by Lucy Coleman
Tidying the paperwork on the kitchen table, I check the camera angle of the laptop so that my image sits within the frame. With the dresser displaying the vintage blue and white crockery as a backdrop, it’s a very calming scene and perfect for what I want to achieve.
Then I spend ten minutes going through their file once more. Veronica and Liam are professional people, have been married for eight years and have no children so far, by choice it confirms. From middle class backgrounds, they seem to have achieved what looks on paper to be an enviable work/life balance.
It’s time to set up the digital voice recorder next and then pull out my interview sheets, where I’ve listed some questions to help the interviews flow. I find that some people need to be led, while others will simply talk non-stop. I have no preference either way, as long as there aren’t awkward silences that don’t give me any information at all.
Finally, I can sit back in my chair and re-align everything on the table top in front of me as I check I have everything I need. Nerves begin to kick in as the clock edges around to the hour. Come on, Tia, you’ve done this hundreds of times before and once the first interview is out of the way you’ll be on a roll.
The couple staring back at me are sitting close together on what looks like a sofa in a very stylish room. Everything in the shot behind them looks shiny and sleek.
‘Hello Veronica and Liam, lovely to meet you both. I’m Tia Armstrong. Thank you so much for taking part in our winter feature, we’re all very excited about it at this end. You guys just look so perfect together.’
Oops, that last comment sort of slipped out without any thought, but they do look like the perfect couple. Judging by the angle of their arms I think they are holding hands, but that’s out of shot.
They smile back at me and then turn to face each other, sporting big grins.
‘I guess he’ll do,’ Veronica laughs and turns back to face me. ‘Sorry about the rush, but we’re flying out tomorrow and will be gone for five weeks.’
‘No problem at all, I’m grateful you guys are prepared to put the packing on hold. It should take about an hour for the joint interview, then probably no more than twenty to thirty minutes for the individual sessions. We can take a break at any time to suit you both. Maybe do the joint interview first and then stop for lunch, if that’s OK with you both? Where are you going?’
Liam’s voice is low and very smooth. I see from the information on file that he’s a doctor. ‘Kuala Lumpur first, then Ho Chi Minh City, and then on to Da Nang and Hanoi. We’re in your hands, Tia, but that sounds good to me. What do you think, darling?’
Veronica nods in agreement. She’s a paediatrician and I wonder whether being around children all the time is the reason starting a family doesn’t seem to be a part of their forward plan. Seeing the day-to-day reality of parenting might be a reminder of how life changes once you have kids and, in their case, it would be a radical change. But that’s outside the brief, even though it was information they included in the questionnaire and I need to keep focused.
‘Is it OK if I use a voice recorder, as well as making notes as we talk? It helps when I’m writing up the article.’
Both nod in agreement and their body language doesn’t give any impression of nervousness at all.
‘Has our photographer booked an appointment with you to take a few shots?’
‘He came last Saturday, actually. We haven’t seen the photos which will be used in the actual article, but we were very happy with what he showed us.’
I’m annoyed with myself that I didn’t ask Hayley to keep me informed of the photographer’s itinerary.
‘Did he ask you to pose for any Christmas-inspired shots?’
I hold my breath, hoping there was at least one shot with maybe a little tinsel or a bauble in sight.
‘No. Why, is that a problem?’
It’s my fault for not being ahead of the game.
‘It’s just that I’d like to get a feel for the way you guys celebrate Christmas.’
Liam immediately jumps in.
‘No problem. I’ll send you a link to our private YouTube account. You are very welcome to take screen shots from that, if it helps. Last year we spent Christmas in a log cabin in Luosto, an idyllic resort in the middle of Lapland. It was an amazing experience.’
Of course they were in Lapland. Why am I not at all surprised?
‘Did you see the Aurora Borealis?’
‘We did. And it was mind-blowing. We managed to get some footage and that’s in the video, too.’ Suddenly my life begins to feel very ordinary and mundane, by comparison. And as for the video, well, I can imagine that they don’t have one bad angle between them. I find myself fiddling with my hair and hoping it doesn’t look quite as flyaway as it did in the mirror.
