What Now?

by Shari Low

  Jess laughed. ‘Okay, a Tinder-free adventure. Have you thought about Plenty of Fish?’

  I threw a caramel wafer in her direction.

  I knew they were right, though. My days were just passing me by, while I stood still in a swamp of habit. I’d work during the day, then spend every evening chauffeuring the boys to and from their sports activities, then when the weekends came, I’d chill out with a takeaway and a good movie, in the company of whatever pal was free. Maybe it was time to stop procrastinating and get started on a future that included the core things that used to be my motivations for life: excitement, love, laughs and new experiences.

  I just wasn’t sure I remembered how.

  3

  Later That Afternoon

  We Are Family – Sister Sledge

  By early afternoon, the barbecue was fired up and the drinks were flowing. Over at the grill, Kate’s husband, Bruce, her son, Cameron, and her daughters, Zoe and Tallulah, all wrapped up in chunky jumpers, jeans and boots, were bickering good-naturedly about something or other. Where had the years gone? Those kids were in their twenties, yet I still expected them to break out the lightsabres and challenge me to a death-defying battle to save the universe.

  Kate’s garden was understated chic. As opposed to mine, which was an overgrown wilderness, thanks to my gardening skills, which extended to nothing more than a once-monthly run around it with a Flymo and the addition of a deckchair that collapsed if you sat down too quickly. In Kate’s oasis, there was an outdoor cooking area, a circle of comfy chairs around a firepit in the centre, two sumptuous cream sunloungers and a cedar wood dining table under a rich, ebony pergola. As long as it wasn’t raining, she had us out here winter, spring, summer and autumn, determined to make the most of the space and the fresh air. Thankfully, today was mild, and we were all wearing enough layers to keep the chills away. The outdoor Christmas dinner of 2012 had left us with two chest infections, one case of chilblains, and a cremated scarf caused by dancing too close to the firepit.

  Kate was still in the kitchen, having shooed us out because we were getting under her feet, so Carol and I were sitting at the outdoor table and chairs, next to the patio heater that was making our cheeks glow, while Jess was lying on one of the loungers, despite the fact that even if sun managed to break through the March afternoon cloud, no rays whatsoever could permeate her black sweater, tweed trousers and the towel that was over her face. The hangover wasn’t subsiding then.

  I was still ruminating over the headlines from my chums’ intervention, when the side gate opened and the rest of the Cooper squad arrived. At the front was Callum, who was both my brother and Carol’s husband, and if I wasn’t mistaken, he was looking a bit pleased with himself. I wasn’t sure why. Behind him, came Charlotte, who was deep in conversation and laughing uproariously with my boys, then came Antonia, her head down and hands shoved in the pockets of her hoodie.

  Charlie was an absolute clone of her mum, all glossy mane and perfect bone structure, enhanced by a grooming schedule that rivalled Carol’s intense regime. Toni shared her family’s Amazonian height, but she was the quieter twin, low maintenance and natural, a little awkward and uneasy in her skin. She reminded me of my youngest brother, Michael, who’d always been in Callum’s shadow but had found his own niche later in life when he turned his love of computer games into a career that now earned him bucketloads of cash in Silicon Valley. I had no doubt our sweet, lovely Toni would find her groove too.

  Over her head, I could see someone else was behind her, so I leaned back in the chair, squinted and the surprise almost landed me flat on my back. Thankfully, a deft stunt manoeuvre rectified the situation and I made it to my feet and threw my arms open wide.

  ‘Val! Oh my God, I don’t believe it. What are you doing here?’

  ‘Och, I went out for a paper this morning, took a wrong turn and just kept going,’ she joked.

  Beside me, Carol was giggling. ‘I may have forgotten to tell you we had a surprise visitor. Callum just collected her from Heathrow.’

  My Aunt Val. One of my favourite women in the world. An indomitable force of nature that I only usually got to see when I travelled up to Scotland for weddings and funerals.

  She was already powering across the lawn, making surprising speed for a woman of her sixtyish vintage teetering in four-inch-high pink suede boots.

