For most of Saturday I was wild eyed and deranged again. Ah the frustration of hearing how rubbish the fundamentals of their relationship are, the lack of respect I now feel that he has given me the ammunition to feel pity for her, the desire, now that I have access to her, just to tell her that she should ask him for the truth.
I can now look on from the outside though and see starkly just what a weak people-pleasing man he is and know that I would have to deal with that and that, together with his baggage (wife and children) would probably kill us off within the year anyway. I see it all intellectually. Yet my emotional attachment to him won’t go away. So I sent him a few utterly deranged texts, worked out he had switched his phone off and then let it lie.
On Sunday I took the daughters of my old friend who are staying with me from Scotland down to Kent where their surrogate nanny Ellen lives. The isle of sheppey is a godforsaken place, run down, industrial and yet she has a glorious view of the sea and a huge garden at the back of her house. I was assailed by a memory of having been there as a child once. It’s possible.
Nanny Ellen brought tears to my eyes. Just 80 she was so full of joy and life affirming goodness and love. Full of hugs for all of us (though she’d never met me before) and laughter with my daughter. Sharp as a tack though her legs don’t really work any more. Full of stories of our school life (she’s the parent of girls in years above me) I was reminded of the school children we all were and tearful that we are now all the wrong side of 45.
I don’t know why lovely nanny Ellen should have made me sad and not happy, but she did.