What Now?

by Shari Low

  Toni’s face fell, as if someone had switched off a movie just when it got to the good bit. Baby was still in the corner. Tom Hanks was still waiting for the lift at the Empire State Building. Or maybe Richard Gere hadn’t made it up the fire escape to save Julia Roberts.

  The rest of Drew alighted from the galley and he followed us back to our seats. Was it my imagination or was he looking at me with a strange glimmer in his eye?

  I’d just slid back under my blanket when he leant down so that he was almost touching my ear. ‘I’ve seen Gigolo more times than I can count,’ he whispered, with a cheeky wink.

  I closed my eyes, mortified. Gigolo. Sam’s first movie. Drew must have heard the whole thing. Actually, I doubted he’d believe it. It would be difficult to imagine that this chunky middle-aged bird ever shagged the Adonis that is Sam Morton.

  ‘Aunt Carly, what happened next? I need details!’ Toni said again, now that she’d clicked on her seat belt and snuggled down on her chair bed.

  ‘I’ll need to tell you later,’ I told her, laughing. ‘I don’t want the whole cabin hearing about it.’

  Cue yet another dramatic eye roll. I had hope for her though. This was the most interested and engaged I’d seen her for months.

  ‘What does she need to know?’ Carol asked suspiciously from my other side.

  ‘The approximate trajectory of Saturn’s moons,’ I replied quickly. ‘We’re discussing astrophysics.’

  Thankfully she was far enough away that she didn’t hear Toni’s giggle.

  I closed my eyes for a moment, suddenly desperate to relive the rest of the story.

  In my mind, I saw Sam, and he’d just bared his soul and now he was waiting for my reaction, waiting for me to tell him what he wanted to hear and…

  ‘Is that Shirley Ballas?’ Val hissed, awake again and pointing to a woman a few beds in front of us.

  ‘Shirley who?’

  Val was wide-eyed with excitement. ‘Ballas! That one from Strictly. Oh my God, the things that woman can do. She’s got years on me, but I’d need a hip replacement if I tried all that jiggly stuff. Not that I’d have the opportunity. My Don thinks the paso doble is a sex position. He went purple when I suggested we try it down the community centre.’

  I stretched to see if I could get a better view, but all I could see was a very elegantly styled coiffure of dark hair.

  ‘Shirley!’ Carol, who’d heard our whole conversation, said in a sing-song voice.

  We were so going to get tossed off this flight. I just hoped that if they rerouted to disembark us, we’d land somewhere the prisons had flushing toilets and progressive human rights policies.

  The woman with the dark hair didn’t turn round.

  ‘Nope, not her,’ Carol concluded, oozing nonchalance. ‘Anyone else we’re intrigued by? Want me to ask the curly-haired bloke in the corner if he’s that presenter off Top Gear?’

  Val was unimpressed with Carol’s tone. ‘Carol Ann Bernadette Sweeney,’ she chided, using Carol’s full maiden name, ‘any more of that cheek and I’ll be on the phone to your mother as soon as we land.’

  Val and Carol’s mum had known each other since we were kids, some time just after the Ice Age.

  Toni leaned towards me. ‘Are they always like this?’

  ‘Since your mum was about twelve,’ I confirmed. ‘Any moment now, Val will threaten to ground your mother, who will then pull on some headphones and spend the next hour listening to Culture Club.’

  Toni’s head fell back against her chair. ‘This is going to be a long two weeks.’

  There was a distinct role reversal going on here.

  The turbulence we’d been warned of was gentle, barely a blip that didn’t stop me from slipping on my headphones and searching through the in-flight movies. I settled on Book Club, a comedy starring Jane Fonda, Diane Keaton, Mary Steenburgen and Candice Bergen, as four friends in their later years who are all rediscovering who they are and what they want from life. I could relate. My boys would probably be leaving home in the next few years, and where would that leave me? I’d be in my fifties by then. How did someone start over at an age when most people were beginning to contemplate plans for their retirement?

  I shrugged off the introspection and brought myself back to the present. How fricking fabulous had today turned out to be? I was in first class, on a flight to LA, there was a good movie on the TV, a perfect gin and tonic on my tray and a large bag of Rolos shoved down the side of my bed in case I got peckish. I knew how to live.

