Moneypenny from Home

Moneypenny rang me up today. Wonderful woman she is. After all these years she still bears that wistful glint in her eye and cooing timber in her voice for me. Yet, as endearing as she has always been, and still is, I do believe she fared much better with the wealthy French industrialist she was ultimately fated to marry - Jacques. The irony of his name never ceases to humour me, though. But he has given her every level of happiness from the stately home and two admirable children, Simon and Emmaline, to an active social life and indispensable complementary love. She has had a full life, a grounded life. None of which would have been possible with me, of course. I was best left as her fanciful thought, a tease, a whim in her mind. I suspect every woman needs one of those to fill a certain void, and I suppose I still fulfill that role for her. Funny. Even in our mature stage of life, we still cling to aspects of our idealized youth and dreams as though we continue to remain just as young and wishful as then.

She called round about lunch. We had established a tradition long ago. After I had retired from the Service, we agreed that we would at least keep in touch on each New Year, if at no other time. But never on the first day of the New Year. That was solely to be my day. So we decided on the day after, each January 2nd, and that we would alternate in calling the other. This New Year it was her turn.

She was typically in top form, wished me well and asked how things had gone since last we spoke, which she reminded me was back in April. “Remarkably uneventfully,” I replied dryly. She then proceeded to carry the brunt of our conversation as I attentively listened to Jacques faring well as can be but needing to carefully tend to his weight, Simon, now 37, continuing to mine increasing success in his Internet ventures, and Emmaline, at 33, appearing to be drifting from a modest stage acting career into an unproven calling for writing children’s books, inspired no less by the recent birth of her first child, a daughter, Alexa. The wonder of it all - Moneypenny now a grandmother.

Having been kept apprised all these years of the activities of Moneypenny’s children has almost felt to me like following my own. And I am even sent photos of them twice yearly as well. I have come to admire Simon’s growing rugged handsomeness, and if Emmaline had not been Penny’s daughter, she would most certainly have registered as a prime conquest in my book. I am so glad for Moneypenny that all has gone as well as it has for her, and continues to do so. Our fortunes must be at the expense of other, and hopefully less deserving, souls. As always, it was so good to hear from her again.

Upon the call’s end, however, I had slumped into a somewhat moderately disconsolate mood. I had criminally allowed myself, but only briefly, to slip into that ephemeral state of wondering what life would have been like for me ... for us ... had Tracy lived.