her thighs, chunky and pock-marked, were no longer the streamlined contours of old, her breasts weren’t the pumped-up balloons of her youth, and she’d spend sleepless nights wondering if she should dye her lady garden for him
when they did consummate their union, it happened quite unexpectedly when they ended up at it like teenagers on the sofa in the drawing room of his town house one night
after she’d endured three and a half hours of La Traviata at the Royal Opera House
and returned home to polish off a bottle of Vintage Bordeaux in order to recover from it
while he enjoyed a few shots of his favourite Metaxa cognac
one thing led to another and before she knew it, her cherry was popped by her seventy-something boyfriend
Penelope discovered then that Jeremy’s feelings for her blinded him to her physical imperfections, he loved her just as she was, no complaints, he said, even when she allowed him to look at her buck naked on the bed one morning with the full force of sunlight streaming on to her through the windows
you’re how I imagine Botticelli’s Venus might look in middle age
middle age? she was seventy at that point
he was so compassionate
she certainly loved him as he was, neither a Michelin Man nor an ageing Adonis, his legs were his best physical asset, a walker all his life, she became one too which was nothing short of miraculous because until she met him she could barely manage five minutes without catching her breath
to and from her car and around the shops
she eventually worked up enough stamina to do a ten-mile round trip when they stayed at his cottage by the sea in Sussex, or hers in Provence
walking became one of life’s pleasures
once all matters of compatibility had been determined, it made sense for her to move into his, which she decided to leave untouched, quietly disliking his grey and green colour palette, his fondness for original Edwardian furniture, wall-to-wall beige carpets and the preponderance of framed Spectator covers from the 1800s
in contrast with her own rather more eclectic sense of style that involved Balinese shadow puppets, glass sculptures, colourful Quaker quilts thrown over comfy white sofas, sheepskin rugs and light, sanded floorboards
they settled comfortably into life together, frequently dined out (neither cared to cook), regular visits to National Trust houses, theatre productions and West End musicals (for her) and, of course, the opera
they’re both avid readers, her taste is in the realm of Joanna Trollope, Jilly Cooper, Anita Brookner and Jeffrey Archer, while he’s a James Patterson, Sebastian Faulks, Ken Follett and Robert Harris kinda guy, as he puts it
Jeremy once said he’d never read a novel by a woman in his life because he’d never been able to get beyond the first chapter by one, he didn’t understand why not, it must be biological, he said, looking crestfallen
she said nothing, doesn’t nag him, that was her rule to herself, it’s the secret of their harmonious relationship
they practise Tai Chi together every morning in his conservatory, in the garden in the summer, although he’s less agile now he’s deep into his eighties
she’s survived a cancer scare that made her feel incredibly mortal (and grateful to avoid a mastectomy)
in contemplating her demise, however, she found herself suffering restless nights about her birth parents, something she thought she’d laid to rest as a very young woman, once she’d overcome the shock of knowing that Edwin and Margaret weren’t related to her by blood
who were the people who brought her into this world only to give her away?
Sarah was quite surprised to hear her talk about this during their weekly England–Australia Skype conversations
what’s brought this on, Mum?
Sarah’s middle-aged now, her visits to England infrequent, her children, Matty and Molly, are all grown up and very Australian
Adam has been living in Dallas so long, he’s become shockingly Second Amendment, to the point she’s rowed with him about the availability of guns for sale in his local Walmart, along with processed cheese and children’s toys
Penelope thinks her children ran away from her, they’d never admit it, she wasn’t a bad mother and she’s saddened that she was never able to really bond with her grandchildren
she wanted to be a grandmother who babysat them every week
who is the second most important woman in their lives
she’s still very close to Sarah who told her about the availability of Ancestry DNA testing, which is very popular in her part of the world, because so many people have roots in Britain and elsewhere, about which they know little or nothing
you must try it, seeing as it’s on your mind, Mum, she said, I think it will at least tell you which parts of the UK your birth family came from
Penelope was keen on the idea, she’d been raised in York, imagined her ancestors were from that region, going all the way back to the Stone Ages, probably
people didn’t move around very much in the past except from the village to the town for work, and that only took off during the Industrial Revolution
up until then it was all very insular and cut off, especially in hilly territory so yes, her roots were likely to be in Yorkshire, Lancashire, Cheshire, Lincolnshire, possibly Durham, possibly with Viking ancestors, perhaps she’s descended from a Viking warrior queen
that made sense
the kit arrived, Penelope deposited her saliva into the tube as per the instructions, sent it off in the post, and planned to surprise Jeremy with the results
except it didn’t quite turn out as expected
now Penelope’s suffering from post traumatic stress disorder because yesterday she went online to check her emails after her traditional Friday lunch of ‘Penne & Pinot’ with a gal pal divorcee, and there it was
Great news! Your Ancestry DNA results are in. The moment you’ve been waiting for is here …
in her case – all her life
Penelope clicked on the hyperlink without delay, relieved that Jeremy was out all day golfing in Surrey with Hugo, his brother
she found it hard to take it in at first, so many different nationalities
this was the science that was the deepest, most secret part of herself, and there was a collision between who she thought she might be and who she apparently was
Europe
Scandinavia
22%
Ireland
25%
Great Britain
17%
European Jewish
16%
Iberian Peninsula
3%
Finland/Northwest Russia
2%
Europe West
2%
Africa
Ethiopia
4%
South Sudan
1%
Kenya
1%
Eritrea
1%
Sudan
1%
Egypt
1%
Nigeria
1%
Ivory Coast/Ghana
1%
Cameroon/Congo
1%
Africa South Central
Hunter Gatherer
1%
Penelope went straight to the drinks cabinet; a few hours later she made it to her bedroom to lie down
being Jewish is one thing but never in a million years did she expect to see Africa in her DNA, that was the biggest shock of all, the test didn’t provide answers, it confronted her with questions
as she lay there, she imagined her ancestors attired in loincloths running around the African savannah spearing lions, at the same time wearing yarmulkes, eating open-topped rye sandwiches and paella, and refusing to hunt on the Sabbath
perhaps she should get a dreadlock wig in keeping with her new identity, become one of those Rastafarians and sell drugs
at least it explained one thing to her, why she tanned as soon as the sun hit her skin