  I checked my watch. The boys would be landing in Miami any minute now and, God, I missed them. But I had to ease off on the apron strings, had to stop focusing 100 per cent on my boys and start to reclaim a little bit of my own life. I had to stop using them as an excuse to hide from the world.

  I picked up my phone and clicked into our family WhatsApp chat.

  Me to Mac & Benny: Landed yet? Not missing you at all. Nope, not a bit. But if you could both send me pics of your faces so I can gaze at them while sobbing, that would be fab.

  Okay, so I didn’t say it would be easy to ease off on the apron strings.

  My phone buzzed immediately.

  Benny to Mum: Just landed. Here’s a pic. Love you x

  Underneath was a snap of Channing Tatum in Magic Mike. My chortle probably woke up Not Shirley Ballas.

  For the first time in months, I allowed myself to relax and let the bubbles of excitement rise in my chest. LA. One of my favourite cities in the world. Three of my favourite ladies in the world. One of my favourite men. And my other two favourite friends joining us soon.

  It was just… The bubbles burst as something inside me brought me back down to earth. Today was like an emotional roller coaster – every time I started going up, I’d plummet right back down again. No amount of excitement could balance the fact that one of our friends wouldn’t be there with us.

  I took another sip of my gin and swallowed my feelings at the same time. I couldn’t keep going there, couldn’t keep wishing that Sarah was here, and letting my guilt over the fact that she wasn’t with us cloud the way I viewed my future.

  My last thought before I drifted off to sleep, was that the girls were right when they said that I had to let go of the past and start living again. I just had to make my heart believe that too.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, we will shortly be beginning our descent into Los Angeles airport, where the temperature is a warm 61 degrees and the local time is 10.05 p.m. Please fasten your seat belts and return your seat to an upright position.’

  No! How had that happened? I hadn’t even made it to the end of the movie or the bottom of my gin and tonic, which, incidentally, someone had now removed from my tray.

  I turned to face Val and, despite my fury at the missed hours of luxury, I immediately creased into giggles. When I’d fallen asleep, she’d been lying back, sleep mask on, emitting gentle, cosy murmurs. Now she was sitting bolt upright, hair perfect, wearing huge white sunglasses, screaming pink lippy and once again there was a definite aroma of Estée Lauder.

  ‘Val! You do know it’s night-time? You might not need the glasses.’

  ‘I’m channelling my inner movie star. I’m sure Meryl Streep never goes anywhere without her shades.’

  ‘You’re right,’ I told her, acting like this was completely normal. ‘And the rest of you is giving out a gorgeous movie star vibe too.’

  ‘Och, thanks, love. Someone said Tom Jones was back in business class, so I put on a bit of lippy to go see.’

  I was still trying to work out if this was real life or some weird, gin-fuelled dream.

  ‘And was it him?’

  ‘No. It was a bloke called Shuggy from Cardiff. He said he can do a cracking version of “Sex Bomb” on the karaoke though.’

  ‘You okay over there?’ Carol asked, peering around the handbag that was sitting on Val’s lap. ‘You went out like a bulb.’

  Above her sunglasses, Val’s perfectly pencilled brows frowned at Carol�
�s turn of phrase, but she kept her Hot Pink Pucker lips clamped shut.

  ‘No,’ I replied honestly, pushing myself up and turning my bed back into a seat again. ‘I’m raging! I’m flying in first class and I should have been milking every moment and, instead, I slept half the way. What did I miss?’

  Carol’s ski-slope cheekbones morphed into a wicked grin. ‘Supper was delicious,’ she taunted. ‘Fresh baked croissants…’

  I groaned, my stomach rumbling its objections.

  ‘The sweetest strawberries,’ she went on.

  ‘You can really go off a person,’ I hissed to Val.

  ‘And coffee to die for,’ she said, loving every minute. ‘Followed by some more champagne to wash it all down.’

  I ignored her, turning to Toni instead. ‘Just so you know, any disagreements between you and your mum on this holiday, I’m on your side. I’m also open to adopting you if you’d like to make it a permanent arrangement.’

