A Christmas Night to Remember(50)
‘What was it?’ Melody was holding her breath.
‘That the only thing to fear is fear itself. I fought the idea at first, telling myself I wasn’t afraid, that it wasn’t as simple as that. It’s amazing how many reasons you can find to justify yourself when you try. But of course she was right. I was frightened of the future, of trying again, of failing, of losing Arthur’s love—a whole host of things. And fear has a way of undermining every foundation in your life, of clouding every issue, especially love and trust. It blinds you.’
‘And so you stayed,’ Melody said softly. ‘You didn’t leave.’
Mabel nodded. ‘It wasn’t a bed of roses, mind. I had to work at it every day. The worries didn’t go overnight—they were too deeply ingrained, I suppose—but slowly I saw light at the end of the tunnel, and when I became pregnant again a few months later I believed it would be different and it was. Our Jack was a big strapping baby, with a pair of lungs on him to wake the dead and a smile as wide as London Bridge.’
Melody smiled. ‘I’m glad for you, I really am, but your circumstances were different to mine.’
Mabel let go of her hand, but her eyes were tight on the young face in front of her when she said, ‘Different circumstances, lovey, but same cause. From what you’ve told me your Zeke isn’t about to change his mind about you because of a few scars. Not now, not ever. And you’re running just the same as I tried to do, although I was going farther than you—across the other side of the world. But you could go that far and it’d be the same mistake. Because you can’t outrun the fear. You take it with you. When you were talking earlier you called yourself a dancer, but that’s not quite right, dear. Dancing was something you did, but it didn’t sum up who you are. You’re made up of a thousand and one things that make the whole, and by the sound of it that whole is what your husband loves. Same as Arthur loved me.’
Melody gazed into the wrinkled face that was so kind it made her want to cry. ‘Zeke said something along those lines,’ she admitted quietly, ‘but I thought he was just being the dutiful husband and trying to say the right thing to comfort me.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with that—a bit of husbandly comfort,’ Mabel said stoutly. ‘But it doesn’t mean he didn’t mean it. I came to realise that what doesn’t break you makes you stronger, as a person and as a couple. That sounds trite, lovey, but I can say it because I’ve proved it. Young folk today have grown up having everything in life as instant as the coffee they drink, and when something happens that needs a bit of backbone to deal with it half of them are befuddled as to how to cope. You’re not like that, and I don’t think your Zeke is either.’
Melody thought back over the past twenty-four hours and the hundreds of little ways Zeke had shown he loved her, and wiped a tear from her cheek. ‘But he hasn’t seen what I look like now,’ she whispered. ‘And there’s so many women out there that throw themselves at him.’
‘That’s the fear talking again.’ Mabel leant forward and patted her hand briskly. ‘Now, I’m going to make us another cup of tea and a nice bacon sandwich before you go. Me and Arthur always used to start the day with a cup of tea and a bacon sandwich, but I’ve got out of the habit since he went. And Melody—’ Mabel held her gaze, her voice soft ‘—don’t expect to cross all your bridges in one fell swoop, dear. You’ll have good days and bad days, but you’ll win through—same as I did. It seems to me that your Zeke needs you every bit as much as you need him. Have you considered that? All those women you talk about were throwing themselves at him for years before he met you, and he didn’t fall for any of them, now, did he? Believe in him, lovey. Have faith. Christmas Day is a better day than most to start doing that, don’t you think?’
Melody nodded, only half convinced. She suddenly realised she needed to see Zeke again, to look into his face when he said he loved her, into his soul. She watched Mabel bustle about the kitchen without really focusing on her. But even that wouldn’t be enough. He had to see her as she was now, and it was then she would know. She loved him so much she would be able to read what he felt about having a crippled wife. She would always walk with a limp now, always have a jerky gait, and in the immediate future there were weeks of physiotherapy in store, with possible complications in the way of arthritis and so on as she got older. Their world had been a place of beautiful people—starlets, celebrities, the rich and famous. And botox and plastic surgery when the edges began to fray.