One Day In Summer

by Shari Low

  Her eyes went to a photograph that the girls had found in an old suitcase when they’d been clearing out this room to decorate it. They’d slipped it into a new white satinwood frame and put it on her dressing table.

  It was a picture of Aggs. Around twenty-three. In a white bikini on a Malibu beach. Head up. Hair blowing behind her in the wind. Arms outstretched. Laughing at the sky. That’s who she used to be. And that wild, free, young woman bore no resemblance to the exhausted, depleted, weighed-down person that she’d become, someone who went through the motions, did what was required of her, but put herself at the bottom of the priority list.

  After laying her mum to rest, though, she’d gradually taken steps to heal the scars left by too much loss, and after a while something in her had shifted. Years of tension had begun to unfurl and something else had taken its place. Was it… hope?

  An involuntary shiver made her toes curl as another glance at the picture threw up a memory that popped her bubble of bliss. This date had another significance, another association, one that now, over twenty years later, still made her stomach twist with regret and embarrassment. With a ferocity that almost made her glasses rattle, she shook her head, shutting down that thought.

  That birthday, twenty-two years ago, had been the day that changed everything.

  Nope, not going back there. Hadn’t she learned that you could do nothing to change the past? Hadn’t she been doing her best to have a new, bright, sunny outlook? From this day forward, the Agnetha ‘Aggs’ McMaster of the last two decades was behind her. The woman who’d lived for other people, who’d taken care of everyone else, was going into retirement, and the new independent, optimistic version of herself was in charge now.

  A buzz from her phone made her jump and she picked it up to see a text with that familiar name on the screen. The flush that crept up from her neck was equal parts excitement and guilt.

  Happy birthday, gorgeous. Have you told them yet?

  She’d promised she would break the news before today, but of course she’d chickened out. It was too big. Too scary. Too radical.

  With a sigh, she turned the phone over without replying.

  She’d tell them at some point, when the moment was right.

  Today was the first day of Aggs McMaster’s plan to claim back a life on her own terms. She just had to take the first step. And then decide if she had the courage to see it through.

  2

  Mitchell McMaster

  The thud of the pavement under his feet provided a steady rhythm that Mitchell used to synchronise his breath. As he turned into the crescent that housed his three storey sandstone home, he barely even registered the early-morning dog walkers, the couple from No. 15 running on the other side of the road in matching Lycra, and the parents from No. 4 shepherding two boys in rugby kits into their Audi estate.

  The west end of Glasgow, with its beautiful Victorian terraces and tree lined streets, was his favourite part of the city, yet living there, like everything else in his life, was just something he took for granted now.

  He pressed his thumb on the biometric lock on the front door. He’d had it installed the year before when he’d upgraded the security and CCTV systems. It was probably an unnecessary expense – the company he’d founded ten years ago specialised in commercial law, not criminal law, so the personal risks were considerably lower – but it was tax deductible, while adding to the value of the house, so it made sense. And at least he didn’t have to faff around with keys any more.

  ‘Morning, Sweatman,’ Skye greeted him with a grossed-out wince, before returning her gaze to the pile of textbooks in front of her. Half-past eight on a Saturday morning and she was already on the books, preparing for her exams next week. That apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

  Mitchell gave her a kiss on the top of her head as he passed her, earning a disgusted ‘Eeeeew,’ in return.

  ‘Sweatdad to you,’ he retorted, letting the teasing go over his head. Just about every morning in his life, he rose at 5.30 a.m. and did a workout in their basement gym, followed by a five kilometre run. It kept him lean, toned and in the same size suit trousers he’d worn since he was in his twenties. More than that, it gave him the clear head he needed every day of the week to get the best deals for his clients and maintain his reputation as one of the top corporate lawyers in the city.

  He took pride in his appearance, in his home, and in his business and he was laser-focused on putting in the effort to maintain them all. Today there would be no work, but he’d definitely need to be on his A game because there was every chance the next twelve hours or so could be life-changing.

