My Summer of Magic Moments

by Caroline Roberts

  ‘Aw, thank you, Andrea. That’s so lovely. What a great welcome back. Mind you, I’ve only been away three weeks.’

  ‘I know, I know. But I missed you … and these guys missed you too.’ There were nods and smiles from all around the open-plan office.

  Claire mouthed a ‘thank you’ across the room and made a thumbs-up sign.

  She settled back into her work contentedly that week. It was good to be amongst friends and colleagues again, doing research, taking interviews over the phone or going out and about in person. She loved not only meeting different people, telling their stories, but also the writing, the editing, the buzz and sometimes panic of the deadline, the excitement of seeing her article in print and online. Best of all, the first ‘Magic Moments’ article was getting some great feedback, thank heavens. She’d already had several emails in, mostly positive, and the newspaper Facebook page had run a link to the website version of her article and had received over twenty comments so far. ‘Loved it! Really cheered me up and made me think of what’s important in life.’ ‘The best things in life really are free. A laugh, a smile, a hug, a friend. Thanks Claire for reminding us all of this.’ And another: ‘My magical place is at my family’s favourite picnic spot – we call it the brick yard but it’s the most beautiful place in the world – next to a babbling brook, toes dipped in the freezing water, the smell of wild garlic in the air mixing with wood smoke and the sounds of laughter – soul at rest, imagination running wild.’ There were several more that made her smile – and one downer: ‘Found this so boring! My magic moment would be winning the lottery – and I’d blow it all on a huge party, holidays, a yacht, and a mansion.’ She wondered if the guy responding had ever read her cancer blog; none of that would be much help to him if he got it, unless he was paying for hotel-style accommodation in a private hospital wing with a fancy menu for meals. She scolded herself for being a misery. But then, she bantered back to herself – it might be harsh, but it was true.

  As the weeks passed, the rhythm of her working days pulled her back to a new normality. This was it. Life on her own, post-cancer. The bustle of the morning bus commute into the city centre (it was never worth taking the car; parking cost a small fortune). Time spent with friends and family after work or at the weekends, chatting over tea, cake or a glass of wine – all these things felt lovely. And she was slowly getting used to the quiet times in the house by herself. Somehow it had been easier, quite pleasant, actually, when she’d been away on her own by the sea, but here, in a house bought for two, it didn’t quite work in the same way. Oh well, it would be sold soon enough.

  One weekend she decided to bake herself some bread, then realized she still had Lynda’s recipe book. She’d have to post it back – after copying out her favourite recipes. Or, maybe, just maybe, she could nip back up to Bamburgh for a day trip. That might be nice. It wasn’t that far – about an hour in the car – but she felt she needed to find her feet a bit better back in Newcastle first. It was a little too raw, the memories of that break still tugging at her emotions in a strange way. She seemed to be missing her cottage a little too much, and heading back any time soon wouldn’t help matters.

  Coffee-break time. Claire was making the hot drinks for the colleagues in her desk zone. The kettle bubbled to a boil as she scooped out Nescafé granules into the mugs. A rather grubby collection overall, she noted – some of them looked like they’d been hanging around since the 70s. Except for Andrea’s, which was bright pink and had Journalist – will work for cupcakes written on it. Claire’s mug said Keep Calm, I’m a Journalist in white on a plain red background. Paul had bought it for her a couple of Christmases ago. She’d never really liked it that much, to be honest. She might go and buy herself a pretty Cath Kidston one.

  ‘Coffee, one sugar, dash of milk.’ Andrea appeared in the small kitchen behind her.

  ‘I know that much – I’ve been making you coffee for years.’

  ‘I know. Just trying to sneak five minutes away from my desk and Dragon Julia’s deadline. It’s creative space time. If I read that same article over once more, I swear my head will explode.’ She grinned. ‘Anyway, I’ve been planning. You need a night out.’

  ‘I do?’

  ‘Yes, absolutely. Now you’re back and fit and well, it’s time to hit the town like we used to. You, me and the girls. What do you say?’

  ‘Ah, I’m not so sure … I haven’t been out like that in so long. I’d feel ancient.’

  ‘Na-dah, I’m not buying that. I miss my bestie. And you are in serious need of a night out, girl. Tonic for the soul.’

