Living My Best Life

by Claire Frost

  ‘You know, you should just move in,’ he said, one night when they were lying on the sofa watching some terrible action film on his massive HD TV.

  ‘Nah, I couldn’t deal with you leaving all your stinky socks on the floor,’ she replied, wriggling around to get comfy on the huge sofa.

  ‘I’m being serious, Mills. I’m asking you to move in with me.’

  ‘I’m being serious too.’ Millie picked up the remote from the coffee table and paused the DVD. ‘We’ve not even been together a year yet. It’s too soon.’

  ‘Well, it will be a year next week, won’t it? And who says it’s too soon? Plus, it’s not like I don’t have the room. You could have your own space and everything.’

  ‘I say it’s too soon. You’re still young, Louis, you don’t want to be shacking up with someone at twenty-three.’

  ‘You don’t know what I want. And twenty-three is hardly that young,’ he replied, petulantly kicking the side of the sofa.

  ‘I know that moving in together is a big step no matter what your age. Look, maybe we should just enjoy what we’ve got for a while and then see.’

  ‘I just hate to think of you in that place.’ Louis shuddered. He rarely came over to her house. He’d never been the biggest fan of her compact room and now he had so many bedrooms he didn’t know what to do with them he reasoned there was no point them both ‘suffering’ when they spent the night together. Millie wasn’t complaining, but she definitely drew the line at giving up her room and moving wholesale into his pad. Seeing she wasn’t to be moved, Louis went to grab the remote again.

  ‘Not so fast, Mr Price. I was thinking that if, as you rightly point out, next week it’s a year since that fateful night of sambuca shots and cheesy chat-up lines, we should do something to celebrate.’

  Louis was immediately back to overexcited man-child. ‘Yes! Right, I’m thinking . . . no, actually I’m not going to tell you what I’m thinking. You leave this with me, I’m going to surprise you.’

  Surprises weren’t really Millie’s bag. ‘Well, okay, I’ll leave the plans to you, but on the condition it’s not a surprise. You have to tell me the exact plans at least twenty-four hours beforehand, deal?’

  ‘Ooh, I like you when you get bossy. Although, I guess that means I like you all the time, then, doesn’t it!’

  Millie threw a cushion at him, hard.

  In the end, Louis told her most, if not all, of what he’d planned, and Millie couldn’t help but be impressed. He arranged a day off training for himself and booked a day’s holiday with Millie’s boss, who had been only too happy to help when he’d told her who he was. ‘She would have agreed to practically anything I asked!’ he crowed when he relayed the conversation to Millie.

  ‘I wish you’d asked her for that promotion she’s been promising me, then,’ she grumbled.

  Then he’d booked them a suite at a luxury spa hotel an hour’s drive into the countryside. Not only did he treat them both to two hours of treatments that left Millie gently snoring into her fluffy dressing gown, but he’d also arranged champagne followed by one of the yummiest dinners she’d ever had, all in a private dining room with their own waiter.

  ‘You really have pulled out all the stops, LouLou, thank you,’ she sighed when they finally fell on to the massive bed laden with scatter cushions later that night.

  ‘Anything for you, Amanda. And, yes, if you keep calling me LouLou, then I’ll be forced to use your full name.’

  ‘When you say anything . . .?’ She raised her eyebrows suggestively.

  ‘At your service, Amanda.’

  Eight weeks later, Millie sat in one of the tiny cubicles in the Ladies at work, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. Taking a deep breath, she pinged them open and stared down at the plastic stick in her hand. In that moment she knew her life would never be the same again.

  *

  Now, staring at her phone reading the reports about Louis’ night out with his teammates and various beautiful young women again, Millie grimaced. She loved Wolf with all her heart and couldn’t imagine a life without him, but given the chance to live her life again, she knew she would make different choices. And maybe Louis would, too.

