‘And now a cushion to represent Fabio,’ said Debs. She picked a blue one this time. ‘I’ll say all the things I want to say to him but won’t let myself to his face because I don’t want to give him the pleasure of seeing how hurt I was.’ She placed the cushion on the floor then stomped on it and kicked it about the room. ‘Take that, you lousy slug. I hate you, you were a rubbish lover and Miss Tantric Sex is welcome to you and your small pickle of a willy. Picklewilly, that’s you. God knows you’ll both need all the Tantric tricks she can muster.’ A few more kicks, then she’d finished. She didn’t seem at all bothered that I’d been sitting laughing my head off during it all.
‘Great. I feel better already. It’s always better out than in,’ said Debs. ‘Right, what else can we try? We could realign our chakras with crystals?’
18
Cait
‘Glass of wine, Cait?’ Matt asked as I collapsed in front of the TV after a hard day’s work.
‘Sure,’ I said.
We’d gone back to doing what we did so well – keeping busy and being polite yet distant. We made a good team at doing the decorating, but as we rollered over old layers of paint, I felt that it was somehow symbolic of our relationship, painting over the cracks, covering up what was out of date.
I could see Matt had been making an effort, though, trying to say he cared in the way that he knew. He’d sent out for a takeaway and offered me a glass of wine. He let me have the TV remote.
I glanced over at Matt. After supper, he had lain on the sofa and was now snoring softly. I felt a rush of affection for him. He was a good man. He had tried in his own way to make things work over the years, and I’d hurt him with my outburst on Friday that it wasn’t enough. Mum always said that kindness was the key to a good marriage. Matt had been kind to me, tiptoeing around me today as though I was unwell. Maybe I was. Restless, discontent, it was a kind of sickness of the soul.
Before bed, I checked emails.
There was one from Debs.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected], [email protected]
Hi Ladies,
Cait, I found another dating site after you left. I’ve got a date on Wednesday. This one sounds halfway decent. Nice voice, OK profile shot. Grows his own vegetables. I like a man who knows what to do with a prize-winning courgette. Lives in Devon. We’ve talked on the phone. Like his voice. Fingers crossed.
Debs
X
*
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Hi Debs
Good luck with the courgettes. You never know, he might even have a marrow.
Cait
X
I felt guilty as I pressed send. Debs was my friend and having a hard time finding a companion, and I could put her in touch with Tom if I could only let go of my own thoughts about him. Debs was irresistible, fun and charismatic. It might be a match made in heaven but I couldn’t do it. I still hadn’t replied to Tom’s text after our lunch. I should send him a message, I thought. That’s all it would be, good manners – thanks for the lunch and so on, then I could put it all behind me and try and get on with my life, my marriage, and be grateful for what I have and stop indulging in any silly fantasy that I wasn’t going to play out.
I found my phone and texted: Was great catching up, Tom. Take care, Cait. X
That was it, polite but giving no encouragement to stay in touch. He’d get the subtext.
19
Matt
Why oh why have I got roped into this? I asked myself as I waited in reception on Monday morning for Debs to come and get me. Not that I didn’t like her, but she could be full on at times, and some of her ideas about life bordered on the bizarre. As I looked around, I had to hand it to her, she’d done a great job creating a tranquil and pleasing atmosphere. Although I’d known her for years, it was my first visit to the Lotus Spa and so far I was impressed. I sat on a comfortable ivory L-shaped sofa in the corner with a glass coffee table in front with magazines – not health magazines as I’d have expected, but Vogue, Harper’s and Country Life. From another corner came the soothing sound of water from a small fountain bubbling onto glass pebbles; in the third corner was a life-size white standing Buddha, possibly Thai, with one hand raised as if in greeting, and on the wall there was a large painted image of a lotus. On the table in front of me, a fig-scented candle burnt. Thankfully, there was no New Age music or dolphin sounds. The atmosphere was elegant, serene and chic.
The door opened and there she was, the High Priestess herself. Debs, dressed in her work clothes: an ankle-length green kaftan, silver bracelet, and one of her many amulets around her neck, this time one showing a large pale stone. She certainly looked the part of the healer goddess, if not a little bonkers.
‘Matt, lovely to see you here. Come on through.’
I got up and followed her into a room at the back of the spa. On the way, we passed treatment rooms with names on the door – Nirvana, Love, Peace, Serenity – and underneath each was the Lotus logo.
‘What goes on behind there?’ I asked when we reached her study, which was decorated in the same style as the front and where there was another Buddha in the corner, this time seated in a cross-legged position.
