by Lindsey Kelk
She looked wistfully at the strips of sparkly satin, held together by diamanté straps and bad intentions hanging in her cubicle.
‘Step away from the manmade fibres,’ I ordered. ‘I’m almost certain we can find a happy medium between Nana’s Big Day Out and first evictee from Love Island.’
‘Just can’t get into that but your dad’s obsessed,’ she muttered, adjusting her collar. ‘Right, what would you suggest?’
‘Something radical,’ I said as I tucked my empty Starbucks cup behind the leg of my chair. It wasn’t littering if it was in a shop and you hid it. ‘Let’s try a different shop.’
Mum looked aghast. All special occasion Reynolds outfits had been purchased at John Lewis since time immemorial.
‘Where else is there?’
‘You’re just going to have to trust me,’ I said, standing up and giving her the look.
‘Well, we can go somewhere else but I reserved a table on the terrace at twelve for lunch,’ she replied, face flushed with fear. ‘Will we be back in time?’
‘If we’re not, we can always eat somewhere else.’
It was as though I’d slapped her around the face with a trout.
‘Now that’s a dress.’
Shoulder to shoulder with an exquisitely turned-out bridal consultant, I applauded as Mum stepped onto the raised dais, glowing under the soft lighting, clad in a beautiful ivory satin wrap dress that skimmed her amazing figure and swept the floor as she moved. A quick Google and one pleading phone call had seen us abandon Oxford Street for a tiny bridal salon, tucked away behind the Big Shops, which had managed to squeeze us in between their other appointments.
‘It is very nice,’ Mum said, twisting and turning in the gown, admiring herself in every one of the million mirrors that covered the walls of the dressing area. ‘But is it me?’
‘It’s a very elegant choice,’ the consultant said. ‘It looks as though it was made for you.’
‘Yes, it does,’ I said, encouragingly.
‘Would you ladies like some champagne?’ the consultant asked.
‘Yes, we would,’ I said, encouragingly.
‘They say it’s free but you know you end up paying for that,’ Mum said, still making eyes at herself in the mirror as the consultant drifted away. ‘I can’t begin to imagine how much this dress costs.’
‘It’s four hundred quid and you’re buying it,’ I told her. ‘You look amazing, Dad’s going to die.’
‘He does like a bit of cleavage,’ she replied, juggling her boobs in the front of the frock. ‘But I don’t know.’
‘Mum,’ I said in my most serious voice. ‘Does this dress make you feel like your most fabulous, wonderful, complete self?’
She pouted and tied her hair up into a loose topknot.
‘It’s four hundred pounds, daughter.’
‘And aren’t you worth four hundred pounds?’
A hint of a smile appeared at the edges of her mouth.
‘You can always save some cash by not having bridesmaids,’ I suggested. ‘I for one am prepared to make that sacrifice.’
‘So generous, Rosalind,’ she said, looking back at me in the mirror. ‘Fine. I’ll get it.’
I dipped into a low bow, catching sight of my knackered trainers.
‘You’re going to need shoes,’ I said as the consultant returned with our champagne. ‘Do you have shoes?’
‘Of course,’ she replied smoothly. ‘What size?’
‘She’s a four,’ I said, taking a sip from my glass and kicking back in a particularly comfortable armchair while Mum continued to make love eyes at herself in the mini hall of mirrors.
My work was done.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Once I’d put Mum back on the train with her dress, a beautiful pair of not-stripper shoes and, god forbid, some tasteful lingerie, I moved on to the next task at hand, Sumi’s birthday.
‘This is going to be the best party she’s ever had,’ I told Adrian, marching purposefully down the street from the bus stop with a bouquet of birthday balloons in my hand. ‘I’m deadly serious, she’s going to enjoy herself if it kills her.’
‘Someone spent an entire day with her mother,’ he replied, skipping to keep up. ‘Where’s Patrick then?’
‘Meeting us later,’ I said, pushing down the excitement that bubbled up in my belly. ‘He had to work today.’
‘Work?’
‘Write,’ I clarified. ‘He’s on a deadline for a book he’s writing. It’s about his travels in South-East Asia, it’s amazing.’