  ‘I’ll definitely consider that.’ Toni’s laughter made the possible Top Gear presenter sitting in front of us turn to glare at us disapprovingly.

  Val nodded her bob in his direction. ‘Bet he’s never done “Sex Bomb” at a karaoke,’ she said in a stage whisper that could be heard in the back seats of economy.

  Trying to stem my amusement, I pulled my bag out from under the seat, and took out my embarrassment of a make-up bag. It was the kind of tatty, mish-mash of ancient cosmetics that made Carol wake up screaming from nightmares. Updating it had never been a priority. For years I’d spent most weeknights sitting outside sports centres and swimming pools while the boys trained inside. I only ever wore the bare minimum for nights out with the girls. And when Mark and I went out, I just stuck to the same old stuff, because, let’s face it, I could plaster on the collective cosmetic stash of Geordie Shore, wear nothing but a half-cup bra and some suck-it-in magic pants, and he’d still be more interested in the menu at Pizza Express.

  I’d had plans to go to the bathroom, and do the whole cleanse, tone and moisturise thing, then carefully apply make-up, fix my hair, and generally alight from the aircraft looking well rested and refreshed. The reality? Now that we had minutes until we touched down on American soil, all I could do was run my fingers through my hair and slap on a bit of foundation. Hopefully, the world would be so dazzled by Val’s cerise lippy that they wouldn’t notice her bedraggled companion.

  I needed to get better at this stuff. Now that the boys were older, I had no excuse for my shoddy grooming standards, other than being out of the habit.

  There was a jolt as the wheels hit the runway, and simultaneous waves of thrills and nerves coursed up from my non-painted toes. Note to self – need urgent mani-pedi. But still, this morning? Rubbish pyjamas and self-pity on my hall floor. This evening? Hollywood.

  ‘Hurry up, slowcoach,’ Carol prompted, when we stopped at the gate. ‘We’re first off the plane.’

  It was so obvious I wasn’t used to this level of service. Back in economy, I knew I’d have at least half an hour to get my bag out of the overhead locker, and even then I’d have to take my life in my hands to cut into the disembarkation line between a bloke wielding a briefcase with sharp edges and a stroppy woman with sixteen duty-free bags and a cabin case that should never have got past the size check.

  When the doors opened, I lifted Val’s rainbow trolley bag down from the overhead locker, then grabbed my backpack, and followed her out, Carol and Toni now somewhere behind us, both taking photos on their phones.

  As we went from the gangway to the terminal corridor, Val glanced back at them. ‘I’ve no idea how those two ever get anything done. They’re too busy taking photos to enjoy themselves. Our Josie would have confiscated their phones somewhere over the Atlantic.’

  I nodded. ‘She definitely would have. Then she’d have started a conga all the way back to business class.’

  Val pulled a hankie out of her cardigan sleeve and blew her nose so loudly a couple of men in front of us sped up. ‘She’d have loved this, you know,’ Val said, and I could hear the sentimentality in her voice and see the mist form in her eyes. Josie had been her best friend for ever and they’d been inseparable until Josie’s twenty-a-day cig habit left her with throat cancer. She’d died on the same day she found out, devastating everyone who’d encountered her wild, raucous ways and her huge heart.

  I reached out and took Val’s hand as we walked and her sad smile of thanks told me there was no need for words. The moment passed, and she shook off the sorrow as we continued to move forward. Wasn’t that all we could do? Hold hands and move forward.

  As Val speed walked into the ladies’, moving at mighty haste in her wedges, I stood against the wall outside, waiting for Carol and Toni to catch up. Watching my sister-in-law approach was a lesson in elegance. Only Carol could make a terminal building look like a catwalk. While I was asleep on the plane, she’d obviously changed her whole outfit, because she was now wearing a beautifully cut white jacket over faded jeans and black pointed boots, her glossy hair falling in waves past her shoulders. Toni trudged behind her, looking two inches shorter despite being the same height, because she was slouching as if she wanted to make herself invisible.

  Just as they reached us, Val alighted from the loos in another burst of Youth Dew and led us on a second speed walk to immigration.

  ‘Holy Mother, this place is like Buchanan Street on the first day of the January sales,’ Val gasped.

