You don’t just lose your spouse... you lose half your own life too
It’s the little things no longer shared that hurt, says widowed author Hunter Davies, whose heart goes out to the Queen
programme. The producer and I were shown into his private library.
As we waited there, I went round his books while the producer told me to stop being so nosey.
I was looking for any books by me or my wife. By mistake I must have pressed some hidden button and a secret door in the bookshelves suddenly swung open, much to my shock and horror.
Through it, I could see Prince Philip sitting all on his own with his thoughts in front of a one-bar electric fire. Now it will be the Queen sitting most evenings on her own, alone with her thoughts and images of the day.
She is fortunate to have work, a large family with grandchildren and great-grandchildren to amuse and distract her.
But being widowed, you still miss your spouse, your partner, your soulmate. With them, you can be catty about dear friends, and groan when unwanted visitors arrive, knowing they will never know what you have said.
I am sure the Queen moaned about various prime ministers and visiting dignitaries – after they had gone. Now on her own, who will she now share all those private thoughts and moments with?
I am lucky. I now have a partner, Claire, with whom I share my life. Though we don’t live together, we see each other all the time, and listen to each other’s moans and groans.
For the first year after my wife’s death, when friends asked if I would get married again, I said no. But after a year, I began to long for a friend to have meals with, go on holiday with, and exchange trivial gossip with.
In my imagination she would be aged 65 to 75, either widowed or divorced, with her own family. She would have her own interests, her own house and her own teeth. This was a euphemism for being fit and active, and still saying yes to life.
And so it came to pass. I had first met Claire professionally about 30 years ago, when she was in public relations – for the Philharmonia Orchestra, and later West End Theatres and Hollywood films. Over the years, she arranged various star interviews for me.
She wrote to me after Margaret died, asking how I was and wondering if I would care for a drink. I put her off for about three months I was just so busy with probate and also deciding to sell the Lakeland home my wife and I had shared for 30 years.
CLAIRE had been divorced some 40 years earlier and was 70 and single.We were very different in some ways. She is Southern, posh and loves dogs. I am Northern, council house-born and love football.
We had a holiday in the Lake District, and then in the Caribbean, and eventually I met her family: her children, grandchildren, and the friends in her street where she lives in Battersea, southwest London.
She also introduced me to Battersea Park, which I had never visited before.
One of the excuses for visiting her so often was that I had decided I would include Battersea Park in a book I was writing about London parks. So visiting her became work and play. Smart, huh?
By getting to know her, I acquired a new circle of friends and interests, visited places I would never otherwise have seen.
It is like living twice – living Claire’s life as well as my own.
You never think that, when you exist alone. I realise now that by not having a partner, you only have half a life. I think this works for men as well as women.
We all want a confidante, someone to share the journey, bumpy or otherwise, rich or poor, known or unknown, even, I am sure, the Queen.
●●London Parks by Hunter Davies (Simon & Schuster, £16.99) is out now. For free UK delivery, call Express Bookshop on 01872 562310 or order via www. expressbookshop. co.uk