I Will Marry George Clooney (By Christmas)

by Tracy Bloom

  ‘See, he’s fine,’ said RB1, suddenly jovial. ‘Nothing to worry about. Now get back to work and we’ll say no more about it.’

  Michelle, Gina and Little Slaw resumed their positions at the conveyor and life went on.

  ‘So, alcohol, you say,’ said Little Slaw.

  ‘Looks like it,’ replied Michelle, now even more depressed as she scanned her memory, desperately trying to come up with a relationship that had not begun in a drunken haze.

  ‘What am I doing?’ she said suddenly, slamming five breasts into a blue tray that should only hold three. ‘It’s stupid. What the hell am I thinking? Let’s just forget George Clooney. It’s never going to happen, and even if in some ridiculous universe it did, it probably wouldn’t stop Josie sleeping with Sean and shacking up with him anyway, so I should stop wasting any more time thinking about it.’

  ‘No way!’ shrieked Gina. ‘I love thinking about it. You can’t give up already. What will I think about then?’

  ‘It’s stupid and pointless, Gina,’ Michelle said despondently.

  ‘What, and discussing what flavour crisps we’re having for lunch isn’t? Oh, that’s so much more interesting,’ retorted Gina. ‘Tell her, Little Slaw – wanting to marry George Clooney is not stupid and pointless.’

  ‘Wanting to marry George Clooney is not stupid and pointless,’ repeated Little Slaw.

  ‘You’re just saying that,’ said Michelle.

  ‘No, I believe it,’ he insisted. ‘And what has changed since the wedding?’

  ‘I’ve come to my senses. I will never marry George Clooney, so I shouldn’t waste my time trying.’

  ‘So instead you will show Josie how to give up, just like that. How to quit before you start. How to have no belief in yourself.’

  ‘But I will never marry George Clooney,’ Michelle repeated.

  ‘You cannot answer that,’ said Little Slaw, slamming the side of the conveyor belt with his fist. ‘You are getting in the way of your dream. Just you. When really the only person who stand in your way is him, George Clooney. So we work out how to ask him. Then you will know. Then you can look your daughter in the eye and tell her you followed your dream no matter what.’

  A dozen blue trays trundled by unfilled as Michelle, Gina and Little Slaw stared at each other.

  ‘You are right,’ Little Slaw added gently. ‘Marrying George Clooney is not likely to stop the shagging or the shacking as you call it. But showing Josie how to get out into big wide world and follow her dreams might. You must get out of your own way, Michelle. You show Josie how to get out of her own way then sky is limit.’

  ‘You see,’ said Gina, bouncing up and down. ‘It isn’t stupid and pointless. And I’ve just thought of a foolproof idea on how to track him down.’ She paused to take a deep breath and to ensure her audience was captive. ‘If you become his stalker you’ll see him in court,’ she declared. ‘I don’t think George has his own stalker. It’s a vacant position. You stalk him, he takes you to court, and you’ve got him. Ask him to marry you there and then. He’s in a courtroom, he can’t get away. Rude to the judge and all that.’

  Michelle filled several blue trays before she looked back up at an expectant Gina and Little Slaw.

  ‘If we’re doing this we are not breaking the law,’ she said eventually. ‘We will find a way to George in a lawabiding fashion and show that daughter of mine how to follow her dreams.’

  ‘Get in,’ hollered Gina, punching the air.

  ‘Before she Sean shags,’ added Little Slaw.

  ‘Before she Sean shags,’ Michelle nodded.

  Chapter Five

  Michelle was weighed down by chicken. She could still feel its slimy, sticky texture on her hands despite several minutes of scrubbing with industrial cleaner. And she could still catch a whiff of its meaty tang despite taking several deep breaths of fresh air when she walked out into the dazzling sunlight at the end of her shift. To top it all, two kilos of the damn stuff dangled off each arm as she slogged her way down the hill to deliver her mother’s weekly order from the factory shop. The town sprawled out below her looking pretty much identical to when she used to run full pelt down the hill from school as a teenager, excited by the opportunity to roam the streets and parks with Gina for a few hours before dark. She would never run towards the town now. She was held back by chicken and a daily desire to run in the other direction.

  She shouldered her mum’s back door open and then slapped the dead meat onto the table, weary from the journey and the emotional rollercoaster she’d been through all day, with the whole will-she-or-won’t-she marry George Clooney thing. She clicked on the kettle, praying her mother would be too wrapped up in a thrilling final on Countdown to come through and rant about something or other.

