Tango
Elizabeth, where on earth are you off to, looking like that? Maureen Jackson gasped, staring at her neighbour in disbelief and half-rising from the bench.
Elizabeth Bennett arched an eyebrow but didnt lose her composure. With a regal nod, she steadied her hat and glided past Maureen, wordless, heels clicking a determined rhythm on the cobblestones. There was no time for explanations. She was already running late.
Maureen froze, barely daring to breathe as she watched her friend stride away.
Heavens above! Heels! And a hat! And thats Elizabeth?! The same Elizabeth who, for the past five years, ventured nowhere except the local Sainsbury’s. And in what? Certainly not heels! A dressing gown and slippers when the suns out that was more her style. Granted, her house dresses always fitted just so, and her golden plait was never loose but styled with purpose. That was her upbringing. Elizabeths mother had never shown herself in public anything less than immaculate. Shed drilled the same habit into her daughter. Maureen herself had felt the tug of guilt more than once, fiddling with her own messy ponytail after hearing Mrs Bennett scold her daughter for a hair out of place.
Elizabeth! What on earth do you look like? Tidy yourself up!
Even the name was chosen with deliberation. No storybook origin, just a solid, sensible choice.
No one else I know has a daughter named Elizabeth. Unmistakable! A persons name is their calling card, darling. You must live up to it.
And Elizabeth did, right up until her full name was mentioned. Elizabeth Marjorie Bennett It almost begged a smile or a stifled laugh from those around, the combination so stern and old-fashioned.
Youll change your last name when you marry! Dont make a fuss about it.
Mrs Bennett was unflappable. The sound of her daughters name entranced her. How shed known what kind of woman Elizabeth would grow into, only she could say. As a child, Elizabeth had been nothing but tears and sniffles. So ill, so often, that if not for her grandmothers help, her mother wouldve lost her job and been housebound. And on what money? Elizabeths father had been utterly unreliable, squandering his pay on pints. Living with him became impossible, and before Elizabeth turned two, her mother packed his things and sent him away.
Better alone than with a man like that. The shame, with a little girl watching
Elizabeths paternal grandmother, a sturdy countrywoman, looked after little Elizabeth during the week. Oddly enough, Mother and Grandma got along perfectly.
Whats there to quarrel about? She knows what sort her son is, and she knows me. Our only concern is the child. Thats all that matters.
Grandmother had her country ways she dropped her rs, gathered all the herbs from the vacant plot by the canal, and could turn nothing into wonders. With a discarded matchstick and a currant, shed whip up a little princess in a thistle gown, and Elizabeth would be transfixed.
Shed say, Someday well show them all with that beautiful hair of yours!
She was right. By year six, Elizabeth had shot up, straight-backed and crowned with envy-inducing plaits.
Look, Lizzie! Maureen poked a finger at a textbook illustration. Youre the spit of an empress!
The girl in the book all ringlets and grandeur looked nothing like Elizabeth, but her friends awe was reassuring all the same.
As she grew up, Elizabeths plaits played their own part in her fate. Peter, the cheeky boy shed shared a desk with since year one, first tugged on her hair, but as a teenager started whispering her name and brushing the curled ends when he thought no one saw. He was in love, properly, by fifteen, and heartbroken when he went off to the army.
Will you wait for me?
I dont know.
Youre cruel! I love you, Lizzie, cant you see?
Oh, Peter, give me time
I dont have it! Not time. Tell me now! Will you wait for me?
I will.
Elizabeth didnt use words lightly. She wrote to him faithfully, and by the time he returned from service, she was certain her heart was entirely his. Love, after all, lived between the lines of those clumsy letters.
But letters and daily life are poles apart. The wedding was soon arranged.
Peters parents eyed the beautiful bride with pursed lips. Striking, yes, but too proper, somehow. Her dress fit flawlessly, her eyes stayed downcast, and that name! With the dress, that made sense Mrs Bennett was a seamstress of some renown. But those eyes? Too pretty, too demure. Could she truly have waited for their son as she said?
A year, then two, then three Elizabeth finished university, found a job, while Peter flitted from one short-lived post to the next. He shrugged off her concerns.
I dont know what I want yet. Maybe Ill find my calling. Who needs a degree these days? People make money through hustle, not books. Dont nag me, Lizzie!
Elizabeth bit her tongue, desperate to keep peace at home, even as problems piled high. Soon she was simply overwhelmed.
So much time, and no baby. Peter, this isnt right. Something must be wrong. Her mother-in-law didnt mince words.
At first, Peter shooed it away. So what if it took a bit of time? It didnt happen to everyone the minute they tried.
