Goodbye my love

June, 1999. Emily picked off another petal. The meadow was aglow with daisies and she had picked the biggest and the brightest she could find. It had to be a careful choice for her very future happiness depended on it. The sun blazed high above her and a lone skylark trilled his summer song as Emily lay below, almost floating on the lush green grass. Her heart and mind were in turmoil. It was a loathesome choice to have to make, and yet also a beautiful one. The flower would decide if Emily would accept one suitor or the other. It was in the hands of fate: was it to be the wild-eyed romantic but penniless Irish boy Paddy Fitzpatrick, or the steady Vernon Lansdowne-Rhode, heir to Lansdowne Hall and a property empire that included some of London’s most exclusive addresses?

How had it come to this, that she should have to choose? Her head said ‘Vernon’. As Vernon’s wife, hers would be a life of ease and leisure. But would that be fulfilling? Her heart said ‘Paddy’. He was penniless but all dreams and wild flights of fancy. He would be a master chef, he said, he would create famous signature dishes and open a restaurant that people would travel from the four corners of the earth to visit. But could she cope with the uncertainty that life with him would surely put in her path? Whatever. The petals would decide and that would be that. The universe would have passed a judgement by which she would have to bide.

In that perfect moment, a moment of fear and trepidation, Emily knew that she wasn’t just choosing a path for her future. She was affirming the type of person she was and was always going to be. Was she the steady one, already done with adventure and ready to settle to a life that some might call mundane? Or was she the wild-hearted romantic she wanted to be, ready to trade a safe future for an adventure. Because life with Paddy Fitzpatrick would surely not be an easy or comfortable ride. For all his own romantic gestures, Paddy was already focused on his big dream. Emily knew he wanted her to be part of his dream, but it was his dream. Was it hers? She picked the final petals until only one was left.

“Paddy, Vernon, Paddy, Vernon, Paddy … Vernon.”

The last petal fell. Vernon Lansdowne-Road was her destiny. So be it.