Before Gina there was Marion. Marion Montgomery.
I haven't spoken about Marion before and I don't know why. Shame. Respect. Discretion. Cowardice. Yeah, probably cowardice.
Marion was about fifteen years older than me at the time -- she was just about fifty. I knew her from the local library where she worked. She was witty and intelligent and also quite religious.
On occasions I would have a coffee with her and she would make me laugh with tales about the people who would come into the library. She also had some interesting theories and observations about life she would come up with and which made me think. One of her observations where that there were twelve basic types of face which transcended ethnicity - and I think she could have been right. Though I never conducted a scientific study I came across examples which fitted her theory in everyday life: a black girl who resembled a white girl I knew; a white guy who looked like Tiger Woods and a friend of mine, who was white, who kind of had Chinese features. Yeah, the theory definitely had legs.
The irrational (irrational to me) side of her was her religion -- she was very much into Jesus and God and believed that everything had a purpose and even if we couldn't see it, God was testing us constantly to judge whether we would be fit for everlasting bliss. "God moves in a mysterious way," she would say on many an occasion.
I guess it did for her because despite being a moral, kind, humble and generous individual her earthly existence was not a blessed one. Her husband had been a drunken bully who had beaten her up from time to time and had also spent any spare money they had on the horses. Worse was the fact that he had made her give up university where she had been studying for a degree in English Literature and thereby limited any future job or career choices. She had also confessed to me that she had lost a baby after he had battered her in a drunken rage. That tragedy was never spoken of again.
After too many years of suffering in silence she had finally left him and got a small rented one bedroom flat of her own. Naturally she had agonised over her decision for many years but had gradually come to terms with it. At first he gave her a load of hassle about it and would often phone up or turn up at the flat and shout abuse at her from the street. One night, after complaints from the neighbours, he was arrested and given some kind of restraining order. After that she never heard from him again.
In due course she settled down to her new life; though she remained single and appeared to have no inclination to get involved with a man (or woman for that matter) again.
It was at this point that I got to know her -- I hasten to add that I was also in a relationship with Sharon at that time too and though Sharon had a jealous streak to her she was never bothered about me occasionally meeting up with Marion because she was a lot older, grey and quite plain. Also Marion smoked and Sharon knew it was a habit I didn't like in a female. I have to admit I never fancied Marion but I did enjoy her company immensely from time to time.
Anyway, as time went by my relationship with Sharon began to crumble (I'll tell you about this another day) such that we called it a day.
I have to say that the split up hit me quite badly and behind closed doors I would often cry my eyes out. But whenever I saw Marion she would comfort me and I would feel better -- she was a wonderful and true friend - and I mean 'friend' because I just never fancied her.
But then events took a turn for the worse -- she was diagnosed with breast cancer. She was devastated and I was shocked.
To cut a long story short she ended up having both her breasts removed. Her faith kept her going but I felt I played my part too -- I owed it to her because she was such a decent person. I would often pop round in an evening and I would also take her out for drives in my car. Slowly but surely she got better, stronger and happier. I have to say the council, her employers at the library, were brilliant and gave her as much time off as they could regards appointments and convalescence.
Spiritually she told me that she thanked God for giving her the drive to not only get better but to appreciate the gift of life and also to bring out the best in people.
I wasn't at all sure about that but I went along with what she said and believed because I didn't want to disillusion her.
But one fateful day all that was to change.
One Sunday morning, about ten o'clock, she had popped round to mine prior to us going for a long walk which would also take in an old Anglo-Saxon church she was intrigued by followed by a Sunday roast at a country pub which we loved.
But it wasn't to be.
After I'd let her into my house I asked her if she fancied a coffee or a tea and then told her that I just needed to do a bit of washing up before we went out.