  Her hair reached me at least five seconds before she did. When I was a child, I was endlessly fascinated by her huge, platinum blonde, Ivana Trump updo, but a few years ago she’d updated her style to a chin-length bob that was almost the width of her shoulders and sprayed to the consistency of steel. If she ever partook in an activity that required her to wear head protection, she was safe in the knowledge that she came fully prepared.

  I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed, inhaling the giddy scent of her Estée Lauder Dew Youth perfume. ‘It’s been so long. Oh, I’ve missed you.’ As I said it, I realised I truly, wholeheartedly meant it.

  Over her shoulder, I could see Carol’s eyes narrow as they followed her girls across the garden. Something was definitely bothering her, and I made a mental note to ask her about it later. But first, I had an aunt to catch up with.

  Val pulled out a chair and plumped herself down next to us, just as Callum reached us, kissed his wife on the cheek and then stretched over to hug me.

  ‘All right, sis?’ he asked, still looking chuffed with himself. In our family, I was the one who loved planning surprises, organising get-togethers and bringing everyone together. Admittedly, when it came to blood relatives, that wasn’t too easy because my mother was a law unto herself, Michael and his family were in the land of technology and we had no other DNA sharers to speak of, other than Val and her family, who lived 400 miles away. We all decided long ago that our true family consisted of the friends we chose to spend our lives with – Kate, Carol, Jess, Sarah and me, and all our partners and extended broods. One big, dysfunctional, chaotic, eventful ‘framily’.

  I stretched up and ruffled Callum’s perfectly messy hair. I’d never massage his ego by admitting it, but he was wearing his upper forties well. He kept himself in great shape with daily workouts, the grey that peppered his hair only made him look more handsome and the sultry eyes and lazily attractive smile were still getting him work in catalogues and on the catwalk. And yes, it icked me out even to think about women lusting after my brother, but, to his credit, he only had eyes for Carol. Especially as she’d assured him that she’d take her straightening irons to his pubic hair while he slept if he dared to consider infidelity. Again, not a mental image I wished to hold on to.

  ‘All right, Mum?’ Benny asked, hand up ready for a fist bump. It wasn’t as great as the cuddles he doled our unreservedly when he was a kid, but I’d take it. My knuckles bounced off his. Mac was just behind him, blocking out the sun with his shoulders.

  ‘I’m good, son. How was your workout?’

  ‘Great,’ Mac responded first. ‘Although the wee man still can’t keep up with me,’ he teased his brother.

  Benny sighed and made everyone laugh with a dry, ‘Disown him and kick him out, Mum. I’ll give you everything I’ve got.’

  I patted his arm. ‘I would, but he’d only come back for food.’

  Benny moved on from his disappointment with, ‘Eh, did you get a hold of Dad?’ He tried for nonchalance, but I could see a little twitch of concern across his eyes. He was definitely the more empathetic of my sons. Mac, bless him, wouldn’t spot a potential emotional minefield if it wore a high vis vest and shot up a flare.

  ‘I did, and I think you going away with him is a great idea. You’ll have a fab time.’ My jaws were hurting with the effort of forcing my facial muscles to feign enthusiasm.

  Mac’s excitement was obvious. ‘Really? Yassssss!’ He high-fived Benny, then nudged him out of the way to hug me. ‘That’s amazing, Mum. Thanks.’

  I was grateful when Charlie, my gorgeous sporty niece, interrupted the moment by shouting over f
rom the other side of the garden. ‘Hey, are you two up for volleyball or what?’

  Mac kissed me on the cheek, then off they went, and I was finally able to let the fake smile muscles stand down.

  ‘Back in a sec. I’m just going to have a quick chat with the girls,’ Carol said, following them. ‘I’ll come in case you need a referee,’ Cal joked, his hand slipping into the back pocket of Carol’s J Brand jeans as they wandered off. That’s what Mark and I should have been like after twenty years – still tactile and crazy in love. Instead, he’d have spent half of Sunday at the office, and then dashed in at the last minute, stressed and preoccupied by whatever case he was working on.

  Val squeezed my hand, making me throw off the melancholy. ‘It’s so good to see you, lass.’ Her gorgeous Scottish accent always made me a little homesick for Glasgow, even though I hadn’t lived there for almost thirty years. ‘How are you doing? And don’t be fobbing me off with pleasantries, because at my age I could pop my pink boots before I get to the bottom of things.’

