The Last Day of Winter

by Shari Low

  Josie chuckled so loudly, a giggling Val had to shush her. ‘Ssssshhhhh, you’ll get us thrown out.’

  ‘They’d have to catch me and wrestle me to the ground first,’ Josie countered, feeling surprisingly sharp for a woman who was on the wrong side of champagne, cocktails and sleep deprivation. She hadn’t glanced at her watch since the first chorus of what became a three hour sing-song of the hits of the last six decades. It had been better than any medicine and should, she’d decided, be prescribed on the NHS for everyone who’d received the news she’d heard this morning. What made it even better was that every single person she loved was right there with her.

  Val and her husband Don had been the seventies lyrics experts, remembering almost every word of Tom Jones’ and Elvis’s greatest hits. Caro and Cammy had delayed the wedding night raunchy stuff to stay with them, Caro sitting on Cammy’s knee and both of them singing at the tops of their voices. Jen and Chrissie, and their partners Luke and Tom, had kept the drinks coming. Seb had looked like he didn’t know what had hit him, but, God love him, he’d joined in and seemed happy to be there. Stacey and some very handsome bloke she’d picked up along the way had slotted right in to the revelry. It was great to see the lass laughing like her old self. The poor soul had got her knickers in a twist over the last wee while, but Josie was sure she was going to be fine. She was made of tough stuff, that one. Just like her mum, Senga, who’d been through more heartache than most, and yet there she’d been, dancing her stilettos off, refusing to let anyone leave the party until the manager had finally shut down the residents’ bar and politely asked them to call it a night.

  And, of course, Avril and Michael had been at the centre of it all, two party animals just like their mamma.

  Now, arm in arm with Val, they were doing the same walk of shame that they’d done countless times over the years that they’d been friends. Don had headed to bed an hour ago, but, as always, Val had stuck it out to the end, and now the two of them, joined at the elbow, were wandering along a hotel corridor, holding their shoes in their free hands, a bottle of champagne tucked under Josie’s arm.

  ‘In the name of God,’ Josie exclaimed, as she caught sight of herself in a mirror. ‘That’s not how I looked at the start of the night. Look at the state of me!’ She couldn’t believe her reflection. Her smoky eyes were now a smear. Her lipstick was half off after all the goodnight kisses. Her hair resembled an explosion in a hay bale. ‘I want to know what sick person kidnaps me, drugs me and puts me through a car wash on a night out. It’s the only explanation,’ she declared, making Val hoot with laughter again.

  They reached Josie’s room, and she swayed slightly as she put the key card in the lock.

  ‘Are you coming in for a nightcap?’

  Val winced as she pulled at her waistband. ‘Only if I can take these knickers off.’

  ‘Best offer I’ve had in a long time,’ Josie told her, setting the two of them off on the giggles again.

  For the second time today, Josie thought how lucky she was to have a friend like this. The laughs they’d shared over the last dozen or so years had been some of the best of her life. There had been heartache too, but it had been made so much more bearable because they’d been right there by each other’s sides.

  For Josie, friendships lasted a lifetime, and when she cared about someone – male or female – they became family and she stuck with them through thick and thin. Val was the very best of them and she needed her to know that.

  In the room, she handed the bottle to Val, tossed her boots on the floor and flopped on the bed, just as another coughing fit consumed her.

  ‘For feck’s sake, Josie, will you get that seen to?’ Val nagged her once again, while pouring the champagne into two mugs on the tea tray. ‘You sound like you’re on your last legs there.’

  It took everything Josie had not to react to that. Now would be the time to tell her. They were alone, just the two of them, and Josie knew that Val would be right there for her, she’d share her grief and her sadness and she’d join her in her fight against this bastard disease until the end of time.

  But…

  She just couldn’t do it. She didn’t want to. There would be time for grief and heartbreak later, but right now it was more important to say what needed to be said, but in a way that wouldn’t lead Val to the reality of the situation.

  ‘You know,’ Josie began, choosing her words carefully, deliberately injecting them with her trademark flippancy. ‘That was a brilliant night. It really was. If I popped my clogs right now, I’d go a happy woman.’

