‘Back together after 25 years thanks to our daughter!’
Hayley Garbutt finally got to marry her Mr Right – 30 years after he first proposed…
You never forget your first love, but you don’t often think they’ll end up being your last. I met mine when I was just 15 years old, but the path of true love didn’t run that smoothly for us…
It was 1983 when I first met Maurice Garbutt. My twin sister, Vanessa, and I had gone to our local pub to hang out in their games room.
‘That lad fancies me,’ Vanessa said, pointing out Maurice, then 17. My sister was already courting someone so wasn’t interested, but looking at Maurice, my heart almost skipped a beat.
I knew, without a doubt, that one day I’d marry him.
That night, we got talking, and I discovered Maurice was kind, cheeky and had an answer for everything. He explained he worked at a dairy farm and was shocked when I told him I was Vanessa’s twin, as we looked nothing alike.
After that, we became inseparable, and I fell headover-heels in love with him.
Our relationship moved quickly, and by the time I was 16, we’d got a flat together and were engaged. I was young, but I knew I wanted to spend my life with him.
In April 1986, I wasn’t feeling well so went to see my doctor. He asked if I could be pregnant but I shook my head. I hadn’t missed a period. But a test confirmed I was four months gone. Excited and scared, I told Maurice, and we agreed to tell our mums first.
When I broke the news, my mum, Sandra, cried, and his mum wasn’t best pleased, either. We ended up having a silly tiff, and I went back home for a few days.
‘ You’re so young,’ Mum said. ‘I want the best for you, and I don’t think he loves you.’
When Maurice didn’t come round to patch things up, I started to believe it was true. I knew his mum was in his ear, too, but for the next eight weeks, I grew more and more angry and upset. So when he did turn up on the doorstep, I refused to speak to him.
I missed him terribly and, to make matters worse, Mum was preparing to move to France. Then, when I heard rumours that Maurice was seeing someone else, I was heartbroken.
In September 1986, our daughter, Zola, was born, and I was completely besotted with her. She was the spitting image of her father – same curly hair, twinkly eyes and pursed lips, which only made me love her more.
But even that wasn’t enough to get Maurice and me back in touch. He secretly called the
hospital to make sure she was healthy, but he didn’t contact me. And, equally stubborn, I refused to ring him.
In fact, it wasn’t until Zola was a year old and we were walking through our village that I saw Maurice washing his car. He didn’t even look up, and my heart broke all over again.
So, in 1989, Zola and I moved to France with my mum. I ended up meeting a man named Andrew and, convinced Maurice and I were over for good, we married in 1990. We went on to have two kids, Luke, now 25, and Lucy, 24.
We were happy, but I often thought about Maurice.
When Zola was 10, I knew I had to tell her about her real dad. We were a big family, and I was terrified someone would let it slip. She was shocked and wanted to know more, including what he looked like. ‘ You just need to look in the mirror,’ I told her. ‘ You are his double.’ Over the next few years, I worked hard as a rehab nurse on a brain-injury ward while looking after the children. Andrew and I had our ups and downs, but we muddled along. Then, in 2009, Lucy set me up a Facebook account and I searched out all my old friends. There was a man called Maurice, with no pictures, so I sent a message asking if he was Maurice from Hunmanby, our home village.
He replied but, instinctively, I deleted the message without reading it. What was I doing? I was married.
But, by the following year, I realised my heart wasn’t in it, and Andrew and I separated.
In April 2010, Zola, then 23, explained that she’d had a message from Maurice on Facebook. I was so pleased they’d reconnected, and I encouraged her to meet up with him.
Not long afterwards, he emailed me and asked for us to meet, too, which made me extremely nervous. Would I still feel the same about him?
But I couldn’t deny that I wanted to see him, so, finally, in November 2010, he picked me up and we went to the pub. He was exactly the same as he’d been all those years ago.
We talked about the past and I told him how much I’d adored him. ‘ You never told me you loved me,’ I said. He was heartbroken and said he’d never stopped loving me.
After that, we started spending more time together. Maurice was caring and romantic – and devastated we’d wasted so many years through silly misunderstandings. My mum apologised to him and, in time, he got on brilliantly with Luke and Lucy. Zola adored having her dad around, and they were eager to make up for lost time.
In December 2013, Maurice proposed with a diamond solitaire ring – a bigger version of what he’d given me all those years ago. Of course, I said yes! The following summer, with Zola and Lucy as our bridesmaids, and Luke giving me away, we finally got married in our local church. I couldn’t have been happier tying the knot to the man I’d loved since I was 15.
Now, we both regret the years we missed out on but, in a way, they make us realise what we have.
Zola and Maurice go to the gym together, have afternoon teas and, every Christmas, he buys her an extra present to make up for the Christmases that he missed.
Maurice is my life, and those butterflies I had in my tummy all those years ago haven’t gone away. It may have taken us three decades, but we’re finally back together – and happier than ever.
‘We both regret the years we missed out on, but they make us realise what we have’