The Story of Our Life

by Shari Low

  His eyes widened as his facial features rearranged from worry to delight.

  ‘Really? Are you sure? Because I’d totally understand. I know it’s a lot.’

  ‘I’m absolutely sure. I think… I think it’s great.’ And weirdly, that wasn’t even a sugar-coated truth.

  His shoulders visibly lifted with relief. Then the bottle went down and he leaned over the breakfast bar and took my chin in his hand, before kissing me with cold beer lips. The sensation made me shudder with an emotion I couldn’t identify. It was more than happy. Beyond excited. Overjoyed. Totally and utterly lost in the moment and in whatever this effect was that he had on me.

  Did I mention turned on? Absolutely, definitely and utterly turned on.

  He was completely off his stool now, and without breaking the lip seal, he’d managed to work his way around to my side of the counter.

  If it was a movie, he’d sweep everything off the worktop with one dramatic flourish of his hand before effortlessly lifting me up and laying me across the granite surface. Fortunately for the two beer bottles, the bottle-opener, the Post-it pad, the sandwich toaster and his spinal column, he didn’t. Instead, he pulled me up to a standing position as his hands found my neck again, then my hair, then my face, tracing a line down each cheek in the slowest, sexiest movement.

  ‘I think you’re incredible,’ he said softly, ending the declaration with another kiss.

  ‘Thank you. I try,’ I said, but there was no disguising the fact that my voice was thick with something more than a flippant joke. Our hips pressed together and I could feel the heat as I slipped my arms under his T-shirt and gently stroked his lower back, making him groan.

  Without even being fully cognizant of what I was doing, I pushed his T-shirt higher, until he broke off to pull it over his head. His shoulders were wide, but not over-muscled, his torso lean and clearly no stranger to a sit-up.

  He leaned down to kiss me again. ‘Are you sure?’

  I knew what he was asking. My hand on the buckle of the belt of his jeans, flicking the leather loose, gave him the answer, but I confirmed it just in case there was any dubiety. ‘Absolutely,’ I murmured.

  There was another involuntary groan as his lips met mine again, before his hand reached around and peeled the zip down on my dress, letting it fall to the floor I said a silent prayer of thanks for the shaved legs and the matching underwear. Perhaps my subliminal intentions had been on the Lulu side of raunchy after all.

  Now he lifted me up and sat on the edge of the worktop, as his head nestled into my neck. More kisses, this time working a trail down from my ear, to my throat, along one shoulder and then the other, before crossing my clavicle and moving towards the lace of my bra.

  I felt a movement in the middle of my spine and suddenly my bra popped open. As he leaned back to remove it, I saw that he was laughing again.

  ‘I swear to God I’ve never managed that first time before!’ he told me. Kiss. Then another.

  ‘Yeah, sure. Tell the truth. You were up all night practising.’

  I didn’t hear his answer because he was kissing me again.

  This was intoxicating, sexy, funny… perfect.

  Suddenly, I had a flash of anxiety as I heard Lulu’s words replaying in my mind.

  So this was it. I was about to find out if I’d have to change my number and cross the road when I saw him coming. And I really, really hoped not.

  7

  2015

  Shauna and the Truth About Lulu

  ‘Are you okay? You seem a little… distracted. Is anything wrong?’ Rosie asked, as we stopped the car.

  ‘You mean, apart from the fact that we’re about to stage some kind of messed up intervention on our friend?’ I asked wearily, as I turned off the ignition.

  ‘Yeah, apart from that,’ Rosie answered, with a weak smile.

  I could see she was dreading this, probably even more than I was. Lulu and Dan were now a couple of weeks into their separation, and on the one hand, their marriage problems were none of our business. On the other hand, Dan had called me in a panic – just as I was serving up a retirement lunch that consisted of a seafood buffet for thirty, in honour of the fact that the banking chief was giving it all up to go sailing round the Caribbean with a childhood sweetheart he’d reconnected with on Facebook – to tell me that Lulu had gone berserk because he’d been to see the lawyer that morning.