But even a stone is worn down by running water. The day came when, after hearing the tale too many times, he finally turned to Elizabeth: Are we going to stay childless? If there was someone before me, just say, so I know Im not to blame.
Elizabeth had always believed herself strong. Shed left school with honours, made it to university, worked while studying, helped her mum, kept their home spotless. Even her in-laws complimented her Sunday roast. She thought she could handle anything.
She couldnt.
His words struck deep, and she heard literally something inside her snap.
For the first time, her practicality failed her. She could neither accept nor understand how love and injury could live side by side inside her.
Elizabeth was already expecting a child when that conversation happened, though she didnt know. She closed in on herself, blaming her malaise on stress. She had no one to confide in. Her mother wouldnt understand; for Elizabeth, everything was always supposed to be fine. If ever Elizabeth hinted at hardship, the reply was always the same:
Dont be ridiculous, Lizzie! Of course you can handle this.
But this time, Elizabeth couldnt.
Maureen was the one who helped.
Coming home from work, Elizabeth reached her front steps and couldnt go further. She didnt want to go inside, couldnt face her husband, couldnt tell him the news shed learned that very day.
Learning shed become a mother was both joy and pain. She wanted to sing and howl at the injustice all at once. Why couldnt she have known just a week earlier? Then all would have been well; she could have silenced every accusation. Now? She felt burned out blamed for things shed never done.
Maureen, sat on her bench, was soothing her son in his pram.
The old bench was Maureens throne. Her late husband, a clever bloke, had built it when their firstborn arrived.
Here you go, ladies somewhere to natter while we menfolk get home from work, and you drown us in gossip. I know you need a chinwag.
Hed died young, not long after his fiftieth heart just gave way. Maureen was inconsolable; Elizabeth had nearly dragged her, sobbing, onto the bench to grieve openly. Sorrow is like that. Best let it out before it curdles.
That was a while ago. Now, Maureen nibbled sunflower seeds, waiting for dusk and the cooling air to fill the square with neighbours, settling onto benches and trading stories late into the evening.
Lizzie, what is it? Good heavens, you look dreadful! Maureen sprang up, peering into Elizabeths face. Whats happened?
Why did Elizabeth tell her everything that night? Shed never confided in a soul before. But now tears and rage spilled out, and she couldnt stop, desperate to be rid of the pain festering inside her and smothering her hope.
What a pig! Maureen exclaimed, rocking the pram a little too aggressively. If the boy woke, peace would be undone shed have to pack up and go in. But this was important.
Maureen fussed, murmured a lullaby, and the little one settled again.
While soothing her son, Maureen calmed herself. Too-easy outrage could destroy a family; a careless word here, and thats that. But with a child? Could Elizabeth bear it alone?
Dont rush into anything, Lizzie. Im not saying you should forgive easily just try to see it from all sides. When people put doubt in your ear, anyone can start to believe it. Be smart. When you have your boy, let them try and say another word. If your husbands worth anything, hell come round. The guilt whatever it is can be useful in marriage, you know. Just when youre ready to let fury loose, you remember your own faults and bite your tongue. The pain fades, Lizzie, its not forever. Remember what they say? Sleep on it, and by morning it might not seem so tragic. Stop thinking about the past. Think about tomorrow. Thats what matters.
Somehow, Elizabeth felt lighter. Maybe Maureen was right. Why dwell on whats gone? Besides, her husband couldve used his own head for once, not just his mothers words. But it was done.
The sums finally tallied when Elizabeth told Peter she was pregnant. His happiness was overwhelming any anger melted. Elizabeth forgave him. She was never one to hold a grudge.
Her son, James, wasnt born entirely healthy a heart defect. There was a surgery, then another. Elizabeth sat night after night at his bedside, feeling the wrongness at home more whispers, more blame. She was wrong, the boy was wrong.
Despair swept over her in waves. In a fit of resolve, Elizabeth cut off her famous plaits. She borrowed scissors from a nurse and chopped them to the scalp. Her head felt light, her troubles somehow less crushing.
Her mother, delivering meals for her grandson, saw for the first time Elizabeths curls shorn close. She turned away for a moment, collecting herself, then got to unpacking the food as if nothing had changed. Elizabeth caught her mothers dark look, but she would not be comforted.
Mum
Not now, Lizzie! Dont break both our hearts. Later. Whats important now is that our boy gets better. What do the doctors say?
And that was what mattered. Elizabeth pushed aside thoughts of her husband visiting rarely and her mother-in-law not at all.
After a long stay, James was discharged.
Elizabeth didnt go home. Instead, she moved in with her mother. Her marriage was over; the separation was quiet, without drama.
