And yes – in those early months, she was this extraordinary puzzle – constantly surprising him. He discovered very quickly that she rose ridiculously early, 6 a.m. every single day, to do her exercise routine before music practice. He had imagined weekends would be different as she relaxed into their relationship, that she would look forward to a lie-in with him at weekends . . . but no.
He would wake groggy and slightly disorientated, an image of sex from the night before bringing a smile to his face even before he opened his eyes. He would reach out across the bed, hoping for a repeat, only to find her gone. A glance at the clock would bring an involuntary groan. Seven a.m. and he was already alone. He would then tiptoe to the loo as a pretence to see what she was up to, and every morning would be the same. He would find her on her exercise mat, her strawberry-blonde hair piled into a messy, high bun.
Laura said the early rising was part nature and partly due to her short stint in the army. The discipline. That was a shock too – the whole military thing, but she said it was perfect, just a limited spell and mainly for the music. Financial independence from her parents after uni and a chance to play in some huge concerts. She’d loved it.
I played for your Queen once.
You didn’t?
I bloody did.
But didn’t you have to go on military tours? What if there had been a war?
Ed associated the army with violence. Killing. And Laura was the least violent person he’d ever met.
But what if they’d sent you into battle? That’s the contract, isn’t it?
Chill, Ed. I played fabulous concerts, I had access to the best gyms and I worked in financial admin. It was a breeze.
Sometimes he would just stand and stare at her a while, wondering at the contradictions. Her extraordinary energy. The differences between them. He liked to laze about on a weekend morning. She wanted to get out and about as early as possible.
Come on. Let’s go for a walk. Get brunch.
Don’t you ever feel groggy? Tired in the morning? Never? What is the matter with you, Laura?
My brain doesn’t ever let me keep still, Ed. It’s always buzzing. Too noisy. Music is the only thing that makes it quieten down. When I’m not playing music, I can’t bear it. Come on. Let’s go out . . . please.
Later, when everything went so terribly for them in Canada, he would look back on those conversations and wonder if he should have heard an alarm bell ringing. Ask her what she really meant about her brain buzzing all the time. Was it a factor? Was it some small missed signal for the trauma that was to come?
But at the time he just felt they had different biological clocks. An owl and a lark. Also – it was rather good for him to get out and about more than he would have chosen. Laura was the champion of finding quirky places to visit – forever checking out composers and singers and dragging him to see their homes.
He lost count of the number of times he was positioned outside a property to be told that a special piece of music had been written within its walls.
Something that will last forever. Isn’t that amazing, Ed?
He wished that he could say it was; he wished that he could match that wonder in her eyes. But Ed was more practical by nature; a man who liked to see evidence. To feel a connection with wonder, he needed to see flints and golden coins and actual treasure dug up and displayed in shiny cabinets. Alongside Laura, he very often felt prosaic, despite his supposed creative career. I write for a living, he liked to tell people. He did not add that it was marketing and advertising copy.
So was he jealous of Laura the musician? Laura who could make the piano seem to sing? Laura who had played in a concert for the Queen? No. Very quickly he realised in those moments when he stared at her on her exercise mat at a ridiculous early hour of the morning, or gazing transfixed at the home of some composer or singer, that he was not only in love with her but in complete awe of her.
She’s extraordinary, he would tell people who questioned how quickly they moved in together.
For him, the relationship did not move too fast. He had no doubts. For during that spell in Wells and the early days in Canada, they were genuinely very happy.
There was just one small piece of the puzzle Ed would forget until it was much too late.
Once, from her exercise mat, she made an aside as – groggy and half asleep – he was messing with the coffee machine. It was loudly hissing its disapproval, the water tank nearly empty, so he didn’t quite pick up what she was saying.
We should make it our thing. Cathedrals. Don’t you think, Ed?
Sorry. I can’t quite hear you over this machine. What did you say?