  She’d made an unannounced visit to the office to pick up some petty cash, checked his online diary and realized he wasn’t there because he had a 12 o’clock with Macalister & Johnston Solicitors. It didn’t go down well. According to Dan, on his return to work, he was greeted with a furious Lulu, a screaming match had ensued and she’d screeched off with the warning that she was going to take him for everything he had.

  He’d immediately mobilized the equivalent of a friendship SWAT team to his former marital residence in the hope of calming her down and checking she was ok. He didn’t dare go himself in case he ended up being one of those chalk outlines on the floor in an episode of CSI.

  I’d left the lunch as soon as I could, called in on Rosie at the café, coerced her into joining me, and we’d headed straight over to Lulu’s house.

  ‘Is she in?’ Rosie asked, stretching to see if Lulu’s red BMW was parked anywhere on the street.

  I gestured up ahead. ‘There’s her car, so I’m guessing she is. Do you want her to be out?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Rosie answered honestly. ‘I’m not designed for conflict. I’m designed for muffins. And kittens. And reruns of Calamity Jane.’

  My mobile phone rang and I considered ignoring it until Dan’s name flashed up.

  Bugger. ‘Hey…’

  ‘Are you there yet? Is she okay?’

  ‘We’ve just arrived outside the house and the car’s here.’

  ‘Oh thank God. I had visions of her crashing and it would have been on my conscience forever. I’m sorry to involve you in all this, Shauna, but you’re the only one she has ever listened to.’

  ‘It’s fine.’ It really wasn’t. His obvious concern made me second-guess his earlier move. ‘Dan, it’s none of my business… But does this mean you’re not going ahead with the divorce?’

  There was a moment of silent deliberation at his end, then, ‘I’m still divorcing her.’ Very definite. Then immediately, ‘I don’t know.’ Less certain. So there was hope.

  ‘Dan, maybe this will give her the shake-up she needs, snap her to her senses. If she agrees to talk, will you at least hear what she has to say?’ I was floundering, but I had to try. ‘I’m sure she’ll want to.’ I desperately injected some confidence into my voice and hoped he bought it. In reality, I had no idea what Lulu wanted. She hadn’t returned my calls or any other attempts to contact her this week, other than a couple of vague texts promising to ‘talk when ready’ and saying she ‘just needed space to think’.

  She was clearly still in Soap Dialogue Central.

  ‘Look, I’ll call you later and let you know how this goes,’ I promised Dan .

  ‘Thanks Shauna. I owe you.’ Yes, he did.

  I disconnected the call and checked my watch again. I didn’t have time for this. I really didn’t. I had to collect Beth at four o’clock and it was already close to three. I fired off a text to Colm, asking him to do it. His reply was immediate.

  Can’t. Doc apt at 4.

  Bugger, how could I have forgotten? I really was a crap wife sometimes. I rested my forehead on the steering wheel.

  ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ Rosie asked again.

  I nodded without lifting my head. ‘Yep, just haven’t had time to eat today so I’m hungry and tired.’ I didn’t add, “And pissed off being in a SWAT team”, but I admit I was thinking it. Sleep. I just needed to sleep. The four hours I’d managed last night, between catering a birthday party in Ham and getting up at 5 a.m. to get started on today’s lunch, just weren’t cutting it.

  ‘Right, I’ve got forty-five minutes before I
need to go pick up Beth. So… In, out, persuade Lulu to try to save her marriage,’ I said, in the manner of a general going into battle. I just wished it didn’t feel like a suicide mission.

  ‘I’m right behind you,’ she said, her apprehension muffled by the noise of her car door slamming. Obviously we weren’t using stealth as a tactic.

  First there, I rang the doorbell and waited a few moments. No answer. Damn. I rang again. Still no answer. My internal profanity continued, now edged with panic. Why wasn’t she answering the door? Oh bugger, was she okay? Was she drunk? Had she fallen? I chided myself for being ridiculous. She must be in the bath. No, Lulu hated baths. The shower. Yep, that was it.

  ‘What shall we do?’ Rosie asked.

  I was trying to work out how to get round the back of the terrace when the door finally opened and there was Lulu, in a cream cashmere dressing gown, her hair still wet. So I’d been right about the shower.

  ‘We just came over to check on you, make sure you’re okay.’

