by Nicola Gill
‘Well, this is a coincidence,’ Tanya said brightly to Liz. ‘Laura’s son is in the same class as Caitlyn.’
‘Small world!’ Liz said. ‘Right, shall we get started?’
‘No. Yes. Sorry,’ Laura blurted (slicker).
Tanya looked at her CV. ‘So you worked for Natter?’ She said Natter much as one might say ‘a child sex ring’.
Laura rediscovered her ability to talk then. In fact, she gabbled so fast that what she said was pretty much unintelligible, and at one point she even drooled a little on the table (slickest).
She shuddered at the memory, which was even more painful than not being offered the role. She would have expected the latter to devastate her, especially since she now desperately needed a job – it wasn’t just about self-esteem, pride and validation anymore; it was about putting food on the table – but she wasn’t devastated, or if she was, she was a sort of functioning ‘devastatee’. There had only been one moment where the grief of it had fully hit and she had sobbed in the shower, turning the pressure up so Billy wouldn’t hear.
The espadrilles were a sort of orangey red that Laura thought would go with lots of different outfits.
She really ought to be more upset, especially as there were so many other things going on right now too.
Dear Laura, Also – also! – I recently became an orphan, split up from my partner and went through all manner of issues with my five-year-old. So you’d probably expect me not to be okay; for this not to be the time I’ve stopped needing Gaviscon?
In fairness to the odd workings of Laura’s mind, some things were easier recently: Billy seemed happier at school, she and Jess were getting on better than they had in years and she and Jon weren’t at each other’s throats. Also, surely she’d get another job somewhere?
Espadrille Lady stood up and Laura felt a surge of panic. The chance to find out where the shoes were from was literally walking away from her.
Focus on the big stuff, Laura told herself. Shoes aren’t important right now. You are dealing with grief, unemployment, a broken relationship. And anyway, you don’t have the money for unnecessary fripperies (see: unemployed).
‘Excuse me,’ Laura said to the man next to her wearing headphones. ‘EXCUSE ME.’ The man languorously moved aside and Laura shoved her way towards the front of the bus just as it was about to stop. ‘I love your espadrilles,’ Laura said to the woman. ‘Where did you buy them?’
Chapter One Hundred and Two
Laura walked towards her mother’s flat, enjoying the May sunshine. For all her feelings of being strangely at peace, she knew today wasn’t going to be easy. Jess would be in full whip-cracking mode and not just about clearing the flat. She’d grill Laura on her job-hunting plans, nag her about getting Jon to ‘do his bit’ and ask for the thousandth time if Laura was sure she didn’t need to borrow any money.
Today was also probably the last time they would set foot in their mum’s flat. The mortgage company had accepted an offer on it. Which meant today was the last time Laura and Jess were likely to stand in a bedroom their mum had slept in or drink a cup of tea in a kitchen where she’d munched a slice of toast while she flicked through the newspaper.
Laura knew it would take her years to reconcile her complicated, messy feelings about her mum. That she would never really get over Evie, just as she hadn’t and wouldn’t get over her dad. But today she could live alongside it. And today was a start.
She walked into the flat to find Jess cleaning the oven. ‘Why on earth are you doing that?’ Laura said. ‘We don’t owe the mortgage company anything.’
‘I know. But Mum always kept everything so pristine. I just think she’d want us to leave everything nice.’
‘You’re a fool.’
‘Thanks. Why don’t you start on that cupboard with all her paperwork?’
There was a cupboard for paperwork? So that’s where the teetering piles lived.
Except when Laura opened the cupboard there were no teetering piles, just neatly labelled box folders: Tax, Medical, Utilities …
‘Do we have to keep old bank statements?’ she shouted at Jess.
‘Only ones from the last two years.’
How did Jess know stuff like that? Had she been born knowing it?
She appeared beside Laura and took off her apron.
‘These storage boxes are good,’ Laura said.
‘Ikea,’ Jess said, reaching for the box file marked ‘Tax’.
Laura sighed. ‘I need to go there and get some storage stuff.’
