‘Is that what she says?’
‘Yes – and you know what? She’s right. We’re far too uptight in this country. Nadia says that Irish people have no sex appeal. We’re too self-conscious. We’re always hiding our bodies instead of celebrating them. Look at Ali, always huddled up in big baggy sweatshirts. It’s ridiculous.’
‘Please tell me you’re not going to start parading around in your underpants.’
‘I’m too old, but you should get out of those thick polo necks.’
‘It’s December. It’s zero degrees outside. What should I be wearing? A bikini?’
‘If you’re going to be childish about it …’
‘Why eferybody is shouting? I am sleeping,’ Nadia complained, coming out of the bedroom in a tiny T-shirt.
‘Oh, I’m sorry, Nadia, it’s half past six in the evening and I thought you might be awake,’ I snarled.
‘She’s tired from last night’s work,’ Charlie growled.
‘Yes, I fery tired from dancing. It fery hard work.’
‘I’m sure it is. Maybe you should consider some other form of employment that doesn’t require gymnastics or taking your clothes off.’
‘I like job. I fery good at it. I making good money last night.’
‘Great – so you’ll be able to find your own place, then.’
‘Now, now. There’s no need to hustle the poor girl out the door.’
‘I see few apartments yesterday, but they horrible. I waiting for nice one.’
‘Well, don’t be too fussy, will you?’
Ali came into the lounge.
‘Sorry, Ali, did we disturb your study?’ I asked.
‘No, it’s OK, I was just going to get some tea. Congratulations on your new job, Nadia. Are all the girls as toned as you? It must keep them really fit.’
‘Most girls are skinny but one girl not so skinny. She haff problems pulling herself up on pole.’
‘You must burn loads of calories – it looks really physical.’
‘Yes, it is. It like running marathon efery night.’
‘But a lot more fun, I’m sure.’
‘Ali, will you come help me get the dinner ready?’ I ushered her towards the door. I didn’t want her getting any ideas about taking up pole dancing as a hobby.
‘Why don’t I bake a cake to celebrate Nadia’s job?’ Ali offered.
‘That would be lovely, pet,’ Charlie said.
‘I luff chocolate cake,’ Nadia said. ‘You fery nice girl, Aleeson, just like you granddaddy.’
I went into the kitchen with Ali. ‘Does having Nadia here bother you, Ali?’
‘No, she’s OK and she seems to make Charlie happy, so it’s fine with me.’
‘If it ever does get too much, let me know and I’ll have them both move out. You and Sarah are my priority. OK?’
But Ali wasn’t listening. She was poring over my cookbooks, staring at the pictures of the chocolate cakes.
‘It’s really nice of you to offer to bake a cake.’ I went over to stand beside her.
‘I love cooking.’
‘I’m delighted you’ve got a new hobby.’
She moved away from me and started opening and closing cupboards to get the ingredients she needed.
I stared at her. She was washed out and frail. Her sweatshirt seemed far too big for her and she had on the baggy black tracksuit bottoms she had taken to wearing every day after school. Despite the big lunches I was making for her, she was thin.
‘Ali, is everything OK in school? Is David still going out with Tracy?’
She tensed. ‘Yes, he is. Look, Mum, can you please forget about David? He’s in the past now so stop bringing him up.’
‘Sorry. You just don’t seem yourself, that’s all.’
‘I’m fine – everything’s fine. Please stop asking me how I am. It’s driving me mad.’
‘All right, but just promise me that if you’re worried about anything you’ll come and talk to me? OK?’
‘Fine. Now, can you just let me get on with making my cake?’
I wanted to say more, but I knew I needed to leave her alone. If I pushed her too hard, she’d totally clam up on me. I bit back all the questions I wanted to ask her – why do you seem so unhappy? Why are you so tense all the time? Why don’t you smile any more? Why are you so tired and listless? Why don’t you see how wonderful you are? How beautiful? Clever? Kind? Lovely?
