeral.
‘I wasn’t in love with him, if that’s what you mean, but yes I loved him for the man he was. He taught me so much but never talked down to me. If he’d ever called me ‘my dear’ I’d have run a mile.’
‘You’ve changed you know.’
‘Have I?’
‘Yes, you’re —’
‘Respectable?’
‘Hardly that!’ They both laughed.
‘Softer maybe? I don’t know. Less strident, a bit more refined —’
‘Careful.’ But Stephanie knew what she meant. Perhaps she’d been happier with William than anyone else, and Marianne had certainly benefited from the security of their marriage. Mother and daughter were closer than they’d ever been. Something else to thank William for.
Stephanie grieved for a year and then tentatively embarked on a new relationship. She wasn’t sure at first whether she wanted another involvement but as time went on this latest coupling seemed natural. Stephanie took one final look in the mirror and made for the door. She might be middle aged but she wasn’t dead yet, she reminded herself. It was her wedding day and she didn’t want to keep Michael waiting.
(c) 2023 Katya Marsh.
