What Goes Around...

by Carol Marinelli

  Then I open her fridge - and you should be proud of me. Whatever you think of me, you should be proud of me for this, because I promise my face does not move a muscle, I don’t even blink.

  OMG!!!!!

  I cannot tell you how bad it is–this is a woman with a cleaner every other day that we’re talking about, though fuck knows what Rhonda is doing.

  Then I open her cupboards and I feel myself lick my lips in excitement.

  I'm fascinated, I truly am.

  I mean, how would you ever find anything?

  How would you know what you had?

  ‘I'd love to drop to part-time and get on top of things.’ I turn and see this dull blush spreading over her cheeks. ‘But Heath isn’t getting so much work these days, there’s not much call for corporate pilots.’ This is possibly the most honest conversation that has ever taken place in the street – well, apart from between me and my hedge-trimming neighbour, but it took us years to get to that.

  ‘I'll sort you out,’ I give her a smile. ‘It’s what I’m good at.’

  I am.

  I really am.

  I’m in my element in fact.

  We line it all up on her benches and I sort about ten half open gravy tins into three and we do the same with an awful lot of salt.

  We throw out more half open bags of pasta than I can count.

  It doesn’t take me long.

  Then I set to work on the fridge and by the time I’m done it’s practically empty, then onto the freezer I go.

  ‘I can’t take up all your day.’

  ‘I love it,’ I say, attacking twenty half used bags of frozen chips.

  I sort out the online shopping, though really, with the amount of food in the cupboards she shouldn't have to shop for weeks. Then I share my six minute breakfast routine with Simone but then Rhonda arrives. She does a bit of a double take when she sees me.

  ‘Over for a chat?’ Rhonda asks.

  I tell her no, I’m here to sort out the house for Simone. I’m here to help her get on top of things and instead of us heading over to mine to get away from Rhonda, I turn to Simone.

  ‘Do you want me do your wardrobes?’

  For a second I think she might kiss me.

  I do do her wardrobes but, in between, I pop out and I stand in whatever room Rhonda is hiding in and I watch.

  I think Rhonda knows that if things don’t improve then she’ll be hearing a repeat of a conversation that she once had with me.

  About how she does nothing and how dare she use my mug.

  ‘I’m coming back for the airing cupboard,’ I tell Simone when it’s coming up for three and I need to pick up Charlotte.

  ‘Here.’

  My euphoria vanishes as Simone tries to hand me a cheque. ‘You really know how to make somebody feel small.’ For a second there I thought I’d actually made a friend.

  ‘Look who it’s made out to, Lucy,’ she says. ‘You’re starting up your own business and I'm your first client. Lucy, have you any idea how many people would kill to have someone like you to sort them out?’

  I look down to the cheque and I see who it’s made out to.

  Lucy's Lists

  Do you know what?

  I like it.

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  Gloria

  ‘I said to myself, the day you walked through the door - mark my words, Beryl, this woman is going to reach her goal, and now Gloria, you have.’

  There's a round of applause and I'm the proudest I've ever been. I thank Beryl for her support and I'm smiling and blushing as I sit down and then I'm smiling and blushing again when it’s Paul's turn to stand.

  We reached our goal weight on the same day and I'm so proud of him.

  He looks amazing and tonight we're going to celebrate but I'm going to make a start on the Christmas shopping with Eleanor and Daisy first.

  We have a quick kiss in the car park.

  Actually not such a quick one.

  Some might think that I’m too old for all that, but I like it. I like holding his hand when we walk together and I like lying on the sofa with him at night.

  I meet Eleanor and Daisy. Eleanor’s completely thrilled for me. Really, it was the jogging pushchair that helped. I lost my way a few times and put some of my weight back on but I kept going with it. I started walking regularly and Daisy just loves it. I have her three days a week while Eleanor works.

  A friend of mine said that she is taking advantage of me. Noel and Eleanor don’t need the money, after all, but I'm pleased to see her working and I love the time I spend with Daisy.