The hour flies by and when we end the call to break for lunch, I find myself sitting here staring around and feeling very alone. The contrast to my own life couldn’t be more complete: a couple who believe in living life to the full on every conceivable level. It’s not jealousy that rears up inside of me, it’s more akin to longing. OK, so their dream isn’t quite the same as mine, but to have found that person. The one. And to have your life sorted so you can afford the lifestyle you want and that work/life balance falling quite nicely into place. I groan and sag a little in my chair.
As I’m preparing a quick sandwich there’s a knock on the door and it’s Olwen.
‘Come on through, I’ve just put the kettle on.’
When she follows me into the kitchen she hesitates as her eyes take in my temporary office on the kitchen table.
‘Oh, I don’t mean to disturb you, Tia, really. I wondered if it was convenient to clean through today?’
‘It’s fine, honestly. As I said, I don’t make much mess. What I’d really like is a little company. Do you have time to stop for a sandwich?’
Olwen looks a little surprised. ‘I’m being paid to pop in every other day for an hour. I don’t want to take advantage—’
I smile, reassuringly. ‘I won’t tell, if you don’t. Slip off your coat and take a seat. Ignore that end of the table. I have about fifty minutes before I have to begin interviewing again, but you’d be doing me a favour as it’s nice to have a little company.’
Olwen removes her coat and pulls out a chair. ‘To be honest I’m glad to sit down. Mondays are my worst day of the week as I go from one cleaning job to another. In between I fit in the morning playground duty, which is always a juggling act. It’s non-stop.’
As I carry two plates across to the table Olwen smiles, a little embarrassed.
‘It’s a long time since anyone waited on me.’
We both laugh. I carry the mugs across and take a seat opposite her.
‘You seem to really enjoy your job and they obviously think highly of you. What do you do, exactly?’
‘I’m a feature writer for a magazine. The interviews are for a special winter spread about how couples keep the love in their relationships alive.’
Olwen swallows a mouthful of ham sandwich and raises her eyebrows.
‘Goodness. It makes it sound like hard work. I always receive flowers for Valentine’s Day and my birthday, and I thought I was lucky after all these years. I’ll have to buy the magazine and I can wave it in front of Rhys on the odd occasion we’re in bed together and actually awake. After twenty-three years together, it’s all about getting through each day, to be honest.’
I almost choke on my sandwich as I start laughing.
‘Do you have children, Olwen?’
She nods. ‘Three. One at uni, one at college and the youngest one is still at school, she’s only twelve.’
No wonder Olwen and her husband don’t have much time for themselves.
‘I doubt you are missing out on very much. You must be doing something right as you’re still together.’
Olwen’s plate is already half-empty and she picks up the mug of coffee in front of her.
‘I wouldn’t be wi
thout him, flaws and all. That man still has some annoying habits, but I figure the good outweighs the bad. Now, me, it goes without saying that I have to be perfect to put up with him.’
The wicked grin on her face tells me Rhys thinks she’s a handful, but underlying that is a real sense of contentment with her lot. Obviously, it’s difficult juggling her various jobs and family life; anyone would find that tiring, but it’s clear Olwen doesn’t resent the pressure she’s under. Like most working mums she simply longs for the luxury of having a little time to sit and catch her breath occasionally.
I remember that what I really wanted to ask her was about Nic, but that will have to wait for another day.
‘It takes all sorts to make a world and it would be very boring if we were all the same. Besides, we don’t always end up where we thought we’d be and I guess that’s down to fate. I hoped I’d find my Mr Right and be juggling family and career by now. Instead I live in fear of turning into a mini version of my boss and that would be a tragedy.’
‘Oh, so being here is a perk of the job, is it?’
Swallowing a mouthful of coffee, I look directly at Olwen.
