When Tilly showed her wedding photos to friends, shed always say with a laugh, «Oh, I suffered in that dress! Gorgeous, yes, but so heavy and bulky! Next time I marry, Ill pick something light and airy.» Everyone assumed she was jokingand theyd chuckle along. Tilly *was* joking. Her friends knew shed married for love. It was a classic holiday romance. She was 21, Oliver was 28.
August, the gentle sea, sparkling wine, starry skies, romanceall of it swirled together and landed on a registry office form. Of course, Oliver had to divorce his second wife first, and Tilly had to move to his hometown.
London to Brighton to Londonthat route became Tillys second nature for a decade, worn familiar as an old coat. But at first, the young couple had to rent. Oliver had given his flat to his second wife, whod threatened to swallow pills, throw acid on wife number three, or leap from a window if he dared leave her! Eventually, though, she quieted down. Maybe Oliver promised to return? His first wife? Oh, he barely mentioned her. That marriage lasted a year and a halfjust didnt stick. Later, he even helped her marry his best mate. Made everyone happy, himself included.
Wife number two lasted longer. Three years was enough for Oliver to see her true colours. A woman who called babies «human larvae» and refused to have any.
None of this bothered Tilly. Not one bit. She was self-assured, ambitious, certain of her beauty and brilliance. Oliver adored her. He thought hed found heaven on earth. Flowers came by the armful, fur coats in triplicate, and shoes? She couldve worn a new pair daily. He whisked her to Paris, Rome, the Swiss Alpsbroadening her horizons before their first child arrived.
Soon, little Emily was born. While Tilly nursed her, Oliver bought a cottage and kitted it out. Everything was done with love. For his girls!
They celebrated their new home. Emily started nursery.
Tilly threw herself into studyingpreferably back in her hometown, London. Her friends were there, her mum, even strangers felt warm and familiar. Under the old oaks, she felt at peace.
Emily stayed with Olivers mum, who doted on her. And while Tilly sat exams, she stayed in London. Oliver grew jealous. Hed turn up unannounced, stage «accidental» meetings (in another city!). Not that Tilly gave him cause or so it seemed.
Truth was, she longed to escape domesticity. Shed study forever if meant no dishes, no floors, no husband or child to tend. Life was short, and why should *she*bright, beautifulwaste it on dull chores?
Soon, she had three degreesall first-class. Psychology was her field. She carried her certificates everywhere, job-hunting with zeal. Oliver hated it. «Do we need the money? Ill go mad waiting for you! Tilly, lets have anothera boy or girl, I dont care. Just stay close.»
Tilly couldnt see herself as a mum again. Mission accomplished: a child for Oliver, a life for Emily. What more? Her mother-in-law offered to raise Emily full-time. «She needs love, and youre always off in the clouds.» Tilly agreed without a second thoughtthen vanished to London. «Ill call,» she decided.
But Oliver was waiting. Hed learned her tricks. «Tilly, wheres Emily? Why are you here? Is there someone else?»
«Ollie, relax! No admirers. Im just bored. I want freedom.»
«From me? From Emily? Wheres the love? Midlife crisis? Well get through it!»
«We wont,» Tilly said flatly.
Oliver begged her mum for help. «What can I do? Shes stubborn as stone.»
He returned to Brighton alone. Madness. «No good deed goes unpunished,» he muttered. Maybe he just didnt fit.
Weeks passed. Tilly didnt return. Calls were answered coldly: «Im fine.»
Finally, Oliver sold the cottage, took Emily, and moved to Londonall to save his family.
Tilly was icy. «Why upset her? New school, no friends Her gran wont approve.»
Excuses. She revelled in freedom. «Live like a bird»that was her motto now. Shed started a sewing business, rented a flat, had admirers. No time to miss a thing. And nowhusband, child? Why? She wanted the past erased. Like it had happened to someone else.
Oliver ignored her. Hopeand lovestill flickered. He met Tilly after work, brought Emily (her mirror image). Useless. Tilly was a statue. Unmoved. Finally, she ended it: «Oliver, leave me. Lets divorce. Emily can stay with me.»
Emily was 11. She didnt need «staying with.» She had a dad who loved her, a gran who prayed for her nightly. She remembered her mum. Loved her. But why had she let go so easily?
Time flies. No one can stop it.
Life goes on. And everyone reaps what they sow.
Oliver stopped «fishing on dry land.» Hed never reach Tillys heart.
Fate gave him an ordinary woman. Feet on the ground, no flights of fancy. Now they live in the countryside. She has two sons from her first marriage. No Paris, no furs, no shoesjust wellies for mud, a warm coat for chores, and dreams of raising her kids right.
Oliver was content. Warm. At peace. («Where things are simple, angels dwell; where theyre too clever, none do well.») Soon, a daughter was born. True happinesson his fourth try. The first three marriages? Best left unopened.
Tilly lives with her mum. A business partner once promised her the moonthen cheated her blind. Her sewing venture unravelled. The queue of suitors vanished.
Long story short: plenty of proposals, but all slipped away. She works as a school psychologist. At least the degrees paid off. No regrets. Though the soul has depths no one can measure. Maybe even a «skybird» like Tilly feels a flicker of remorse someday.
Emily, now grown and married, lives with her gran in Brightonthe woman who raised her.
On her wedding day, she wore a light, airy dress. A gift from her mum, Tilly.
