Then Dad cries, ‘Look outside!’ because it’s started to snow. Big, fluffy snowflakes that whirl and dance around the lampposts, out across the chimney pots and the valley below.
‘Look, Evie, it’s your first snow,’ whispers Rich.
And as we all gather around the window, I think these are the real moments in life. The small, unscripted moments that don’t need any photographs or likes; these are the moments that matter.
I’m grateful for:
Socks, says a young person never, but I have now reached an age where they are not a boring present at all; which proves, if any proof was needed, that there’s always a bright side to getting older. And you can never have too many socks.
Mum, because frankly she IS Christmas.
Evie, who we all take turns passing around and proves to be a big hit with Cricket, who later confides that although she never wanted children, she would have rather liked being a grandmother, ‘because you can give them back’.
My Christmas present from Fiona, who gave Michelle, Holly and me T-shirts with ‘Forty-Something F##k Up’ emblazoned across the chest.
Great minds thinking alike, and the photo Fiona sent me of her wearing my Christmas present: a T-shirt with ‘F**k Avocados’ written across her very large chest.
Family, which should be redefined as simply ‘those you love’.
There are 365 shopping days till Christmas.
Boxing Day
Pretty much the same as yesterday, but with more stilton.
The Days In Between
On the 28th, I drive back to London with Cricket and Arthur. After the snowy magic of the Lake District, London looks a bit grey and wet and business as usual. But that’s OK, I’ve got a lot to do.
Edward is still away skiing, so I take the opportunity to have a good clear-out. It’s amazing how much stuff you can amass in a year. I moved into his flat with just a couple of suitcases and a few books, but at this rate I’m going to be moving out with a removal truck’s worth of stuff.
I find a bunch of old photographs. Actual, physical ones of Ethan and me when we first met. His flight lands tomorrow. We’ve arranged to have dinner.
My mind flicks forward, but I drag it back again. Like I said, there’s a lot to get done here. New Year, fresh start and all that.
To: Ethan DeLuca
Subject: Us
Dear Ethan,
You told me to take some time to think about it, so I’ve thought about it. To be honest, I’ve thought of little else since we saw each other a few weeks ago. When you told me you still loved me and wanted us to try again, I thought at first my answer would be obvious. For so long, you and me and our future together was all I ever wanted. And I’ve missed you so much this past year, there were times when it’s all I wanted to hear you say.
But things have changed. I’ve changed and I can’t change back. I’m not the person I used to be any more and I don’t want to be. I’m glad we finally got to talk about everything – we should have done it ages ago – but if we’re both honest, things weren’t right between us before we lost the baby. That was just the catalyst.
I took some time to write because I wanted to be sure I was making the right decision. But the truth is there was only ever one decision. I’m not coming back, Ethan. It’s not my home any more. My life is here. But never doubt that I loved you very much and I will never forget the good times or your puttanesca J
I’m sorry to let you down about dinner, but there didn’t seem much point. I think we’ve both said everything there is to say.
I wish you only good things. Take care of yourself.
Nell.
Then, for the first time in my life, I don’t re-read what I’ve written before I press send.
To: Penelope Stevens
Re: Offer on Flat 2, Princeton Avenue
Dear Ms Stevens,
I am delighted to inform you that your offer on Flat 2, Princeton Avenue has been accepted! The owners are currently away until the New Year, but wanted to extend their delight and assurances that they are eager to proceed quickly with the sale. The office is now closed until 2 January, but I wanted to give you the good news before sending out the official Memorandum of Sale, upon which your solicitor can begin the relevant searches.
Kind regards and a very happy New Year!
Marcus Brampton,
Sales Manager, Brampton & Proctor estate agents
New Year’s Eve
I can’t believe it. How are we here already?
It’s New Year’s Eve, and while being forty-something has its challenges, today is one of its pluses. When I was younger, I always felt so much pressure to go out and find the best party and have the most fun. It was FOMO times a hundred. But now those days are long gone. Now I’ve got JOMO and I’m just as happy staying in with a good movie and a bottle of wine. Thrilled, actually.
But no, this year I have an invitation to a party!
‘Well, it’s not really a party as such,’ I explain to Cricket, as we peruse the cheese counter of her local deli. ‘It’s just my friends Max and Michelle cooking a curry and having everyone over.’
‘Sounds like the perfect New Year’s Eve.’ She pauses to focus on a ripe brie. ‘Do you think I could try a sliver?’ she asks the sales assistant.
‘It’s a triple-cream from the Loire Valley.’ He passes her a piece.
Cricket looks to be in raptures. ‘Marvellous. One of those, please.’
‘So who’s this woman that’s invited you tonight?’
On the way over to the deli, Cricket has been telling me about a New Year’s Eve dinner party she’s been invited to, and how ‘everyone always takes something sweet, but I think a good ripe cheese says a lot about a person’.
‘She’s my upstairs neighbour. A widow like me.’
‘Wow, that’s great – well, you know what I mean,’ I add quickly, but she laughs.
‘It seems there are a lot of us about,’ she nods. ‘Oh, and can I have some of that delicious quince jelly?’ she says to the assistant.
