More Than Love Letters
Page 25
Margaret xx
42 Gledhill Street
Ipswich
27 October 2005
Darling Pete,
Margaret is staying over at Richard’s flat again tonight after her hostel meeting. The two of them seem to be very much an item now. They are at his place most nights when he is in Ipswich, which is where he mainly seems to be in the evenings at present while Parliament is still on holiday (or ‘not sitting’, I think they say, don’t they?). Although they do come round here a lot, and even take me out for drinks, which is nice. Last night Richard cooked a lovely pasta dinner for us all, with these Italian wild mushrooms. At first I wasn’t keen on the texture, they were a bit rubbery, but when you got used to the chewiness they were certainly very tasty. Margaret tells me she is thinking of becoming a vegetarian. She is probably very sensible – Persephone has lent me a book all about factory farming and it is enough to turn you right off meat. But I don’t think I could do without my chops, and a nice steak once in a while.
It is quieter again here, what with Margaret always being either busy with school, or visiting her gran, and out so often in the evenings, leaving me and Snuffs by ourselves. But I find I don’t mind it any longer. I quite like the extra space, and Margaret has kindly let me bring her computer down to the kitchen, and says I can use it whenever I like. I’m quite the expert, you know, since my course at the college in the summer! A few Sunday afternoons ago, Margaret and Richard came round and we drafted an application to the charities fund at work, and I did all the typing in, and when they’d gone I made it look really professional, with fancy typefaces and everything. We want to get some money to set up that support scheme I mentioned to you, the one to give a helping hand to people like poor Helen. Margaret was talking about the plan as ‘Friends for Helen’, and I said, you should really call it that, so that her name will be remembered.
Summer really seems to be stretching on late into the autumn this year. September was blazing, and it’s stayed very dry even these past few weeks, and there’s not been a single frost to speak of so far. I’ve hardly had to put on a cardy yet, in the house. The only green bits left in the lawn are the clover and the moss. It makes me glad I haven’t treated it with weedkiller – which Persephone says is death to all sorts of wildlife, anyway. Snuffy spent most of her time in the really hot weather at the back of the flower bed, in a cool spot under the forsythia. She seems finally to have worked out what to do in the heat. Do you remember when she was a pup, how she was always wanting to chase her ball in the garden in the full sun, even though it made her pant fit to burst? And how she used to whimper when we took the ball away and told her to lie down?
Pete, I think this is the last letter I am going to write to you. I shall pop it in the envelope now, and then in the morning on the way to work I shall go round by the park, and put it with all the others in the old cashbox in the hollow tree. Do you remember, sweetheart, how we used to leave little messages for each other there, when we were first going out? That’s where I scattered your ashes – two years ago now – in the park, there by the hollow tree. It will always be our special place.
You know that I will always love you, Petey, that hasn’t changed, and I don’t think I shall ever stop missing you, either. But I don’t want to lie to Margaret any more. I told her you were working on the oil rigs! At first it was just to give me a way of carrying on writing letters to you without Margaret thinking it odd, but after a while it came to help me, too, to be able to imagine that you were just away somewhere, and coming back in a few weeks or months. I thought you might have rather liked your glamorous new job. If you were going to live on in my imagination I decided it might as well be doing something with a little excitement to it, and the wind in your hair, after twenty-five years behind a desk at the Inland Revenue, and then that last horrible one, in and out of hospital.
Anyway, I don’t think I need to keep writing to you any more. They have been more than just letters for me, Pete – even more than love letters. They have been my refuge. It has really helped, feeling that I could still tell you about what I was doing, even just the little things that nobody else would care about. But I think that now I am ready to get on with being on my own and living my life without you.
Goodbye, love,
Cora xxx
IPSWICH TOWN CRIER
WEDNESDAY 21 DECEMBER 2005
MP ATTENDS TOWN’S FIRST GAY ‘WEDDING’
Ipswich MP Mr Richard Slater today attended the first ever civil partnership ceremony to be held at the town’s register office. This is the first day upon which the formation of legal unions between gay and lesbian couples is permitted under the Civil Partnerships Act 2004. Such partnerships will give those concerned certain mutual legal rights and duties akin to those enjoyed by heterosexual married couples. Ipswich Borough Council is among a number of progressive local authorities choosing to exercise a discretion in the legislation to offer a formal ceremony to gay couples entering into a partnership agreement.
Pat Westley and Pat Turner, who tied the knot today, have been together for eight years, and both said how delighted they are to have this chance to formalise their relationship publicly in front of family and friends. Following a party this evening, the two Pats will be honeymooning in the Greek islands, although they refused to confirm whether or not their itinerary is to include Lesbos.
Asked whether his attendance at today’s ceremony may be taken as an indication of his support for the further extension of gay rights, Mr Richard Slater said, ‘It indicates, first and foremost, my affection and support for Pat and Pat.’
Mr Slater, who this summer came close to forfeiting his front bench post in a scandal involving a prostitute, was seen to arrive at the register office arm in arm with a mystery dark-haired woman. It seems that Mr Slater’s days of loose living may be over. Asked whether the people of Ipswich might be hearing wedding bells ringing for him in the near future, he merely smiled enigmatically as he commented, ‘Anything is possible.’