The New Mrs D (14 page)

Michaela nodded.

‘And he didn’t seem to notice at all.’

‘Were you and Chris talking at the time?’ Linda asked.

‘Yes, why?’

‘Because I guess he was enjoying that wonderful, funny personality of yours,’ she said. ‘Because Binnie, the truth is women aren’t two-dimensional. The people that truly fall for us are attracted to what’s inside of us. The rest is just gift wrap.’

‘Do you know, I’ve been considering telling people I cheated,’ I admitted. ‘Just to make it all sound more
normal
.’

‘What? Are you insane? This isn’t your fault!’ said Linda.

‘And what’s more normal than asking your husband to be faithful to you?’ Eydis added.

‘Well, it’s just going to look like I’m the one with the problem if I do call it quits,’ I explained. ‘Because I hate my body so much, I can’t take any competition.’

‘You hate your body?’ Linda gasped. ‘Why?’

‘Because it’s old,’ I sighed.

‘Wummin are supposed tae look like they’re supposed tae look,’ Greta added. ‘Thin, medium, curvy, voluptuous, old, young – it’s all womanly whatever shape or age ye are.’

‘I know, you’re right,’ I said. ‘I’ve been looking at my body and feeling like I can’t compete with the women David looks at. What if I’m too old? Too fat? Too unsexy. The young me isn’t coming back. What if the rare time he comes to me for sex he’s just doing me a favour? I just got tired of all the agonising over it. I really, really don’t want to live like that anymore.’

‘I’m sure he isn’t just doing you a favour,’ Linda assured me, rubbing my hand in sympathy.

‘We’re aww gorgeous creatures, ye know,’ Greta laughed. ‘Me, you, Michaela, Eydis, Linda. We’re bloody stunners, that’s whit we are.’

Tears prickled my eyes again and I turned to her. ‘I couldn’t even take off my clothes the other night when it was dark and everyone around me was naked. I don’t even feel comfortable wearing bikinis.’

‘Dae ye never go topless? Ah dae it a’ the while!’

‘Greta,’ I said seriously. ‘I’ve never gone topless on a beach in my entire life.’

‘Who do you suppose is looking at you?’ Eydis asked. ‘Have you ever noticed that on the beach? No-one is really looking at
you
, it sounds to me like it’s you, looking at them, comparing yourself to everyone around while they’re busy just getting on with enjoying the sun.’

‘The answer is tae get yer baps oot no matter who’s lookin’!’ said Greta.

‘Metaphorically speaking,’ Michaela said.

‘And knowing we’re all as gorgeous as the next woman,’ said Linda. ‘No matter what shape or size we are. We’re women. We’re
all
shaped like women.’

‘You can be out and proud like us,’ Eydis said, pointing at herself then Linda, while starting to lift her top off over her head. ‘Do you know what the perfect body is, Binnie?’

‘What on earth . . . ?’ I began.

‘The perfect body protects its owner from disease, gives birth to amazing new people and stops your bones from falling out. The end.’ And with that, Eydis threw her top in the air to whoops from the rest of the women.

‘Yeah, drop ‘em out. You too, Binnie!’ Linda yelled, getting her own top off.

‘Go topless? That’s a great way to make a stand against “Page Three” mentality.’

‘Why the hell not?’

‘Lady Godiva stripped naked and rode a horse through Coventry to protest at rising taxes,’ Eydis said.

‘Ooh, yes, I like that. Shall we ride naked through the sea to protest at the porn industry?’ I joked. ‘Would that work, in a kind of contradictory way?’

‘Binnie!’ Linda announced, ‘We shall do a Godiva this very evening. All of us!’

‘Will the cuddies get worried if we jump oan ‘em starkers?’ Greta’s question was to Michaela, who frowned.

‘Cuddies?’

‘Aye, the horses,’ Greta explained. ‘Can we ride ‘em in the buff?’

‘Oh, I don’t think . . .’ Michaela began to protest.

‘There’s no-one around,’ said Eydis.

‘Okay then, just topless!’ Greta sang out.

‘A half Godiva!’ Linda added, chuckling.

‘Can we burn wur bras?’ Greta asked.

To my amazement, she followed up the question by ripping off her t-shirt and bra. Everyone, even Michaela, cheered. And then fell silent, as our eyes couldn’t help but take in the surgical scar where her right breast used to be. On the floor beside her lay a discarded prosthetic breast, still inside her bikini top. We were, all of us, speechless. Except our bonnie Greta.

‘Whit’s wrang?’ she asked. ‘Huv yae never seen a half boobless old lady before? Get yer tits oot girls while you still can. I can dae it in half the time!’ And with that she clambered on to her horse. ‘Remember whit I telt ye, Binnie? Whatever shape yir in, thin, curvy, boobless, legless. Yir a woman for heaven’s sake. Ye’ huv a lot to be proud of and grateful for. Dinnae hide yersel’ away.’

