One Day In Summer

by Shari Low

  ‘I take after my mother,’ she quipped, taking the final sledgehammer to the tension and getting them back on emotionally stable ground. This wasn’t the time for the honest answer to his question. She knew that her strength and her ability to move forward through challenges came from her illness. Living with cancer so young had given her an extraordinary capacity to compartmentalise worry and anxiety, to put the tough stuff in a box and focus on making it through to the end result. It had made her stronger and developed the most dominant trait of her personality – it had showed her the power of hope. Her mum, Dora, had picked her name because she loved it. She had no idea how relevant it would be to her daughter’s life.

  ‘Don’t forget to text your sister,’ he prompted, making Hope jump.

  ‘Crap! She’ll already have called my mum…’ she caught herself, ‘… my other mum, to say I must be missing and to notify authorities.’

  Snatching up the phone, she typed a quick reply.

  Aaron got up and headed to the bathroom and she heard the sound of a tap running. She guessed he was splashing water on his face. Poor guy must be exhausted. Sixteen hours of travel and then the most emotionally draining day ever. Maybe she should go and take this back up again tomorrow. In the meantime…

  Not Tilda. Sorry. Her name is Agnetha

  * * *

  Fuuuuuuuuuckkkkkkkkkkk! The one from ABBA? That’s why we saw Mamma Mia six times!!!!! Your subconscious knew!!!!

  * * *

  Nope, not ABBA. She worked in a café

  * * *

  Oh. Bummer. But so many questions… X

  * * *

  Wanna see a pic of Aaron first?

  * * *

  Yaaassssss!

  Hope sent the selfie they’d taken earlier in the gardens.

  Oh. My. God. He’s the spitting image of Tim McGraw!

  * * *

  Who?

  * * *

  TIM McGRAW!!! Legend! Ask yer new dad if he can take you back to USA cos I’ve just disowned you

  Hope quickly googled his name and saw that he was a country superstar. That explained it. Country music had never been her thing, but Maisie had donned a blonde wig to play Tammy Wynette in a tribute show. ‘Stand By Your Man’ was now her first shower song every morning and other country stuff blasted from her speakers all day long.

  Studying the images of Tim McGraw now though, Hope could see that Maisie had a point. Same body shape. Same colouring. Same jawline.

  ‘My sister thinks you look like Tim McGraw,’ she announced as he came back into the room, drying his face and rubbing his hair with a towel. She’d been right.

  ‘Yeah, I get that a lot. Until I open my mouth. I sing like a jacked-up exhaust pipe. How about you?’

  ‘I’ve been banned from karaoke because my singing is considered a form of torture.’

  He sat back down on the sofa. ‘Sorry about that. Definitely got that from me.’

  Hope rolled her eyes, feigning disappointment, but his words took her mind elsewhere. What did she get from her mother? Did she look like her? It was hard to tell from the slightly fuzzy pic. Did she sound like her? Walk like her? Did she have the same heart, the same habits? Did they share more than just DNA? How crazy was it that she’d found her so quickly and it was all thanks to an unusual first name and her job in a café.

  ‘You look deep in thought there,’ Aaron’s soft California accent was loaded with care.

  ‘I was thinking about my mum and whether I’m like her.’

  ‘You’re smart and you’re funny – she was both of those things.’

  Hope wondered whether she should be honest about where her thoughts were going and then heard herself blurt it out. ‘I need to meet her.’

  A flinch from Aaron. That was completely understandable. This was someone who’d broken his heart and who had now brought him to the biggest shock of his life. It went without saying that there would be conflicted feelings, and fears and anxieties.

  ‘I know you do. I’d like to come with you, but if it’s something you’d rather do on your own I completely understand. You tell me how you want to play this. I’ll do it any way you want.’

  The answer came immediately. ‘I’d like you to come with me, but only if you’re sure. I know it won’t be easy.’ Hope was falling over her words, keen to give him a way out if it would be too tough.

  ‘Honey, I haven’t been here for you a single day of your life. I wanna change that now.’

