Daniel pressed the Play button and there was Mum in her room at the retirement village. She was lying on a couch, wearing a green silk kimono and had a blue ostrich feather around her neck. Martha stood at her head and was feeding her grapes. Jean was on her other side, fanning her.
Mum smiled out of the screen and I smiled back, so glad to see her again. ‘Hello darlings,’ she drawled in a Marlene Dietrich voice. She indicated her friends. ‘This is the life hey?’
‘Is for you Iris Parker,’ said Jean, and smacked Mum on her knees with the fan. ‘Why couldn’t I be Cleopatra?’
Mum laughed and sat up straight while Martha and Jean took their places beside her, both groaning as they lowered themselves on to the sofa.
Martha laughed. ‘Hazard of old age, dears. One can’t get up or down without a groan.’
‘Well, here we are on weekend three,’ said Mum. ‘I do hope you’re all there and there haven’t been problems with the weather or flu bugs. I’ve told Daniel if that happens, not to worry, and to reschedule for a weekend you can all do. So … what’s this weekend about?’
Martha picked up a cocktail glass from the small table to the side of the sofa and took a sip. ‘It’s about indulgence, darlings. I know we put you through it a bit the first two weekends, but that’s life – it can’t all be cocktails.’
‘But sometimes, it can,’ added Jean. ‘What we want to say this time is that happiness is as much about contrast as anything else. Like that quote from Joyce Grenfell. “Happiness is the sublime moment when you get out of your corsets at night.” A relief that something is over or has changed.’
‘To warm up when you’ve been cold, to be somewhere cool when you’ve been hot,’ said Mum, ‘to be fed when you’re hungry, to be busy after a quiet patch, or to have some down time when you’ve been busy, etc. If life was all on one level, no contrast, it would be a very dull place indeed.’
‘Contrast but balance too,’ said Jean. ‘In seeking happiness, if you seek the pleasure of life too intently, you lose the meaning. If you seek the meaning too intently, you lose the pleasure. You need to find a balance.’
‘Like a glass of wine in either hand,’ said Mum.
‘Don’t be silly, Iris,’ said Jean. ‘You know what I mean.’
‘I do,’ said Mum. ‘So no walks in the cold this weekend or colonics to look forward to or baring your soul to Beverly. No, as a contrast – or in Jean’s word, as a balance – to the other tasks, this weekend we’re going to give you a few treats. Treats for the senses: to see something wonderful, hear something wonderful—’
‘To feel amazing, have taste sensations, know the comfort and pleasure of touch and the power of smell,’ added Martha.
‘Sounds like my kind of weekend,’ said Fleur.
‘I expect Daniel’s there with you,’ said Jean, ‘and as always he’s got the schedule. Today, we just want you to relax, so stay in your dressing gowns if you like. Three therapists will be coming to the flat to give you massages and facials. It will be a day of pampering. For an early supper, Daniel will have arranged for a fabulous meal, cooked by an Ottolenghi chef, to be brought, then this evening a night out at the theatre, and you’ll go by taxi. We had to leave what you see up to Daniel, because we don’t know what will be on at the time, but it will be ballet or opera. Something marvellous to lift the soul and be a treat for the eyes or the ears.’
‘Tomorrow,’ Mum continued, ‘a day out in Harrods with a make-up session, a hairdresser, then time with a personal shopper—’
‘Because the right outfit can change how one feels,’ said Martha. ‘It really can. I always say, wherever one is, one should never forget one’s sense of style.’
‘Poser,’ said Jean.
Martha gave her a snooty look. ‘One has standards and so should the girls.’
‘I want each of you to choose a perfume so that we don’t leave out the sense of smell,’ said Mum. ‘Go for the ones you’ve always worn if you like, I know you all have your favourites, but try a few new ones too. I know Fleur is as happy as a sandboy when in the perfume department surrounded by sumptuous scents.’
‘So enjoy,’ said Martha. ‘You could probably all do with a bit of relaxation time with the busy lives you lead.’
‘I told you that the weekends would be varied,’ said Mum. ‘We wanted to make them so as to include different experiences, because different things appeal to different people and you three are such individuals. Have any of you come across a man called Rudolf Otto?’