So, Peter, is that the end then?
Im sorry
At least youre honest.
Will you let me see my son?
How could I stop you? Youre his father.
Peter lasted three years, then he remarried and moved with his new wife to Cornwall, far from their old lives.
For Elizabeth, nothing changed. Life stayed routine: her boy, his health, her mothers ailments, and her job, her sanctuary.
She relished her work. Making the numbers balance, turning chaos into order in the bland accounting office there, she disappeared, everything outside forgotten except for James.
Her boy, James, was her whole world light and joy, worry and pain all in one. The doctors said there was no more need to fret James would have a long and happy life.
And so it was. On the day James stood receiving congratulations at his own wedding, Elizabeth glowed so brightly that Maureen tugged at her sleeve.
All the mothers at their sons weddings glower and cry. Yet you youre blooming like a May rose, Lizzie! Dont you feel the loss?
Loss? Elizabeth wrinkled her brow. What loss? My son?
Of course! Youre giving him away!
In good hands. Maureen, have you forgotten what I lived through? The things my mother-in-law said? I remember my own mother caring for grandma the duets they sang when even painkillers failed, the tears when gran was gone She always called her Mother, nothing else. My mother-in-law stopped that insisted I use her title only. Do you think Im daft enough to repeat that mistake? No, Maureen. If James has chosen this girl, thats that. Ill adapt.
Looks like I could learn from you Maureen mused. I married my boy off, but I couldnt open my heart to his wife. So now Ill have to put things right
A granddaughter came, then a grandson. Elizabeths days were full. Jamess wife welcomed her mother-in-law, appreciating the warmth. Elizabeth never felt alone, always busy driving her grandson to football, granddaughter to ballet, weekends spent at the seaside or around the tea table in their little garden.
But all things pass.
The grandchildren grew, moved away to university. James and his wife finally bought their dream cottage in Devon.
Mum, come with us! Dont stay here alone.
Elizabeth took her time, but finally refused the offer.
Not for now. Maybe in future. You two enjoy your alone time. Threes a crowd.
Mum!
Oh, hush now, James. I know best. Youll thank me. I have friends here, work, Maureen. Ill visit. Thats better for everyone.
James left, and Elizabeth soon found herself despairing.
Its dreadful, Maureen. So empty. Like standing in a cavernous room, echoing, no end in sight. You call and call no one hears you.
So stop shouting. Go live with your boy and his wife.
I cant. Dont want to be a burden. You know my daughter-in-law wont let me so much as lift a kettle. Theres no little ones to look after. What would I do? Moan at the moon and fray their nerves? Im good at that, but whats the point?
Maureen, living with her son in a squabbling household but escaping to her bench every evening for peace, just nodded. Nothing to say Elizabeth had always been sharp as a tack.
Take up something new.
Like what, Maureen?
I dunno. What did you dream of, when you were too busy for dreams?
I always wanted to dance the tango
Well? What are you waiting for?
Oh, Maureen, at my age? Whod want to see that?
Now, hang on. What age is that? While there’s a bit of sand left in the glass, nows the time! Dont put it off, or itll be too late. Better to regret something youve done.
Whered you read that?
Cant remember. Doesnt matter. Just makes sense. We all put things off. For what? Were not immortal.
Elizabeth took her friends advice to heart. Why not, indeed?
She found a dance studio easily enough. But when she got there, she couldnt bring herself to go in. She stood, watching couples glide across the wooden floor, elegant even in their maturity, and she lost her nerve. After her son left, shed let herself go silver hair, figure spread. She trudged home, disgruntled for giving in.
But passing a hairdressers, she paused, then entered purposefully. Time for a transformation!
The next day, Elizabeth returned to the studio. This time, she didnt allow hesitation. She pulled the door open and walked in, ignoring surprised glances.
It turned out there was nothing to fear. There was an over-fifties class, and tango enthusiasts in plenty.
It was there she met Alexander Grant. Distinguished, silver-haired, always polite and attentive, though he spoke little. He could listen like no one else, and soon Elizabeth found herself telling him about James, the grandchildren, even her former marriage.
Alex, why is it you never speak about your own life?
Not used to it. My job demanded discretion. Besides, there wasnt much good, and the rest best left unspoken. But would you like to hear about my daughter?
Id love to.
She listened in astonishment how could someone survive such trials and still stand upright?
I married twice. The first was wrong from the start young and foolish, at war with each other, never building toward a future. We split when I found out shed ended her pregnancy. She said she wasnt ready too busy with adventure to settle. I was ready, but she wasnt. Her father made sure my career stalled. Anyway, I got past it. Travelled a bit for work and met my second wife, Jane. Such a light in the room with her, life was feather-light, no burden heavy. You remind me of her.
