The Tapestry Of Life

One thing Joyce had learned was that the bad times really made you appreciate the good . . .

IT’S all right, Shadow. I’m OK.” Joyce wiped her eyes and stroked the silky cat rubbing its head against her arm. She blew her nose and smiled.

It was wonderful the way a cat knew when you needed company.

“I do wish Malc would get back, though,” she told her as she fondled the velvety ears.

The cat purred and looked up at Joyce with huge green eyes.

“You’re right. It’s this message. I’m desperate to talk to him.”

She glanced at the phone again and her eyes filled once more.

Hurriedly, she placed it on the arm of the sofa. She mustn’t get it wet.

She sighed as Shadow climbed daintily into her lap and curled up, nudging her more insistently.

Joyce laughed and stroked the sleek fur, wondering where Malcolm had got to.

Her husband had only popped out for some milk and a few other things from the corner shop, but he’d been gone ages.

Joyce wasn’t worried, though.

He was a sociable man and had most likely bumped into a neighbour or a friend from the golf club. He’d be enjoying a good chat.

She glanced out of the window. The early mist had cleared, leaving a deep blue sky and wispy clouds.

In their neighbour’s garden, birds fluttered around the feeders, and, somewhere, someone was having a bonfire.

She could see a curl of blue smoke rising from behind the houses opposite.

As she tucked her hanky into her sleeve and rose to make a pot of tea, she remembered what Auntie Eleanor had always said.

“Life is a tapestry, Joyce. It’s the shadows that make the bright colours shine.”

****

Joyce and her best friend, Lynne, had only gone down to the fair because they were bored.

Joyce thought that, at almost eighteen, they were a bit old for it.

However, Auntie Eleanor had laughed, given them some money and told them to “get along and have fun.”

They’d been to visit Eleanor as Joyce did every weekend.

She’d provided homemade lemonade and thick slices of apple and walnut cake and listened to all their news.

Then she’d insisted they go and get some fresh air.

Eleanor was Joyce’s great-aunt and had always lived round the corner. She was like a grandma.

In fact, Joyce was closer to her than any of her actual grandparents, who either lived further away or were less approachable.

Now, she and Lynne strolled along the path between coconut shies and hook-a-duck.

Lynne wore bell-bottoms and her long hair was neat in a beehive.

Joyce wore a mini-dress and had lately had her dark locks cut into a bombshell.

As they inhaled the scent of fried onions and felt the warm sun on their skin, she began to think this had been a good idea after all.

“Oh, let’s get a toffee apple.” Lynne had spotted a cart with dark, sticky fruit displayed around mounds of fudge and candyfloss.

“OK.” Joyce wasn’t hungry but knew what a sweet tooth her friend had.

They were just turning away from the cart when someone bumped into Joyce and sent her apple flying.

“I’m so sorry. I . . .” She looked up to see a young man staring down at her, his face scarlet. “It’s OK,” Joyce said. “No. Let me buy you another one, please.”

“Really, it’s fine. I’m not hungry anyway.”

The young man ran a hand through his short, dark hair.

He had a pleasant face and was smartly dressed in blue trousers and a jacket. He looked embarrassed.

“Are you sure? Then let me take you on the dodgems instead. Please, I’d like to

make up for it.”

Joyce glanced at Lynne, who shrugged.

“Oh, I’m Kurt, and this is my friend, Ian. Please, it would be our honour.”

Joyce smiled at his old-fashioned manners and decided to accept.

The four of them had a wonderful afternoon.

It turned out that the boys were in their final year at another local sixth form.

Kurt had two younger brothers, loved the Yardbirds and the Who, just like Joyce, and was the proud owner of a moped.

By the time they parted, Joyce had decided he was rather dreamy and was thrilled when he offered to walk her home.

“I’d really like to see you again,” he told her at the gate. “Would you go to the pictures with me?”

“That would be lovely.” Joyce tried not to sound too eager.

“How about Thursday?” A few days later, Joyce got ready with great care.

She abandoned her home-made dresses in favour of her one Mary Quant mini-skirt, a poloneck sweater and a pair of boots.

She brushed her hair carefully and put kohl around her eyes.

They were going to see “Funny Girl” and she wanted it to be the perfect evening.

She needn’t have worried. Kurt arrived promptly and looked amazing in his suit.

His crew cut was neatly combed and he wore a pair of desert boots.

She got to ride on his Vespa and was feeling excited and light-headed before the film began.

Kurt held her hand all the way through, and when she was safely back home, she decided it had been the best night of her life.

However, it was just the beginning. Other dates followed and, by Christmas, they were going steady.

They wandered around the lamplit streets choosing Christmas presents and hanging out in cafés with orange plastic chairs and monochrome walls.

