“I’m sixty-six, I have to think about it.”
“No you don’t!”
Trish took up her evening classes again, but more and more she found herself using her notes for a kind of reassurance she had never needed—a furious checking on names and titles. She started to make endless lists so that she wouldn’t forget things, and if she didn’t put things on her lists she often did forget. She confided in Bethany but not in her children. “They keep telling me that this house is too big and I should buy something smaller,” she said. “If they knew about this, they’d have me in sheltered accommodation before you can say Jack Robinson.”
Bethany shook her head. “Maybe it’s the heart tablets. Maybe they’re making it worse. I read something about that.”
Trish went to the doctor and changed the prescription of the beta blockers, and her memory did seem to improve. She heaved a sigh of relief and tried to get on with her life. The family gathered for Christmas and the absence of Doug was like an ache that even the youngest of them seemed to feel.
29
Retirement: Pat 1986–1990
Pat retired from teaching in 1986 when she was sixty. Sixty was still the official European retirement age for women, though they were talking about raising it to be sixty-five, the same as for men. Flora also stopped teaching that year to have a baby, Samantha Deniz, born in May. Pat and Bee went up to Lancaster as soon as they had the news that little Sammy had been born. They held her on her first day of life. “She looks exactly like you did when you were born, exactly,” Pat told Flora.
“All babies look alike,” Flora laughed. The birth had been difficult and she was exhausted but triumphant.
Philip came from Manchester, where he was studying music. “How disconcerting to suddenly be an uncle,” he said. “You should have warned me, Flo.”
“How could I have warned you?” Flora asked.
“I’ll compose a piece of music for her,” he said.
Bee and Pat drove Philip back to Manchester. “So I want to explain to you about my living situation,” he said from the back seat.
“You’re living with someone?” Bee asked.
“I’m living with two people.”
“We know that, you told us when you took the flat. But is one of them … significant?” Pat asked.
Philip laughed. “They’re both significant. That’s what I wanted to tell you.”
“He’s had to work hard to find a way to shock his lesbian mothers,” Pat said to Bee. “I mean we didn’t make it easy for him, poor boy. He couldn’t just be gay like any normal young man.”
“Why would it shock you, it’s what you two were doing with Michael all my life!”
“I was teasing,” Pat said. “Sorry.”
“You’re seriously romantically involved with two people?” Bee asked.
“Fairly seriously, yes,” Philip said. “Sanchia’s Dutch, she’s three years older than me, she’s an organist, making a living giving piano lessons. Ragnar’s Norwegian, he’s my age, he’s a flautist with the Symphony, and he also works part time in a bar.”
“Wow,” Pat said, trying to make up for her earlier joke. “They sound amazing. I can’t wait to meet them.”
“Do you have any other surprises?” Bee asked.
“Well, they call me Marsilio,” Philip said. “So if you wouldn’t mind? I’m going to use it professionally. So many people are called Philip. Marsilio—”
“Just you and Ficino,” Pat said. “So are you bringing them to Florence?”
“If there’s room. But just for a week or two, because I have an engagement for August, playing oboe for somebody who’s going to be on maternity leave. Babies seem to be breaking out all over.”
“We’d be delighted to have them in Florence,” Pat said. “Flora’s not going to be able to make it this year.”
Sanchia and Ragnar spoke perfect English, which was a relief. Ragnar looked like a Viking, huge with a curling beard and long hair. Sanchia was stunning, but she didn’t look Dutch. “My mother was from Indonesia,” she explained when Bee asked.
Driving back to Cambridge Pat and Bee discussed them. “Not many people get into a long-term relationship when they’re in college,” Pat said.
“No, but Philip is just the person to do it,” Bee said. “I liked them, especially her.”
“They all three seemed so comfortable together,” Pat said. “He seems happy with them. That’s what matters.”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever be comfortable calling him Marsilio,” Bee confessed. “I’m so used to him as Philip.”
Jinny came over from Italy the next week to see her new niece. She spent a day and a night in Cambridge while she was there. “I’m thinking I want to take a course in architecture next year,” she said.