  We filed into the shortest line, then chatted for the forty-five minutes it took us to reach a decidedly unenthusiastic customs officer.

  Val went first, did all the fingerprint stuff and then handed over her passport.

  ‘Purpose of the trip?’ the officer asked, without even looking up.

  ‘This will be good,’ I whispered to Carol and Toni, from our vantage point behind the yellow line.

  ‘Well, son,’ she started, and I closed my eyes. We’d just spent twelve hours flying here and I was fairly sure the next sixty seconds could have us turned around and flown straight back. ‘I’m here to stay with a movie star. A real one. You know that Sam Morton, the one that did all that filthy stuff in the film Gigolo years ago…’

  The customs officer had now lifted his head and he was staring at her, open-mouthed, trying to work out if this was some kind of joke. I wanted to step forward to politely inform him that it wasn’t. It was just standard operating procedure for a Glasgow granny who didn’t get out much.

  ‘… I mean, he did other movies too. He was great in that one about the fellow that saved all those rhinos.’

  ‘Jesus, he’s going to have her searched for crack,’ Carol groaned.

  The customs officer still hadn’t said a word.

  ‘Well, anyway,’ Val continued. ‘That one back there with the haircut like an altar boy from the seventies…’ she gestured to me and I smiled weakly.

  Oh God. Please stop.

  ‘Well, she used to be his girlfriend – I know what you’re thinking, but she’s got the loveliest personality. Anyway, he’s agreed to put us up for three weeks. Three weeks! My tan is going to be the same shade as my garden hut by then.’

  ‘Toni, I’ll pay you fifty quid if you faint and create a diversion,’ I begged.

  ‘No way, I’m not missing this,’ she fired back. If there was one good thing in this whole sorry situation, it was that my niece had now smiled several times today. I had a feeling that a holiday with Val was going to be the best thing that ever happened to her. If they let us in the country…

  Back over at the crisis point, the customs officer was clearly making a decision as to whether to let her through or call in a SWAT team.

  ‘Ma’m, where are you from?’ He already saw that she had a UK passport so he was looking for something more specific.

  ‘Scotland, son,’ she answered proudly.

  ‘And you’re here on vacation?’

  Her puzzlement showed. ‘Aye, son. Like I said, we’re going to visit that actor who—’<
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  The officer cracked, stamped her passport with a resounding thud, and handed it back to her. ‘Enjoy your stay in the United States.’

  ‘Oh,’ Val spluttered, confused at getting caught mid-stream. ‘Thanks, son. You have a good day now,’ she said, all proud of herself because she’d already adopted some American lingo. ‘I’ll just go to that ladies’ over there while you’re getting sorted,’ she shouted back to us. ‘It’s my age. I can’t pass a toilet these days.’

  Off she bustled, until she was just a blue canvas tote bag in the distance.

  I was next. ‘Sorry, about that,’ I said to Chuckles behind the Perspex screen. ‘I think she might have had a brandy on the plane.’

  He didn’t even crack a smile, but he did let us through without having us taken to a side room for body searches and further questioning, so I was eternally grateful.

  By the time we reached the baggage reclaim, our cases were going in circles, I grabbed Val’s, then mine, while Carol found hers and Toni’s, and we followed the signs for the exit.

  My stomach was back on a spin setting of excitement again.

  When we got to the huge opaque glass doors that led to the public side of the arrivals hall, the four of us just happened to form into a straight line, standing next to each other, so when they slid open we strutted out, four abreast, like we were Beyonce’s backing dancers. All we needed was a slow-motion shot and a fierce backing track.

  The music in my head screeched to a halt when I realised I had no idea where we were going.

  ‘Are we getting a taxi to Sam’s?’ I asked Carol, remembering that someone had said that he might be on location this week. When we’d last spoken on the phone a couple of weeks ago, he’d just started production on a World War Two action pic and they were shooting all the indoor action shots in Toronto. Or was it Oklahoma? He spent so much time on location that I lost track.

  Carol shook her shiny tresses. ‘I don’t think so. Sam said he would arrange a car for us, but maybe there was a problem. We can just jump in a cab if we’re stuck.’