to the sea. Marigold loved the sea. It drew her out of herself, detaching her from angst and fear and anchoring her in the moment.
What is wrong with now? she asked herself and smiled, because everything was perfect.
Dennis came and stood beside her.
‘Isn’t this lovely,’ she said, sighing happily.
‘It really is,’ he agreed.
‘Clever of you to think of it.’
‘Well, it wasn’t my idea.’
‘Wasn’t it? Whose idea was it then?’
Dennis frowned. ‘Daisy and Suze’s. It was their Christmas present, remember?’
‘Was it? How nice.’
Dennis knew better than to cause her embarrassment by drawing attention to her fading memory. ‘Are you hungry?’ he asked.
‘I suppose I am,’ she replied.
‘Let’s have lunch outside, under one of those umbrellas. They’re smart, aren’t they?’
‘I like that blue. It’s a happy colour.’
‘On a day like this, it’s the same colour as the sea.’ ‘Yes it is.’
‘We’ll go for a walk after lunch. We can go up the beach. You can put your feet in the water.’
Marigold laughed. ‘I used to do that as a child, put my toes in the water. It was very cold. I don’t like being cold. I think I’ll keep my shoes on.’
As they walked downstairs, Marigold slipped her hand into his. ‘How clever of you to bring me here,’ she said and this time Dennis did not correct her.
After lunch they strolled up the beach. Gulls wheeled in the skies above them and gannets and terns hopped about, searching the sand for small creatures left behind by the tide. The afternoon sun was warm on their faces, the wind fresh and blustery in their hair. Marigold pointed out things that interested her, like small crabs racing for cover, shells peeping out of the sand and the odd piece of bottle-green sea glass, which she bent down to collect, imagining precious treasure from a pirate ship shattered on the rocks many centuries ago. As they enjoyed these small pleasures Dennis realized that Daisy and Suze’s gift was, in fact, more than a couple of nights in a chic hotel, it was the Present. The Now. It was where Marigold was most comfortable. It was where they could co-exist without doubt. The Present was the very best present they could have given.
That evening they had dinner in a restaurant in the harbour. The twinkling lights of the houses stacked up the hillside were mesmerizing, shining like the stars in the night sky above them. It was warm enough to sit outside so they took the table at the edge of the terrace, close to the water, and Dennis ordered a bottle of wine.
‘What are we celebrating, Dennis?’ Marigold asked when the waiter poured a little Pinot Grigio into Dennis’s glass for him to taste.
‘We’re celebrating us,’ said Dennis, sipping it.
Marigold smiled. ‘That’s nice.’
Dennis raised his eyebrows. ‘Good,’ he said approvingly. ‘Very good.’ The waiter filled their glasses then left them alone. Dennis reached across the table and took Marigold’s hand. His eyes were shiny, his face boyish in its desolation. Knowing he was going to lose her made his desire to hold on to her urgent. ‘You’ve always been my sweetheart, Goldie,’ he said. Marigold’s face flushed with pleasure. ‘Ever since we first met. Do you remember, Goldie, when we first met?’
‘You were wearing a red carnation in your buttonhole.’
‘I was. You’re so right. You were wearing a yellow dress with blue flowers, and a blue flower in your hair.’
‘And you asked me to dance.’
‘I did. You were the best-looking girl in the hall.’
‘Only to you, Dennis.’
‘You smiled at me and I was yours.’ She laughed with pleasure and felt his hand tighten its grip. ‘And every smile you’ve given me since has won me all over again.’
‘Oh Dennis, you’re such a romantic.’
‘Only to you, Goldie.’ He hoped she didn’t notice the tear he wiped away with his free hand. ‘I do love you, you know.’
‘And I love you.’ She frowned, trying to harness a memory that came suddenly and was now slipping away. ‘Love is all that matters,’ she said. She didn’t remember who had told her that, but she remembered the warm, secure feeling that person had given her. ‘Most people don’t realize it, but life is just about love. They go through life missing the whole point of it.’
‘You sound just like your father,’ said Dennis.
‘Do I?’ she replied.
‘Yes, that’s the kind of thing he would have said.’
‘Well, he’ll laugh when I tell him then, won’t he?’ Marigold picked up her wine glass and took a sip. Dennis frowned and looked