by Clare Lydon
Kate nudged Vicky with her elbow. “I’m starving — you want some food?”
But Vicky was barely paying attention, resting her hand on Kate’s arm as she studied something intently. Kate followed her line of vision and saw it honed on their mum, who was talking to a tall man in a fawn jacket. Mum was listening to him intently, every now and again smiling, laughing and throwing her head back, enthralled. Kate had watched enough rom-coms to know that hair swishing and elbow touching (their mum was doing that right now) were clear signs of flirtation.
“Is that what I think it is?” But even as she said it, Kate knew the answer. Plus, the flirting wasn’t one-way — for every hair swish and head flick her mum pushed out, Mr Silver Fox was giving her back his best too, with arm rubs, lean-ins and shy smiles.
Vicky nodded, without taking her eyes off the scene. “I believe it is. I believe our mother is at a funeral and is brazenly flirting with that man.” A few moments later, Vicky turned to face the Kate. “Do we know who the hell he is?”
Kate shook her head. “No idea.”
Vicky frowned. “He might be some kind of money-sucking lothario, right now laying the groundwork to swindle Mum out of her house and life savings.”
“Or he could just be a friend of Mike’s, perhaps?”
Vicky ignored Kate. “She’s still at it, look,” she said. “Laughing, flirting and joking at her only brother’s funeral.” Vicky shook her head and sucked through her teeth. “Don’t you dare do that at mine.”
Kate raised both eyebrows at her sister. “Seriously? Miss ‘funerals should be happy occasions rather than sad ones’? You’re going to play that card?”
At that moment, Jack arrived back with two glasses of white wine and a pint of Guinness on a tray, which he placed on a nearby table. Handing out the wine to Kate and Vicky, he narrowed his eyes before taking a sip of his Guinness.
“I know that scowl,” he said. “What did I miss? Who’s in trouble?”
Vicky ignored him and continued to stare.
“Mum.” Kate nodded towards her.
Jack followed Kate’s gaze.
“She’s been talking to that man for ages and flirting with him.” Vicky spat the word ‘flirting’.
Jack grinned. “Good for Maureen! Life in the old dog yet.”
Vicky slugged him in the arm. “It’s only been five years,” she whined, before sticking out her bottom lip. “I want to know who he is.” She looked at Jack. “Will you go and find out?” Her face resembled that of her four-year-old son, Luke.
Jack put his arm around his wife. “Sweetheart, your mum is allowed to talk to whoever she likes. And besides, he might be an old friend — you don’t know everything about her.”
“But I want to know who he is,” Vicky mumbled.
“And you can ask her later. But for now, let’s have a drink, get some food and socialise. Stop obsessing.” Jack took another sip of his beer. “And if your mum is flirting, I say good for her.”
“I do, too,” Kate said.
Vicky pulled away from Jack and glared at them both. “You two are impossible. I’m going to talk to Aunty Viv.” And with that, she flounced off, leaving Jack and Kate grinning at each other.
“Isn’t she adorable when she’s angry?” Jack said.
***
Later that day, back at their mum’s house, Vicky and Kate were dividing up the flowers to give to various friends and family.
“You want this one?” Mum said, holding up a bunch of lilies to Vicky.
Kate could tell Vicky was still sulking, but Mum was either ignoring it or was oblivious. After a lifetime of Vicky’s sulks, her mum had probably learned how to tune them out.
Vicky shrugged. “Sure, I’ll take it. And I’ve got to go soon, the boys need picking up.” Only she didn’t move. Instead, Vicky sighed and turned to Maureen. “So, Mum.”
Maureen turned to her daughter.
“That man you were talking to today — who was he, an old friend?” Vicky really tried to keep the edge out of her voice, but didn’t quite manage it.
There was a definite twinkle in Maureen’s eye as she replied. “Which man?” she asked. “I spoke to a lot of men today. Was it Uncle Derek?”