‘I’m here because my mother died nearly five weeks ago and I’ve been off on compassionate leave. I had a bit of an… episode actually, but no one knows that. I couldn’t cope with the news when it happened and the doctor ended up prescribing me a sedative. I had an allergic reaction to it and, well, let’s say that I wasn’t in a good way.’
Olwen reaches out and places her hand on my arm.
‘Sorry to hear that, Tia. The grieving process is a long one and it’s a bumpy ride, that’s for sure. We never get over losing the people who touch our lives in a meaningful way, but I believe their love is always around us.’
By the look in her eyes I can see that loss has touched her, too.
I glance at the clock and regretfully it’s about time I made a move. Olwen notices, and rises from her seat.
‘Thanks for the little chat, Olwen. I needed that.’
‘Any time. I’ll see you the day after tomorrow but if you need anything in the meantime just give me a call. Lovely sandwich by the way – it hit the spot!’
7
Powering Through the Disappointment
I don’t know whether my mind begins to dwell on recent events after chatting to Olwen, or following the interview with Veronica and Liam. The harsh contrast between the life of the perfect couple and my own, non–existent, love life is a bit of a slap in the face if I’m being honest.
What isn’t helping is that the moment I close my eyes at night my head is full of old memories. Mostly Christmas re-runs, which is probably to be expected given the slant of the articles I’m working on. But it hurts because my feelings are still so raw and I dread waking up in the morning for fear I’ll remember the details of some pretty intense dreams. On several occasions I’ve literally woken myself up as I sob in my sleep.
The worst was re-living the memory of the first Christmas after I started school. Most of my friends wanted the latest doll who could drink water from a bottle and shed tears. I wanted a desk just like my teacher’s. And I was pretty specific about what had to be in the desk. At the top of the list was a register just like the one Miss Merchant ticked every day as she called out our names.
‘I can’t possibly be a real teacher without a proper register. Santa will bring me one, won’t he, Mum?’
Looking back, I’m sure I gave her an impossible task. I mean, where on earth did you go to buy a real school register? Most of the other items in my letter to Santa were pretty standards things you could easily pick up in any stationery store but I kept on and on about the register.
Now for Christmas morning we only had one rule and that was that we stayed in our beds until six a.m. However, this Christmas my excitement was tinged with the fear of disappointment. What if Santa brought me something else, or the desk was there but it was empty? I tossed and turned until the early hours of the morning and I swear my eyes never closed once. Eventually I crept downstairs, too afraid to venture into the sitting room I simply sat on a step halfway down the stairs. I figured that if I saw him then I could ask the question and if he had forgotten then I was sure he’d fly back to the North Pole so as not to disappoint me.
It was probably an hour or two later that Mum found me shivering in just my cotton nightie, my eyes glued to the semi-open door.
‘What on earth are you doing sitting here in the dark? And you’re so cold, darling.’
She had immediately slipped off her dressing gown and wrapped it around me, hugging me close to her and rocking gently.
‘I don’t want Santa to forget my register, Mum. But he hasn’t been yet. He will come, won’t he?’ I pleaded, searching for reassurance.
I remember gazing up into her eyes, my own filling with tears. Her own eyes brightened as she gave me a watery smile in return.
‘Let’s take a look, shall we?’
I remember sucking in a deep breath.
‘But it’s not six o’clock yet because the alarm hasn’t gone off.’
She’d buried her head into my hair and then pulled away, planting a kiss on top of my head.
‘I won’t tell anyone if you don’t. Come on.’
Mum pulled me to my feet, adjusting the fabric wrapped around me so I wouldn’t trip and hand in hand we’d descended the stairs. As we approached the sitting room door I’d turned to look at her and she’d nodded at me to push open the door.
Even in the semi-gloom I could see the presents around the tree and to one side a wooden desk and a little blue chair, similar to the one I had at school. My hands had flown up to my face.
‘Shall we have a peek inside?’