  We walk down the street and drift in and out of shops and then into a smart department store and, instead of tackling the Christmas shopping, we try on clothes. Maybe we just can’t face it. It’s going to be a difficult Christmas - the first one is the hardest I tell Eleanor.

  I think of Lucy and Charlotte and I wonder how they are getting on.

  I miss taking Charlotte to the dentist.

  Oh, I hear bits from the kids and I find out some stuff on Facebook, like they’re moving and that Charlotte’s changed schools.

  But I miss knowing how she is.

  I’m not just talking about Charlotte.

  I can’t discuss that with Eleanor, so I try on clothes instead. I’ve never done stuff like that. I've never wanted to do stuff like that, but I'm enjoying it now. I need a whole new wardrobe really; maybe I should do some extra shifts at work?

  We go to the cafe and I order a coffee and a chicken and salad sandwich instead of cake and then Eleanor realises that she’s left her phone in the changing room and has to dash off.

  Yes, I’ll watch Daisy.

  I sit there and I wait for her to come back before I drink my coffee, but she doesn't and I don’t want to drink it cold. She’s still not back by the time I’ve finished my sandwich. I'm starting to get a bit irritated, maybe my friend is right, maybe Eleanor does take advantage, maybe all my girls do at times but I know that they love me.

  I just didn't know how much.

  Eleanor’s coming back now and I feel a surge of irritation because she's left me here while she's been shopping. She’s got about ten bags over her arms and I have to drink a very long glass of cool water, because I don't want to ruin our day.

  It could never be ruined.

  I didn't know how much they love me, how much they’ve appreciated all that I’ve done, because the bags are filled with all the clothes that I tried on and loved. There’s a gift voucher too, to get some more clothes and there’s another one to go and get my hair and make up done.

  It’s from Eleanor, Bonny and Alice and they’ve been planning it for weeks. They had no idea how to get me that new wardrobe when I reached my goal weight.

  This was what they worked out.

  It’s the best day.

  The best day of my life.

  I get home and the house is empty. I’m running late and Paul will be here to take me to dinner soon but apart from a quick wash in the sink I’m ready. I don’t want to ruin my new make up and hair. I peer in my bags and I choose a navy dress that wraps over and ties at the side. I put on my stockings and new shoes. It’s better than Christmas, there are bags and bags and bags and I keep opening them.

  Then I find one that I haven’t opened yet.

  A camel coloured coat that I tried on.

  It’s very similar to the one I wore the time that I dumped the kids on him and Lucy when I headed off to France with my sexy French lover Marcel!

  When Paul comes to take me out to dinner, I put it on and I tie the belt at the back and I am more glamorous than I ever thought I would be.

  A bit like the woman I used to fantasize I was.

  ‘Gloria,’ Paul says, as we go to head out. ‘I can’t wait till the restaurant, I’ll be too nervous. There’ll be people there and I’d just die if you said “no” to me in public.’ If I did have dark glasses on, as per my old fantasy, I’d whip them off, because I shoot him an incredulous stare. No, it
’s not Marcel showering me in jewellery and neither is it my husband begging to come back to me. It’s better than that, it’s real.

  It’s Paul, the man who knows me, who accepts the good and bad. Who, as it turns out, really loves me, because it’s an engagement ring he’s placing on my finger. My eyes fill with tears that he could even think I would say no to him.

  I love him.

  I’m happy.

  I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.

  But there’s a second tear in my eye as I see a new ring on a finger that’s been empty for a long time.

  A tear that’s not for Paul but for him, because despite all the shit, there were good times and I’m starting to remember them.

  Though of course I can’t say that to Paul.

  I can’t really talk about it to anyone.

  No one could understand.

  CHAPTER SIXTY ONE

  Lucy

  I don't really have many choices.

  I really can't turn this client down.

  Things haven’t exactly taken off.

  Simone insists that I don’t drop my price.

  It’s quality that people want.

  Anyway the phone has rung and this woman needs me to come on a Sunday – she works all week and her husband is out for the day. It’s the only time she’s got.