“I know what Uncle Derek looks like.” Vicky paused. “No, the one I mean had silver hair, beige jacket — you were talking to him for quite a while.” Vicky was staring at their mum and holding her breath.
Kate had to admit she was, too.
Maureen waved a hand through the air. “Oh, him. Yes, I had a lovely chat with him — Lawrence was his name. He’s a colleague of Mike’s, worked at the same place for years. Had so many lovely things to say about your uncle.” Maureen stuttered. “He was a true gentleman.” And then her cheeks coloured crimson and she was rumbled. “I’m actually seeing him again next week. He’s asked me to go with him to see that exhibit at the Tate, and then dinner afterwards. Gave me his card and everything.” Maureen looked down at her kitchen table, then back up.
“So I’m… I’m going. On a date. With Lawrence. What do you think?”
Maureen’s face lit up as she told them the news and Kate couldn’t help but reflect that happiness right back. She risked a sideways glance at Vicky, but couldn’t quite make out her response. Kate walked around the table and embraced her mum in a tight hug, feeling her warmth and familiar smell as she did so.
“I think that’s brilliant, Mum — I really do. Pulling at a funeral is quite some feat.” Kate smiled as she stepped back.
Maureen reached up and kissed Kate on the cheek, brushing a thumb across the spot straight afterwards as she always did.
They both turned to Vicky, whose face was blank, her eyes giving nothing away.
“And what do you think?” Maureen asked finally, tired of waiting for a response.
Kate could see Vicky weighing up her options, but she wasn’t sure which one her sister was going to plump for.
They didn’t have to wait long.
“Terrific.” Vicky’s voice was flat, her words hollow. She whipped her head round, picked up the nearest bunch of flowers and walked round to kiss her mum, then Kate. “Gotta dash. Say bye to Viv and Derek for me.”
And with that, Vicky and her red dress walked out of the kitchen. Moments later, Kate and her mum heard the front door slam.
Maureen gave an audible sigh.
Kate put an arm around her. “I wouldn’t worry — Vicky’s not good with change, she needs time to process.” She squeezed her mum’s shoulder and kissed the top of her head.
“I’m not marrying him,” Maureen replied. “I’m just going on a date.” She shook her head. “She’s always been a drama queen, that one.”
“True enough.”
“And it wasn’t what I expected to happen today. I mean, who gets a date at a funeral?” Maureen laughed as she said it. “But Mike’s death has made me think that it might be nice to find someone to share things with. Is that so bad?”
Kate shook her head. “No, it’s not bad at all.”
13
Tuesday morning and Dawn met Kate at the coffee machine.
“Can you believe we drink this stuff everyday? I dread to think what it’s doing to our insides.”
“Best not to think about it,” Kate said.
“Can you follow me for a chat?” Dawn didn’t wait for an answer. She was wearing a smart blue dress today with blue heels, looking every bit the publisher rather than an editor. She waited for Kate to come through the meeting room door, before shutting it and sitting down in one of the chairs.
“Have you got a job interview or something?” Kate said.
Dawn gave her a puzzled look.
“The dress, the make-up.” Kate wafted her hand up and down in front of Dawn’s body.
“Oh, that.” Dawn rolled her eyes. “Had a breakfast meeting this morning, so I thought I’d wow them. You know what marketing people are like.”
“And did it work?”
“I think it did. We’v
e got some fabulous cover gifts all signed, so ‘operation dress’ was a success.” Dawn sat back.
Kate gave her a high five. “Good work.”
“Thanks.” Dawn paused. “But anyway, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Kate sat up in her chair.
“I spoke to Ben yesterday about putting the lesbian runners on the cover. I explained the feeling in the team, that we’d got a potential group in mind and that things have moved on since they tried it last time, which they have.”
“And?” Kate’s interest was piqued.
“And he agreed. So long as we partner it with something strong to appeal to our core readers, too — and believe me, the cover gift I’ve just secured is just that. So it’s all systems go. I’ll tell Hannah to get in touch with her mate and you can both go and flirt with the runners. Aren’t I lovely to you?” Dawn sat back, grinning some more.