‘Hmm.’ Adrian jumped as a very big mouse or, more likely, a reasonable-sized rat scampered out in front of us. ‘For Christ’s sake, woman, where exactly are we going?’
‘Somewhere brilliant,’ I said as I took a sharp left off the main street and down a somewhat suspicious-looking alley that cried out for you to hold onto your handbag. Yes, this was exactly how I remembered it. Fantastic. ‘Do you honestly not remember?’
‘The only thing I know around here is a gay bathhouse and please don’t ask me how I know because I’m not at liberty to say,’ Adrian said. ‘I haven’t been to Vauxhall for aeons. In fact the last time I was here, I think it was … Oh, Rosalind fucking Reynolds, you didn’t?’
‘I most certainly did,’ I replied, throwing my arms out to present our destination. The Moonlight Roller Rink. ‘How amazing is this?’
Adrian’s face dropped.
‘Do you honestly not remember?’
‘I remember we used to come here all the time and we always loved it,’ I said, hopping up and down as we reached the front door. ‘Stop being an arse. Everyone’s skating again, Adrian, it’s what all the cool kids are doing, have you not seen Euphoria?’
‘No?’
‘Well, neither have I but I read a recap that said they all went roller skating,’ I said as I handed him a neon-pink towelling headband. ‘So please try to enjoy yourself. We’ll skate, we’ll drink and then we’ll go dancing. Best. Birthday. Ever.’
‘Oh, Ros,’ Adrian said, slipping the sweatband over his head before reaching out to pat my shoulder. ‘Dear, sweet, stupid Ros.’
‘Stupid like a fox,’ I argued. ‘Sumi is going to—’
‘Moonlight Roller Rink?’ my friend’s voice boomed over my shoulder. ‘You’re kidding me?’
‘Sumi is going to remind you the last time we were here, that Samantha girl she was obsessed with broke up with her and she fell over and shattered her ankle,’ Adrian whispered in my ear.
‘Happy birthday,’ I exclaimed weakly, handing over a huge helium balloon. Lucy and Jemima waved awkwardly and a gaggle of other women, referred to exclusively by Sumi as her Lesbian Lawyer Coven, loitered in the background. No one seemed quite sure of what to say, which was a big deal when you considered how many lawyers I was dealing with.
‘Roller skating? Fuck yes.’
I peered past Sumi’s giant balloon to see John the bartender striding down the alleyway, waving a hello. ‘All right everybody? Happy birthday, Sumi.’
‘You’re up for this?’ Sumi asked, looking more than a little bit surprised.
‘It’s been a while but it’s got to be like riding a bike, hasn’t it?’ John replied as he made the rounds, hugs and cheek kisses for everyone, pausing when he got to me and making do with a bright smile and an arrogant wink.
‘I don’t know,’ Sumi said. ‘I do not have time for a broken ankle right now.’
‘No one has time for a broken ankle,’ Jemima said, hooping her arms over Sumi’s head. ‘Come on, it’ll be fun. I haven’t been roller skating since I was about twelve. I’m game for a laugh.’
‘I would if I could,’ Lucy added, pointing at her belly. ‘But I’m very happy to sit and watch you all.’
‘It’ll be grand,’ Adrian cheered, holding open the door and ushering everyone inside. ‘And if it’s not, drinks are on Ros.’ With an uneven mix of reluctant mutters and enthusiastic cheers, we poured into the skating rink and the blissful a
ir conditioning.
‘Drinks are on me as long as everyone’s on the Panda Pops,’ I muttered to Adrian as I handed out headbands and wristbands and birthday girl badges. ‘I maxed this week’s budget on the accessories.’
‘How come you’re so broke, anyway?’ he asked, doubling up on neon sweatbands as the others ran off to get their skates. ‘Were they not paying you in Washington?’
I shrugged; trying to work out where my money had gone was like trying to work out how certain people had been voted president. I understood it logically but it simply made no sense.
‘It was expensive out there,’ I reasoned. ‘I was living on my own, which cost a fortune, ordering in food all the time because I never had time to cook. Money just goes, doesn’t it?’
Adrian frowned. He was the wrong person to take part in this conversation.
‘I wish I’d come out to visit more, I really wanted to do a proper American road trip,’ he said. ‘Figured you’d be there longer, you always seemed like you were having so much fun.’