‘All sorts of therapies. Massage. Facials. Aromatherapy. Cranial work. Homeopathy. Acupuncture. I have a list of practitioners I can call who cover just about all the alternative therapies.’
I waited for her to add marriage counselling to the list and was grateful when she didn’t. Last thing I wanted was to acknowledge that I knew she’d given Cait vouchers.
‘What’s your favourite?’
She laughed. ‘Winotherapy. Six o’clock.’
I chuckled. In small doses, Debs could be fun. My plan was to get in, get out. If I hadn’t wanted to escape from the atmosphere at home, I probably wouldn’t have come at all. Cait had been in an odd mood since she’d returned from London; I felt as if I was walking on eggshells and couldn’t say or do anything right. She’d asked me to come and give Debs a hand, something to do with brochures. I’d agreed if only to keep the peace and because she was one of Cait’s best friends.
‘Would you like something to drink? Green tea? Coconut water? Vodka and tonic?’ she asked.
‘Glass of water will be fine – bit early in the day for vodka. So how can I help?’
We spent the next fifteen minutes looking at old brochures for the spa. ‘I need to update these,’ she said. ‘A fresh look. Here at the centre, we take a holistic approach, you know – look at the whole person, the body, the mind, the heart, the spirit. I want the copy to reflect more of that so it doesn’t sound as if we just do massage, although we do offer that.’
‘Sounds good and …’ An idea had pinged in my head. A holistic approach? Maybe I could make that the basis of my programme for the silver surfers.
‘And what?’ said Debs. ‘You were about to say something.’
‘Oh, just some programme idea that I’ve been working on.’
‘For TV?’
‘Yes, but it’s only a maybe at the moment so I’d rather you didn’t mention it to Cait. I don’t want to raise her hopes if it comes to nothing.’
‘So what’s it about?’
‘That’s just it. I’m not sure. My contact wants to do a factual series for the over-sixties – what to do in retirement, and coping with getting older, sort of thing.’
‘Sounds like you could be just the man for the job. How are you coping?’ She looked at me very directly while she waited for my answer and I felt myself squirm.
‘Fine, Debs, thanks.’
‘So what made you think of the programme just then; you were about to say something?’
‘What you just said about holistic approach, mind, body, spirit. It sparked something. It might be a good way to go.’
Debs raised an eyebrow. ‘Glad to be of help and, yes, I could see that working.’
‘But I’m here for you. Sorry. I tell y
ou what. Give me an hour or two and I’ll have a look through your brochures and at your site and see if I can come up with anything.’
‘No hurry, though. You could work on it at home.’
‘I could, but actually it’s nice to get out for a change and I’ve brought my laptop.’
Debs nodded. I guessed that Debs knew exactly why I wanted a bit of time away from home, but no way was I going to say any more.
‘I think the Serenity room is free,’ she said. ‘You could work in there.’
An hour later, Debs tapped on the door then came in with a tray of tea and pad of paper. She sat down on a chair opposite the desk where I’d been working.
‘I’ve been doing some thinking since our conversation,’ she said, ‘and I’ve come up with some ideas for your series. I hope you don’t mind, but I do love a creative project.’
‘OK.’ Probably some mad hippie shit, but keep smiling Matt, I told myself.
‘I did a bit of scribbling and thought it could start like this,’ she said, and began to read from her pad of paper. ‘There are many worthy books and documentaries out there that can leave one feeling depressed because what they’re basically saying is what is there to look forward to? Stairlifts, arthritis and funeral costs, but hey, keep smiling and you’ll get through. If you’re going down that route, then this is not the series for you.’
I nodded. I’d sat in many meetings with people who had barking ideas, and I was pretty sure Debs was about to give me some. I knew exactly how to deal with them – agree to everything, praise the plans, bin them and, if asked later, say thank you very much for your help, the ideas are all in development.
‘If you’re retired or near it,’ Debs continued, ‘heading into your sixties, seventies or eighties and still feel that there’s a lot of living to do, then this is for you. Watch on … that’s if you have your glasses to hand.’
I smiled. Actually, so far, not too bad, and I liked her attempt at humour.
‘A new generation are now in their sixties,’ Debs indicated me and grinned. ‘They don’t feel old and aren’t quite ready to settle for golf and gardening, but what to do when the alarm goes, the day begins and there’s nothing you actually have to do? The partner who used to be up, showered, shaved and out the door by 8 a.m. is still in their dressing gown at 10:30 a.m. and hasn’t much to say apart from “What are we having for lunch?” He’s started wearing fleeces, she’s started wearing beige and support tights. Sexy? I don’t think so.’