We looked at each other and shook our heads.
‘He writes about an experience that he calls the numinous, a word meaning to have a sense of elation at the wonder and mystery that is life,’ said Jean.
‘But what triggers this is never the same for two people,’ said Martha. ‘For one, a piece of music can inspire the feeling, whilst the same piece can leave another cold. For someone else, it’s a walk in the mountains or to witness a sunset and to stop and experience the glory of nature. For another the feeling will be triggered by being in a place of worship like a cathedral or temple. For another, on looking into the eyes of a newborn child. You see? Different things can inspire the numinous, which is why we’ve tried to include all sorts of sensations and experiences in the programme in the hope that you will find your personal route to it.’
‘Can’t say I felt very numinous during the colonic,’ said Fleur. I laughed but Rose ignored her.
‘You must seek and find what evokes this feeling in you, what inspires for you the experience of the soul soaring, of joy,’ said Mum. ‘But for today, just enjoy. Relax and enjoy.’
They went back to their Cleopatra tableau, with Mum lying back, Jean with the fan and Martha with the grapes.
‘Bliss,’ said Fleur. ‘Especially as it’s freezing outside.’
‘And a relief that she’s not got us doing anything too mad,’ said Rose.
‘Lying on a sofa with an ostrich feather around your neck and talking from beyond the grave is pretty mad if you ask me,’ said Fleur.
‘Yes, but that’s her,’ said Rose. ‘She hasn’t got us doing anything bonkers.’
Fleur turned to me. ‘You seem rather subdued this morning, Dee. You all right?’
‘Oh yes, fine,’ I said. ‘Good. Thanks.’
I was anything but fine. All my senses felt heightened, but I was trying my best to look calm. I had found my numinous. Daniel. I was in love. Truly, madly, deeply. I’d been seeing him for almost two months, but this was the first time I’d been with him with my sisters present, and it was hard being so close to him and not being able to touch him or share a look. I could hardly remember how I’d behaved around him before we became lovers, and faking indifference wasn’t proving easy. After Nick, I never thought I would feel this way again, but I did and more. In Daniel, I’d found a soul mate. We seemed to fit and it was so easy to be with him. He didn’t play games – apart from the tantric ones that he’d introduced me to.
I needed to put Fleur off the scent. ‘Oh, I was thinking about work, I guess.’
‘Work? Why?’
‘Since I last saw you, I’ve started a new series. Er … it’s going well, but like anything creative, it has rather taken over.’
Fleur seemed happy with my explanation. I didn’t dare look at Daniel in case I gave us away. Fleur would see in a second that something was going on and it was true that my work was going well. Since December, I’d focused on my bird series, and was already some way to having work ready to show in an exhibition. It felt like a dam had burst inside of me and the images had been flooding in. I’d done some small canvases, some larger. One I was particularly proud of was of an eagle flying into and across the canvas, filling it with massive outstretched wings, its beak down, as though it could fly through and out into the room. Daniel was my biggest fan; he’d seen the painting on his visit to me and wanted to buy it. When I said I’d give it to him as a gift, he’d insisted that he paid for it. ‘It’s how you make your living
,’ he said, so considerate and understanding that the classes I taught were only a means to an end.
*
Daniel attempted to make his exit once he’d given us our schedules and funds for the weekend. He had his jacket and scarf on, ready to leave, when Fleur decided that she wasn’t letting him go so easily.
‘So, mystery man,’ she said as he headed for the door. ‘Don’t rush off. Don’t you think it’s time you told us a bit more about yourself?’
Daniel stopped and turned back, careful not to meet my eyes. ‘What do you want to know?’
‘Work. Where do you live? Are you attached? Do you have children? We’ve been meeting with you since last October but know so little about you. I thought, we must appear rude.’
‘Not at all, but there’s not much to know. I live in North London, work for the swami mainly—’
‘Doing what exactly?’ asked Fleur.
‘Oh, setting up his tour schedules. PA work.’
‘Where does he go?’ I asked. I thought I’d better say something in case my silence betrayed me, though I already knew a bit about Daniel’s work.
‘All over the UK. Teaching, visiting hospices.’
‘Hospices?’ asked Rose.