  Val chucked her over a packet of shortbread fingers as she snorted. ‘Och, don’t be daft. I know you’re lying.’

  Josie felt a clench of dismay. Had her friend tapped into her sadness today? Did she have a hint that Josie had a curling vine of dread that was wrapping its way around her, squeezing the life out of her?

  Val immediately dispelled her fears with. ‘You won’t die happy until you’ve shagged Pierce Brosnan.’

  ‘You’ve got a point,’ she agreed, deadpan, her relief instant. ‘Although, I do worry that he’s getting on in years and at his age I’d be a bit too much for him.’

  For the purposes of this intellectual discussion, they both omitted to acknowledge that Josie was several years older than the object of her desires.

  ‘Val Brennan, I bloody love you, do you know that?’ Josie blurted, her words steeped in hilarity. It was the only way to do it. Val understood her inside and out. If Josie showed even a glimmer of vulnerability or sincerity, Val would swoop in on it and she’d know.

  ‘That’s completely understandable. I’d love me too,’ Val grinned, eyes sparkling with cheek and affection.

  Josie felt the warmth of the moment dispel her fears. Val would be fine. She didn’t have to say any more. Her best friend knew exactly how she felt about her and no more words were necessary to stress the point. Time to move on, and stick to what she’d said earlier to Seb. She was going to live each day, keep her illness to herself, and enjoy every moment until she couldn’t. There would be plenty of time for her and Val to talk about the hard stuff in the future, but for now, she’d go with joy and laughter.

  Val held her glass up to her. ‘Congratulations, Josie, you pulled off the wedding of the year today. It was brilliant, it really was. If my Don trades me in for a supermodel, you can do my next one too.’

  ‘No problem. I’ll even give you a discount on my fee. So it’ll be a large bottle of gin and five boxes of Tunnock’s tea cakes.’

  ‘Done!’ Val agreed.

  Josie smiled. ‘It really was a fantastic night though, wasn’t it? I mean, once we’d ironed out the glitches.’

  ‘Just a few trifling issues,’ Val teased. ‘But, yep, well done, pal, it was one of the best.’ She threw back the last drop of her champagne, dropped her shortbread wrapper in the bin beside her and pushed herself up to her feet, groaning as she did so. ‘Right, I’m going to love you and leave you. I need to get back to my room and get these knickers off. My feet are turning blue.’

  It was Josie’s turn to snort with laughter. She clambered up, and went into Val’s open arms. ‘Goodnight, love. You’re the best pal a woman could have, Val Brennan.’

  ‘And you’re a class act, Josie Cairney.’

  Josie held her for just a few seconds longer than usual, taking in every feeling, every surge of love and affection for this woman.

  Val gave her another squeeze. ‘Och, we’re getting soppy in our old age. Love you, Josie. See you for breakfast in the morning?’

  ‘Love you too, pet, and yep, I’ll be there.’

  ‘Aye, well don’t scoff all the sausages if you get there before me.’ And with that, and another hoot of laughter, Val was off, waddling out of the room, the door closing silently behind her.

  Josie picked up her champagne glass and took a sip, then sat for a moment. It had been such a trauma of a day, but now – and maybe it was the champagne – all she felt was a peaceful
numbness.

  She nipped to the loo, then came back into the room and refilled her glass, taking out her earrings and putting them down on the dressing table. Another sip. She pulled her bright pink trolley case on to the bed and opened it, then took out her toilet bag and her pyjamas. White silk. If a woman of her age couldn’t splash out on her pyjamas, then there was something wrong with the world. Another sip. She undressed, pulled on the soft trousers and buttoned up the shirt. Another sip. She took a wipe from a packet in her toilet bag, and she cleansed her face, removing the last eighteen hours of make-up, feeling her skin tingling under her touch. Another sip. Then she carried her glass over, laid it on her bedside table and climbed into bed, the day rewinding and playing back like a movie in her mind. This time she fast-forwarded the sad parts and watched the good bits in slow motion, so that she could savour every moment all over again.