  Her chin jutted up defiantly. ‘I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be? Just because that dick wants a divorce?’

  And there it was again. Lulu’s inherent character idiosyncrasy – no matter how you’re feeling, meet attack with attack. It had taken me years to realize that underneath that shell of pure venom, she was sometimes scared, sometimes hurt, sometimes confused. But vulnerability wasn’t in her DNA – not when she could come out fighting. If ever someone was a product of her childhood, it was Lulu. But that conversation was for another day.

  ‘Yep, that. And because you’re not returning your calls. Anyway I really need to pee and yours was the closest house.’

  It was a ploy, I admit it. I’d been standing on the doorstep too long and it was starting to rain. It was clear she wasn’t inviting us in and I hadn’t come here just to be fobbed off by Lulu in battle mode.

  Yet still, she hesitated.

  ‘Lulu, I need to use the loo,’ I repeated. Reluctantly, she stood to one side to let us in. I passed her and headed for the cloakroom toilet, washed my hands to make my alibi credible, then headed through to the kitchen, where she and Rosie were already sitting at the table. Without asking, I started making a pot of coffee. It was normal practice, with all of us treating each other’s homes like our own, yet I saw Lulu flinch. Why? The only explanation was that she was upset that I’d let Dan stay at our house and was taking it personally. It wouldn’t be out of character for her to see it as a betrayal.

  As I flicked the coffee machine on, I decided to go for bold openness.

  ‘Are you pissed off that Dan is bunking at our house?’

  She shrugged. ‘No. Why would I be? At least it means he’s not here.’

  On one level that made sense, but I wasn’t convinced. Something was off about the way she was acting.

  ‘Come on, Lu, enough.’

  Her only response was an eye roll.

  ‘So is it the architect? The one you met when you were planning the extension?’ I asked, continuing the policy of upfront confrontation.

  Rosie’s eyes widened and I realized this was news to her. Sometimes that happened. The unfortunate dynamic of having three in a friendship group was that occasionally you forgot to fill the third person in on a one-to-one discussion. I only knew about him because I’d come by one day when he was here with a set of blueprints and sensed a connection between them that went further than casual flirting. I asked, Lulu denied it, we both knew she was lying, I chose not to press the issue. However, that was before her husband was living in my converted garage and pulling me out of work situations to handle his emergencies. Did I sound unsympathetic? I wasn’t. Truly. I just had enough on my plate and besides, with Lulu, straight talking and avoidance of niceties were the best way to go.

  ‘The architect?’ Rosie asked quietly.

  Lulu had the decency to look slightly embarrassed as her gaze moved to the table in front of us. Avoiding eye contact. Another admission on the totem pole of guilt.

  Bugger, not again.

  ‘We’ve been having a… thing.’

  Rosie groaned. I felt my teeth clench. Why? Why did she do this? Of course, I already knew the answer.

  ‘Don’t judge me.’ She was looking straight at me, head held high, eyes blazing with defiance.

  I raised my hands in a shrugging gesture. ‘I’m not. But how many times, Lu? You promised him after the last time…’

  I didn’t need to finish the sentence as we all knew the story. She’d been out with a guy she’d met on an IT training seminar. She’d gone on behalf of Dan and Colm’s company to learn a new accounting system and had ended up ‘getting close’ (her words, not mine) to one of the guys on the course, a finance officer for a blue chip corp. It had blown over, but not before Dan had stumbled across an email trail planning a weekend in a country house hotel in Yorkshire. Lulu cancelled, swearing it hadn’t gone beyond flirting. Everyone chose to believe she was telling the truth, despite the fact that it wasn’t her first indiscretion and we all knew it wouldn’t be the last. Enabling her irresponsible behaviour had become second nature to us all. Perhaps, now that Dan was no longer going to tolerate her antics, it was time for that to stop.

  ‘He’s no angel either,’ she replied sullenly.

  This was an argument I wasn’t going to win and I didn’t have the stomach or the time to try, yet I heard myself saying, ‘Lu, I think he’ll go through with the divorce this time. You’re pushing him to it. Is that really what you want?’