Mum led me by the hand and stood, now shivering slightly as the chill in the air took hold. I stood with my hand hovering over the hinged lid, painted in a bold blue colour to match the plastic chair. I wanted to fling it open but I was scared. Scared that my dream would fall apart because I’d thought of nothing else since I’d written my letter to Santa. I had often dreamt of sitting on that chair with a pen in my hand calling out the names of my imaginary class.
Even though Mum was rubbing her arms to keep the chill at bay I hesitated and the seconds passed. Then slowly, very slowly my fingers hooked around the edge of the lid and I lifted it high in the air, half-afraid to look inside.
And there it was and that was all I needed to know. Mum led me back to bed, tucking me in and planting a kiss on my forehead.
‘He didn’t forget, Mum,’ I half-whispered, fighting to keep my eyes open.
‘Santa knows what a good girl you are, Tia. Now get some sleep so you aren’t too tired to set up your school in the morning. After all, you have a class of dolls and teddies who are counting on you to teach them everything you know, my precious little one.’
Her voice had faded as sleep finally claimed me. And in my dream, it was as if I could feel her looking over me and I was that small child once more. But the gut-wrenching sadness I felt on awakening has left me in dread of the next memory that will be triggered.
Ironically, the interviews are going well, though, and there is plenty to engage the readers and give them food for thought. The only little blip is when I do the one-to-one with Veronica. She makes a reference to children at one point and I sense that the decision not to start a family is a sensitive topic. As it is totally outside the brief and none of my business, it isn’t something we cover when it is Liam’s turn. However, when people chatter away quite happily it’s often what they don’t say that stands out like a little red flag. Liam never once mentions children, in any context. For him, keeping the romance alive is about the wonderful experiences he and Veronica share together on their many travels. I have the distinct impression that his forward plans extend way into the future. Could there be trouble brewing in paradise, I wonder.
Anyway, it’s time to watch the YouTube video of Veronica and Liam’s trip to Lapland last Christmas. I sit back in my
chair with a cup of coffee and a bar of chocolate within easy reach. My goodness, they certainly like their video footage, that’s for sure. Liam has quite a gallery going on here. I click on the one entitled It’s Christmassssss.
The opening shot shows heavy snow and in the distance is a log cabin surrounded by tall pine trees. As the camera moves closer to pick up the detail, there’s a light on a small post next to the cabin and a warm glow shines out from the windows either side of the door.
Suddenly Liam jumps into view, arms outstretched, wearing black snow gear, including the goggles.
‘Welcome to our Christmas adventure. Come on in; the fire is lit.’
Whoever is doing the filming follows Liam as the door to the log cabin is thrown open and we step inside. The cabin is a good size and the screen immediately zooms in onto the log fire flickering away nicely in the open fireplace. In the next shot, Liam and Veronica are sitting on the rug in front of the fire, raising up their mugs in a toast.
‘To a wonderful Christmas full of lots more hot chocolate with marshmallows, sleigh rides and the hunt for the Aurora Borealis.’
There’s laughter and a hubbub of general chatter in the background. As the video continues two other couples appear at various times and if there was ever an advert to entice you into booking a snow holiday, this is it.
There are shots of huskies lying in the snow, presumably before and after a run, and in between a few moments of film of a sleigh ride. But in other shots Veronica can be seen cuddling a very young, husky pup with a snowy white coat. The look on her face is one of pure delight.
I can only imagine how wonderful it must be to experience Christmas in a place that is a veritable winter wonderland. The video contains shots of reindeer, snowshoeing, cross country skiing, snowmobiling and ice skating. There’s even a drinks party in the sauna at one point.
But when the camera zooms in on the Aurora Borealis, that’s something else entirely. Liam gives a commentary all the way through several minutes of footage. It’s after one a.m. and they’re out on the snowmobiles for the third night in a row to chase the elusive northern lights. It seems they’ve been watching a faint green glow that is low down on the horizon, for quite a while. The point at which filming recommences the heavens are full of stars, in front of which curtains of green light, infused with almost a purple hue giving it a 3D effect, dance in the sky. It’s one of the weirdest, but most awe-inspiring things I’ve ever seen.