The problem with teenagers is that you lose them. Gone were the days of sitting my little girls on my knee to hug and kiss away their pain. Then, if they fell down, I’d given them a cuddle, a princess plaster and a sweet and all was well with the world. But now when they fell down, they didn’t want my help. They didn’t even want me to know about it. Everything was secretive – whispered phone calls to friends, hidden diaries, monosyllabic answers, locked bedroom doors …
Gone were the days when the girls bounded in from school full of stories of fighting in the playground, bold girls getting into trouble, the teacher giving them a gold star for work well done, new songs to sing for me, poems to recite for me, drawings to give to me … With teenagers you got shrugged shoulders, sullen faces and raging hormones.
I wanted the girls to be well prepared for life because you never know what’s around the corner. I had been shocked when my mother died. It had been so sudden: one day she had a headache, the next she was dead of a brain tumour. I felt lost for years afterwards. I wanted to stay close to my girls: I knew what it was like to have no mother – lonely and frightening. They might think they didn’t need me any more, but I knew they did. When my mother died a huge gap opened up in my life that no one could ever fill. Ali was now the same age I was when Mum died and I wanted to protect her for as long as I could. It was hard out in the world.
There were so many times over the years when I’d just wanted to pick up the phone and talk to my mother. To ask her advice, or cry about something or just tell her that I loved her and she had two beautiful granddaughters whom she would have doted on. To tell her that Ali looked just like her but Sarah had her eyes. To tell her that I’d set up my own business and was doing well. To tell her that I’d married a good man. To tell her that I was doing the best I could but that some days were really tough. That I wasn’t managing to juggle it all. I wasn’t a great mum, great wife and great businesswoman, but I tried – I really tried. I wanted to tell her that sometimes when I was giving the girls advice I used her exact phrases. I wanted to tell her that I was looking after Charlie for her.
I wanted to tell her that I appreciated everything she did for me growing up and that she was the best mum in the world and I was really trying to be like her, but I was struggling at the moment. That I felt overwhelmed with everything that was going on. That I felt I was losing control and didn’t know how to handle it.
I wanted to tell her that I still missed her every single day …
16
The next day, Sally arrived in work wearing black leggings with a short-sleeved black woollen mini-dress over them and high black wedge-heel boots. She looked cool, stylish and gorgeous. ‘Morning,’ she said, putting her bag down and heading over to the coffee machine.
‘Hi,’ I replied.
‘Coffee?’
‘No, thanks.’
‘So, what’s on the agenda today?’ she asked, sitting down at her desk, opposite me.
‘Honesty.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘What’s up? You look miserable.’
‘I’m a middle-aged frump.’
‘No, you are not.’
‘I said you had to be honest.’
‘I am being honest. You are no such thing. What’s going on? Is Nadia still parading around in her skimpies?’
‘Yes, she bloody well is, and it’s driving me nuts. I know it’s ridiculous. I have two daughters to worry about, one of whom is completely stressed out, and I have a job I need to focus on, but I’m getting into a rage about my father’s girlfriend and her sexy body. What’s wrong w
ith me?’
‘There’s nothing wrong with you. It’s normal to feel the way you do when you have a semi-naked body thrust in your face every day.’
‘She looks so good and I feel so mumsy when she’s around. I’m sure Paul is lusting after her. I can’t believe my father’s girlfriend is younger, prettier and in much better shape than me. It’s crazy. But it’s made me realize that I’ve got lazy.’
‘You always look really smart.’
‘Exactly. Smart. What is smart? Smart is safe, sensible, square.’
‘No, it’s appropriate, classy and subtle.’
‘Nice try, Sally. Let’s be honest as we agreed. I’ve got lazy about how I look. You, on the other hand, look fantastic and wear great clothes. I wear crap clothes that do nothing for me.’
Sally sighed and sat down. ‘I have to make an effort because I’m still trying to meet someone. I’m getting older and competing with much younger women – it’s boring and exhausting. I would love to wear a tracksuit every day and eat cream cakes. If I ever do meet a man, I’ll hang up my high heels, put on five stone and only wear elasticated waists.’