  A rush of gratitude led to another hug. ‘Thank you.’ She sat back, thinking how much more tired he looked now than when she’d met him this morning. The very last thing she wanted to do right now was leave, but she was very aware he’d gone more than twenty-four hours without sleep. ‘Okay, let’s work out a plan tomorrow. I’m thinking I should let you get some rest. You must be exhausted and…’

  ‘Why tomorrow?’

  That caught her off guard. Was it too soon? Did he need more time to psyche himself up for this? Again, that was understandable. She had to rein herself in, take this at a steadier pace.

  He didn’t wait for an answer. ‘Why not tonight? Didn’t that Facebook post say where she was gonna be?’

  ‘Yes, but…’ Hope suddenly felt her confidence go. ‘We can’t just march into her birthday party and do jazz hands and announce she’s my mother. Her family will be there. Her friends. I’m probably a secret that she’s kept from the day she had me. She has to process the fact that I’ve found her, and we have to be prepared for the possibility that she might want nothing to do with me. Not to mention you,’ she added truthfully. ‘And to be honest, that’s pretty likely, given that she stipulated a closed adoption with no further contact. Pretty much suggests that she doesn’t want to be traced.

  Hope had had years to think this situation through and prepare for it, but she was aware that he’d only had a week and it was best to lay out her fears and the potential consequences. Just because their reunion had been as wonderful as she could ever have dreamt, didn’t mean that it was going to be that way with her mother too. This had to be taken carefully. Thought through.

  ‘You’re right. I hear you. But I gotta be honest. There’s no way I’m sleeping tonight and I feel like I need to get out of this hotel room.’

  Hope suppressed a cheer that he didn’t want her to leave.

  ‘How about we go see where she is? I’ve thought about it so many times over the years that I’d kinda like to see it for myself. We won’t go in, because you’re right, it takes time. Maybe we can grab some dinner while we’re out.’

  It made sense. Kind of. And Hope had to admit, curiosity was killing her too. A drive by, that’s all. What harm could that do? But…

  ‘Bugger, I’ve had a couple of glasses of wine. I can’t drive.’

  His surprise was obvious and made her chuckle.

  ‘Scottish drink-driving laws. One glass of wine. We’re strict about this stuff here.’

  ‘Wow, okay. I kinda like that too,’ he admitted. ‘How about we take a cab?’

  Hope nodded. That was a possibility, but… a much better idea came to her.

  ‘You know you said you couldn’t wait to meet my family?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Why don’t we ask my sister to join us for dinner? I’m sure she’d be happy to drive…’

  Two birds with one stone. And it would stop her having to spend way too much time texting in toilets.

  ‘Great idea.’

  Hope picked up her phone.

  Hey, wanna join us for dinner and be our designated driver? xx

  * * *

  HELL YEAH!!!! Tell Tim McGraw I’m on my way!

  8 p.m. – 10 p.m

  25

  Agnetha

  ‘Are you enjoying yourself, Mum?’ Isla shouted over the strains of Aretha Franklin’s ‘Respect’. All the tables in the café had been shoved against the walls to form a makeshift dance floor in the centre and Aggs had been swinging her Spanx for the last hour.

 
; The café was absolutely packed, with people in every corner, sitting on every surface, mingling out in the corridor and even behind the counter. It had spilled over to the tables and chairs that had been placed outside too, so there was a mini street party going on out there.

  Aggs wrapped her arms around Isla’s shoulders. ‘I’m having the time of my life, sweetheart. I can’t thank you and your sister enough for this.’

  ‘You’re welcome, Mum. I’m glad you’re enjoying it. We were a bit worried because we know you hate surprises.’

  Aggs kissed her on the cheek. ‘This is perfect, though. In my favourite place, with everyone I love, so I’ll let you off.’ Everyone she loved, but not quite – Will still wasn’t there.

  Before Isla could answer, Aggs saw her daughter’s gaze dart to the door and realised there was a new arrival. Her heart began to race. Was he here? Had Will made it?

  ‘Oh, oh, incoming. Enemy advancing. Take cover and evasive action,’ Isla parroted in her best army voice.