  That made me chuckle. ‘Rubbish, you’re indestructible, Val. And I’m okay. Mostly,’ I added, with a tinge of uncertainty. There was no point fudging it. She could home in on half-truths like a heat-seeking missile, and woe betide anyone who got in her way.

  I still remember the first time I met her. I was about eight or nine when my Uncle Don, my dad’s brother, brought home his new girlfriend. They were in their early twenties and I thought they were the coolest couple ever. Uncle Don wore baggy jumpers and drainpipe jeans, but he looked a bit like Christopher Reeve (without the superman suit) and Val was the spitting image of Debbie Harry and had a fondness for patent leather skirts and eyeliner that went out to her ears. They’ve added on a few decades and Don’s lost the drainpipes, but they’ve been together ever since and they’re still the coolest couple ever.

  When I was growing up, Val was the aunt that always knew when you needed a hug, who could spot a problem at a hundred yards and who had an open door in her house and an endless supply of love and biscuits. Although, she always insisted that we drop the ‘aunt’ and just called her Val, because she said it made her feel old.

  ‘Better now that you’re here, Val,’ I said, with genuine affection. ‘Every time I see you, I think it’s been way too long since the last time. When was it?’ I asked, confused for a moment as I tried to put the pieces together.

  She got there before I did. ‘Two years ago, when I came down on that theatre break to see 42nd Street. Och, it was fabulous. Before that… Oh, darlin’, I think it was when you came home for your dad’s funeral. Six years ago. What a heartbreak that was – in so many ways.’

  We both knew what she meant. The biggest heartbreak was that it could have been avoided. My dad had always been a heavy drinker. He was the one who started every party and who finished them by keeling over somewhere. He wasn’t a bad person, but alcohol came first and last, and his family was somewhere in between, walking on eggshells because we never knew what state he was going to be in.

  After thirty years of marriage, my mother reached her limit of disgust and left him. They had a couple of half-hearted attempts to work things out, but it didn’t happen. The irony was that in the last five years of his life, he met someone – the landlady of the local pub, of course – and with her support, he finally got sober and cleaned up his life. He had no idea that it was too late. The damage was done and he died of liver failure on the fourth anniversary of his second wedding.

  ‘Your Uncle Don still misses him,’ Val said, with a sad sigh.

  Val’s husband had been called so many times to drag Dad out of pubs, or to sit with him in A&E after a fall or a fight, but he never gave up on him.

  ‘Uncle Don was so good to him. You’re a lucky woman, you know,’ I said, with a wink, trying to lift the conversation back up to a happier place. Today wasn’t the day for sinking into the challenges delivered by my parents. It was a miracle that Callum, Michael and I had survived them without serious hang-ups and a lifetime of therapy, but that thought was for another time and Val felt it too.

  ‘Aye, and I tell him that every day,’ she chirped, with a cackle. ‘Handsome big devil that he is.’

  Her raucous laughter made the blue baubles around her neck quiver. Here was a perfect example of Aunt Val’s very specific style. Somewhere in her sixties now (I was too many vinos in to work it out), she still had her very own sense of style and fashion: rarely trousers, usually a pencil skirt, with a polo-neck jumper in the winter, swing-style shirt or kaftan blouse in the summer, always accessorised with many items of the same or contrasting colour. Today, the big blue baubles of her necklace were matched by the two blue gobstoppers on her ears, and blue eyeshadow the same shade as her calf-length skirt. Meanwhile, her pink polo-neck, knitted poncho was on the same colour palette as her lipstick, bag and boots. If she was a gender-reveal party, she’d be announcing the arrival of male and female twins.

  Callum strolled back over with a bottle of beer in his hand and a glass of Prosecco for Val. She beamed at his presence as he sat beside her and took her hand.

  ‘Is everything really okay, Val?’ he asked. ‘We’re thrilled you’re here, but when you called to say you were coming, it was a bit of a surprise. You’re not delivering bad news?’ He articulated my thoughts so much better than I could have done.

