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Taggie had always hated first days, they filled her with a sickening, creeping dread. She’d break out in a cold sweat as that familiar, gaping pit appeared in her stomach and the niggling voice in her head told her she didn’t belong, wasn’t good enough. It’d always been this way. From as early as she could remember, that ever-present fear of anything new, anything she hadn’t yet learnt had been her constant, unwanted companion.
Her first day of school had been a nightmare she’d never managed to erase. She’d clung to Mummy’s skirt, stammering out nervous ‘h-hellos’ to the other children. Her hot tears had been unrelenting as all of the children had taken up their pencils and carefully scratched out their names in scrappy block letters. All the while she had sat frozen, fear clenching her tummy at not knowing where to begin. The memory was seared upon her heart; the first of many wounds that over the years, had calloused into a thick scar-tissue of shame.
The first day she’d heard the word ‘dyslexia’ she’d seen a look in her father’s eye that had cut her to the quick. It wasn’t anger, or blame. To 11 year old Taggie it had been so much worse than that. It had been a flash of dismay, of disappointment before his expression shuttered and he’d turned away from her. She’d wanted so badly for him to reach for her, fold her in his arms and reassure her that everything was going to be alright, that it didn’t matter, they’d work on it together. She’d spent the better part of the next 10 years fruitlessly reaching out to him in the hopes he’d turn back toward her, but he never did.
Her first day working in a restaurant was an unmitigated disaster. The sweat-slicked panic as the orders had poured in on white dockets, bile rising in her throat as she struggled to keep up. She’d squinted at the tiny writing dancing in front of her on the orders, desperately trying to ignore the voice in her ear telling her this was a mistake, that she had no business in a commercial kitchen. Plates had crashed to the ground, her face burning in shame as she’d been screamed at by the chef to ‘just get out of the way.’
She’d thought briefly that her first experience of sex had been an exception to the rule. She’d believed for one glimmer of a moment that this had been a first worth waiting for, something special. It hadn’t taken long for Taggie to realise she’d been mistaken. Ralphie had promptly disappeared off on a summer holiday, sending her one lousy impersonal postcard before acting as if their night together had never even happened.
Her first day in Rutshire was a quieter disappointment; exhaustion had pulled at her body and mind as she attempted to unpack the lives of four people into this new unknown space. Daddy was of course already preoccupied with work, leaving the tendrils of Mummy’s simmering resentment to begin to curl through the hallways and hidden corners of their new home. She thought perhaps she’d have been able to cope with it better if Caitlin hadn’t had to go off for her own first day at boarding school.
Then of course there’d been another moment in her seemingly endless litany of embarrassments: her first encounter with one of Rutshire’s residents as she’d raced onto a certain tennis court screaming of a fire…
She supposed this was the turning point though, looking back.
The first day she had met Rupert Campbell-Black, on that tennis court, she’d been mortified. He’d been a brute and she’d called him abhorrent. There was something though…a curiosity perhaps. He’d been frustrated with her, certainly. But he hadn’t teased her when she stammered. Hadn’t interrupted either, despite the angry words she was attempting to volley at him.
The first time Rupert had kissed her had been overwhelming. Everything was so complicated with Cameron and Venturer, not to mention her father. There was so much that could blow up in their faces and yet in that moment, when he had wrapped his arms around her and pulled her so close she could feel him trembling, she had felt a certainty like no other. This was right. He was right.
The first day Rupert had told her he loved her had been a revelation - a balm beginning to smooth away that scar-tissue of shame and disappointment. His love had kindled within her a belief that she was enough, that perhaps she always had been.
The first day after she moved into Penscombe was a joy, Rupert proudly taking her on a tour of the estate, wanting her to feel that this was their home, not his. They had toured countless rooms, Taggie’s blushing giggles becoming uncontrollable as Rupert became increasingly more debauched in each room visited, describing the things he planned on doing to her in each. Eventually he’d hauled her over his shoulder kicking and screaming, racing to his bedroom - their bedroom - where they’d remained for the rest of the day, tour all but forgotten.
Then there was the first day of their engagement. Taggie had tears of laughter streaming down her cheeks as Rupert raced through the village knocking on doors, insisting that his constituents must be advised that their representative was to be wed. Her love for this ridiculous man had grown impossibly bigger as each baffled villager smiled politely and wished them well.
Then of course there was the first day of their marriage. Signing her name on the certificate carefully ‘Taggie Campbell-Black’ for the first time, words had never scrawled across a page so easily for her. The first day of two lives, entwined perfectly together, always.
Sitting on the sun-drenched terrace, dogs at her feet and husband reading the newspaper beside her, she wonders idly what other first days lay ahead of her now…
Perhaps first days weren’t all bad after all…