  Desperate to do something positive, Millie fired off a quick Instagram post using a photo she’d taken the day before of Wolfie’s toys all over the floor. Obviously, she’d spent a good thirty minutes perfecting exactly the right set-up. She’d hidden the huge Batman lair that took up half the lounge (Louis’ birthday present to Wolfie. Predictably, he had loved it, though Millie couldn’t help but think the eighty quid Louis had spent on a massive piece of black plastic could have been better used on food and clothes for his son.). Then she’d laid out the good rug and scattered on top of it the educational games and wooden train set her dad (on her instruction) had sent Wolf as gifts, along with a beautifully illustrated book about children around the world that she’d never quite managed to read to him, and the old-fashioned abacus she’d bought from a local charity shop. She added a few filters to the image, before writing:

  Oh to be young again! Wolfie is forever making up little stories and acting them out with his little friends, and it’s so lovely to see him playing so happily every day, lost in his imagination. Although tidying up afterwards can be a nightmare! #playdates #growingupfast #myboy #thisisfive

  She pressed Share and almost immediately Likes began to roll in, as did the comments. She tried not to read any of them for fear they were negative, but she couldn’t help but see two flash up from familiar usernames.

  @Jan247638 Poor kid, I bet in all his games he’s imagining he has a mummy who actually does something proper for a living and doesn’t just leave him to get ‘lost in his imagination’. Someone should call the Social

  @Stylista_I257 Ha! You’ll never be young again, love, you’re just a dried up old wannabe whose tits are down to your arse

  Millie clicked out of the app before she could read any more. She felt like throwing her phone at the wall and watching it shatter into tiny pieces. Except then something was bound to happen at the school and they wouldn’t be able to get hold of her and would probably call Social Services, knowing her luck. She knew there was no point replying to the trolls, but she just couldn’t fathom what made someone sit there every day firing off such horrible comments. She should probably feel sorry for them: their lives were clearly so boring that they had to anonymously hate on people. But today, at least, she just felt furious.

  Chapter Nine

  Bell

  ‘Bell, that’s amazing,’ screeched Suze looking over her shoulder at the confirmation email in Bell’s inbox. ‘You are such a dark horse. Who knew you had such David Bailey tendencies. Though I always knew my Insta inspo idea would work. Are there any other courses at the community centre as well as photography? My iPhone is enough for me when it comes to taking pics, but I’d be up for doing a pottery class or maybe a painting course. I’ve always wanted to do a bit of life-drawing,’ she guffawed, nudging her friend.

  ‘All right, calm down, you perv!’ Bell laughed, pleased at her workmate’s reaction to her taking the bull by the horns and signing up to an evening class. ‘The community centre also has a leisure centre and outdoor pool, you know, so maybe you could take up synchronised swimming.’

  ‘Erm, I know it’s March, but it’s hardly tropical outside, is it?’ Suze exclaimed.

  ‘Well, hopefully summer is on its way. Anyway, I can’t believe I didn’t know the community centre existed and, even better, it’s only fifteen minutes’ walk from my house. If I’d known, I’d have been swimming all last summer and taking evening classes left, right and centre.’

  ‘Would you, though?’ Suze said, cocking her head to one side and looking at her. ‘I can’t really see Colin spinning pots and doing yoga classes.’ Sensing Bell’s mood start to shift, she hurried on, ‘Anyway, what made you go for photography? It’s nothing to do with handsome Ade, is it?’ She grinned slyly.

  ‘No, of course not!’
said Bell robustly. ‘Although he’s offered to help if I need some practice.’

  ‘Of course he has!’ spluttered Suze. ‘Although I know what kind of help he’s thinking of . . .’

  ‘I’m not even going to dignify that comment with a reply. Except to say that, of course Ade is ridiculously good-looking, but he is also a ridiculously good photographer – who also happens to have a wife and two small children. And anyway, I’ve always been interested in photography, I’ll have you know. Just because you have a one-track mind.’

  ‘Els wasn’t complaining about my one-track mind last night.’

  ‘TMI, Suze, TMI.’