Dont be silly! You hardly know me.
Believe me, Lizzie, you have that same light.
Oh, lets not talk about me.
Alright about Jane. I lost her, foolishly I still havent forgiven myself. Wed been married just over a year, and Id formally adopted her little girl by then Claire, only a year old when we wed. She called me Daddy almost from the start. I thought, if were a family, then she should never need to know I wasnt her own. We finally sorted the papers and were granted some time off. Planned a simple break by the river, rented a little holiday cottage near the village. Just the four of us. That morning, Jane and I went down to the water while her mum and Claire slept in. I watched her swim, lay back on the pebbles, and drifted off. Only Jane never came back. It was three days before they found her. Shed drowned. I blamed myself, couldnt face her mother but she held me, told me it wasnt my fault. I still think I should have saved her.
Dont. No one knows whatll befall them.
Perhaps youre right
And Claire?
She stayed with me. How could I let her go? It was just us three, her, me, her gran always together.
You never married again?
No. Didnt want Claire to have a stepmother. Shes got a backbone, that one. A doctor now. Works in the county hospital with her husband.
Children?
Two. My grandsons.
And you dont get tired?
Was going to ask how they manage it all? Well, Im here for them. Retired for years no nannies needed. Grandpa does the job. The boys they play ice hockey, love chess and science. Ones at university, the other applying this year.
Lucky you
And so, conversation by conversation, their partnership took root. At their first public competition, as they stepped out for the tango, Alexander leaned in and murmured, Be brave! You can do this!
It was a year later that he proposed.
Are you out of your mind? Marriage, at our age? And the children, the grandchildren? What will they say?
Theyre on board.
How do you know? Elizabeth started, then stopped. What have you done?
I wrote, rang them up, invited them all to our wedding.
A wedding, for goodness sake? Alex!
Why not?
Because Elizabeth sighed, then whispered, People wont understand.
Why should we care? Like you said, were not young. Most of lifes behind us. We dont owe anyone anything.
A month later, Maureen stood at the registry, dressed up and wobbling slightly on long-forgotten heels. She watched Elizabeth glowing, kids and grandkids all beaming, as the photographer scrambled to fit the family in shot.
Elizabeth Grant That has a ring to it! So, this tango tell me, wheres this studio of yours? Id like to learn as well.
But you said it wasnt for you!
We all say silly things, dont we? Its rubbish to be alone, Lizzie. Theres nothing worse than feeling invisible in your own family like youre only needed for chores, not company. It eats at you, and before you know it, youre angry at everyone and you dont know why. Youve done exactly right. See how happy your children are for you? Thats all those who love us ever want for us to be content. I doubt mine would cheer for me as much but Id like to try. If I cant find myself a lovely chap like your Alex, maybe at least Ill learn to dance. Lifell be lighter. Mind you, Ive only got a few months.
Whys that?
Didnt I tell you? Im to be a grandmother again.
No! Truly?
Oh yes! Decided they needed another baby. Not young anymore, but there you are
Elizabeth just shakes her head, pressing a palm to her friends mouth. Tango, Maureen, tango! Its about time!Maureen laughed so loudly it turned every head in the registry. Tango indeed! What, shall we be the scandal of the square?
Elizabeth grinned, took Maureens hand, and together they spunno music, just the delighted shouts of grandchildren and the silver ripple of laughter. Alex bowed low and swept Elizabeth back into his arms for a dramatic finish, while someones little girl clapped in delight.
After the photos, after the speechesafter the cake baked lovingly by Jamess wife and Alexs grandsons singing a silly wedding songthe families spilled out onto the warm pavement, parting with hugs and promises to visit soon.
Elizabeth lingered with Maureen as the sun dipped, fairy lights along the square flickering on. Old habits drew them to their bench. Maureen eased off her heels with a groan, wriggling her toes, while Elizabeth sat tall and regal again beside her.
You know, Maureen said, weve both started over more times than we can count. Suppose theres always one more new beginning waiting, even at the end.
Elizabeth smiled, watching the twilight spilling gold like balm over the bricks. There is, Maureen. Sometimes its as simple as putting on your best hat and walking out the door.
A pause, humming with the noise of childrens laughter far off, the flutter of pigeons near the fountain.
Elizabeth reached out, squeezing her friends hand. Lets dance home, shall we?
Under the streetlightsankles aching, skirts swayingthey tangoed their way up the pavement, two women finally unburdened by waiting, no longer invisible, spinning bright across the square as the night softly closed around them.