  The coffee machine, integrated into a wall of cream gloss Poggenpohl units, began to gurgle as soon as he switched it on to make the first of his four daily espressos. He liked order and structure in his day. It was the only way he got through the demands of a busy practice while keeping himself in the best possible shape.

  He leaned against the quartz worktop while he knocked back the bitter liquid.

  ‘Need help with anything?’ he asked Skye.

  ‘Nope, I’m all good.’

  Maybe it was the morning light streaming in through the window, but as she lifted her head he noticed the dark circles under her eyes. Was she getting enough sleep? Was she eating properly? Had she lost weight? It was hard to tell under the standard uniform of gym leggings topped with massive oversized sweatshirts that she wore in the house. She’d been on study leave for the last month, so he’d barely seen her in anything else.

  It had been almost a year since she’d come to live here, and they’d developed an easy relationship based on love and a shared passion for the law, but he didn’t want to drop the ball. Aggs had been great about Skye moving here, accepting that it gave her more space, peace, and resources in her studies. After living separately from the girls for a decade after the divorce, Mitchell was loving the new closeness.

  ‘You haven’t forgotten it’s your mum’s birthday today, have you?’

  ‘No, of course not. Isla says she’s forcing Mum to relax this morning. I’m going round for lunch with them though. We’ve arranged for a few of Mum’s friends to be there too, but she doesn’t know that, so that’ll be her first surprise of the day. The second surprise – because we’re amazing daughters who are milking this to death – will be her party tonight. Are you and Celeste still coming so you can all pretend to be progressive adults working together to form the perfect blended family?’

  Mitchell wasn’t sure if it was the amused, teasing tone or the accuracy of her perception that made him roll his eyes.

  Agnetha’s surprise birthday party. Since the divorce, and his remarriage to Celeste, they’d celebrated every event together for the sake of the kids, no matter how hard it was. In the beginning, it was very bloody tough, but he only had himself to blame for that.

  ‘Thanks for the sarcasm, madam. This is why I always preferred your sister,’ he quipped, ducking immediately as a pencil came flying in his direction.

  Of course, they both knew it wasn’t true. He and Aggs loved both their daughters absolutely equally and if they’d done anything right at all it was to try to bring them up knowing that they were both loved beyond measure. Skye living here full time was such a joy, and Isla had a room here too, even if it was only used on the occasional weekend. In fact, since she’d come back from her travels and started work in the café, she’d barely stayed over at all. Still, he made a point of meeting her a couple of times a week for lunch or dinner and he was grateful that they both allowed him to be central in their lives. Even if it did come with some high grade cheek from both of them. Small price to pay.

  He was still laughing and Skye was still feigning outrage when he picked her pencil out of the sink and tossed it back to her.

  ‘To answer your question, yes, we are both coming and, yes, we’ll be the perfect progressive parents,’ he joked. ‘How have you managed to keep it a surprise?’

  ‘Lies, optimism and ta
king advantage of her aversion to modern communication,’ Skye replied proudly. ‘We’ve told her that we are taking her out for a quiet ‘mum and daughters’ dinner, just the three of us. And thanks to the fact that she refuses to use social media, we’ve plastered the party all over Facebook and Insta to try to make sure we reach everyone. Look…’

  Skye clicked the trackpad on her MacBook, then spun it round so Mitchell could see the post.

  The announcement was on the The Ginger Sponge’s Facebook page.

  To all friends, family and regular customers!

  Tonight we’re having a SURPRISE party to celebrate our lovely owner Agnetha’s 45th birthday. If you love her, like her, or if she makes you a cup of tea more than once a week, you’re very welcome! Cake supplied, but bring your own bottle!

  7 p.m. The Ginger Sponge.

  And, remember, it’s a SURPRISE – anyone who spills the beans will be barred for life.

  ‘That looks great. She deserves it,’ Mitchell mused, almost to himself.