‘Who else is going?’
‘I’m not sure. I think she has quite a lot of friends. She’s a bit younger than me.’ She hands over her credit card. ‘She did mention she was inviting a man who lost his wife last year. She thinks we’ll have a lot in common. He used to be an actor.’
A look passes between us.
‘I’m not interested. I’m happy being single.’
‘You never know.’
She pulls a face. ‘I don’t want to see some old man in his underpants.’
The assistant hands her a bag with her purchases and a receipt.
‘Wonderful, thank you.’
‘Monty was an old man in his underpants,’ I point out, as we leave the deli.
‘True,’ she nods, then smiles. ‘But he was my old man.’
I’ve invited Edward tonight. He just got back from skiing this afternoon and hadn’t got anything planned. ‘I was just going to stay in with a curry,’ he said, with no mention of the girl he’s been seeing.
‘Perfect, that’s exactly what we’re doing,’ I replied, and so he got in the shower.
We take Arthur along too. We can’t leave him at home because of the fireworks, plus it wouldn’t be the same celebrating without him. Michelle has promised to lock the cat in the bedroom.
‘It’ll be fun,’ she says cheerfully. ‘And it means we all finally get to meet this mysterious landlord of yours.’
‘No pressure then,’ says Edward, as we knock on their door. He’s made his special stuffed olives and looks unusually self-conscious.
‘None at all,’ I grin, as it’s opened by Max wearing a chef’s hat and an apron.
‘Hello! Come in, come in, don’t want you freezing to death.’ He wafts us inside. ‘Not like some, eh?’ he laughs, winking at Edward while I deeply regret telling him about the Battle of the Thermostat.
The rest of the gang have already arrived. Fiona and David have left their children with
the nanny while Holly and Adam have found a babysitter. ‘It’s a date night,’ she informs me, as I give her a hug. ‘The counsellor says it’s important to remember what we liked about each other in the beginning.’
‘And is it working?’
She looks across at Adam. He’s with Freddy, who’s showing him something on his phone.
‘I think so.’ She watches him, her expression one of fondness. ‘I don’t think I want to kill him any more.’
‘Great news, Nell!’
We’re interrupted by Max, who charges over to top up our glasses before returning to the stove, where two vats of something delicious are bubbling. ‘About the flat – Michelle told me. Well done.’
‘Oh, thanks,’ I smile.
‘So how’s it going to feel losing your lodger?’ asks David, looking across at Edward, who’s been deep in conversation with Michelle about some new environmentally friendly nappies.
I’d told him earlier about my offer being accepted; he couldn’t have been more pleased for me.
‘Well, I’m not going to miss the heating bills,’ he grins at me now, and I smile.
‘Can all the men live together, please,’ suggests Fiona, appearing from the loo. ‘Honestly, he’s the same as David. Let them all shiver together.’
‘Just because you’re having hot flushes, darling, doesn’t mean we all have to,’ says David, and Fiona bats him affectionately.
‘Bet you’re going to miss her,’ she says loyally.
‘Yes,’ he nods. ‘Arthur will too.’
‘The flat’s only a bus ride away,’ I say quickly. ‘We can still go for walks and I can look after him while you’re at work.’
‘I think Adam and I need to get some tips from you,’ grins Holly, and Adam looks up.
‘Oh, I don’t know, we’re not doing so badly, are we?’
I watch as a smile passes between them.
‘Well, I think it’s brilliant,’ says Michelle. ‘You’d better do a big housewarming and invite us all.’
‘I don’t think you’ll all squash in.’
‘It’s amazing what you can do. Who would think six of us could fit in this tiny house?’
‘Small house, big life,’ cries Max, waving a dhal-covered wooden spoon. ‘Though if I get this new job I’m interviewing for, we could have a slightly less small house.’
‘How many interviews so far?’ asks David.
‘Six. Just one more to go.’
‘I got engaged after fewer dates,’ says Edward, then frowns. ‘Though actually, maybe that’s not a good comparison, considering I’m now divorced.’
‘So, are you seeing anyone?’ asks Fiona, spotting an opportunity to sweep in.
Uh-oh. I glance at her, but she’s steadfastly refusing to look at me. When Edward and I first walked in together she gave me A Look, and when she got me on my own demanded why I hadn’t mentioned how handsome he is.
‘No.’ He shakes his head.
I feel a jolt of surprise. No? Fiona glances across at me. She does her Big Eyes, the ones that she always thinks are subtle and no one else can notice, and of course everyone always notices.
‘I thought Nell mentioned you had a date . . . or something.’
I suddenly get very busy helping Max with the rice.
‘Oh, I had dinner with some friends,’ he smiles. ‘They tried to set me up . . .’
I can tell he’s trying to tail off, but Fiona is having none of it.
‘So, what happened?’
Bowls. We need bowls.
‘She was perfectly lovely but not for me . . . or me for her, I imagine.’
So that’s it. There is no other girl.
‘Oh, I don’t know, you seem quite a catch—’
‘Food’s ready,’ I interrupt loudly, ‘who wants poppadums?’
