Bluesphinx

Sarah.

  She was blessed with sultry Mediterranean looks. Dark shoulder length wavy hair framing a dark complexioned, round and happy face, whose deep dark eyes carried more than a hint of mischief. A heavier build than Julie, I could best describe her as Junoesque.

 I don’t know whether it was my rapier wit and stunning repartee, or the fact that I took Sarah on our first date to visit the beautiful and massive Brookwood cemetery, but we hit it off immediately. Laughing freely as we skipped among the dour mausoleums, and melancholy giant statues of weeping angels, and she was confidently unabashed as I clicked away with my small pocket camera.

 After spending a good couple of hours at Brookwood we moved on by train to Guildford and walked the streets and brightly lit shops, pausing to get our breath back at the Three Sovereigns pub in the town centre. As Sarah fished around in one of her many shopping bags, unaware of my intense gaze, the thought struck me that I was fortunate enough to be in the company of a very good looking woman who as far as I could make out was enjoying my company as much as I was enjoying hers-and that was quite a lot, that’s for sure!

 We discussed many things that day, the fact that I had a girlfriend back home in Wales, (to whom I still felt a genuine sense of loyalty, by the way, and until my relationship with Julie was definitely over I had no intention of involving myself romantically with anyone else, no matter how much I admired them). The other main topic of conversation was of course my imminent involvement in the Falkland’s War. The implication was that I may never see Sarah again, so apart from trying to have a really good time together, there seemed little point in making any plans for the future. Maybe another date, if I get the time before I embark for the South Atlantic.

 A kiss that if I’m honest somewhat transcended the platonic saw the end of our happy liaison, and soon after I had seen her safely back into her father’s car, I made my mind up to settle once and for all the question of whether Julie and I had any further to go in our partnership.

 I had pre-operational leave for a week or so, and as soon as I returned to Wales I made it a priority to see Julie, my intention was to enquire for the last time of asking would she marry me. She made it crystal clear for the last time of answering that she would not, and in answering that way she confirmed to me that as much as I loved her, I had to move on. I told her about my date with Sarah, and in truth, although I hadn’t planned it, there probably was a bit of emotional blackmail thrown in. Unfortunately but predictably this upset Julie, who stormed off out of my life. I really wished it had gone the other way, but our four years together were finally over.

 Goodby Julie my dearest, and thank you. I hope you have a long, good, and happy life, but a life you’ll have to live without me in it.

 I decided to soothe my aching heart in the only way a young scallywag can, by jumping from one bad situation to (I was convinced) a good one, which meant beaching myself on the very comfortable shore of another more willing woman-Sarah.

 I was back in Pirbright two days before leaving for the Malvinas, and so I phoned Sarah to arrange a date. Result! She invited me to visit her that night at her place in Bracknell. The only slight fly in the ointment was that she lived with her parents, who she wanted me to meet.

 A taxi conveyed me in a very round-about way to Harmanswater, the Fleming family seat, and the place where I was introduced to her parents, Bob and Tessa, her aunt, Nina, and her younger brother, Richard. Sarah answered my knock on her door and took me into the lion’s den. The family, headed by Bob were at the table playing cards, and in contrast to the rather suspicious looks I’d got from him when last I set eyes on him, he was the soul of friendly bonhomie. I was immediately and warmly welcomed into the bosom of the family-especially by Nina, who had Downs Syndrome and fell in love with me in an instant!

 I have never been interested in card games-I have no knowledge of most of them, those with which I am familiar, I find that I have little aptitude for. But in the interest of creating a favourable impression I reluctantly joined in the card game, determined to brave any scorn that due to my card playing naivete may be heading my way. But they were gentle with me, and after just a couple of hands, the cards were put away, and we all retired to the large comfy three piece suite, where my brains were incisively but carefully picked.

 Bob and I hit it off straight away. We found a mutual respect for one another that would prove in the future to be deep and very long lasting. I accepted their kind invitation to stay that night, and leave for camp in the morning. The next day, after feeding me a hearty breakfast, the family wished me well, waving me off as I travelled, accompanied by Sarah, in the back of Bob’s car.