  Aggs’ spirits sank. Not Will then. In fact, she knew exactly who it was before she even looked. Yep, it could only be…

  ‘Hello, Isla. Happy birthday, Aggs.’

  Aggs turned round and came eye to eye with Celeste, immediately adopting the special face she’d developed just for dealing with her former best friend. On the outside it was smiling and perfectly civil, but on the inside it was shooting invisible laser darts that could set Celeste’s hair extensions on fire, explode her face fillers and pierce her silicone boob implants. Of course Celeste and Mitchell would be here. The girls would have invited them because for the last ten years she’d made a gargantuan effort – and yes, it was bloody hard – to act like she and Celeste were perfectly chummy for the girls’ sake. Although, frankly, she was surprised Celeste hadn’t tried to get out of it. Both women knew that under the surface, there was no love lost there.

  Aggs took the small gift bag that Celeste was holding out to her. It would be something ridiculously expensive, that they both knew Aggs wouldn’t use. Jo Malone perfume perhaps. Or maybe a voucher for an extortionate spa, the kind of place where everyone did colon cleanses and ritual chanting, and left Aggs desperate to smuggle in a bottle of wine and a six-pack of pickled onion crisps.

  It went without saying, too, that Celeste would absolutely be looking down her nose job (oh yes, it was a different one and Aggs had the old photos to prove it) at this party. For Celeste’s fortieth, Mitchell had thrown an exclusive soiree at an eye wateringly expensive private club in the city, for three hundred of Celeste’s closest friends. Unfortunately, Aggs hadn’t made it due to a bout of completely fabricated norovirus. Afterwards, Skye let it slip that her dress was Armani, the catering cost more than Aggs made in a year, and Celeste planned almost every detail herself, then acted surprised when Mitchell delivered her to the room full of illustrious guests. Agh, what a load of nonsense.

  However, as always, Aggs reminded herself that keeping things civil wasn’t for her own benefit. Inside, she’d be lying if she didn’t admit that she despised Celeste because she’d hurt her kids, her parents, and of course, Aggs too. In many ways, her betrayal was worse than Mitchell’s because she was considered a sister, the person who would always have her back no matter what. And although they’d apportioned more blame to Mitchell because he’d broken up the family, her parents had never forgiven Celeste, refusing to speak to her again for the rest of their lives. Agnetha had been more pragmatic. This woman was her daughters’ stepmother whether she liked it or not (and she didn’t), so they’d maintained a polite front and she wasn’t going to be the one to break it now. Unless, of course, Mitchell was right about Celeste having an affair, in which case she’d probably put up bunting and hire a brass band to celebrate the cow being out of their lives.

  Speaking of which… Mitchell moved in and hugged her, and for a second she felt something inside her give a weird burst of recognition. He was wearing Lagerfeld, the aftershave he wore every day when they were together, and it set off a chain reaction in her senses. God, she’d loved this man. Truly loved him. And yet Celeste had to pick him. Or rather, as he’d confirmed earlier, he’d picked her. He’d made the first move. He was the one who’d made the promise to Aggs and he’d broken it. She just wished it hadn’t been with her best friend. Many times she’d wondered if Celeste hadn’t been there, would it have been someone else? Would a man with the drive and lifestyle aspirations of her ex-husband ever have been happy with a wife who cared for her ill parents, brought up their kids, worked in a café and took no interest whatsoever in the life of glamour and success that he was determined to live? She doubted it very much. And it gave her no pleasure now to see that some of his choices were putting him on a crash course to unhappiness and divorce at this stage in life. There was still love there – they’d created two wonderful kids together – and she wanted to see him happy. Although, it was slightly worrying that the Lagerfeld had stirred something that was making her feel a little flustered and warm. Maybe it was time to confer with the Menopausal Jogging Club on the best way to control hot flushes.

  ‘Happy birthday, Aggs. And thanks for today,’ he whispered in her ear, the background noise making sure that it didn’t reach Celeste. He hadn’t told her that they’d met up today, then. Made sense.

  ‘You okay?’ she asked.