  I honestly wasn’t sure that it was. Pushing him, testing him, neglecting him, treating him terribly – all absolute certainties. But leaving him with no choice but to end their marriage? I wasn’t convinced.

  A shade of uncertainty clouded her face, but before she could speak, a noise jolted us all. A floorboard. A creak. Directly above us.

  Slowly, with a depressed, furious knowing on my part, I turned to meet her gaze.

  ‘He’s here?’ I asked calmly. ‘Upstairs.’ So that’s why she’d taken so long to answer the door.

  She shrugged. ‘What does it matter, Shauna? Dan’s divorcing me anyway.’

  I don’t have a violent bone in my body, but somewhere deep in my core, her petulant nonchalance made me want to slap her. Time to leave.

  ‘You know what, Lu? Knock yourself out. Do what you like. We love you and we’ll be here to pick up the pieces, but for the record, you’re making a mistake. You know what this does, Lu.’

  She knew. She’d grown up with a mother and father who’d blazed a trail from affair to affair, leaving carnage in their wake that had affected all of us. So yes, she knew.

  Upstairs, more creaking of the floorboards, then a door closing. I knew the layout of the house well enough to surmise he’d gone into the shower.

  ‘I think we should go,’ I said to Rosie, who nodded, then reached over and put her hand on Lulu’s arm.

  ‘What Shauna said about loving you… you know we do,’ she said gently. ‘And so does Dan. Even if you don’t always make it easy.’

  Lulu didn’t answer. Not a word. No eye contact. Not even a ‘goodbye’ as we headed out of the door.

  Back in the car, I could see that Rosie was on the verge of tears. ‘Don’t worry,’ I told her, as gently as I could. ‘They’ll work it out. They always do.’ I had no idea if that was the case but I was trying to cheer Rosie up. It didn’t work.

  ‘I’m not so sure this time. You know, I just don’t understand it.’ Anger was now seeping into her sadness. ‘They have everything. Fucking everything. They love each other. We all know that. But they’re both so bloody stubborn and stuck in this pattern of destructive power plays.’

  I took one hand off the steering wheel and found hers, squeezing it tightly. ‘I know, honey, but maybe that’s just it. They’re stuck. They’re hurting each other. Something has to change.’

  I didn’t say the obvious, that perhaps divorce would be the best solution for them, didn’t want to upset her any more. Besides, much as I kn
ew that might be true, I didn’t want to give up on them yet either.

  ‘Get you with the psychological lingo…’ I teased, trying to distract her from her despair. ‘What’s with the “destructive power plays”? Jack the life coach is clearly rubbing off on you.’

  That made her smile, so I added a little more positivity.

  ‘I’ll talk to Dan when I get home,’ I added. ‘We’ll try to help them, I promise.’

  I dropped her back at the café and then sped over to collect Beth from her after-school choir practice. Five years old and she’d already decided she wanted to be Taylor Swift. God help us. Annie said the desire to perform came from her. Three vodkas and soda and she would belt out every one of the Carpenters’ greatest hits. It was a gift that clearly skipped a couple of generations before it landed on Beth.

  My little songbird filled the car with happy chatter all the way home and I finally felt the strain in my muscles easing. When had it become normal to be so tightly wound up every day in life? The conversation with Colm on the way to Lulu and Dan’s house last week came back into my mind. We so needed to have that work/life balance discussion.

  I’d just dumped my bags on the kitchen table and sent Beth up to change when Colm came in the back door behind me. It was one of the strange aspects of our semi-detached house, just a couple of streets away from the flat I’d lived in when Colm and I met – we had a perfectly good front door but no one except the postman ever used it. Instead, we all used the back door that led through the utility and into the kitchen.

  ‘Hi m’darling,’ he greeted me, before landing a kiss on my lips and tossing his jacket over the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

  ‘You look tired,’ I told him, flicking the coffee machine on as I spoke. ‘How did you get on at the docs?’

  ‘Definitely migraines,’ he said. ‘Gave me these.’ He held up a paper bag with the local chemist’s logo on the front. ‘Painkillers and beta blockers. Apparently the beta blockers can help prevent them and the painkillers can ease them, so between the two, they should hopefully sort it out.’