  I’m sorry, I can’t tell you who it is.

  I pride myself on my confidentiality.

  I can’t leave Charlotte alone all day. Well, maybe I could leave her, but we’ve only been in the new home for a week. The sale and move just happened so quickly. I want to make sure she’s okay with it all before I leave her here alone and I’m still a bit wary with all that happened on Facebook.

  I’ve made some friends at my slimming club but one’s skiing and one’s got twins and an autistic child and a teenager from hell (no wonder she eats), so I don’t really feel I can ask her, and Yolanda’s working. Though Charlotte sort of talks to Felicity now I’m not even going to go there.

  I think of Gloria.

  So too does Charlotte but I don’t really feel I can ask.

  Anyway, there’s someone else I can fall back on now.

  Someone who really deserves to be asked, so I take a breath and I ring Mum instead.

  She’s delighted.

  She’s been waiting for twelve years for this – for me to trust her with my child and I do, I think I do. Yes, I do, or I’d never leave her.

  I’m not worried about Charlotte as I work, as I sort a whole lot of chaos out – and I do a great job, she tells me.

  She’ll be recommending me.

  I’m so sorry that I can’t tell you who she is, or go into greater detail. Women are trusting me with their guilty secrets you understand.

  But, given that it’s you…

  I mustn’t.

  I can’t.

  Okay, I’ll give you a clue.

  It’s someone you’d expect to be a little more prepared…

  Be Prepared!

  Get it?

  Of course, given her status, she knows an awful lot of mums in the village.

  An awful lot.

  ‘Lucy,’ she tells me as she waves me off. ‘You can expect to be busy any time soon.’

  I’m still grinning like an idiot when I park my car.

  I’m a Personal Organiser and I’m paid fifty quid an hour to do what I completely love.

  I turn the key in the door and as I walk in I stand there for a moment, still smiling, as I watch myself in the kitchen with mum.

  I’ve never seen the likeness between me and Charlotte so clearly – it must be the braces, because there she is in profile and she’s a mini pre-peroxide me. She’s making chocolate crispies with mum – and we did that.

  Mum and I did that.

  Yes, it was crap and there were so many bad times, just so, so many bad times, but I’d forgotten that there were good times too and I stand there for a moment remembering them.

  ‘Hi, pet.’ Mum looks over and smiles. ‘How was work?’

  ‘Good,’ I say and I walk over and she digs out another spoon from the drawer and I fill it.

  ‘She used to lick the bowl,’ Mum tells Charlotte and Charlotte laughs. ‘She’d put her face right in it.’

  Mum suggests that we go for a walk, the three of us. Christmas is coming and Lucy will be getting fat, so I say yes and we head to the park I used to go to sometimes when I bunked off school. There's a massive old manor house and a lake at the front and it’s all frozen over. Some kids are skating on it and Charlotte sees the sign that tells them not to.

  ‘What if it cracks?’ Charlotte asks. ‘What if they fall in?’

  ‘They won't.’ I know that sounds definite, but I sort of know it to be true –they’re hardy kids, tough kids, they remind me a little of me. Yes, what they’re doing is dangerous and yes, I might be wrong and the ice splits and they all tumble in, but something tells me that they’re here every day, unsupervised and surviving.

  ‘But what if they do?’ Charlotte persists. I look over to her little anxious, pinched face. She's been through so much, for all I did to make her childhood precious and safe and pampered, in the end, I couldn't shield her from life.

  From the shit it flings at us at times.

  I couldn't even shield her from me.

  But sometimes I can make things better.

  Sometimes I do know what to say.

  ‘What would you do?’ Charlotte begs. ‘If one of them falls in?’

  ‘I’d call an ambulance,’ I say.

  ‘But wouldn't you go over?’

  I don't actually know what I'd do. We can all say how we'd react in an emergency, we can all hazard a guess but a guess is all it is. Some of us will be the heroes, standing shivering and wrapped in a blanket on the evening news, insisting that anybody would have done the same.