Kate chuckled. “You are the loveliest boss in the world. Shall we go and tell the troops?”
They both got up. “After you,” Dawn said, rolling her hand in a royal wave.
14
Wednesday morning. Hump day. Meg was slouched behind the counter in the florist’s kneading her temples in a bid to stave off an impending headache. In truth, the headache had been lingering for around a year, but at least she had the shop as her refuge from her home life, her place to get some peace and boost her sanity levels.
Not that she’d had a whole lot of peace today. Outside, the September weather was doing its usual unseasonal thing, but the sun searing the pavements was doing wonders for walk-in trade. People always bought more flowers in the sunshine; it was just the way of the world.
“You want a cup of tea?” Meg’s mum appeared from the back of the shop where she’d spent the morning poring over spreadsheets and ordering paper and ribbon. Olivia’s cream blouse clung to her slender frame perfectly and she had a spring in her step, which fairly represented her attitude towards life: grab it, live it. And that attitude had only increased after her dicing with the grim reaper.
“Go on, then. Couple of those biscuits wouldn’t go amiss either,” Meg said, through a yawn. She was still at a loss as to quite how her mum qualified as a heart attack sufferer — she was slim, walked everywhere and did yoga twice a week. But a heart attack she’d had.
The doctors had informed them it was a hereditary heart defect, which had filled her and Jamie with no end of joy. Still, it was apparently controllable with some lifestyle changes and some clever white pills. Olivia took them grudgingly. Plus, she only worked two to three days a week now, and Meg was looking forward to the time when Olivia gave it up altogether — for Olivia’s health and Meg’s sanity. It wasn’t that she didn’t like working with her mum — but, having run the show in her mum’s absence, allowing her back was proving more painful than Meg had imagined.
A few minutes later, Olivia walked back through carrying two mugs of tea. She put them down on the counter, then went to retrieve the biscuits.
“So any big plans for the weekend?” Olivia’s eyelids were painted with smoky colours, her favourite for autumn. Whereas Meg’s make-up routine had been stuck at the same level for a fair few years now, her mum was into seasonal colours and could often be seen flicking the pages of Cosmopolitan to get the latest beauty tips.
Meg shook her head. “Nothing yet. I’m doing a run on Saturday and seeing Nathan in the evening, but apart from that, no.” She bit into her custard cream and it took her right back to her childhood. Summers in the back garden playing Swingball with her brother Jamie, and splashing about in the paddling pool. Funny how tastes and smells could evoke so much emotion — Meg could almost taste the summer air, even now.
“And how is wonder boy?”
Meg smiled at her mum’s nickname for her best friend. “He’s good, you know Nathan. Nothing phases him, nothing changes. He wants to drag me out into town at the weekend, but I’m not sure I’m up for it.” Meg paused. “But Nathan says we both need an injection of excitement in our lives, so he’s determined.”
Olivia took a sip of her tea. “I’m with Nathan on this one. And don’t even get me started on the fact you’re still living with Tanya The Terrible.”
“Mum…”
“I’ve been very good at not saying anything lately, haven’t I?”
Meg nodded her head slowly. She had to admit her mum had known when to shut up of late when it came to Tanya, which was very unlike her. Olivia was usually one to get her opinions heard. From being a daily record, she was now down to once a week with her rant, perhaps once a fortnight.
“But really, that is one situation you need to sort out. Put the house on the market and move on with your life. She’s going to have to accept you’re over eventually.” Olivia’s face hardened at the mention of her daughter’s ex.
“Oh, she’s accepted it alright, she’s got plenty of new friends and admirers.” Meg couldn’t stop the bitterness creeping into her voice.
“You see!” Olivia said. “She’s over it, she’s happy as a lark living the life she wants — and what are you doing? Getting in late, avoiding her, shuffling up to your room and then spending all the hours here.”