  *

  The only problem with the Wednesday evening photography classes Bell had signed up for was that she’d need to leave work an hour early each week. Which meant asking Marian’s permission. She became more and more anxious about the conversation as the day wore on, until Suze got so sick of her friend procrastinating that she cried, ‘Just tell her the truth, Bell. It’s not as if you don’t work through most of your lunch hours and answer emails at home every night. Marian’s hardly going to call you a slacker, is she? Just go and get it over with now.’

  ‘I know, I know,’ Bell mumbled, rooted to her seat.

  ‘Her office door’s open so she hasn’t got anyone in there with her at the moment,’ observed Suze, leaning back in her chair to eyeball the glass office in the corner of the room. ‘What’s got into you? You’re Style It Out’s marketing ace, so go market yourself to Marian.’

  ‘All right, I’ll go now if it makes you happy!’ she replied, still not moving. Suze raised her eyebrows at her and eventually Bell slunk off across the floor.

  ‘Hi, Marian, have you got a sec?’ she said brightly, after first knocking on her boss’s door.

  ‘Of course, Bell. Shut the door,’ Marian replied, looking up from her computer but continuing to type, until finally clicking her mouse and resting her hands on her desk. ‘What can I do for you? Is anything wrong?’

  ‘No, no, everything’s fine,’ Bell hastened to reassure her. ‘I just wanted to talk to you about a new, er, project I’m thinking about doing in my spare time.’

  ‘Oh, great, sounds interesting.’ Marian looked at her quizzically.

  ‘Well, hopefully. Er, you probably know that I’ve recently split up with my partner, so, erm, I’ve decided to start an evening class. In photography. Which is exciting. But I’ll need to leave work an hour early every Wednesday. I’ll make up the hours, of course, and I won’t let it interfere with my work here, Style It Out is always top of my priorities and—’

  Marian held up her hand and smiled. ‘Bell, that’s fine. Of course you can leave early, you didn’t even need to ask. You know how much I value your work here and I trust you to manage your workload how you see fit. Let me know how your photography class goes, won’t you?’

  ‘Thank you, and yes, of course. Right, well, thanks again, Marian.’ She turned to go.

  ‘Oh, and Bell?’ Marian said. ‘I hope you’re doing okay after your break-up. I know you’re a tough cookie, but the end of a long relationship is never easy, so look after yourself.’

  ‘I’m okay,’ Bell replied without missing a beat. Then she paused and rethought her response. ‘Well, I’m getting there, anyway. But thanks for asking, Marian.’ Then she turned and fled back to her desk.

  Bell was on such a high after talking to Marian she high-fived Suze and resolved to work harder than ever so that her boss’s belief in her would never be put to the test.

  ‘Today is the start of a new me!’ she declared.

  ‘But I quite liked the old you,’ grinned Suze. ‘Don’t go getting all goody-two-shoes on me, will you?’

  ‘Of course not, I just want to keep Marian happy as she’s been so nice to me.’

  ‘And you will. Especially if you stay this happy yourself – that’s the most important thing. What? What’s wrong?’ she asked, suddenly seeing her friend’s smile fall as she stared at her computer screen.

  ‘Colin. He wants us to sell the house.’

  ‘Sell your house? But that’s your home. Let me look.’

  Suze nudged Bell out of the way so she could read the email that Colin had sent to Bell’s work account, knowing she wouldn’t be able to claim not to have seen it, as she might on her personal email.

  ‘ “Dear Bell, I hope you are okay and haven’t had too much of a delay getting to work thanks to the recent road works on the main road into town. I wanted to email you as I thought it was time we discussed what we’re going to do with the house we jointly own,” ’ Suze read aloud. ‘God, it’s like he’s emailing the council or something, it’s all so formal. Has he forgotten that up until a few weeks ago you two were in a relationship?’

  ‘Col was never one for big displays of affection,’ Bell replied drily.

  ‘Indeed. “I know I said in my email two weeks ago that we didn’t need to make any decisions immediately, but as I haven’t heard from you with any firm plans, I thought I’d send a follow-up message so we can start to move things forward.” Oh my god, is he for real? Do people even speak – well, email – like this? It’s like he’s discussing a business transaction.’