‘Yes. The swami works with the terminally ill.’
‘Doing what?’ Rose again.
‘Helping them to find their peace. For many, it’s a relief for someone to address what is happening to them, to address that part of them that isn’t ill or dying, to have something to say about the importance of the inner state of mind through their last chapter.’
‘Really?’ said Rose. ‘I guess it’s easy to preach when you’re not one of them.’
Her tone was sharp, and I thought her comment unkind when she knew so little about what they actually did, though I hadn’t known about this aspect of his work either. ‘So what does the swami actually do?’
‘He teaches them to go within through meditation, to go beyond what’s happening on the outside. He helps show them that there is more to them than just a body, that the body is merely a temple for the soul and transitory – a shell, if you like.’
‘What if they don’t believe in God?’ asked Rose.
‘That doesn’t matter. There is a state of peace inside everyone regardless of belief.’
‘Sounds presumptuous of him to me,’ said Rose.
‘Why?’ asked Daniel. He took a seat back at the table.
‘Oh, come on. Isn’t that obvious? To swan in there with platitudes about peace and telling people how they should be feeling at such a traumatic time of their life.’
‘You’d be surprised, Rose. Most people welcome him.’
‘Is it like giving the Last Sacrament, like a priest?’
Daniel considered Rose’s question. ‘Yes and no. Yes, in that the Last Sacrament can bring peace to a believer. And no, in that the swami doesn’t belong to any creed. He helps people to find their own inner peace, regardless of whether they have faith or not.’
Rose scoffed. ‘I bet some people are about as far from feeling inner peace as they will ever be. I think you’re being naïve and idealistic, Daniel.’
‘Your prerogative. The swami would never force his teachings on anyone, but many are very receptive to him.’
‘Did he help Mum?’ asked Fleur.
Daniel nodded. ‘I believe so. As you know, she was always interested in meditation, and she visited the centre many times last year before she came to see me about this programme.’
‘She never mentioned it,’ said Rose.
‘But maybe that was because she was planning her kicking the bucket list and didn’t want any of us to get wind of it,’ said Fleur.
‘Maybe, but also maybe she just found the swami easier to talk to than family,’ I said. I remembered the books she’d had in her room, and the conversations we’d had about death – or she’d tried to have. Although I’d done my best to listen and talk, I’d found it difficult, and she’d probably seen that. I could understand that a man like the swami wouldn’t have shied away, and a debate about death and an afterlife would have been a comfort and a relief to her. Hearing that Daniel was involved made me love him all the more. He was turning out to be the emotionally intelligent and sensitive man I had always been looking for.
‘And apart from that, what about you? Children? Partner? Pets?’ Fleur persisted. I had to hand it to Daniel. He was the epitome of cool, unlike me, who was beginning to feel panic. I realized I needed to help change the subject.
‘No children—’ he began.
‘What do you think of this programme we’re doing?’ I asked.
Daniel smiled. ‘It’s not my place to comment or advise. I think I told you that in the beginning. This is a journey for you and your sisters, not me, so best if I stay out of it.’
‘Cop-out,’ said Fleur. ‘Come on, dish the dirt. Who is the real Daniel?’ I took a sharp breath. I couldn’t bear for Rose or Fleur to know what was going on. They’d make fun. They’d belittle what we had, but Daniel didn’t appear at all fazed. He leant back, as though in no rush to leave, his body language relaxed and open. I prayed that Fleur or Rose didn’t notice that I’d tensed up, crossed my legs and my arms. I made an effort to reflect Daniel’s ease and uncrossed everything, made myself breathe deeply.
‘Not really a cop-out,’ said Daniel. ‘What I think is irrelevant. It’s between you and your late mother. I was instructed purely to organize what needed doing.’ He stood up. ‘And now I really must be on my way. Your masseuses will be here shortly.’
*
‘Dee, so what’s going on with you and Daniel?’ was the first thing Fleur asked, seconds after he’d closed her front door.
Inwardly I cursed. ‘Me and Daniel? Nothing. Don’t be stupid.’
Fleur looked at me carefully. ‘Hmm. I think you’ve got the hots for him.’
‘Have not.’