  No such luck.

  ‘Where the hell have you been?’ said her mum, bursting into the kitchen and switching the kettle off. ‘You’re late.’

  ‘Late for what?’ Michelle flicked the kettle straight back on again.

  ‘I cannot believe you have forgotten what day it is,’ her mother declared.

  Michelle glanced over and noticed for the first time that her mum was wearing her best blue dress, which if she was trendy would be classed as vintage but on her was just plain out of date. She was also wearing red lipstick, a colour usually only selected for extra special occasions or if Michael Parkinson was on the telly.

  ‘It’s not your birthday until next month, is it?’ said Michelle, racking her brains to recall the significance of the day.

  ‘We discussed this, Michelle. Some time ago.’ Kathleen was busily wiping down worktops that didn’t need wiping. ‘Now I know you’ve been busy with Gina’s wedding and all that, but there really is no excuse for forgetting today of all days.’

  ‘What?’ screeched Michelle, too weary to play guessing games. ‘For crying out loud, what day is it?’

  Her mum threw the dishcloth into the sink and turned to address Michelle, hands on hips.

  ‘Your sister would have been forty today. That’s what day it is,’ she said sternly.

  ‘Oh,’ was all Michelle could say before sitting down with a thud. What with George Clooney and everything, she’d forgotten. Actually, she couldn’t blame George, since she and her mother had discussed Jane’s significant yet non-existent birthday a couple of weeks ago. She had chosen to forget about it, hoping her mother would too.

  ‘Don’t you remember? We said we were all going to visit her grave together. Me and your dad and you and Josie.’

  ‘And do what exactly, sing “Happy Birthday”?’

  Her mum stared back at her defiantly.

  ‘Yes, actually.’

  ‘And who’s going to blow out the candles?’

  ‘I haven’t put any candles on it.’

  ‘You made a cake?’

  ‘Yes. It would have been her fortieth birthday, Michelle. We can eat it on that bench near the lychgate.’

  They continued to stare at each other while Michelle hovered over a variety of possible responses she could give.

  Eventually she settled for, ‘Don’t you think we might all look a bit stupid, singing to a lump of rock and then eating cake?’

  ‘She forgot, didn’t she?’ said Josie, arriving in the kitchen and slamming an empty mug on the side. ‘I told you she would, Gran. Tell her to go home and put on the dress she wore for Ben’s christening. It’s the only one she owns that doesn’t expose too much cleavage for a woman of her age. Then tell her we’ll meet her at the church gate in twenty.’ Josie stalked out of the room without even looking at Michelle. She had refused to speak to her ever since Gina’s wedding.

  ‘Oh, and tell her under no circumstances should she wear any eyeliner,’ she added, reappearing in the doorway. ‘She hasn’t a clue how to put it on.’

  Michelle staggered up the road to the church, feeling awkward and flustered. Josie had failed to give any instruction on what shoes were acceptable to wear with the teal coloured dress, and, given he
r daughter’s fierce demands regarding every other part of her outfit, Michelle was petrified of getting it wrong.

  She had teal shoes that matched with pretty flowers on, but they seemed wrong for this particular party. Black would normally have been safe, but all her black shoes were six-inch spikes which could pass as sexy in the dark, but at six o’clock on a windy September afternoon would make her look like a hooker on her way to work. She also feared sinkage into the soft grass, which could lead to an embarrassing falling over incident she felt she would not be forgiven for. So eventually, with moments to spare, she made a snap decision to wear cowboy boots, as they were the only flat shoes she possessed besides the stinky cutprice trainers that she wore to work.

  With a faint jangle of fake spurs, she approached the cheerfully dressed group standing outside the church.

  ‘You really have no idea, do you?’ said Josie, addressing her directly for the first time in two weeks.

  ‘No, actually, clearly I don’t,’ Michelle replied. ‘I apologise for having no idea what one must wear for one’s dead sister’s fortieth birthday.’

  ‘Or at any other time, as it happens,’ Josie retorted.

  ‘Easy now,’ said Michelle’s dad Ray, looking smart in his Sunday best rather than his usual postman casuals. Michelle knew that Kathleen would have laid his suit out for him and Ray would have put it on without complaint, having spent decades negotiating an easy life with his wife. ‘This is important to your mother, so let’s get on with it, shall we?’ He turned to open the gate, ushered the three ladies through and they trooped silently in single file up the path to the soundtrack of tinkling cowboy spurs.