  ‘But I can’t do all that seven or eight cocktails in a go any more. My body’s been through enough.’

  ‘Understood. So, you can have a couple of lovely glasses of wine, and when we hit the mojitos, you can have some of those great mocktails they do. Problem solved. And I’m not thinking of clubbing as such, even I feel a bit old for that now. Just a few really nice cocktail bars and we can have a dance down at Bella’s Bar too. It’ll be great. I’ll even find a chair and a knee-blanket for you, if you’d like.’

  Claire swiped at her friend with a tea towel. It was beginning to sound quite appealing. And it wasn’t the knee-blanket that had swung it.

  ‘We could even invite Gary from the Sports section …’

  ‘Now that’s taking things too far.’

  Andrea was convinced that Gary from Sports had a crush on Claire and was determined to matchmake. He seemed a nice enough chap, to be fair, but he wasn’t someone Claire had ever imagined a date with. And working relationships? Not a good thing.

  ‘I’ll cancel on you if you ask him. You said a girls’ night.’

  ‘So that means you’re up for it, then. Great.’

  ‘Okay. Yes. Take me out.’ She laughed. She really was coming back to life.

  ‘You are going to have so much fun!’

  Claire wasn’t quite sure if that was a promise or a threat, but she was smiling as she handed the mug of coffee over.

  13

  Cocktails, high heels and dancing on the tables

  Time to drink champagne and dance on the tables.

  Well, it wasn’t quite champagne yet. But the bottle of chilled rosé they were sharing between them, as their group of five sat outside the Pitcher & Piano bar down on the quayside, was going down rather well. The coloured lights looked so pretty as they shifted hues on the Millennium Bridge joining the Newcastle and Gateshead sides of the River Tyne. The wonderful Baltic Gallery building and the snail-shaped silver dome of the Sage were just across the river, and they also had a view down to the iconic Tyne Bridge, with the smaller Swing Bridge just along from it. The arc of the river. The rippling reflections of evening sky and bold orange street lights. What could be better.

  Andrea had been right. It was about time she came out and let her hair down, at least what hair had regrown so far! This was a nice way to start – sitting outside on a warm, sultry evening – which you could never quite count on up in the North East – chatting away with her friends. Along with Andrea, Jo and Emma from work was her close friend Lou, who’d been with her through thick and thin since Sixth Form. This team had been her support group as well as her lovely family, through the ups and downs of her cancer treatment, having been good friends before that time. They were here for her now, too. The best kind of therapy.

  ‘Tell me more about this seaside cottage of yours,’ Emma said.

  ‘Yes, it was like you’d sneaked off to be a hermit for a while,’ Lou added.

  ‘Hah, it was pretty ramshackle to say the least. We’re not talking glamorous residence or even shabby chic.’

  They laughed.

  ‘But you know what, I really loved it. Just waking up to that view …’ Damn, why had she started talking about that? Now she’d conjured up the derobing of Ed. She really didn’t want to mention him, so she continued, ‘Watching the sun rising over the sea. And then the beach. It would be empty, just me and the view, and then it wo
uld gradually start filling with dog walkers and families. You could people-watch to your heart’s content.’

  ‘Nothing like the view from Café 9, I bet.’ Andrea was thinking about their butt-rating sessions.

  Hah, if only she knew!

  ‘Dog walkers, that sounds exciting. Weren’t there any handsome life guards or anything?’ Emma chipped in.

  ‘Nope, sorry to disappoint. It’s not that kind of beach. Just wide stretches of unmanned sand.’

  ‘What about Hot Guy next door?’ Andrea blurted out.

  Claire grimaced. She should have known Andrea would do this. She’d been trying so hard not to mention him, knowing they’d be onto this snippet of information like a flock of vultures.

  ‘Ah, now that sounds more interesting.’

  ‘Tell all.’

  Bugger. ‘Not much to tell, I’m afraid, ladies.’

  ‘Ah, come on, you’ve got to give us more than that,’ Lou coaxed.

  ‘Okay … yes he was quite good-looking.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘How old? Hair colour? Physique?’

  ‘Is this twenty questions or what?’

  ‘We need details, Claire.’