‘I was,’ I replied stiffly. ‘Go and get your skates, we’ve only got two hours here before dinner.’
With a swift salute, he headed off to the check-in desk, trotting along happily. One of the best things about having Adrian as a friend was that he didn’t ask too many questions. I imagine it was easy to accept whatever people told you was true if you’d grown up wealthy; you never had to dig any deeper because nothing really mattered.
‘I’m going to the bar, can I get you a drink?’
I turned to see John beside me, a neon-pink sweatband holding back his black hair. He looked ridiculous.
‘I’m fine, thanks,’ I told him, marching over to the check-in desk to pick up my own skates.
‘This was such a fun idea,’ Lucy said as she settled herself into a wildly uncomfortable-looking chair beside the roller rink as Sumi, Jemima and Adrian happily daubed themselves with the glitter gel I’d pulled out of my birthday bag of tricks. ‘You’re so clever to think of it.’
‘I was just trying to think of the places we used to go,’ I reasoned, pausing in lacing up my skates to watch Sumi dump half a tub of silver sparkles in Adrian’s hair, howling with laughter as she wiped the remainder onto her leggings. ‘We always had so much fun here. Well, apart from the last time.’
‘I’d forgotten all about it,’ Lucy admitted. ‘Too much going on these days. I can hardly remember what happened last week, let alone ten years ago.’
I bent over to finish doing up my skates, wheeling my feet back and forth in my seat. Why did I feel so unsteady? I used to be a roller skating goddess. Skating forwards, backwards, spinning around with a drink in one hand, and, well, drink in the other most of the time.
‘Who invited John?’ I nodded at the bartender as he whizzed around the roller rink on unsteady legs. He was too tall, limbs too long, angles too sharp. It felt as though he was defying the laws of physics every moment he remained upright.
‘Sumi asked me to text him,’ Lucy replied. ‘Why?’
‘We never used to hang out with the bartender at The Lexington,’ I pointed out as he took another wild turn, spinning around Jemima with windmills for arms. ‘I don’t get the appeal, if I’m honest. He’s so pleased with himself all the time.’
‘He’s not just the bartender,’ she said. ‘He owns it.’
My head snapped up with surprise. ‘He owns Good Luck?’
‘Good Luck and another place in Shoreditch,’ she confirmed. ‘Buena Suerta, it’s tapas, you’d love it, we should go.’
‘Then why is he always behind the bar?’ I asked, puzzled. ‘And why was he mixing drinks at Adrian’s parents’ party?’
‘Because he works hard and he’s nice?’ she suggested. She leaned back as far as she could in her hard plastic chair and shuffled until she looked as though she was somewhere near comfortable. ‘I don’t know, why don’t you ask him?’
‘Well, I still think he’s a tit,’ I muttered. ‘He’s arrogant.’
‘Just your type then,’ Lucy said with a small smile before tittering at my dark expression. ‘What time is Patrick joining us?’
‘He’s meeting us for dinner,’ I said as I attempted to stand. So far, so no-broken-bones. ‘He had to write all day.’
‘Didn’t fancy the skating?’
‘He didn’t say that but …’ I moved my stiff legs back and forth, clutching the back of Lucy’s chair.
‘Go on then,’ she instructed as I grabbed the side of the rink and made my way to the gate. ‘I want to see you bust some moves.’
‘Bust my arse, more like,’ I muttered as I wheeled slowly away.
The music in the roller rink was deafening, all the better to drown out the screaming, I thought to myself as I staggered over, half-walking, half-wheeling, all petrified. What was I thinking? Women over the age of thirty had no business on roller skates. What if I had early-onset osteoporosis and didn’t know it? My nan had it and yes, she was in her late eighties, but still. As the bass thumped, the disco lights shimmered and shone, spinning even faster than the people already racing around the roller rink.
‘Maybe it’s actually easier when you’re drunk,’ I reasoned, rolling one foot out onto the rink. I had certainly never shown up sober before but that was what your twenties was for, wasn’t it? Always drunk, never hungover. No wonder I missed them so much …
‘Whooo! Go, Ros!’ Lucy cheered and clapped from the sidelines as I propelled myself forward, keeping one hand within grabbing distance of the railing, my upper body a half-second behind my lower half.
