Since meeting Lydia, things got better. I’m no longer having suicidal thoughts, and the future doesn’t seem as cloudy as it once did. After Gill died, I was a mess. Gill was one of those people who was a sister and best friend rolled into one, so when she died I felt like I’d lost more than just my sister. I had no one else in my life and the loneliness had become too much to bear.
When I think of it, it’s like Gill was watching over me, seeing what I was planning and sent Lydia to save me. I don’t know whether to smile at that thought or to cry. I’m grateful for my friend, of course; she saved my life after all. But with Lydia here, it reminds me that Gill is not, and the pain in my heart is as raw now as the day she died.
Since Lydia came into my life, we’d spent almost every day together and the connection I feel to her is so strong, it scares me sometimes because I worry what will happen to me if she ever leaves, gets married or has a life without me in it. In some ways, we are like a couple. In the beginning, she was kind and patient when I was having a down day, but then after a few weeks, she started being a little stricter with me.
‘Lying around in bed all day isn’t going to help with the grief process. You have to get up and do something, even if it’s something as simple as having a shower and getting dressed. You’ll feel so much better for it,’ she’d said.
‘I can’t face it. Getting on with life means accepting that she’s gone.’
‘Vic, this isn’t healthy.’ She’d brushed my hair away from my face. ‘I’m not your carer, I’m your friend. Come on, it’s lovely outside, how often does the sun shine in Scotland? Not often. So get yourself showered and dressed. I’m taking you out for some fresh air.’
After that day, Lydia and I had done something together every day: cinema trips, visiting restaurants and pubs. We even went to a still life art class and that was the first time I’d laughed since Gill had died. My painting was so horrendously bad that my belly ached.
‘I don’t think you’ll be making any money off that anytime soon,’ Lydia had laughed, wiping her eyes.
‘Erm, your painting isn’t any better. And what the hell is that supposed to be?’ I’d pointed to Lydia’s attempt at a hand. ‘The fingers look like worms.’
The teacher had kindly asked us to leave and we’d agreed that a pottery class may be more suitable, but we never took it up.
Things had been great, our friendship was growing and I was finally starting to smile again. The only time I really allowed myself to feel sad again was when Lydia left for the night to go back to her own place, but by that point I was coping better with the reality that Gill isn’t coming back.
Spending all my time with Lydia wasn’t an issue until I met Greg. I hadn’t been looking for a relationship, hadn’t been thinking of getting involved with another man at all. He just appeared one day when I was working in the café at the bottom of the road. He’d come in for coffee and we’d started chatting. He was working with the couple I work for, helping them to renew their insurance on the place. I felt that flutter you get when you instantly find someone attractive, and as the weeks went on, he was coming in for his morning coffee almost on a daily basis. He’d told me that he’d never drank so much coffee in his life and that it was a lot sweeter when I served him. I hadn’t meant to laugh in his face when he said that, but I couldn’t help it.
‘Your chat-up lines aren’t great, I’ll give you that,’ I’d said.
‘Okay, I’ll not beat around the bush. I like you and would like to take you out for a few drinks, maybe dinner?’ Greg had replied.
We’d got on really well, connected almost instantly. I hadn’t expected it at all. Over the next nine months, we’d practically moved in together. I’d told him everything about me, my past. I told him about Gill and how Lydia had stopped me from throwing myself off that bridge. I was surprised at how attentive and caring he was. He hugged me when I cried. Most guys run a mile at the first sign of any baggage. But not Greg.
‘I’d like to meet Lydia,’ Greg said. ‘If it wasn’t for her, we wouldn’t be together now.’
I’d avoided the question. Lydia hadn’t been around much once I’d started seeing Greg. Without saying too much, I knew she wasn’t keen on the idea of me getting into a relationship. Naturally, I’d spent more time with him and less with her and I knew it bothered her. I’d fallen completely in love with him and was honest when I told him about my trust issues. I felt fresh with him, brand new. He hadn’t made me feel anything other than loved. That’s why I asked him to move in with me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt happier when he’d agreed.
I think about how I’ll break the news to Lydia, that I’m moving in with someone she hasn’t met yet. I want her to meet him, of course I do. But I’m not sure how she’ll react to him or how he’ll react to her. She can be quite intense, very protective and it might come across that she hates him. That’s just how she is. I understand her. She was the one to pull me from my darkest place. The one who looked after me when I was grieving to the point where I was ill. She’ll worry about me and I appreciate that. Living with Greg doesn’t mean I don’t want Lydia in my life anymore. I can’t be without her. But I love Greg and I can’t be without him either.