The Indian food is amazing. Max is quite the chef; we have chana masala and a delicious spicy dhal, and there’s a chicken tikka masala for the meat eaters. Plus all those delicious chutneys and lime pickles and raita that you scoop up with the leftover poppadum, even though you feel like you can’t possibly eat another thing.
Afterwards, we clear away the tables and Max puts on his New Year’s Eve playlist, and we dance around to Prince and wonder for the millionth time how someone as talented as him can be gone. We say this about David Bowie and Tom Petty and George Michael, and the children ask us who we are talking about and look at us as if we are silly old people. Because I suppose we are. Silly old people.
Then we cram ourselves into the living room, where we turn on the TV to watch Jools Holland’s Hootenanny and wait for the firework display over the Houses of Parliament, and now we’re counting down to the New Year: twenty, nineteen, eighteen –
But Adam’s started the countdown at the wrong time and it’s actually: three, two, one.
And now we’re all kissing and hugging and wishing each other Happy New Year, and the fireworks are exploding over Big Ben on the TV screen, and Adam has his arms wrapped around Holly, and Fiona is collapsing with David onto the sofa and spilling her drink, and Max is disappearing into the kitchen to get a cloth and warm up a bottle while Michelle is helping herself to another tequila.
And Edward is kissing me and I’m wondering why it took us so long.
New Year’s Day
The early hours
I’m not sure what time we end up leaving, but we don’t even try to get a cab. Instead we walk back along the river with Arthur, still drunk and giddy, until after a while we fall silent and Edward reaches for my hand. I take it. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and we continue hand in hand, with just the noise of our boots on the towpath and the water lapping against the riverbank.
It’s a rare thing to find a comfortable silence with someone, and it makes me think about Dad. I called him earlier to wish him and Mum a Happy New Year. There was a moment when I feared I might never be able to do that again. That night when I broke down outside the hospital chapel, I thought I was going to lose him. I’ll never forget it. I was in such a dark place, but it was as if the lights finally came on. And they shone so brightly on what was important in life. Real, true love, where you’d do anything for that person. Where you never, ever want to let them go.
That’s it. None of the other stuff matters.
When I saw Edward in the parking lot the next morning, it was like the flicking of a switch. Something had changed.
Or was it me that had changed?
Because instead of seeing Edward I saw this kind, wonderful, selfless, gorgeous man, and I knew I didn’t ever want to be without him. And I realized that just when you think you’ve finally got it all figured out, you haven’t even started.
So much has happened these past twelve months. I’ve learned so much, not least that it’s OK not to know the answer. I’ve found friendship and joy in the unlikeliest of places. I’ve discovered a strength I never knew I had, and a sense of humour that I know will never fail me. I’ve realized that I’m not alone, I still don’t have a clue what I’m doing, and guess what? Nobody else does either.
And I’ve fallen in love.
But it wasn’t just in that parking lot – it’s with my life. Not the one I had imagined or planned, but the one that was always there waiting for me when I was brave enough to embrace it. My messy, flawed, perfectly imperfect life.
‘Edward, remember when we said we should always be honest with each other . . .’
I stop walking and let go of his hand. We turn to face each other.
‘I knew it. You hated my stuffed olives.’
‘No—’ I start to protest, then start laughing. ‘Well, they were pretty awful. I mean, I love olives, but with peanut butter?’
‘They’re a speciality.’
‘Whose?’ I ask, and he starts laughing too.
‘So c’mon, if it’s not about the olives . . .?’
He raises an eyebrow, and I don’t know if it’s the cold night air or what I’m about to say but I feel myself s
uddenly sober up. Digging my fingernails into the palms of my hands, my chest feels as if it’s going to burst with everything I’ve been keeping inside these past few weeks.
‘I think I love you.’
There. I’ve said it. Because what I’ve come to realize is that real, true love is the most romantic kind of love you can think of.
Edward looks at me, his expression unreadable. I wait for his reaction. Oh God, whose stupid idea was this truth stuff?
‘Well, that’s lucky, because I think I’ve loved you since the moment you walked into my kitchen.’
Shock. Relief. Delight. Then outrage.
‘What happened to being honest?’ I cry indignantly.
‘Well, it would have looked a bit weird, don’t you think? I’m not sure you’d have wanted to rent a room if I’d told you.’
‘True.’ I break into a smile.
‘So—’
‘So—’
A look passes between us.
‘What happens now?’ he asks quietly.
People always talk about happy endings, but I think it should be happy beginnings. Who wants to talk about endings when ahead is a brand new year, stretching out before you. One filled with infinite possibilities and wonderful new opportunities and decisions to be made and doubts to be had and a whole lot of love to be explored.
And a forty-something who’s still making this up as she goes along.
‘I don’t know,’ I admit, and he smiles and pulls me towards him.
Then he kisses me again, properly this time.
This Year’s Gratitude List (Revised)
I’m grateful for:
1. My loving husband, who tells me every day how much he loves me with fresh flowers and mind-blowing sex.
My loving friends, being able to buy myself flowers, and great sex with Edward when we’re not too knackered and the thermostat is set to twenty.
Confessions of a Forty Something F##k Up Page 36