In that moment I wanted to cry, I felt so deeply ashamed. Turning to Linda I could see her biting her lip, fighting back sadness too as she stared across at Eydis. Nobody knew what to say, yet Greta was already off, galloping through the waves on the back of her horse, laughing and cheering; looking for all the world like she didn’t have a care.

‘Well, I wasn’t sure I could do this, but . . .’ I started, fighting back tears of sympathy and shame I somehow knew Greta wouldn’t want.

‘Michaela, you don’t mind if we alter this evening’s lesson slightly do you?’ Eydis asked.

Michaela looked from Greta to me and announced, ‘Binnie, in the words of Sylvia Pankhurst – the moment of greatest humiliation is the moment when the spirit is proudest.’

To my astonishment and another round of cheers, Michaela whipped off her bikini top too.

Greta turned back and began to charge back towards us again.

‘Are ye ready, ladies?’ she called out, her face flushed with exuberant life and happiness.

I suddenly felt inspired, and had it not been for the fact that Eydis had shaken off her initial shock and begun to pull my vest top over my head, I’d have done it myself and hang it all. In a twinkling we were all giggling like schoolgirls.

‘Linda, your woman is undressing me!’ I cried out through fits of laughter, but as I turned towards her, she whipped off her bra too and threw it in my face, singing out, ‘To the horses, sisters!’

Everyone had their boobs out except me, still standing like an uneasy wallflower in my bra. Even the beautiful and courageous Greta. How had I wasted so much time wrapped up in my small, pathetic body confidence issues? She was amazing. And all the while as she listened to my woes she hadn’t said a thing to suggest she had any of her own. All at once, I knew that was what they were doing on the beach late at night, walking about and swimming naked with the youngsters. It wasn’t so that Hughie could ogle the young girls; he and his wife were roaming, free to do whatever they liked in spite of their age and their differences. I was beginning to see them both in a whole, new light.

What the hell? In an actual flash, I pinged open my bra, whipped them out for the sisterhood and climbed onto Shyla, who I felt sure would approve. Hugging the reins, I closed my eyes and breathed in, as though filling my lungs with sunlight. For what I was sure was the first time in my life, I felt the sun and sea breeze on my naked breasts. And it was exquisite.

‘Feel ready for a gallop through the waves?’ Michaela shouted, clambering onto her horse.

‘Well, my floppies aren’t as springy as they used to be,’ Linda laughed. ‘Can we just make it a slow canter?’

‘Aye weel,’ said Greta, who had pulled back around to hurry us up. ‘You’ll excuse me for no haeing those kind of worries oanymore.’ And with that she galloped away into the lead again with a ‘Woo hoo!’

Within moments, I had flung my bra over my shoulder and raced after her with a whoop.

As the sun set over a glorious, Greek horizon, five women on five horses splashed through the sea with the wind in their hair and their bosoms. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so free and so inspired, and all because of this small collection of courageous and dignified women, brought together by chance on a tiny Greek island. And all at once, I knew what I had to do about David.

‘Titty Ho!’ yelled Greta, before diving off her horse and crashing into the sea with a whoop.

As I said. Dignified.

Chapter Twenty

A bareback horse ride in the sea at sunset!
Best. Day. Ever!

‘M
OTHER,’ Sal’s comment below my photo of the backs of four proud women, riding topless through the waves posted to Facebook, was in shouty cap locks. ‘ARE YOU WEARING CLOTHES FOR ANY OF YOUR HOLIDAY?’

I laughed aloud to myself, to a puzzled look from the barman loading a tray with the three cocktails I’d just ordered from him. I pushed my phone back into my pocket.

‘Sorry, I was just laughing at . . .’ His blank, not amused look told me a full Facebook comment explanation would be pointless. ‘Oh, anyway, thank you. These look lovely.’

He nodded and passed me the tray, which I carried back to the low, candlelit table, where Greta and Michaela sat on huge, squashy cushions on the floor. Linda and Eydis had left us to go for a romantic meal for two and we three had decided to come to the Taverna Nereids to enjoy a quiet drink. On such a low seat, Greta reminded me again of an old, kindly and tiny Mrs Pepperpot. Even though just a few hours earlier she had charged through the sea on the back of a horse like Lady Godiva on speed.

‘What a beautiful setting for a wee drink after wur dinner,’ said Greta, taking in the view of the sea from our beachside table, which winked back a glinting reflection of the moon.

‘Yes, what a great idea for a stop off, Michaela. It’s a lovely place,’ I replied. ‘Here’s to a wonderful day, in the company of lovely new friends.’ I raised my glass to theirs. ‘Yammas!’

‘It’s a little-known haven where all the expats gather for drinks. I thought you’d like it,’ Michaela told me.