 ”Good luck Steve,” He said warmly, “Keep your head down.” Then he tactfully studied the amazing cement point work of the Barrack’s guard room as Sarah and I exchanged some sweet kisses and nothings, maybe for the last time. It later struck me that I may have been shown such overwhelming generosity simply due to the fact that as far as they were concerned, although that to them then, I was no more than a total stranger, I was still a young man who was going off to face the very real possibility of confronting horrors more terrible than they could even imagine.

 And Johnny went off to war…..

 I wrote to her every day on the way down there, but due to the surreal situation I found myself in there never came a reply. But i just trusted that the system would deliver my daily billet du. Then, one day, overcome by an impulse, I wrote asking her to marry me! I figured that if I didn’t make it-well it wouldn’t be down to me to worry about it. If I did make it, but she turned me down, then no harm done, the status quo would stand. If i made it and she accepted, then great! I knew we fancied the pants off each other, and I was sure we would enjoy a long happy marriage.

 Then came hard work, laughter, tears, tough times, laughter, boredom, fear, horror, recovery, and yet more laughs. Then one day, when the squabbling was behind us, and we were awaiting transport home, the first mail drop for the troops arrived, and I was the happy recipient of over sixty letters, most of which bore the Bracknell postmark. I picked one at random, tore rapaciously at it, and three photographs of Sarah fell to the floor. i opened the folded note, it read something like this; “My Darling Steve. YES! Of course I’ll marry you! I can’t wait to see you! All my love, Sarah.” RESULT!!

 The wedding date was set for 31st October 1983. It was all it should have been and more, especially since it had been planned for a year (Mainly by Sarah and her family-in truth, I was a bit of an outsider in all the plans). Bob, bless him re-mortgaged the house to pay for it, and although we jokingly called it the wedding of the year, in fact it really was something ostentatiously special. There was;

 A beautiful silken wedding dress. Tiara, and matching boots.

 Two bridesmaids, a page boy, and a Matron of Honour.

 A hand picked  eight-man Guard of Honour, drawn from the ranks of my friends in the Welsh Guards. Officer in charge-my best man, Paul Cunliffe. (Who many years and many promotions later, was given the honour of Officer in charge of the funeral of Princess Diana, Princess of Wales).

 A beautifully restored red and black (to compliment the guards uniforms) charabanc-circa nineteen twenties.

 A vintage MG to convey Sarah to the church.

 A vintage Alvis to convey us both to the reception.

 About one hundred and fifty guests, from both sides.

 A live band at the reception.

 A disco at the reception.

 All drinks at the reception, on Bob.(They lasted all night).

 A photographer.

 A video of the auspicious occasion.

 A wedding night in a plush hotel in affluent and picturesque Peaslake Surrey.

 What a good do! The best free piss up I’ve ever attended, but due to my obligation to mingle, I only sank about three pints all day!

 I was tewnty five, and Sarah was nineteen.

 We soon moved into a council flat in Great Hollands-the least auspicious estate in Bracknell, but at least we had a place, promptly offered and happily accepted, and when I shut the door, the problems outside stayed there.

 Unsurprisingly, if you consider the haste of my proposal, after the short duration of our courtship, the shiny bliss of wedded ignorance began within a year to tarnish. Niggling problems and questions that I had foolishly put to the back of my mind in the hope that they would just go away, kept returning with increasing regularity. I was beginning to see Sarah in a less attractive light-this was my perception, not necessarily the reality. She stated putting on too much weight (for me). And her behaviour proved that she was beginning to loose respect for me-one time, while out with her parents in Hampshire, whilst taking my turn behind the wheel of Bob’s car. Sarah sat behind me next to Tess. “You’re not wearing those!” She announced as I put on the (old fashioned) sunglasses that used to belong to my father, the ones which for some unexplained reason she had taken an instant dislike to. I laughingly ignored her, not thinking she was serious-she was-as a well aimed and hard slap across the back of my head proved, this accompanied by the announcement that “You look like a cunt!!” This was totally unwarranted, and humiliating. Bob responded on my behalf, berating Sarah for the outburst, I wanted to rise above it so I drove on silently fuming, and minus the sunglasses. But in my mind I couldn’t shake off the thought that the battle lines had been drawn.