  Skye nodded. ‘She does. She’s been through way too much and it’s time for some happy stuff.’

  There was a tiny hint of a reprimand in Skye’s words, but he let it go, mainly because she was correct, but also because there was no point in opening up old wounds that time had already healed.

  ‘You’re right.’ Something tugged at his gut as he said it and he tried to pinpoint it. Unease? Doubt? Dread? All of the above, he decided. ‘Is Celeste up yet?’

  ‘Did I hear my name?’

  Damn. She always went barefoot in the house so he could never hear her coming.

  His wife sashayed into the room, her white silk dressing gown short enough to show off her toned, tanned legs, her ebony hair pulled up into a high ponytail. If any cosmetic aesthetician wanted a great advert for its business, Celeste would be a top pick.

  Like him, she was in her mid-forties, but only according to her birth certificate. Her cheekbones were like carved alabaster, her feline eyes devoid of all but barely discernible crow’s feet and she visited the top clinic in the city once a month to tweak whatever element of her Botox, fillers, lasers, oxygen facials, lip plumping and neck tightening regime that needed work. It took a whole lot of money, time and effort to stay exactly the same, but Celeste maintained that it was worth it. Shallow as it was, when he was out with a wife who still turned heads, he tended to agree.

  She applied the same dedication to her body maintenance. Not for her, the thumping round the streets in the morning, but thanks to daily yoga and Pilates sessions, and a pathological avoidance of carbohydrates, her body had barely changed since they’d got together. The only marked difference was the breast enhancement, her fortieth birthday present to herself. ‘It’s an investment in myself and in my business,’ she’d told him. He didn’t argue. But neither did he chide Isla when she heard the news and responded with mutterings of, ‘Didn’t realise huge knockers were essential to run an events company.’

  While nothing much had changed on the outside in ten years, on the inside, however, it was a very different story. Back then, she’d adored him so much he’d risked everything for her. Now? Sometimes he felt like their marriage was more of a business transaction. And he was getting short changed. He just wanted to know why.

  She pressed the buttons on the coffee machine to produce a steaming Americano, then filled a glass from the filtered water dispenser on the front of their brushed chrome, American fridge freezer.

  ‘I’m just going to take these back upstairs,’ she announced, clearly too busy to pass the time with them.

  Mitchell cleared his throat before Celeste left the room. ‘Do you have anything on today? I thought maybe we could grab lunch? Skye is going over to her mum’s.’

  There it was. The hesitation. Not exactly a rabbit in the headlights – Celeste was far too smart and could think on her feet faster than anyone he knew – but there was definitely a flicker that told him a lie was about to come out of her mouth.

  Stretching up on her tiptoes, she kissed him on the cheek. Another diversionary tactic. He didn’t remember the last time they’d had an actual meaningful exchange.

  ‘I already have plans, darling.’ She managed to sound regretful. ‘Yoga at 10.30 and then I’m meeting a potential new client for lunch.’

  ‘On a Saturday?’

  ‘Only day he could make it. Packed schedule. It’s like the yuppie years all over again. Big demands and they want everything on their terms.’

  Mitchell couldn’t help the thought. Pot. Lycra-clad kettle.

  ‘We could grab a coffee on the terrace when I get home though, if the sun’s still shining.’

  There was no way that was happening, he knew. Celeste hadn’t allowed sun on her face since the nineties.

  ‘Yeah, sure. I’ve got some work to catch up with. Give me a shout when you get back.’

  He could almost feel the relief oozing from her pores at the prospect of escape, when Skye chimed in. ‘Celeste, you haven’t forgotten that it’s my Mum’s surprise party tonight, have you?’

  Another flinch. Another fake smile. If Skye noticed, she let it pass. She’d always been the more circumspect of the twins and Mitchell was grateful that she maintained a polite relationship with Celeste because it made life easier. Isla’s restraint would already have left the building and she’d be calling Celeste out on her bullshit by now.