  Jane’s grave was towards the back of the churchyard, past all the ancient stones which were crumbling from decades of weather and neglect, in the section allocated for the newer crop of deceased. Depressingly, however, she was becoming harder to find, as new stones had sprung up all too frequently during the sixteen years since she’d died. As they rounded the corner of the church to reach the area, Michelle’s mum screeched and dropped the cake box, and the party came to an abrupt halt.

  ‘Mum, what is it?’ asked Michelle, concerned.

  ‘It can’t be, can it?’ Kathleen said shakily, her face white.

  ‘What can’t be?’ Michelle was convinced her mum was about to collapse.

  ‘Looks like she’s seen a ghost,’ said Josie.

  ‘You can’t say that in a churchyard,’ Michelle hissed.

  ‘Why not?’ said Josie. ‘It’s the obvious place to say it, surely?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Michelle.

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ Kathleen murmured.

  ‘Kathleen, what is it?’ Michelle’s dad stepped forward to see what the problem was.

  Kathleen stared at her husband, then gave him the biggest smile he’d seen in a very long time.

  ‘Look who it is!’ She pointed towards Jane’s grave. ‘Look who’s back! It’s a miracle!’

  ‘Kathleen, I think you should sit down for a minute and gather yourself.’ Ray had begun to turn a little pale himself.

  ‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘I’m going to say hello. Especially after all these years.’ She marched off in the direction of Jane’s grave.

  The three who were left behind watched her go.

  ‘This is freaking me out now,’ said Josie.

  ‘This is?’ said Michelle. ‘And you didn’t think a cake was freaky?’

  ‘Well I’ll be damned!’ said Ray suddenly, chuckling. ‘Look who it is!’ He started to follow his wife.

  Michelle and Josie watched Ray walk away in terrified awe and then, for the first time, noticed that Kathleen had her arms around some bloke standing beside Jane’s grave.

  ‘Who the fuck is that?’ said Josie.

  ‘Language,’ Michelle admonished, squinting into the sun to try to work out who the mystery figure was. Ray had reached the man now and was pumping his hand up and down in delighted greeting. The stranger, who seemed to have gatecrashed the weirdest fortieth birthday party ever, had his back to them so they couldn’t see his face.

  The next moment the man turned and waved in their direction. Clearly Michelle’s parents had pointed out that there were two further guests waiting to join the party. Michelle squinted again, desperate to work out who it was.

  ‘Never seen him before in my life,’ said Josie. ‘Perhaps he’s a ghost and we’re all dreaming.’

  Michelle swallowed, feeling an icy chill in her heart. Finally, she had recognised him. She’d not seen him in a very long time and certainly hadn’t expected to see him today.

  ‘Fucking hell,’ she muttered.

  ‘Language,’ admonished Josie.

  It was the longest walk of Michelle’s life, accompanied by the – now very annoying – jangle of cowboy spurs. Eventually they were all crowded around the narrow plot and it all became unavoidable.

  ‘Rob,’ she said with a forced smile. ‘Fancy meeting you here!’

  ‘Just what I said,’ giggled Kathleen. ‘Isn’t it wonderful? See, I told you it was a good idea to come today, didn’t I? If only to see you again,’ she added, clutching onto Rob’s arm as if he would disappear like a ghost at any moment.

  ‘How are you?’ Rob asked Michelle, looking older than his forty years, grey flecks winning the battle with his brown hair and deep frown lines carving a permanently concerned look onto his face. When he smiled at her, however, the old Rob peeked through and she was reminded of his kind eyes and the cute dimples on his cheeks that she used to tease him about mercilessly.

  ‘Oh, I’m fine,’ she said.

  Silence fell.

  Josie stuck her hand out. ‘Well, I’m Josie,’ she said. ‘Since the rest of my family are too rude to introduce us.’

  ‘Josie, love, I’m sorry,’ squealed Kathleen, completely overexcited. ‘Josie, this is Rob. Jane’s boyfriend. Well, ex-boyfriend, I suppose, though you weren’t ex at the time, so I guess . . . oh, never mind. And Rob, this is

  Josie, our Michelle’s daughter.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Rob.