 We had blazing rows, I was selfish and unsupportive of Sarah, and I felt that she had let herself go. At least that was my perception then, looking back now in my mind’s eye I see a woman who was unhappy but still attractive. In between these upsets we still had good times, many of them, but I was increasingly feeling isolated and in the minority the one against her and her family.

 I am not a great lover of children even now, but over the years I have somewhat mellowed, back then though, my dislike of children was much more deep-seated. Sarah had often told me that she wanted a family-the larger the better. This contentious issue should have been dealt with one way or another before we rushed into marriage. Instead I went into denial, accepting some vague agreement to wait a few years before ‘thinking’ about it. Not satisfactory.

 Well of course, it happened. I can see it now like it was yesterday, Sarah missed a few periods, we went to a local chemist shop for the pregnancy test, and the beaming chemist gave us the ‘happy’ news, we were going to be parents. Sarah was elated, in contrast I felt the bottom suddenly fall out of my world, and it showed on my face as the chemist added “…or maybe not so happy…” I really didn’t want this, but what could I do? There was no way that I was going to even consider asking her to get rid of the baby, so I decided to at least try to get used to the idea. But it was like pushing string. No matter what I told myself, no matter how positively I tried to dress it up, all I could see ahead of me was a headache and an expense that I was going to be stuck with for the rest of my life. Tied to a woman who by now I didn’t really love by a child that I did not want. And because of my feelings, I was totally isolated, I was even cut out of the choice of name. If it was a boy I wanted to call him Dylan, but Sarah and Tess soon shouted that idea down. No one could see the situation from my point of view. “Why don’t you at least try to be happy about it. Just for me?” Sarah sadly. but quite reasonably implored.

 The expense I had fretted over kicked in almost immediately, as Sarah flatly refused any item of baby equipment that wasn’t brand new. Second hand things were out of the question, and the new things just had to be the latest, the ‘best’, which could only be authenticated with a very high price tag.

 Meanwhile Bob and Tess had decided to up sticks and relocate to the Forest of Dean, and the plan was that we were all going to go together. But I harboured grave doubts about this, for one thing with a baby on the way, how could I hope to afford a mortgage as well?

 My moods during the pregnancy swung between deep and bottled up depression to forced enthusiasm, and so my behaviour was for far too much of the time less than gallant. I wish now that I could have shown her more support than I did, but at that time I just couldn’t.

 I was with her at the birth of my son, Thomas, who was a lovely little boy, of that there was no doubt, but there was no bond between us. I never did possess any paternal feelings, and neither do I still to this day. But I felt so guilty about this, and my guilt and despair at my situation took me to the darkest place, at my lowest point I even attempted suicide, but luckily I came to my senses in time.

 Something had to give. Sarah and I were very amicable around each other, but she knew that I was very unhappy. Increasingly she would take Thomas to stay with her back at her parent’s house, which was soon to be vacated by them, because they had found a new place in Cinderford.

 One day I came home from work, and Sarah sat me down for a much needed heart to heart talk. The long and short of it was that we were both unhappy, we agreed that the only way forward that would make us all happy was for her to move to the forest with her Mam and Dad, taking Thomas with her, and leaving me behind in Bracknell. It was a tough talk, but it needed to be said, and soon after it was concluded I felt a giant weight lift from my shoulders. I was with great regret that I had let them all down, but like I said, something had to give. Bob, as usual was brilliant about it, stating that he understood, and that it would be no good for me to live a lie. I still love that wonderful man.

 And off they went. After four years of living as man and wife, Sarah and I were divorced two years later. I did not set eyes on them again for many years.

 We had some good times, but truthfully not enough to justify an unwise and hasty rush to wedlock. I regret that it hurt so many people, and wish that Sarah and I had had the sense to just stay good friends. But as they say, hindsight comes with perfect twenty twenty vision. The best I can do now is to hope for them good lives and my heartfelt best wishes.