‘No, you won’t. You’re naturally stylish and always look brilliant. Having Nadia parading around the house has made me realize I need to make more of an effort. So I’ve decided to update my wardrobe and my underwear, but I need you to help me. Poor Paul has been looking at my off-white knickers and bras for far too long. I need to spice things up a bit. My clothes are boring and so is our sex life. It’s almost non-existent. It’s a sad day when your father’s having more sex than you.’
‘Well, I can help with the clothes, the sex life you’ll have to sort out on your own, although I did read an article in Glamour last month that suggested spraying your partner with whipped cream and licking it off.’
I giggled. ‘I can just picture Paul’s face as I attack him with the can.’
‘Tell you what, why don’t we give ourselves the morning off and go shopping?’
‘I’d love it. Make me into a goddess.’
Sally took me to boutiques I’d always been too intimidated to go into. They were the type of places where the staff pounced on you as soon as you walked in the door. They’d look you up and down with disdain while asking if they could be of any assistance. Then they’d follow you around asking if you were searching for something in particular. If you were brave enough to try on some clothes, they stood outside the changing room, shouting, ‘Does everything fit? Do you need a bigger size?’ And when you ventured out to look in the mirror they’d tell you it was ‘just fabulous’ and that there was a coat/bag/jacket/shoes to match.
Having arrived home from one of these places a few years ago with a hideous shapeless purple dress that made my pale skin seem washed out and did nothing for my green eyes – although the shop assistant had assured me that purple really drew out the colour – I swore never to go there again. Ever since I’d shopped in high-street chains or big department stores like House of Fraser where no one bothered you and you could sneak into the changing room with twenty items and not be harassed.
But going to the boutiques with Sally was a completely different experience because she took charge. All the assistants knew her and she handled them expertly.
She marched in and explained that her friend wanted some new clothes. ‘We’re talking smart casual. Everyday stuff for work and weekends, but something with a twist. Nothing too conservative.’
It was fantastic. I didn’t have to say or do anything. I just stayed in the changing room while Sally made the assistants scurry around and she only let me try on what she knew would suit me.
‘Pale-skinned girls with blonde hair need warm colours,’ she assured me.
I tried on dresses, tailored trousers and skirts in grey, black, navy, aubergine, dark green, brown, red and cream. If something didn’t suit me, Sally would shake her head and I’d take it off immediately.
She was a total pro. Nothing I bought would be wasted. Everything could be mixed and matched. I ended up buying four pairs of trousers, three skirts, four shirts, five tops, two jackets and two pairs of boots. Each item was more expensive than the last, but they were all gorgeous. I couldn’t wait to wear them. I felt like an excited kid.
‘Thank you, Sally.’ I hugged her. ‘I never thought shopping could be done so efficiently and that you could get so many things to match. I have a wardrobe full of clothes at home, but nothing goes with anything else.’
‘The key to good shopping is thinking about it. You should never go on a whim. Always have in mind what you want to buy, and when you try it on, think very carefully about what you already have that you could wear with it. I honestly don’t have that much stuff, but I can mix it all up.’
‘And the quality!’ I gushed. ‘They were a bit pricy, but the way they hang and feel is amazing. I’m always looking for a quick fix. I never think of quality.’
‘It’s so important. My mother always told us “quality over quantity” and she was right. I have jackets I bought ten years ago that still look brand new.’
‘I can’t believe I’ve never asked you to come shopping with me before. You’re a pro. If Happy Dayz ever shuts down, you could become a stylist.’
‘We haven’t finished yet. We still need to get you some decent underwear.’
Sally took me to a lingerie shop I’d never even heard of called Madame Sophie.
‘You’re going to love Sophie,’ Sally assured me. ‘She’s brilliant. She’s incredibly sexy in that understated French way and eats men for breakfast. She’s currently on her third marriage.’
The little shop was tucked away behind the main shopping streets. When we walked in a little bell rang. Sophie came out and greeted Sally like an old friend. ‘Darling, ’ow are you?’
‘Good, thanks. I want to introduce you to my friend Ava. She needs a full overhaul.’