  If his wife’s eyebrows had been capable of movement, she’d have raised them. ‘Of course not, darling. Although I still think it’s a crazy idea. Your mother hates surprises. Anyway, I’m looking forward to it.’ Another lie.

  If Celeste had a choice between a night celebrating Agnetha and a cold sore, she’d chose the herpes virus every time.

  ‘Actually, that’s given me a thought – I might go shopping and pick up something new to wear after lunch, so I’m not sure when I’ll be back.’ Celeste’s eyes didn’t reach his.

  Wow. Had she just grasped on to another excuse to stay out of the house and tell him another lie?

  Some people might say he deserved it. After all, the woman he was married to now had been his ex-wife’s best friend. His current suspicions that Celeste had new interests elsewhere would suggest that karma had come back to bite him on the arse.

  ‘I’ll be in my dressing room if anyone needs me,’ she said, in a tone of reluctance that made it obvious she didn’t want to be disturbed. Celeste’s dressing room-come-sitting room was the one area that was off limits to everyone else. She’d converted a full double bedroom and bathroom into an area that had more square footage than the master bedroom. In it, there were copious wardrobes, an en suite bathroom, make-up and hairdressing stations, and a large TV that could be viewed from both the freestanding clawfoot bath and the overstuffed sofa in the middle of the room. She’d designed every inch of it and in the beginning, it had been just another glamourous achievement to brag about on social media, rather than somewhere she sought refuge. Over the last few months, though, she’d spent more time in there than in any other room in the house, including their own bedroom. Actually, especially their own bedroom.

  After she’d gone, a few silent moments passed before Mitchell dropped his cup into the sink and headed to the shower, decision made. He definitely wouldn’t be getting any work done today. Nor would there be any relaxation. If she wasn’t going to be straight with him, then he was going to have to find out the truth for himself, and if that required a bit of subterfuge, then so be it.

  Today was the day that Mitchell McMaster was going to follow his wife and find out if she was having an affair.

  3

  Agnetha and Celeste – 1997

  Agnetha stretched her naked body across the cool white sheets and let the breeze from the window glide over her. She’d barely taken a second breath when she felt Aaron’s hand brush along her thigh, a soft sleepy moan accompanying his touch.

  ‘Happy birthday, baby,’ he murmured, leaning over and giving her a slow, sultry kiss. His Californian accen
t was unfailingly sexy and she’d been intoxicated by it since she met him, three months ago, on the day they’d arrived in LA.

  Agnetha groaned, with both pleasure and pain. The prospect of spending her twenty-third birthday with Aaron made her deliciously happy, but the hangover caused by last night’s celebrations had a steel band using the inside of her skull for practice. And she really needed to brush her teeth. ‘Am I dreaming the bit where I danced on the bar in that nightclub and the manager offered me a job?’

  ‘Nope. He’s expecting you at 8 p.m. tonight. He’s providing the sequinned bikini.’

  Agnetha’s chuckle was low and husky. Too much singing in the clubs last night too. It had been a pretty special introduction to Vegas. This was the first time she’d been, and they’d come on a whim – actually Aaron’s whim – to celebrate her birthday.

  Unfortunately, she wouldn’t be claiming the sequinned bikini because this was a short visit. They were all heading back to LA the following morning and then she and Celeste would be flying home to Glasgow, via London, in a few days’ time.

  Reluctantly, she pushed herself up on the bed, to an immediate objection.

  ‘Woah! Where do you think you’re going?’

  ‘To get showered and ready. I’d like to see a bit of Vegas before we go back to LA tomorrow.’

  ‘Screw it. Forget going home tomorrow.’ The way he said ‘home’ gave her goosebumps, because they both knew that LA wasn’t her home. It was only his. Yet, it sounded so right, it set off a flurry of tingles in her stomach. ‘There’s another bus the day after… and the day after… and the day after,’ he insisted, as his lips found hers, the need for dental hygiene temporarily forgotten.