  ‘Not sure yet,’ he murmured. He obviously hadn’t confronted Celeste either. That figured. If she was up to no good, it was a sure bet that she was being sneaky about it, and Mitchell needed to have facts and proof before he challenged her. This was a woman who had continued to act as if she was Aggs’ best friend for a solid two years after she began sleeping with her husband. She could hold masterclasses in subterfuge and duplicity.

  Mitchell’s confession to the affair was a day that would live with Aggs until the end of time, but even back then, Celeste had been absolutely unapologetic.

  Aggs shrugged off the memory. Now wasn’t the time for melancholy. It was a time for dancing and celebrating and being absolutely bloody ecstatic that, after some hellish tough years, she was getting a new start. No drama. No surprises. No looking back. Just happiness and adventure going forward.

  The tune changed to Dolly Parton’s ‘9 to 5’ and the next thing she felt was her hand being grabbed and a playful tug as Val and Yvie rescued her from the clutches of her past life. They whisked her on to the dancing area and sang the first verse of the song at the top of their lungs, hands swinging in the air.

  Only when it was done, did Val lean towards her, gesturing over to the unhappy couple, who were now standing as close to the door as possible without being outside. Aggs knew Celeste would make a rapid escape just as soon as she could. And, of course, there was no way they would mingle with anyone. Mitchell could be very personable and charming, and he’d enjoy meeting some of her friends, but Celeste would only speak to someone if there was something in it for her.

  ‘Is that him and her? The ex-dick and the trollop?’ Val asked.

  ‘It is indeed,’ Aggs confirmed, shaking her shoulders now as the opening bars of ‘Wannabe’ by the Spice Girls changed the tempo. There was a blast from the past. She remembered dancing with Celeste to this in a nightclub in Vegas and… The sound of a metal door crashing to the ground shut that memory down before it was fully formed. Vegas was yet another excruciating wound that she had no intention of reopening.

  She saw that Val was still eyeing Celeste, while murmuring from the side of her mouth. ‘You know that I’ll always provide an alibi. Just saying. You were with me and we were watching Strictly. So as long as you make it a Saturday night between seven and eight, you’ll be sorted.’

  Aggs chortled as she danced, not an easy combination for someone who hadn’t been near a nightclub or a disco in twenty years and was well out of practice.

  She hoped to change that with Will. They’d talked about having a night out on the town, maybe dinner and a club, as soon as their relationship was out in the open. Well, tonight
was going to be the night that everyone learned about them, so she should probably get shopping for shoes that didn’t give her blisters when she danced.

  She glanced over at the door. Still no sign of him. Argh, she felt like a fifteen year old at the school disco, waiting for the boy she had a crush on to show up. Only, when Aggs was fifteen, she was usually standing outside the toilets, keeping guard while Celeste was inside with the captain of the school football team.

  ‘Looking for someone special there, Aggs?’ Yvie asked with a wink. ‘You can’t stop looking at that door.’

  Aggs felt herself blush. Bloody hell, what was this tonight? She was definitely regressing to her fifteen year old self.

  Yvie put her out of her misery. ‘He’ll be here, don’t worry. He said at lunch today that he was definitely coming. He’s probably just taking ages to wrap your pressie.’

  Aggs threw up her arms. ‘You two know as well? Dear God, are there no secrets in this world?’

  Val threw her arm around her. ‘We’re delighted for the both of you. You deserve some happiness, you really do. Although, we’ve not told Myra yet. I think you could be in for some competition.’ They all turned to see Myra, who was over near the window, slow dancing with Bernard, an eighty-four years young former soldier who came in every afternoon for soup and a ham sandwich, with ‘none of that mayonnaise muck’.

  Laughing, Aggs took Val’s free hand, then Yvie’s too. ‘Thank you, both. I wouldn’t be anywhere near ready to start living again if it wasn’t for you two,’ she said honestly, expressing her gratitude to them for the second time that day. It was the least she could do. After her mum died, she’d been on the floor. They were two of the people who’d lifted her back up and she’d always be grateful that they had her back.