  ‘Thirtyish. Dark blond. Broad shoulders, kind of a swimmer’s torso, I suppose.’

  ‘Fit then.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose he was,’ she admitted. ‘And nothing happened.’

  ‘Shame. Not even a kiss?’

  Claire felt herself heating up. Damn – the telltale red blush would be creeping over her cheeks for sure.

  ‘Hah – I knew it,’ Andrea ploughed in. ‘I knew you’d had a sneaky kiss. Well, good for you. But stop guarding these secrets … we need full information, Miss Maxwell. We’re your friends, and we have a right to know these things.’

  They all laughed.

  ‘Okay, well that’s enough about my very limited love life. What’s happening with you lot?’

  ‘I’m married with kids,’ said Jo. ‘Not much love life going on at all.’ She laughed.

  ‘Ah, don’t spoil it, we want to believe you’re still all passionate and loved-up.’

  Jo was the only one with a family in their group. ‘Too tired most of the time. It’s been so good to have a night off, I have to confess. Not that I don’t adore them, of course.’

  ‘Things are looking up for me,’ Lou said shyly.

  ‘Hey, you never said. New man on the scene?’ Claire was intrigued.

  ‘Yep.’ A grin spread across her pretty face. ‘As of last month. We met at the gym, believe it or not, over the water cooler. He has the most gorgeous blue eyes.’

  ‘So did Hannibal Lecter,’ Andrea quipped.

  ‘Shut up, you. He’s really nice. Works for an engineering company.’

  ‘So,’ Jo asked, ‘have you had a date yet?’

  ‘Yep. Three, in fact. It’s going really well.’

  ‘You dark horse.’ Claire smiled.

  ‘I just wanted to see how it was going before I told anyone.’

  ‘Sounds like it’s going more than well. Bloody great, in fact,’ said Jo.

  ‘Good for you, Lou,’ Andrea commented.

  They all knew Lou had had her share of man troubles in the past. Her engagement had been called off when her fiancé had made a bid for freedom, setting off on his own for a world tour just a few months before the wedding date. It was lovely to hear her sounding happy again.

  ‘And lovely ladies, you will be pleased to know that life with Danny is still a-maz-ing. Footballers’ thighs really are to be recommended.’

  ‘I suppose he’s got good pace on the ball, too,’ Claire added, dead-pan.

  Andrea nearly choked on her wine and the five of them creased into a heap of giggles.

  ‘I think it’s time to move on to the next venue, ladies,’ Andrea said when she’d recovered. ‘Anyone ready for a boogie? Who’s up for Bella’s Bar?’

  They wandered along the quayside, linking arms, slightly wobbly in their stilettos. Blame it on the shoes, not the booze! They ordered a round of cocktails (and a mocktail for Claire) at the bar, then got into conversation with a group of cute guys who were on a work’s night out. And then they danced. And danced. At one point, Andrea got up on the table, though the barman quickly came across and got her down, probably worried about a health and safety incident.

  Now past one a.m., they were sitting chatting in a booth over a final nightcap. Claire was on the fizzy water by now.

  ‘So what’s on for everyone next, then? What are our plans, our schemes and dreams for the coming few months?’ Andrea had posed the question.

  ‘To achieve more than four hours’ sleep in one stretch,’ Jo ventured with a wry smile.

  ‘See how it goes with my water-cooler man. And I’d love to get a promotion at work. I’ve been covering for a colleague who’s been on sick leave, being head of department. And I’ve just heard she might not be coming back. I’ve really enjoyed it, and I seem to have done okay. It would be great if I could get the role.’

  ‘That would be brilliant, Lou. Best of luck. And keep us posted – on man and job!’ Claire gave her a hug as they sat side-by-side.

  ‘What about you, Claire?’

  ‘I want to do well at work, too. The “Magic Moments” column seems to be gathering momentum. And I’ll be getting my own place soon, so that’ll be exciting. A new page. But I feel like I want to do something else, something new. Even if it’s a hobby.’ She paused, gathering her thoughts. ‘The cancer, the treatment, took all my energy and time. It sounds weird, but it kept me busy, filled my life somehow, the routine of chemo, hospitals. Maybe I could do something that links with that. I feel like I want to give something back, find a way to help people. All those other people facing it now. Something for charity, maybe.’ It was becoming clearer in her mind as she talked.