On Christmas Eve, Kurt took her for a special meal.

They ate chicken Marengo, shared fondue and sipped Babycham. Later, by the large Christmas tree in the square, he took her in his arms and kissed her.

“I love you,” he said. Joyce buried her face in his wool coat and decided life couldn’t get any better.

Through spring and summer, the pair were inseparable.

Kurt met all her family and, to Joyce’s delight, her parents liked him very much.

When Joyce pressed Auntie Eleanor for her opinion, she smiled.

“It’s not up to me,” she told her.

“Oh, Auntie, I know, but you do like him, don’t you?” Eleanor patted her hand. “He’s a very nice boy.” In between their summer studies, Joyce and Kurt took walks, played tennis and went to the pictures.

To Joyce, it seemed as if every day was full of sunshine and excitement.

The only cloud on her horizon was the turn of the seasons.

When autumn arrived, they would be leaving for university.

Joyce knew she was lucky to have a place. She was the first of her family to go, but how could she bear to be parted from Kurt?

While she travelled to London, he would be heading to Exeter.

They’d discussed it first, when the exams were over.

“Don’t be sad,” Kurt had told her, taking her hand.

“I’ll write to you and we can visit. We’ll have all the holidays together, too.”

Joyce had nodded. She knew she’d miss him horribly.

Lately, however, they’d talked about it less.

If Joyce raised the matter, Kurt tended to say very little or changed the subject.

She supposed he was feeling awful, too.

****

Joyce clung to Auntie Eleanor, weeping and gasping for breath.

“There, there,” Eleanor said, kissing Joyce’s forehead. “Get it all out.”

Joyce wept a little longer but, as she calmed down, Eleanor pulled back and handed her the tissues.

“There you are, sweetheart. Dry your eyes, while I put the kettle on.”

She took some deep breaths.

A few minutes later, her aunt was back with a cup of sweet tea and some lemon biscuits.

Joyce didn’t think she’d be able to eat ever again.

“Now, tell me about it,” Eleanor said, her grey eyes concerned but her face full of kindness.

“What’s happened to upset you so?”

“It’s Kurt,” Joyce said. “He’s broken things off.” She dissolved into tears again.

“Well.” Auntie Eleanor patted her hand.

“I expect that does feel like the end of the world.

“This will certainly take time, but you have to trust me when I tell you that it won’t feel like this for ever.”

Joyce swallowed. Auntie Eleanor was usually right, but this time, she didn’t think she’d ever recover.

Kurt had told her that he loved her. How could he have done this? Eleanor studied her face. “It doesn’t mean he didn’t care about you. I expect this is hard for him, too.” Joyce spluttered. “No, listen. I think he loved you as much as a young man can at eighteen, but a clean break might be easier in the end.

“You have a lot of studying and a whole bright future ahead of you. It’s time to move on.”

“If he’d loved me, he’d have made it work. We talked about writing, visits. I wasn’t going to give up.”

Joyce stared down at her flared jeans in despair.

None of it made any sense and her insides felt hollow and painful. Eleanor gave her a hug. “You’re strong. You’ll come through this and you need to remember what I’ve told you before – life is a tapestry.

“It’s the shadows that make the bright colours shine.”

Joyce sniffed and nodded. Her aunt had said the same thing when she’d failed her science O-level, but this was different.

Joyce felt like the whole world was ending.

****

All these years later, standing in her kitchen in the autumn sunlight, Joyce smiled at the memory.

Of course, Auntie Eleanor had been right then, too. It had taken time to get over Kurt, but she had settled into university life, made friends and started again.

In her second year, she’d met Malcolm, a shy, good-looking maths undergraduate.

It took him months to work up the courage to ask her out, but now they had been married for fifty happy years.

She smiled as she switched on the kettle and heard his key in the lock.

“Hi, love, I’m back. I expect you were wondering what happened. I bumped into Jeff and . . .”

He stopped on the threshold, taking in her red-rimmed eyes and the phone clutched in her hand, and his face fell.

Dropping the bag of shopping on the table, he came over to her.

“What’s the matter? Has something happened?” Joyce smiled tremulously. “It has,” she said, her voice choked. “It’s Sylvie.” Malcolm blanched.

“Is it the baby?”

“Yes, but it’s good news! She’s had a healthy baby girl, Alice Eleanor.” Malcolm smiled in relief. “Oh, how wonderful.” Joyce nodded and her whole face lit up. Yes, it was truly wonderful.

She and Malcolm had faced the shadows when they’d been unable to have a family, but her sister’s brood were like their own.

Now, she was a greataunt, just like Auntie Eleanor, and she was ecstatic.

This was one of those times when the colours in the tapestry shone brightest. ■