  Val shook her head. At least, I think she did. Her platinum helmet barely moved. ‘I promise, son. It’s just that… well, Mother’s Day isn’t my favourite. You know, with Dee and Josie… And our Michael has gone off to Australia with his family, and Don was at a golf weekend and I just thought this one here…’ she squeezed my hand, ‘has had a rough time of it, so we could cheer each other up. If you fancy a lodger for the night, that is.’

  ‘That’s the best offer I’ve had all year,’ I replied, giving in to an urge to hug her again, for my sake as much as hers.

  There was so much to unpack in what she’d said. My cousin, Dee, Val’s daughter, was killed by a drugged-up driver almost a decade ago, and I knew that Val still felt it every day, but especially on special days like today. She’d also lost her lifelong, closest friend, Josie, a couple of years ago. And with her only other child, Michael, off to visit his Australian wife’s family, it made total sense that she didn’t want to be alone today. I was just so touched that she thought of me in the midst of all that, especially when our contact over the last few years was limited to texts and the occasional FaceTime calls.

  I realised my bottom lids were feeling moist and I shook it off. ‘Damn it, Val, you’ll have me sobbing into my gin in a minute. A bit of warning when you’re going to make me feel loved, warm and bubbly please. I’m a hormonal woman. I need notice of any situation that might make me sweat or cry.’ I wasn’t kidding. Don’t even get me started on my perimenopausal woes.

  ‘Have you spoken to your mother today?’ she asked both of us.

  Cal shook his head. ‘Haven’t heard from her in months. That’s nothing unusual though. It’s been years since she even bothered to call the girls on their birthday or at Christmas. We can take a hint.’ My mother’s disregard had long ceased to bother him. Or me.

  I shook my head. ‘I called her mobile, but she didn’t pick up. That’s nothing new, though. Last I heard she was in Italy, living in a vineyard and loving life. Feels crap that we don’t mark Mother’s Day with her, but she’s made it clear to us all that she wants to live her own life now.’

  My mother and I had never been close. In fact, my mum wasn’t particularly fond of any of us. As far as she was concerned, she’d done her bit by sticking by my dad while we were growing up, and now was her time to enjoy her life on her own terms. I didn’t begrudge her that and I didn’t miss the running commentary that had been going since I was a kid on how much she disapproved of me, my choices, my habits… There had never been any danger of her overloading on that love, warmth and bubbly stuff that Val shared so easily.

  ‘Ach, she’s a funny one,’ Val said,
taking a sip of her Prosecco, then raising her face so she could catch the rays of the sun. ‘Always was. She could have married George Clooney and she’d still have found fault. She always had that sour expression – like her knickers were on too tight.’

  I was still choking with laughter when Val’s analysis was interrupted by raised voices over where Carol was talking to the teenagers. I glanced across just in time to see Toni storming off inside, leaving Carol to throw her hands up in the air.

  ‘Christ, here we go again,’ Callum murmured.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Val asked, squinting in the direction of the commotion.

  Callum sighed. ‘Toni. We don’t know what’s going on with her. You know that thing where everything you say and do is wrong…?’

  ‘Happens to me every day when I’m watching Countdown,’ Val nodded. ‘I noticed she was quiet in the car coming here. I’ll try to have a wee chat with her later if you want.’

  ‘We’ll take all the help we can get,’ he said gratefully, getting up. ‘Especially from the Mother Yoda,’ he added, giving Val a kiss on the top of her blonde helmet, before heading over to the war zone.

  ‘I remember our Dee went through a phase like that. God, she was a wild teenager. The joke is that when she made it to adulthood, I stopped worrying about her so much.’ I could hear the sorrow in her voice.

  ‘How about,’ I began, nudging her playfully, ‘I take our minds off all of this by telling you what an arse my soon-to-be former husband is?’

  ‘Will there be lots of swearing and biased judgements?’ she asked warily.

  ‘There will.’

  ‘Excellent,’ she laughed, lifting her glass. ‘Then please proceed and don’t spare the insults.’

  So I did. Jess finally prised herself off the sunlounger and joined us, followed by Kate and then Carol, who’d managed to broker a temporary cease fire with Toni. All our woes were parked for the day, pushed aside by great chat and cackles of laughter, the loudest of them coming from Val.