Sophie shook my hand and appraised me. She was small, blonde and very petite. She had the tiniest waist I’d ever seen. She was wearing a grey trouser suit with a gorgeous cream lace camisole underneath. Sexy, but subtle.
‘Ava, you do not feel sexy any more. You ’ave lost your sexuality – I can see eet in your heyes. But don’t worry, I can ’elp you. Sexy is from ze hinside hout. Now go in zere and strip down to your hunderwear.’ She pulled a black velvet curtain around me while I took my clothes off.
‘Ah, non, non, non,’ she said, shaking her head when she saw my grey underwear. ‘You cannot keep a man ’appy with zees underwear. Your bosom is falling down to your knees. You are wearing ze totally wrong size. ’Ow many childrens do you ’ave?’
‘Two.’
‘When women ’ave children zey need even more ’elp to keep ze bosom hup. I will show you. Put zis on.’
I tried on bras that literally had scaffolding in them. My boobs went from droopy to pert. All the bras had wonderful frilly silk knickers to go with them.
‘Do you get all your underwear here?’ I asked Sally.
She nodded. ‘I get some basics in M&S, but mostly I come here. As you can see, a good bra instantly transforms your cleavage.’
Sophie pulled back the changing-room curtain, exposing me in my new underwear. ‘Now, zat is very nice, but you halso need ze corset hunderwear to pull in ze waist.’ She handed me a sexy, lace-trimmed corset that tied at the front with a long line of little hooks. I couldn’t believe the difference it made. I went from having no waist to a small, defined one, and I could still breathe.
‘Wow,’ Sally said.
‘It’s miraculous,’ I gushed.
‘Ze magic of proper lingerie.’ Sophie smiled. ‘Now, Sally, I want you to go and sit down. I ’ave one more zing I want Ava to try. Somezing only ze ’usband should see.’
Sally sat down and took out her BlackBerry.
Sophie came into the changing room with me. ‘’Ow often are you ’aving ze sex?’ she asked quietly.
‘Not very often,’ I said, squirming to admit it aloud.
‘
I can see zis. You ’ave no colour in ze face.’
I looked at myself in the mirror. Could everyone tell by looking at me that I was neglecting my marital duties?
‘If zere is one zing ze French know, eet ees sex. You cannot let eet disappear. You ’ave to keep eet alive and you ’ave to work at eet. Sometimes I would much razer ’ave a glass of wine and read my book, but if a week ’as gone by, I know I need to ’ave sex. Never let eet go for more zan one week. Ozerwise ’e will start looking at ozer women.’
‘I’m just tired at the moment. There’s lots of stuff going on at home and I’m worried all the time and I’m just not in the mood for sex.’
‘Ava, I know ze stress. I know ze feeling of wanting to sleep and not ’ave sex. But, actually, sex ees very good for ze stress. Ze orgasm release ze stress and you feel much better hafterwards.’
She handed me a black Lycra and satin-lined lace baby-doll with a ruffle hem and garter straps with a matching see-through thong and stockings. It was skin tight and quite uncomfortable, but it looked fantastic.
‘Now you are feeling sexy, no?’
I laughed. ‘Yes, I am.’
‘Now you want to ’ave sex?’
‘Actually, yes, I do.’
‘Et voilà. You ’ave to feel sexy to want sex. Ze hunderwear ees vital. You Irish women don’t hunderstand thees.’
‘Well, this has been a very enlightening experience. Thank you, Sophie.’
‘My pleasure. Your ’usband will be very ’appy tonight and so will you. Let you hin’ibitions go, ’ave sex like a tigress. Not like a missionary woman.’
‘I’ll take it all. And thanks for the advice,’ I said, deciding it was time to go before Sophie started demonstrating positions she thought might spice up my marriage.
‘Good luck,’ she said, winking at me. ‘Don’t forget – like a tigress. Grrrr.’
I took Sally for lunch. ‘Thank you so much for transforming me in one morning. I’d forgotten that great underwear and clothes could make you feel so good about yourself. I feel like a new person.’
‘Any time, I enjoyed it. And I hope you’re planning to wear some of that new gear tonight.’
Pieces of My Heart Page 12