Greta took a huge sigh and staring out to sea. ‘Aye, we hae beautiful beaches where Hughie and I stay, but ye rarely get tae sit oot in weather like this.’

‘Beaches? I thought you lived in Glasgow?’

‘No. We come fae Glasgow but when Hughie retired we moved tae the Isle o’ Harris.’

‘How lovely!’ I exclaimed. ‘I’ve only ever seen it in pictures but I’d love to go one day.’

‘Aye it’s lovely, but a wee bit cut aff fae folk. That’s no always a guid thing when you’re no weel.’

The reminder of her battle with cancer made me feel guilty. How could I have complained about my body woes in front of her?

‘When did it all happen then, Greta?’ Michaela asked. ‘If you don’t mind talking about it?’

‘Och naw, I dinnae mind at all, hen,’ she said, smiling broadly and patting her on the hand. ‘It’s been a year since ma surgery noo. But I’ve no given masel’ time tae dwell oan it. Me an’ Hughie huv been living life tae the full ever since.’

‘Yes, I can see that you like to enjoy yourselves,’ I laughed, thinking of their previous evening’s naked stroll on the beach. ‘Still, I had no idea you’d been through so much Greta. It must have been so hard. And the mastectomy! Such a difficult decision.’

‘Och no!’ she answered, shaking her head before taking a big swig from her Pina Colada. ‘It was that or die. That’s no a difficult decision at a’. Oanyways, I’ve still got two tits left.’

‘Eh?’

‘Aye,’ she laughed. ‘The left one an’ Hughie!’

Michaela and I looked at each other and laughed, a little guiltily. ‘Oh Greta, you are a wonderful lady,’ I told her. ‘I don’t know how you’ve coped. Or how you listened to my insignificant moanings earlier. I feel such a shit.’

‘Dinnae be daft, hen,’ she said. ‘We’ve all got wur problems tae face. I could hae died but I didnae. What you need to dae noo is listen to yer ain heart, dear, and take notice o’ what is sent tae ye. They say everything happens fir a reason and I believe that, Binnie, I do. Maybe ye met me to show ye that life is bigger than ye’ve been making it.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, tak that man o’ yours fir one. And even the bampot before him,’ she continued. ‘It sounds tae me like you’re wan o’ they people pleasers. Ayeways daein things for others and no thinking o’ yerself.’

‘That’s just what my sister said.’

‘She’s right, you know,’ Michaela added.

‘I do try hard to keep everyone happy,’ I admitted. ‘Linda was right about that altruism thing.’

‘Exactly,’ Greta went on. ‘Whit did ye dae when you fun oot ye were preggers wae a guy ye’d only just met at, what was it ye said, nineteen?’

‘Married him immediately, of course,’ I answered sadly.

‘Aye. And who was that for?’

‘I thought it was for me at the time,’ I said.

‘But it wisnae, wis it?’ she said. ‘It was tae save face. Tae huv a family. Tae make a happy life for the wee bairn, and naebody can blame ye for that, ma dear, naebody.’ She put down her glass and grabbed my hand. ‘But what your life should aw be aboot to you, is you.’

‘Always it’s you,’ said Michaela. ‘No feeling guilty. No thinking what if nobody likes me if I don’t go along with everyone else. I’ve been guilty of that myself, but I’ve changed.’

‘But it sounds so selfish,’ I said. ‘Too many people go around thinking “What can I get in life?” when they should be thinking, “What can I give?”‘

‘That is true,’ Michaela replied. ‘But think of your own needs first, Binnie. How can you give your best to the world when you haven’t given your best to yourself yet?’

‘An’ the least ye can do is marry for love and your ain happiness,’ Greta added.

‘I thought I loved my first husband, Michael,’ I sighed, staring off into the horizon. ‘But with hindsight, you’re right. I was trying to make the best of things, but deep down in my heart there was a nagging doubt that I was taking the wrong road.’

‘An’ wae David?’ Greta asked.

I looked back at her before taking another long sip of my drink. She gave me a knowing smile and I wondered how I hadn’t noticed all of her understanding and wisdom before. How many times might somebody so kind and perfect for answering your life’s questions be right in front of you and yet you make on the spot assumptions about them, blink and miss all they have to impart. Somebody sent, just as she said.

‘Same?’ she asked, bringing me back to her question.

I nodded. ‘I’m beginning to think so.’

She let go of my hand and leaned back, looking satisfied with herself. ‘Ah’m a wise ol’ duck, me,’ she said.

‘Indeed you are, Mrs McAteer.’

‘I’m Greta to ma friends,’ she told me. ‘Just Greta. Ah didnae marry ma man just tae forget that. I didnae lose ma self, Binnie, and neither should you.’