  I wouldn’t.

  I don't want to be a hero, because Charlotte doesn't want me to be one.

  I can see the fear and the terror in her eyes and I wonder how long it will stay – you see, it's not just about losing her dad, she is so scared of losing me.

  ‘I think you have to find a big branch,’ Mum tells her. ‘And lie on the grass and stretch it out to them…’

  ‘But it wouldn't reach!’ Charlotte is frantic with her imagined scenario, she doesn’t just look like me, she thinks like me too. She's watching these robust kids disappear beneath the ice; she's standing by the water’s edge screaming as her mother dashes in to save them. ‘I know you’d do something!’ She tells me about this show she saw once, where everybody had formed a human chain across the ice.

  ‘Your mum?’ It’s my mum that starts laughing; it’s my mum who’s the hero today. ‘Can you imagine your mum, for even a moment, forming a human chain?’ But that’s exactly what Charlotte is doing and I don't want her to have to worry about me any more, I want her to laugh, I want her to be a kid, I want to be her mum.

  ‘Me!’ I say. ‘You really think I’d lie on ice, holding onto Nanny’s feet…’

  ‘Sod that.’ Mum says putting out her fag.

  Charlotte starts laughing and we walk away from the lake and towards the car and, if I hear a scream, I’ll just call an ambulance and try to find a big branch. I look over to Mum and I know she’s thinking the same. I know she is because we start running to get to the car and we’re all still laughing.

  And no, I won’t lie on ice for anyone but Charlotte – I’m far too important to lose.

  And if I sound shallow and superficial, I don’t care.

  I know I'm not.

  I know what I'm here for now.

  And I know why I'm staying.

  CHAPTER SIXTY TWO

  The First Christmas (without him).

  Gloria has been here.

  There's a bunch of flowers on his grave–it says With love from your girls.

  I haven't been here for ages. I've never really wanted to come, rather it was something I felt I ought to do but I actually wanted to com
e today.

  Mum’s at home with Charlotte, I tell him. Today’s already hard enough for her, without bringing her to the cemetery. I hope he can understand that.

  She’s doing okay, I tell him.

  Things are getting better now. She loves her school, she’s not wetting the bed anymore and we can talk about you at times now, without her crying, we can talk about you and smile.

  Oh, and I tell him about the house sale.

  He has a right to know.

  That for once an estate agent wasn’t lying - he did have the perfect people in mind for the house, but they needed to move in soon, which was great because I put in an offer for the cottage. I tell him how much I got for the house, I am quite sure that somewhere he smiles.

  No global financial crisis stops me.

  I tell him lots of things, just not about me.

  I turn and walk away.

  I feel guilty that I'm moving on.

  That I’m doing okay without him.

  I don’t need to tell him that I’ve halved my medication dose and no, I haven’t gone barking mad. In fact, in the New Year, Dr Patel says we can see how I go without them.

  I don’t tell him about Lucy’s Lists and the phone calls that have started to come in.

  I don’t have to run my life by him.

  It’s mine.

  ‘Alice rang!’ Charlotte’s all excited when I get back, we’ve been in the cottage for a couple of weeks now and it’s so much smaller. As soon as I walk in I smell the pine of the Christmas tree. ‘She and Hugh are engaged!’ Charlotte's almost dancing on the spot. ‘Do you think I’ll be a bridesmaid?’

  ‘I don't think so Charlotte.’ I try to let her down before Alice does, I don't want her to build up her hopes but she's never been a bridesmaid before. That would be right – I bet they do ask her and my daughter will finally get to be a bridesmaid and I won't even get to see. I wait for the twist in my stomach, for the churning bitterness towards the Original Jameson Girls and a snake of hate towards Gloria to transpire, except it doesn't come. I’m glad it doesn’t come because I’ve found out that hate leaks into everything, I mean everything. It’s toxic and it’s there even if you can’t see it, and I love that it’s gone, or almost gone.