Meg stared at the floor, not daring to look up into her mother’s eyes, because she knew what look would greet her. Concern. Pity. Disappointment. And they were the things she really couldn’t bear. And it was at times like this Meg wished she worked in a normal workplace and didn’t have to listen to her mother during the day. And of course, the worse thing about the whole sorry debacle was that her mum was 100 per cent correct.
“I know, you don’t have to keep telling me.” Meg’s cheeks were burning now. “And stop getting so worked up — it’s not good for your heart.”
“Don’t worry about my damn heart!” Olivia said.
“But I do worry.” Meg twisted her hands together.
There was silence for a couple of moments.
Then Olivia’s shoulders dropped and she sagged slightly. “Okay, you’re allowed to worry about my heart, but I’m also allowed to worry about what you’re doing with your life. So I’m saying this as your mother but also as your friend. Put the house on the market. Move in with me or Jamie or Nathan for a bit — whoever you like. But just get out of there, get your money and start again. It’s time.”
Meg looked up at her mum and knew she was right. She would. She would make the decision and move out. And whatever Tanya said, whatever obstacles she threw in her way, she would deal with them. A brief image of a new flat with brand new stainless steel appliances popped into Meg’s head and she allowed herself a fleeting smile, closely followed by a puzzled look. Because leaning up against the cooker, with a smile on her face, was Kate.
Interesting.
15
“Any news, Hannah?” Dawn was standing with a biro poised between her thumb and index finger.
Hannah swivelled in her chair. “For?”
“Any of it - the interviews, the runners, the baby feature?”
Hannah nodded. “The Olympian is in…”
“Yes!” Dawn said, emphasising her delight with a fist pump.
“…and we’re getting some traction with the baby stuff. We’ve got a few leads on people to chase up with it. And the Christmas feature is coming along really well. Pippa Gould has agreed to be featured — and you might want to sit down.” Hannah gestured for Dawn to take the empty chair beside her.
Dawn did as she was told. “I’ve gone all tingly. Is it Carrie Branch?”
Hannah laughed. “Now I’m really going to disappoint you because, strangely enough, Carrie Branch is not chomping at the bit to share her fitness secrets with us.”
“Shame, she’d be good.”
Kate saved her current open spread and swung round into the conversation.
“No promises yet and nothing definite,” Hannah said. “But I’ve been speaking to her PR today and we might be able to get some fitness tips and tricks from Princess Emily.” Hannah s
at back in her chair, a smile so big slapped across her face that Kate thought it might fall off.
“Princess Emily!?” Dawn’s excitability levels were legendary at the best of times, but Kate thought she might be about to blow a gasket. Her mouth had dropped wide open and now she began spinning on her chair like a sugar-crazed five year old.
“I love it! Yoga confessions of a royal. Just think of the front-cover splash we can put on that one.” Dawn finished spinning, had the good grace to look a bit dizzy and then snapped her fingers in front of Hannah. “But hang on — is she doing interviews again? She’s been underground for a very long time.”
“Perhaps that’s her fitness routine — stay underground where there are no shops to buy chocolate?” Kate said.
Hannah laughed. “She hasn’t done a lot of press recently, but she looks amazing and she attributes it all to her new regime — and she’s happy to share it. Plus, she’s got a new book coming out.” The features editor sat back in her chair, a satisfied smile on her face.
“Good work, really good,” Dawn told Hannah. “And the running club feature’s all set?”
Hannah nodded again. “Yup. Me and Kate are going over there on Monday night. See if we can’t snag a fit runner for our esteemed art editor.” Hannah moved back in her chair, just out of Kate’s immediate range.
“You two are incorrigible. We’re going to turn up, do our work and go home. End of.” Kate shot them both a stern look, which Dawn and Hannah ignored.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Dawn placed both hands on her trim thighs and pushed herself upright with a groan. “Great work, team! Now the next step of our plan will obviously be to put royalty next to a bunch of lesbians on the front cover, and then my work here is done.”