‘It’s funny isn’t it, the old Mrs Hughie McAteer or Mrs David Dando thing? I changed my Facebook name to that an hour after the ceremony, did I tell you that?’

‘No, ye didnae,’ she replied. ‘It’s the done thing tae take yir husband’s name though.’

‘What about his whole identity?’ I asked her.

‘Come again?’

‘You mean, forgetting who you are and materialising into a version of him?’ Michaela said.

‘Ach, that would be awfy silly, Binnie,’ Greta chuckled. ‘Ah’d hae tae go aboot chasing all the wummin.’

‘Greta,’ I said. ‘You’re right. It is awfully silly. And do you want to know a secret? My name is Bernice. I hate the name Binnie. It was David that started calling me that.’

‘Well, it’s affy guid tae meet ye, Bernice,’ she said, shaking my hand.

‘You look beautiful tonight, Mrs Dando.’

David and I had taken the floor for our first waltz at the wedding, surrounded by our family and friends. Our taxi was collecting us in thirty minutes to take us to the airport, when the party would continue merrily on in our absence.

‘Thank you,’ I said, hugging his neck tightly and closing my eyes so that it was just him and me in a world of our very own.

‘Marilyn Monroe though?’ David laughed into my ear. ‘Seriously?’

For months, I’d tried to choose a song for our first dance, settling on
Baby, Baby, Blue
from one of my favourite films,– a song David thought was hideously cheesy. Having him dance with me to it and cringing with embarrassment, I told myself, had been my just-for-fun addition to the evening. In truth, it was because
Baby, Baby, Blue
had accompanied one of the most romantic moments in cinema history for me; a final scene when the star had written a song for his love and had it played it for her in his hospital bed, seconds before his untimely death. I’d cried buckets, thinking of what my life would be like without David. He had tutted and raised his eyebrows throughout the film. I doubted he even remembered where it was from on our wedding day.

‘I thought we’d agreed on The Stone Roses?’ he said seriously. ‘
This Is The One
? You said you loved it.’

‘You know I do,’ I replied, grinning from ear to ear. ‘But I changed my mind. This is funny!’

My love of old films had become buried after David and I had moved in together and he found me watching one.

‘What on earth is this shit?’ he’d said mockingly.

I wanted him to love me, not think I was ridiculous. Thereafter began six years of watching old reruns of
Miami Vice
and episodes of
Top Gear
, pretending they were the best thing since sliced bread because that was what
he
liked.

As we sat putting my world to rights, I resigned myself to calling David at last, later tonight. It was time to tell him what I was going to do. Before I could think on it any further though, there was a commotion at the bar and we turned around to see Hughie making his way towards us, almost tripping over a young woman on a cushion at a table nearby.

‘Helloho, ladies,’ he said, his nose purple from what looked like it could have been a full afternoon’s boozing. ‘Whit are ye’s aw daein’ on the floor?’

‘Ach, Hughie, yir pissed again,’ Greta chided, standing up to catch him as he stumbled towards her.

‘Ah’m no’ pissed,’ he argued, looking aggrieved. ‘I’m merry.’

‘I’d say ye were more than merry,’ Greta replied, cuffing him across the head playfully. ‘I’d say ye were delighted.’

‘I may have had a wee skelp,’ he agreed, before turning back to bellow across to the bar at the top of his lungs, ‘WAITER!’

The peaceful ambience was shattered, people began tutting and shaking their heads in disgust.

‘It’s not waiter service here, Hughie,’ I told him, myself and Michaela standing to help Greta hold him up. ‘And anyway, I think you may have had enough.’

‘Aye,’ Greta agreed. ‘I think we’d better get ye a taxi.’

‘Oh, Greta, I was going to ask you and Michaela to come with me to Gelle’s show tonight. They should be ready to go on about now and it’s a special one tonight – in celebration of National Orgasm Day,’ I said, feeling exactly how the day would make me feel every year – hugely disappointed.

‘There’s a National Orgasm Day?’ Michaela said, almost letting Hughie drop in her surprise and I sensed, a bit of embarrassment.

‘The strippers? I thought ye were against all that porny stuff,’ said Greta.

‘Exotic dancers,’ I corrected her. ‘They don’t take everything off and we’re not going to ogle, we’re going to be supportive to our friends.’ I looked at Michaela’s bright pink face and added. ‘Absolutely no orgasms necessary. Or on the menu, for us anyway. It’s a gay club.’

Hughie was about to say something, most likely rude, but Greta cut in.

‘You call it what you like,’ she said. ‘Ah’m coming tae ogle. But let’s get this saft auld bugger hame first. Then we can go party like it’s nineteen ninety-two.’

I giggled. ‘You mean, nineteen ninety-nine?’

‘Och no,’ she replied. ‘Ah’m ayeways way ahead o’ the crowd when it comes tae partying.’