‘I could come with you?’ Jess said, in a tone that suggested she’d be accompanying Laura to a glitzy Hollywood party and not a Croydon superstore.
‘Yeah,’ Laura said, shrugging.
‘Ooh, we could get some shoe racks and some hessian baskets and drawer dividers. Drawer dividers are life-changers. And we should definitely go for modular storage – that way every inch of space gets utilized.’ Laura was staring at Jess but she continued unabashed. ‘I could help you tidy the flat and put everything away afterwards too.’
‘Knock yourself out,’ Laura said.
Jess flicked though the pile of papers that had been in the folder. ‘What’s this bank statement doing in the tax folder?’ she said, sounding mortally offended. ‘Do you remember Mum’s bank manager admirer?’
‘Ian?’
‘Yeah, that’s it.’ She smiled. ‘Poor bloke – he didn’t have a chance.’
‘Nope. Didn’t he come to Christmas lunch that time with two of Mum’s other admirers?’
‘Yes! Goodness that was quite a weird day, wasn’t it? Am I remembering right when I say that Mum wasn’t really speaking to either of us?’
‘What, even you?’ Laura paused for a second, her memory searching for the file. And suddenly she could picture herself and Jess in the kitchen preparing the sprouts, their mother mute and icy as she set the table. ‘Actually, I do remember and you’re right. What had the pair of us done?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Looked at Mum in a funny way, breathed wrong. You know what she could be like.’
‘I do. I think it was all okay by the time we had lunch though, wasn’t it? Who else was there? You, me, Mum. Auntie Shelia and Uncle James with Joe and Ella. Ian, the bank manager, and then Mum’s two other potential suitors who also didn’t have a chance in hell. One of them was a teacher, I seem to remember. He kept telling us he could help us out with maths.’
‘That’s right. And he was very quiet and meek, except when the turkey was taken out of the oven and he came over all macho and insisted on carving, saying he was something of an expert.’
Laura laughed. ‘Yes. Mum kept telling him to get a move on. That he might be a mathematician, but she didn’t need each slice of turkey to be exactly three millimetres thick. That the roast potatoes would go cold and soggy if they had to sit around much longer. Who was the third guy? Nigel? Norman?’
‘Nigel, I think.’
‘Big sideburns. He was a car dealer. Kept making lascivious comments about taking mum for a ride.’
‘Eww.’ Jess pulled out the box folder marked ‘Travel’. ‘Aww, look, here’s mum’s passport.’
‘She looks proper scary in that photo, doesn’t she?’
Jess laughed. ‘Do you remember that holiday she took us on to Majorca when we were teenagers?’
‘Yeah. The three of us rubbed cola all over our legs because that German lady Mum chatted to on the coach had told her it was the secret to really tanned legs.’
‘Did people not think about skin cancer then?’ Jess said.
‘No, I don’t think they did. We attracted swarms of wasps, I seem to remember.’
‘Yeah, we had to race into the sea and desperately try to wash the cola off.’
Laura’s mind was back on that white sandy beach, the water clear and warm. She remembered looking at Jess’ perfect sixteen-year-old body and feeling lumpy and large by comparison. Her mother snapping at her: Oh, do take your jeans off instead
of just rolling them up, Laura! You’re sweating away like a pig! They’d had a lot of fun on that holiday though. Laura could picture the three of them crying with laughter by the buffet one evening, although for the life of her she couldn’t remember why.
‘Didn’t the hotel have a Spanish dancing evening?’ Jess said.
‘Yeah, and Mum called it “flamingo dancing” and you and I got hysterical.’
Jess laughed. ‘She was mistress of the malapropism, wasn’t she?’
‘Yup. She had a photogenic memory. And talked about how a rolling stone gathers no moths.’
‘Yeah. And she was really dismissive if you tried to correct her. As if her way was just better!’
Laura grinned. ‘To be fair, I do really love the idea of a flamingo dance.’
At lunchtime Jess let them sit down at the table and didn’t fuss about how much there was still left to do. And she didn’t even mention Laura’s non-existent diet when she pulled out two pieces of lemon drizzle cake.