  ‘I can’t believe you’re here,’ said Kathleen in wonder. ‘When we stopped getting your Christmas cards I thought you’d forgotten us. Got married or something.’

  ‘I did get married,’ said Rob.

  ‘Oh,’ said Kathleen, sounding disappointed. ‘To a lovely girl, no doubt, though,’ she continued.

  ‘She was a lovely girl,’ said Rob grimly.

  ‘Oh my God!’ cried Josie. ‘Did she die too?’

  The entire gathering gasped and looked nervously at Rob.

  ‘No, of course not,’ he said quickly. He looked down at the ground but when no-one collected up the silence he looked back up to be met with the sight of four expectant faces. ‘Actually, she had an affair with my boss,’ he muttered. ‘Our divorce has just come through.’

  ‘Oh, Rob, love,’ said Kathleen, putting an arm round his shoulder. ‘You poor thing.’

  ‘So, you looking up your exes, then?’ asked Josie.

  The entire gathering gasped again and turned to stare at Josie.

  ‘Just asking why he’s here,’ she shrugged.

  Everyone turned back to look at Rob expectantly again.

  ‘To be honest, I don’t really know,’ he said eventually. ‘I decided I couldn’t work for my boss any more so I got a job back at the Derby brewery, but being here has brought back so many memories. Plus the fact I turn forty next month . . .’

  ‘I remember,’ said Kathleen. ‘October the fifth.’

  ‘Yes, that’s it. Well remembered. Well, what with that and the divorce and being back in the UK after so many years in America, it’s just made me wonder where my life went.’ He looked down and started gently kicking the edge of the grave. Yet again the Hidderley family left the silence hanging wide open, forcing him to fill it. ‘Anyway, I started thinking about Jane and what happened. How things might have turned out if she hadn’t died.’

 
‘Oh, you poor thing,’ said Kathleen, rubbing his arm so vigorously it must be hurting him.

  ‘So I thought it might help to come here,’ he continued, looking up. ‘Remind myself that at least I have a life to live and a fortieth birthday to celebrate. Not like poor Jane.’ He nodded his head resolutely. ‘I actually have a lot to be thankful for and a lot to look forward to.’

  ‘Of course you do,’ said Kathleen, wiping a tear away.

  ‘I do, I do,’ he said. ‘And you know, your life can just change in an instant. That’s all it takes. One moment and you’re off on an entirely different course. You never know what’s round the corner.’

  How true, thought Michelle. She certainly hadn’t expected to find Rob around this corner. A flock of birds took flight from the silent graveyard, momentarily distracting everyone.

  ‘But look at you,’ said Rob, taking the opportunity to remove the focus away from him and extract his hand from Kathleen’s. ‘You have a grandchild. And Michelle, you’re a mother. How amazing.’

  ‘She’s a blessing,’ said Ray, putting an arm around Josie.

  ‘She really is,’ sighed Kathleen. ‘I don’t know what we would have done after we lost Jane if she hadn’t arrived and brought some joy back into our lives.’

  ‘I’m so glad you found someone and settled down,’ Rob said to Michelle.

  ‘Michelle has brought Josie up all on her own,’ said Ray, moving to put his arm around Michelle. ‘And done a fine job, if you ask me.’

  Josie spluttered something out the corner of her mouth whilst Michelle wished a grave would open up and swallow her.

  ‘We’ve helped a lot, of course,’ Kathleen added. ‘And Josie reminds me so much of Jane. She’s so smart, just like our Jane was.’

  ‘Blimey,’ said Rob. He looked at Michelle. ‘I can’t believe all this has happened since the last time I saw you. I had no idea.’

  Of course you didn’t, she thought. The last time she had seen Rob was just after Jane’s funeral. It was lucky that black was so slimming – the perfect colour to hide the slight swelling of her belly from everyone. She’d been thirteen weeks pregnant and barely used to the idea herself, having only really faced up to her missed periods some four weeks earlier. She could still remember watching those blue lines appear on the pregnancy test as she’d sat alone in the toilets of the Rose & Crown at the end of a long shift in the kitchen. She could barely see straight she was so tired, but she knew she had to find out. She couldn’t put it off any longer. She’d tried hard not to think about the implications before she took the test – it was too complicated – but as the blue lines had appeared and she’d lurched forward to throw up into the toilet, she’d known that complicated was probably the kindest thing most people would have to say about her circumstances.