OK, I thought, relaxing into myself and skating a little faster. It wasn’t so bad, I could definitely do it. Enjoy it? Maybe not but do it, definitely.
‘Ros, this is the best thing ever!’ A dark-haired flash spun by me, sending me crashing back into the side of the rink. It was Sumi, whizzing by backwards before executing a perfect spin and stopping right in front of me. ‘I can’t believe we stopped coming here, you’re a genius. Thank you so much!’
‘How is she still so good?’ I gasped as she roared away across the floor, only stopping to pirouette around Jemima and then race off to the bar.
Determined to find my roller-girl mojo, I pushed myself away from the side. My jeans felt too stiff, my sleeves too restrictive and my carefully blown-out hair was all in my face. Everything was wrong. Everything took so much more thought these days; back in our early twenties, we just did things. I didn’t care what I was wearing or what the consequences might be but now, ten years on, I felt tight and awkward and couldn’t bring my brain back to the present moment. It was far too comfortable working three steps ahead, in a reality where I’d already fallen, broken my neck and ended up in a home, right next to my nan while she sat and crowed, morning, noon and night, all because she wanted to go roller skating.
No, I told myself, sliding one foot in front of the other, the air rushing past my face as I slipped back into something like a familiar rhythm. You are a gazelle, a gazelle on wheels. You’re Zendaya and Jessica Simpson and some other celebrities that roller-skate that I couldn’t think of in the moment. You are graceful and capable and you’re not thinking about all those celebrities who broke their legs on Dancing on Ice. It’s all coming back, it’s coming back to me now, you are Celine Dion and this is fantastic and—
‘Oh, shit!’
My left foot crossed out in front of my right and, before I knew what was happening, my legs tangled around each other and I hit the floor hard on my backside, my left cheek taking the brunt of the fall.
‘Ros! Don’t move!’
I looked up from the floor to see John skating over, crashing to his knees beside me. I opened my mouth to reply but all the air, along with my pride, had been knocked right out of me and I absolutely, positively knew I was going to cry.
‘Is anything broken?’ he asked, frisking my legs with brisk authority. ‘Does it hurt anywhere?’
‘My arse,’ I choked as I fought back tears. My face wa
s bright red and, I was quite certain, I would have a backside to match by morning.
‘Well, I don’t think you’ve broken your arse, so come on.’ He pulled me to my feet and dragged me over to the side. ‘It was a good effort.’
‘I haven’t skated in ages,’ I replied, my words coming out staccato, pinched by several sharp intakes of breath. My left bum cheek was killing me. ‘I think I slipped on something.’
‘Yeah, you did,’ he agreed, unloading me into a seat next to Lucy who thrust herself upright to grab my hands, face awash with concern. ‘Your own feet.’
My bottom lip trembled dangerously and even though I had a thousand snappy comebacks at the ready, I kept them to myself for fear of bursting into tears.
‘Are you all right?’ Lucy asked, handing me her carton of Ribena. ‘You poor thing, that looked rough.’
I nodded, sucking through the tiny straw and wallowing in her pity. ‘I’m OK,’ I said bravely, adding a sorrowful sniff for good measure. ‘Might sit it out for a bit though.’
‘Still wish I could have at least one go around,’ Lucy said, watching wistfully as our friends tore around the rink. ‘Just for old times’ sake.’
‘We can come again,’ I promised. ‘Once you’ve had the baby.’
Lucy laughed. ‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘Let’s put a date in the diary for a time when it no longer relies solely on me to exist.’
‘There’s always Dave,’ I reminded her.
Lucy replied with a look.
‘Fair enough,’ I muttered. ‘We’ll come back as soon as it gets married and they’ve left for their honeymoon.’
John stood beside us, still in his skates. With the added inches, he looked as though he was about to climb down a beanstalk. There ought to be a height maximum for men in skates, I decided. Anything over five ten was ridiculous.
‘I’ve got an idea,’ he said, quirking his mouth into a smile. ‘Stay right there.’
Carefully, he padded over to the check-in desk, pointing back at me and Lucy as he turned his sleepy smile on the girl behind the counter.