‘Weird, isn’t it?’ Laura said.
‘Very.’
Laura got up from the table, stood behind Jess and put her arms around her.
‘What was that for?’
‘Dunno. Don’t worry, it won’t happen again.’
Jess grinned. ‘C’mon, we’ve still got heaps to do.’
‘And she’s back.’
The two of them went back to working side by side.
‘Oh, look at this picture of you and Dad,’ Jess said, pulling it out of a folder.
Laura must have been about five or six. She was sitting on her father’s shoulders and she looked like the happiest person alive. ‘I can’t have been much older than Billy there.’
Jess smiled. ‘How is Billy?’
‘He seems a bit happier, thank goodness.’
‘Good. Is Caitlyn the little witch being a bit nicer to him?’
‘I don’t think we call a bereaved child a little witch.’
Jess shrugged. ‘She was horrible to my nephew. Also, we hate her mother for not giving you the job.’
‘I thought you tried not to hate anyone,’ Laura said, winking.
Jess laughed. ‘I did say that, didn’t I? God, how sanctimonious. Anyway, even if I was “trying not to hate anyone”, I’d make an exception for her. Silly cow.’
‘Tanya is a silly cow,’ Laura said, laughing. ‘But it’s her loss.’ She opened a box. ‘Mum has got an insane amount of receipts from the beauty place.’
‘Yeah, she was rigorous about keeping up standards. Even when she was in the hospice, she made me get someone go in to wax her upper lip.’
‘I reckon you’ll also still care about looking your best when you’re old.’
‘I will not.’
‘You so will. I can’t imagine a shabby StyleMaven. Not even when she’s old and saggy. Not like me. I can’t even be arsed about that stuff now. I haven’t shaved my legs since Jon moved out.’
‘That’s nice. Best get you on Tinder as soon as possible.’
‘It’s a feminist statement.’
‘It’s because you’re a lazy cow.’
‘That too.’
Chapter One Hundred and Three
Laura stood in the hallway of her mum’s flat staring at her phone. Her heart was thudding and her mouth was dry.
She’d just got off the phone to Nadia, one of the therapists she sometimes consulted for Dear Laura and now she couldn’t get Nadia’s words out of her head.
It was a crazy suggestion.
Except Nadia wasn’t crazy; she was one of the smartest people Laura knew.
Then again, she’d probably just been joking. Laura stared at a small crack in the ceiling.
Jess appeared, carrying a big bag of recycling. ‘You okay?’
Laura nodded. ‘I’m not skiving, by the way.’
Jess laughed. ‘Sometimes you make me feel like a monster.’
Laura smiled and raised her eyebrows. She was tempted to tell Jess what Nadia had said, although she wasn’t sure to what ends.
‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ Jess said. ‘Did someone upset you on the phone?’
Laura shook her head. ‘It was a woman called Nadia Romensco. She was one of the therapists I used to go to for advice when I got a problem for Dear Laura that I felt was out of my depth. I’d called her about someone whose very religious parents couldn’t accept her being gay. Nadia was on holiday at the time and had just picked up my message. She didn’t even know Natter had closed down.’
‘So you’re upset because you talked about the magazine folding?’
‘No,’ Laura said, biting her thumbnail. ‘Really, I’m fine. Let’s get back to it.’
Jess put her hand on Laura’s arm. ‘Hold on a minute.’
‘Wait, did you just say “hold on a minute” when I said, “let’s get back to it”?’
Jess made a face. ‘Yes. Now, tell me what’s really going on here.’
Laura paused. Her head was seething with ideas and it was very tempting to voice them. On the other hand, she didn’t want to sound crazy.
‘Tell me,’ Jess said more insistently.
Laura sighed. ‘When I told Nadia the magazine had closed down, she suggested I retrain as a psychotherapist—’
‘Isn’t that what you wanted to do when you were twelve?’ Jess said.
‘Well, yes,’ Laura said. ‘But to be fair, I also wanted to be a band member in Take That and/or a trapeze artist.’