  ‘Maybe that’s all he ever saw our relationship as: another deal, a transaction, devoid of emotion.’ Bell shrugged. All the previous excitement and happiness she’d felt had dissipated in the seconds it had taken her to see the message and scan-read it, like a balloon that had lost all its air.

  ‘I’m sure that’s not true.’ Suze lightly touched Bell’s shoulder and wished she’d kept her thoughts to herself for once. ‘It’s probably just because he wrote the email when he was in work mode in the office. Anyway, what else does he say? Blah blah . . . “I think it would be prudent to ask three estate agents to take a look at the property and give us some quotations for a quick sale and then we can decide which one we should engage. I am happy to oversee this process if that is easier for you. Rest assured, Bell, I would never want to see you put in a difficult position home-wise, so if you would prefer to remain living in the property, I would be open to you buying me out of the house, subject to the estate agents’ valuations and your financial situation, of course.” Well, of course! Urgh,’ Suze said, shaking her head and puffing her cheeks out. ‘Bell, darling, I don’t know what to say. Are you okay?’

  Bell was staring straight ahead at the screen in front of her, her mouth a perfect straight line.

  ‘Bellster?’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m fine.’ She turned to look at Suze. ‘I was just wondering whether Tina knows what a pompous git Col can be.’

  ‘Oh my god, so pompous!’ Suze cried. ‘Although, to be honest, I didn’t know old Col had it in him. He always seemed a bit, well, spineless, I suppose.’

  ‘Really? That’s another thing you never told me. I think he’s always been confident that he knows how to get his own way with me, which has made him arrogant and, yes, pompous. And maybe some of that is my fault because I’d often go along with whatever he wanted as it was just easier. You know how much I hate arguments.’

  ‘Ha, you’re the least argumentative person I have ever met in my entire life, Bellster! But that isn’t a bad thing, darling. It just shows what a lovely person you are. And if someone else takes advantage of that, then it just shows what a nasty person they are. Colin’s behaviour is not a reflection on you.’

  Bell shook her head. ‘I don’t agree, Suze, but I’m not going to argue with you about it, obviously!’ She managed a smile. ‘Anyway, I suppose I’d better decide where I’m going to live in a few months’ time.’ She felt tears threatening again and gulped hard.

  ‘Right, coat on, computer off, you and me have a date with the bottle of sauvignon blanc that’s currently taking up space in the door of my fridge. And it just so happens that I was going to cook spag bol this evening, so now you can save me from giving myself a carb coma from all the leftovers that I always promise I’ll put in the freezer but never do.’
She put her hand up as Bell was about to protest. ‘I know it’s only five, and I also know how much you want to keep Marian happy, but we can both come in half an hour early tomorrow if you so wish. Some situations call for an early finish and a large glass of wine, and this is one of them.’

  Bell didn’t dare disagree.

  As they sat in Suze’s tiny kitchen and talked over giant bowls of pasta and goldfish bowls of wine, Bell was surprised how practical her happy-go-lucky friend could be when necessary.

  ‘Right, we need to look at all the options,’ she said, pointing her fork in a way Bell found rather menacing. ‘First, I assume you jointly own your home and are jointly responsible for the mortgage?’ Bell nodded. ‘Okay, you need to find the paperwork, discover exactly how much you still owe and then find out what the house itself is worth. Then you’ll need to do the maths about whether you can afford to buy Colin out and keep the house yourself – which I presume is your preferred option?’

  ‘Yep. The house has its, er, quirks, but as you say it’s my home. Though how I’m going to make the money side work, I have no idea. Maybe we should sell it and I could buy a tiny flat or apartment. At least that way I won’t have to stress about things.’

  ‘But is that really what you want? No, I didn’t think so,’ Suze said when Bell shook her head sadly. ‘What about your parents, would they lend you some money, do you think?’