'This may be all we ever have'

All that spring and into summer, however hard she tried she remained dead in that place where dreams had always been. No fire, no lightness, no vital spring. It would take time, she told herself.
They cherished some lovely days. A special picnic by the Butterfly Bridge over the River Ouse, Bedford, many afternoons lunching and then walking at Brampton Mill, afternoons in their usual hotel, endless discussions inspired by his course on philosophy. Sharing so many thoughts. Just being together. Being together brought each of them deep, deep joy just as it always had.Yet fear lurked always. Fear that, despite his assurances, if H found out, it could all repeat itself.

In late May they spent a wonderful long day by the sea, visiting his holiday home on the Norfolk coast. The last time had been in early October - so how good it was to back again, how good it was to gaze again at that glorious ocean, wander those streets, imagine they did not have to leave - ever! Again they spoke of how, one day, this could be home. But now they each knew, deep in their hearts, the likelihood of this becoming reality faded more and more with each passing day...

Then, July arrived: it was now one year since H's heart attack. He told Coppelia how he had found H quietly crying and when he asked her what was wrong, she reminded him of those dreadful events 12 months ago.

Something changed in him at that time. Crushed by the realisation that, despite almost a whole year, her frail health was being managed quite well, he confided in Coppelia that he really had not expected H to live this long, had really believed that, by now, they may be free to be together.

'Do you realise this may be all we ever have? She could outlive me?' He became resigned to this, his own hope now visibly greatly diminshed. He told Coppelia she may be wasting her life waiting for him, was she sure she could endure a relationship like this?

'This is how it could be for years!' he said. He would understand if she chose to leave, to find someone else. Emphasising once more how he could not risk leaving H, his mood flattened considerably for some weeks, and Coppelia grew concerned. She assured him that, as long as he was in her life and they could share time together and remain close - in whatever way they could - she would find a way to live with this. The alternative - a life without him - was unthinkable.

Something about that one-year passing seemed to flick a switch inside him. For the first time he began to mention his age. All she could do was reassure him, gently remind him that it was HIM she loved, who he was, what he was, and age could never alter that...

So, they lived through those days delighting in a love whose existence now dare look no further than the next phone call, the next arranged day together. A love whose wings, clipped and broken, lifted its head no more towards the wide sky, the wide sky where only dreams belonged.