‘Yes you have. I can tell. You’ve gone all quiet and … coy.’
‘I have not.’
‘Have.’
‘Have I missed something?’ asked Rose. ‘Has something happened between you?’
‘Course not! You were the one asking him the questions.’
‘I was trying to find out if he was attached for you,’ said Fleur. ‘You know you want to know.’
‘I already know. He told me he was single when we were down in Somerset, that first weekend,’ I said. That much was true.
‘That was months ago,’ said Fleur. ‘He might be gay for all we know.’
Rose began staring at me. ‘You do like him though, don’t you Dee? You do seem kind of different when he’s around.’
I was dying to tell them, but I’d promised Daniel, even though I did feel uncomfortable about lying. ‘I like him, yes, but you know it’s down to chemistry in the end and, nope, that’s just not there, so I can tell you that whatever you sense about how I am today, it’s not because of Daniel. Maybe it’s because work is going well. My new series.’ I filled them in on the bird paintings and, though Rose feigned interest, Fleur’s eyes glazed over. It did the trick, though, and got them off my case about fancying Daniel. But Fleur was right, I did feel different when he was around. I was on cloud nine.
‘Have you heard any more from your landlady’s sons?’ asked Rose.
‘Yes. I got an email from Michael saying that he looked forward to resuming negotiations later in the year. The house has been taken off the market so they obviously took me seriously about the rights of assured tenants.’
‘Excellent result, and you can buy the house when this year is up,’ said Fleur.
‘I can. I will.’
‘Good,’ said Rose.
‘Good,’ I echoed.
*
The masseuses came on the dot of eleven: Cheryl, Katie and Rachel, bright young things with glossy hair, clear skin and eyes. They were carrying massage couches and bags of equipment. They explained our options and Rose opted for a facial and reflexology, Fleur a facial and Swedi
sh massage, and I went for a facial and aromatherapy treatment.
Katie was my therapist and together we went into the bedroom, where I sat on the bed while she set up.
‘Shall we start with the massage?’ asked Katie.
‘Sounds perfect.’
‘Take everything off,’ said Katie, ‘and I’ll be back in a moment.’ She pulled out a paper shower cap from her bag and handed it to me. ‘Put this on.’
After she’d gone, I took my clothes off, put the paper cap on my head and tucked my hair into it. ‘Ready,’ I called and Katie came back in. She took one look at me and burst out laughing.
I felt indignant. How rude, I thought. OK, so I’m past my prime, but the sight of me naked is not that blooming funny. ‘Why are you laughing?’
Katie looked at my head then at my crotch, and I realized that what she’d given me wasn’t for my hair at all. I was wearing a pair of knickers on my head.
I went bright red. ‘Oh God, sorry, sorry,’ I said as I removed the pants from my head and quickly stepped into them. ‘Sorry.’
‘No problem,’ said Katie, but she kept sniggering all the way through the massage and, in the end, I had to join her. Mum would have howled with laughter, I thought as I succumbed to Katie’s fingers and the divine scent of rose and neroli. Soon I forgot all about my idiotic mistake and floated off into a state of bliss. Pure heaven, I thought, and made a note to tip Katie generously, mainly to keep her mouth shut.
By three o’clock, we were done, and I felt more relaxed than I had been in months. When our masseuses left, we all opted for a snooze, and as I lay back on Fleur’s Egyptian cotton sheets in the perfect ivory bedroom, I felt tearful. Here I am Mum, I thought, pampered and pandered to, in Fleur’s flat with Rose next door. We’re all together, just as you wanted, but you’re not here. Mum had put so much thought into this list of hers, I wished I could thank her for looking out for me, for us, and for caring so much about our welfare, and I wished I had done more for her whilst she was alive. So much had changed since her death and I no longer felt disappointed and anxious about life. Quite the opposite. Apart from still missing her, I was happy and full of hope for the future and wished that I could have told her that. The massage seemed to have penetrated my wall of coping, and all the grief at having lost Mum came flooding to the surface. I might have seen her face on the recording this morning but, in reality, she had still gone to that place where I could not follow. As I wept, I wondered how Fleur and Rose were doing in their rooms and if the massages had affected them in the same way.
The Kicking the Bucket List Page 16