The Chapel Of The Cherry Tree

This has always been a special place for us. But today I’m here alone . . .

- Celia Kay Andrew

MILTON KEYNES isn’t considered one of the “in” places to live, but it’s got everything I need. It’s called a New Town, though parts of it look quite old now.

I met Matt here and we married when we were eighteen. I guess that was a bit young, but it was necessary at the time as both our sets of parents were the old-fashioned type and for the most part neither of us was a rebel.

Not at the time, anyway.

We’re still married, we muddle along in our jobs and our rented flat and we’re still young – but a lot wiser in many ways, and for lots of reasons. There’s just the two of us.

“Let’s speak to Reverend Allan and renew our wedding vows.”

There was silence from my mobile. A silence which should have been broken at once by Matt’s voice saying, “Yes! Let’s!”

But it wasn’t.

“OK,” he said instead.

I wished I hadn’t suggested it. It was too soon after his affair.

Clearly he knew he’d waited too long and tried to plaster over the crack.

“That’s a good idea, Jemma. Yeah, let’s do it.”

A child nearby screeched at something and its mother shushed it gently.

“Where are you?” Matt’s voice was breaking up a bit.

“I’m at the cathedral. It’s a beautiful day and I wanted to be outside.”

“Say a prayer for me.” “What have you done  now?”

“I hate myself for what I did to you: to us. And I start my new job on Monday.”

“I’ll make it a long one, then,” I joked.

“I’ll check up on you in ten minutes to make sure! Love you!” He rang off.

I put my mobile away. Matt was on his way to the football match; no way would he ring once he was on the road.