‘Don’t wisecrack your way out of this. You also thought about volunteering for the Samaritans when you were at uni, right? And you’ve told me you really love your Dear Laura work. You’ve even put your name down for the training as a volunteer grief counsellor. There’s a theme here.’
Laura chewed her nail. ‘Well, yes—’
Jess didn’t let her finish. ‘I can absolutely see you as a psychotherapist.’
‘What?’ Laura said, ‘because I’m so in control of my own life?’
Jess rolled her eyes. ‘I can tell you’re excited by the idea. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be standing out here mooning over your phone like Eddie Redmayne has just called you.’
Laura puffed out her cheeks. ‘Okay, I admit to being slightly excited by the idea. I’m also more than a bit flattered that someone like Nadia thinks I might be capable of being a therapist, despite the fact it proves beyond any reasonable doubt that she’s never read Dear Laura.’
‘Don’t tell me Evan is holding you back?’ Jess said.
Laura laughed. ‘I really regret telling you about my weirdly named inner critic. Anyway, yes, he’s throwing in his two pennies worth as usual, but it’s not just that. Think about it, Jess, there’s no way I could become a therapist at this stage of my life. It would take years of training and years without income. I’m a single mum now.’
Jess chewed her bottom lip. ‘Okay, but where there’s a will there’s a way. What about if you did the training while you were still working as a journalist? You were saying you might go freelance anyway?’
‘It would be very hard.’
Jess nodded. ‘Of course it would. But I’d help you as much as I possibly can – you know, with Billy and stuff.’
Laura’s brain swirled. ‘All that studying.’
‘Yup,’ Jess said.
Laura looked at her sister. ‘Do you remember what Mum said when I told her I wanted to be a therapist?’ Jess shook her head. ‘She said I’d be terrible. That I was too over-emotional.’
‘Mum wasn’t right about everything.’
Chapter One Hundred and Four
Laura reached for the last box folder. She’d banned Jess from talking about her retraining as a therapist but she hadn’t managed to ban her own brain from thinking about it, and as she sorted things into piles her mind fizzed with possibilities. It was such a crazy idea. And yet …
‘This box folder is unlabelled.’
‘How very sloppy,’ Jess said, grinning.
Laura put it on the floor and starte
d to go through it. She could see why it hadn’t been labelled because it was as close as anything of her mum’s came to the teetering pile on Laura’s kitchen table. Old bills were mixed with insurance documents, a letter from HMRC rubbed shoulders with a receipt for kitchen units.
She worked methodically, putting things into their designated piles.
‘Oh my goodness,’ she said. ‘Here’s my birth certificate! Mum could never find it. She said it was a nightmare getting my first passport. And, here it was the whole time.’ She looked up at Jess, who was staring at her with kind of a strange look on her face. ‘It wasn’t like Mum to lose something so important, was it? She was so organized. I’m glad I’ve found it though. Weird not having a birth certificate; like you’re not a “proper” person.’
She stood up and was about to put the certificate into her handbag when she looked at it one more time. CERTIFIED COPY OF AN ENTRY, Pursuant to the Births and Deaths Registration Act 1953.
And then her eyes skimmed a little farther down the page and landed on the section marked: FATHER. But the name underneath wasn’t her dad’s, it was Arthur Robert Keele.
Laura’s head swum and she felt as if she’d forgotten to breathe. There must be some mistake.
Except when she looked up at Jess, she saw that her sister had abandoned the files she was sorting through and was standing behind Laura, her face ashen, tears rolling down her cheeks.
Which was when Laura realized two things.
There hadn’t been a mistake.
And Jess had known all along.
Chapter One Hundred and Five
‘How long have you known?’ Laura whispered.
Jess shook her head, rubbed away the tears with the heel of her hands. ‘I didn’t want to keep it from you, Laura, believe me. I had so many rows with Mum over the years when I told her that she had to tell you because you deserved to know the tru—’
‘HOW. LONG?’
Jess stared at the floor. ‘I found out the night of Dad’s funeral.’