  She glanced over at the bedside clock: 4.45 a.m. Almost morning. Not bad for an old broad of her age. Not bad at all.

  Ignoring the creak of her bones, she reached over and flicked the switch that plunged her room into darkness.

  She smiled. The world hadn’t beaten her today. She’d won. And she’d done it surrounded by the people that she loved.

  With that, Josie Cairney closed her eyes and went to sleep.

  For the last time.

  Forty-One

  Stacey

  If it wasn’t for the beautiful Christmas tree in the corner, it would be difficult to believe that it was December. Everyone from the wedding party who’d stayed overnight at the hotel had gathered in a suite on the top floor, the windows open, sunlight streaming in like it was a summer’s day in June.

  Stacey watched Cammy hold Caro tightly as she burrowed her face in his shoulder. Seb stood over by the window, unobtrusive, respecting everyone’s space. Just as her gaze fell on him, he quietly slipped out of the room.

  Her mum and all the other ‘aunties’ were huddled on the sofa, cups of tea that wouldn’t be drunk in their hands. Don and Jen were sitting on another sofa, one on either side of Val, like two towers of strength, there to support her. No doubt her grief would come later, but right now she was calm, head held high, exactly as Josie would expect her to be.

  Poor Val. Stacey’s heart ached for her. They’d first been summoned here an hour ago, and Michael and Avril had broken the news. Josie was gone.

  It was impossible to believe. Josie was indestructible. Invincible. A force of nature. Crazy as it sounded, Stacey had expected her to be around for ever.

  As soon as they’d let everyone know, Michael and Avril had gone back downstairs to sit with their mum until the arrangements had been made to take her to a place of rest. In the meantime, Val had told them the story of what had happened, undoubtedly the shock forcing her to hold it together as she spoke.

  Val had got back to her room and realised that she didn’t have her key card to get in. She hadn’t wanted to wake up Don, so she’d gone back down to the bar and had a search for it. It wasn’t there, so she’d decided she must have dropped it in Josie’s room. After a couple of false starts, when she’d got off the lift at the wrong floor, she’d found the right room and knocked the door. No answer. Figuring her friend was asleep, she’d left and Don had been forced to answer his wife’s knock at the door.

  ‘It just didn’t feel right though,’ she’d said. ‘Josie could be out for the count and still hear someone drop a pin in the next room.’

  Back in her own room, Val couldn’t sleep, couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, so she’d called Josie. No answer. It had been enough to escalate her fears to the point that she’d called down to reception and asked for someone with a key to meet her outside Josie’s room. The night manager, the same man who had finally persuaded them to call a halt to the party just a short while before, had done as she asked, and that’s when they’d found her.

  ‘She was smiling,’ Val had said, a wrenching sob finally escaping her. ‘If there’s a mercy, it’s that it must have been over so quickly. There was only a half hour or so between me leaving her and going back.’

  Since then, they’d all been together, mostly in silence, while they waited for Michael and Avril to return. Of course, they could all have gone home, but no one wanted to leave, all of them comforted by the very presence of the others. They were a clan. They stuck together. It was what Josie, with her husky voice, no-nonsense attitude and unswaying loyalty to the people she loved, would have demanded.

  As soon as she learned what had happened, Stacey had texted the man who had slept on the sofa in her room last night. He’d joined their party and he’d entered into the spirit of it all, endearing him to everyone.

  Even Josie had approved. ‘You know what I said earlier about the right bloke…?’ she’d told her with a cheeky grin and a wink.

  Stacey realised now that – other than goodbyes when they’d all headed to their rooms at 4 a.m. – that was the last thing her aunt had said to her. The thought brought on the saddest of smiles. Aunt Josie. She was one of a kind.

  Sorry I had to leave. I’ll explain later, but it’s nothing to do with you, I promise. Take care x

  He’d immediately texted back.

  Are you okay?

  Damn. She was going to have to explain. She kept it simple.

  My aunt has passed away and I’m with my family.

  I’m so sorry. Can I help? Is there anything you need?