  ‘Like a Race for Life or something,’ Emma suggested.

  ‘That’s it! That’s perfect. I could raise money for Cancer Research and get fitter in the process.’

  ‘I’ll do it with you,’ Lou said. ‘I like going to the gym anyhow. And I’d like to try proper running.’

  ‘Count me in too,’ Andrea added, much to Claire’s surprise. Andrea hated physical exercise – except for anything that took place in the bedroom, that is.

  ‘Is that just the cocktails talking?’ Claire questioned as her eyebrows shot up.

  ‘Now don’t give me that look. I’m really up for it. After all you’ve been through, and all those other people. It won’t hurt me to run about for half an hour or so.’ She made it sound easy.

  ‘So you’ll be up for a training run tomorrow morning, then?’

  It was Andrea’s turn to raise an eyebrow. ‘Can we skip to Sunday?’ she pleaded, thoughts of her impending hangover in mind, no doubt.

  ‘Okay, I’ll grant you that. Right, we’ll meet at mine at ten on Sunday morning for our first mile.’

  ‘Yep. We’re on,’ Andrea agreed, adding, ‘God, you’re going to be such a slave-driver, Claire. I can see it now.’

  ‘That’s fine,’ said Lou.

  ‘And we’ll support on the day,’ Emma and Jo said, smiling. Jo added, ‘In fact, I’ll give you twenty quid right now to start the fundraising.’

  ‘You don’t have to do that yet.’

  ‘I’d like to. And then there’s no backing out for you lot. You’ll have to sign up tomorrow … including you, Andrea. It’ll be worth twenty quid to see you run.’

  They laughed, except for Andrea, who pulled a face at her workmate.

  ‘What are you going to call yourselves? You’ll need a team name.’

  ‘Hmm, suppose we will.’

  Claire looked up at the neon sign above the bar just at that moment. ‘Bella’s Babes has a nice ring to it.’

  ‘Yes, Bella’s Babes it is!’

  They chinked their glasses together. So, it was a night of cocktails, champagne, dancing on the tables and the newly founded Bella’s Babes were all systems go for their first chari
ty run.

  14

  ‘Don’t miss a single sparkly moment.’

  Anonymous

  ‘Oh my God, I’m going to die,’ Andrea gasped.

  They had reached half a mile on their first jog and Andrea was clinging onto a brick wall beside the pavement for a breather. Just a breath, in fact, would be good. Claire’s chest was feeling tight and she’d been glad of a reason to stop, and although Lou hadn’t complained, she was standing there looking a bit pale too. This was harder than any of them had bargained for.

  ‘How come I can walk for miles, but when I run it’s like my lungs are being compressed and my leg muscles turn to lead?’ Claire questioned.

  ‘No idea.’ Andrea pulled a face.

  ‘Shall we walk a bit, at least keep moving?’ said Lou, ever sensible.

  ‘That’s probably a good idea,’ Claire agreed.

  Andrea looked as though she wanted to slide down onto the pavement whether or not it had dog wee or spat-out chewing gum on it. ‘Okay,’ she managed bravely, peeling her fingers away from her support.

  They walked on, heading for the open common land where the cattle grazed, believe it or not, right in the middle of the city.

  ‘Watch out for the cows,’ Andrea commented, ‘or we might have to run again, and I honestly don’t think I could do it. I’d just be trampled over by hooves and have to surrender. That wouldn’t do the charity cause any good at all, would it?’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Lou grinned. ‘They see joggers and walkers all the time round here. I don’t think they’re that bothered to be honest.’

  ‘Weird why they’re here, isn’t it?’ Andrea remarked.

  ‘Must be some kind of ancient right over the land. The right to graze cattle in the middle of Newcastle City,’ Lou mused.

  ‘Right, come on then, girls.’ Claire tried to rally Bella’s Babes. ‘It’s just half a mile back. We’ll walk fast, then try a little jog at the end.’

  ‘Aaagh, I knew you’d be a slave driver, Claire Maxwell.’

  ‘No pain, no gain! Just imagine all the extra stamina you’ll have for your sexual athletics with Danny once you’re fit!’