  No. But thank you.

  Okay, but I’m here. If you need anything, just call. X

  That was exactly how he’d been last night too. Not pushy or demanding, just… a friend. A kind one.

  The door opened and Michael and Avril came back in, holding hands, with Seb just behind them.

  ‘Mum has been seen by the doctor and taken to the funeral home,’ Michael said. ‘We’ll know more later. Thank you, everyone, for staying. For waiting here. It means so much to us.’

  ‘Do you want a cup of tea, love?’ That came from Senga, whose first reaction was always to try to help. Stacey knew now, more than ever, that she was so lucky to have a woman like that as her mum. They were all cut from the same cloth – Josie, Val, Ida, Ina, Agnes, Jean, Senga, Montana… The kind of women who had cores of steel and hearts of gold.

  ‘Thanks, Senga. Although, I’ve got a feeling Mum would recommend gin for a time like this.’

  They all knew that Avril was right – that’s exactly what Josie Cairney would have said.

  Senga handed them both cups of tea and then sat on the arm of the sofa, letting Avril take her place in the middle. Michael stayed standing, his handsome face pale and drawn. He glanced at Seb, some silent message passing between them that Stacey didn’t understand, then he cleared his throat and began to speak.

  ‘We’ve learned a bit more about Mum and what’s been happening to her over the last few months.’

  Senga saw Val look up at him in surprise. Whatever it was, this seemed to be news to everyone. Actually that wasn’t true. Seb gave Michael an encouraging nod. It was clear that the newcomer to the group already knew what was about to be said. Stacey didn’t have time to wonder why or how, too focused on listening to Michael.

  ‘I’m sure you all know that Mum has had a terrible cough for months. Maybe years, actually. Well, after all of us nagging her…’ There were many nods of agreement to that. He carried on. ‘It turns out that she’d finally gone to the doctor and undergone some tests.’

  Val’s face adopted an expression of incomprehension. ‘She did? She never said.’

  ‘I know, Val. She never told any of us. I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised by that. You know what she was like.’

  It was all he needed to say for Val to nod sadly. ‘Och, that woman,’ she said with such despair and love that Stacey thought her heart would break.

  ‘I know,’ Michael said. ‘She was a cracker, eh?’

  That made everyone smile. It was strange how sometimes the darkest times called for humour – especially when
it involved someone like Josie Cairney.

  ‘Anyway,’ he went on. ‘She got the test results yesterday morning…’

  ‘What?’ Caro, this time, with more bewilderment. ‘But how…?’

  ‘She was late,’ Val blurted, stricken. ‘When she came to meet us yesterday morning, she was late. She gave me some reason for it – I don’t even remember now – and I never gave it a second thought.’

  Michael kept going. ‘The tests showed that she had lung cancer. End stage. Incurable.’

  Several gasps and sobs rang out around the room at that. Val simply put her head in her hands.

  ‘I don’t have all the details, but I do know that she’d decided against having any treatment, because she knew it would only buy her a couple more months. I also know that she didn’t want to tell anyone, because she didn’t want the illness to consume what time she had left. She’d decided to ignore it for as long as possible.’

  ‘That woman was tougher than the rest of us put together,’ Jean said, with undisguised admiration.

  Avril took the baton from her brother. ‘The thing is, now that we know all this, it makes so much sense. My mother would have hated to live a life that was hindered by anything. I just wish I’d realised why she was acting so weird last night.’

  ‘Weird how?’ Cammy asked.

  Avril shrugged. ‘She gave Michael and me a speech about how much she loved us, how proud she was of us.’

  What happened next would stick in Stacey’s mind forever.

  ‘Us too,’ Caro said.

  ‘And me,’ piped in Senga.

  Val spoke next, her whole body sagging as something in her mind clicked into place. ‘And me. I thought it was just the champagne that was making her sentimental.’

  ‘Aye, me too,’ Jean said.

  ‘Same here,’ Ida added, then Jen, then Chrissie, until just about every single person in the room realised that Josie had, in some way, said her version of goodbye to them last night.