I laughed. ‘You’ve been talking to Cait, haven’t you? The fleeces, the dressing gown part?’
‘A bit, you know us women like to talk, but I know what it’s like when people’s perception of you starts to change when you get older,’ said Debs. ‘I’m only in my forties but already I can see people’s reaction to me has changed.’
‘Surely not?’ I said.
Debs smiled. ‘Believe me, some places I’m plain invisible and, at parties, suddenly I’ve found that I’ve become the middle-aged, batty aunt who hippie dances, drinks too much and says inappropriate things. That behaviour used to be seen as cool when I was younger. Not any more.’
‘Too true. I was accused of Dad-dancing at a party last summer. I’d thought I had some good moves too.’
Debs laughed, and it felt good to be with someone who appeared to enjoy my company for a change.
‘I reckon life is what you make it,’ Debs continued, ‘so I think you should stay away from the word “retirement”: it sounds dull. Your message should be – make the next chapter a good one by embracing all that life still has to offer.’
‘Good, I like the introductory. Then where do you propose I go?’
‘Interviews with people on the street. Let people have their say – posh, poor, all sorts, and in different locations – then I suppose you can edit it?’
I nodded. ‘Yes, good idea, get an overview of how people feel. I had intended to do that.’
‘Then I thought you could look at various approaches that we spoke about before, bearing in mind there are different strokes for different folks.’
‘Yes. Like me, I do not want to play golf.’
‘Yes, but some people do. Show them that there are other alternatives, though. Take in the whole person – the holistic approach I was talking about. I thought you could start with the saga louts guide to keeping fit. The physical approach.’
‘Saga louts. I like that. Cait uses that phrase.’ Despite my earlier concerns, I was enjoying our conversation. It was only a start, but more than I’d managed to come up with to date. ‘So come at it from different angles, all aimed at making the most of life and show that we’re not over the hill yet. It could work, to offer something positive.’ I felt the rush of adrenalin that came when ideas were starting to flow. ‘So fitness.’ I rubbed my stomach. ‘I could probably do with some of that lark. Cait’s always on about me joining a gym.’
Debs gave me a coy look. ‘You look good, Matt, I wouldn’t worry too much. A bit of padding can be attractive on a man.’
Was I imagining it, or was Debs flirting with me? No. Ridiculous. I’d known her as long as I’d known Cait. Debs was one of those larger-than-life people who loves everyone; probably flirts with them all too.
‘So, fitness. You could look at what works, what doesn’t. Do some research then do an A–Z of options that people could download afterwards, aerobics through to Zumba. In fact, you could have a pile of stuff ready to download, maybe even do a book to accompany the series. And you could grade the results to show which has most benefit. For example, I read somewhere that dance and walking are the best form of exercise for older people.’
‘A book? Not a bad idea. How to survive retirement without killing your partner,’ I said.
Debs was quiet a moment. ‘Are things not going well with Cait?’
I coughed. ‘I was joking. Things are great with Cait. Fine, but I bet a lot of couples struggle.’
‘I bet they do. You could address that too.’ Once again she gave me that direct gaze of hers. I looked away. ‘There isn’t a whole lot of material out there that hasn’t got cartoons of aged people with Zimmer frames. We’re not all like that.’
‘No, you’re certainly not.’ Debs was thoughtful for a moment. ‘You know, Matt, you can always come and talk to me anytime if you need. I’m a good listener and I can appreciate what a huge adjustment you’ve had to make in the last months.’
‘Sorry, no, wrong end of stick. I’m fine. Yes it’s been a change, but I’m taking it in my stride. We both are. Seriously, we’re good, but I think we should address the problems that can arise for the newly retired at some point in the series. Loss of identity when there’s no longer a job to go to, losing space, that sort of thing.’
‘Essential, I’d say.’ She was looking at me at little too closely for my liking again. I felt torn. Debs was easy to talk to and appeared to be sympathetic, but she was Cait’s friend, not mine. ‘So what else? Let’s brainstorm.’
‘How to look good for longer could come under the physical programme. Make-up and hair tips for the ladies, get a style expert in, what to wear, what not to wear,’ said Debs.
‘Cait tells me there are rules to one’s appearance after a certain age; less is more or something.’
Debs indicated her flamboyant outfit. ‘There can be exceptions.’
‘True, but what you wear looks good on you. Not everyone can carry that kind of style and it fits with what you do here.’ Debs smiled. Lord, was I flirting with her now? Christ. What was going on? ‘Erm … Clothing tips for the men. Dos and don’ts. Cait tells me I can no longer wear shirts tucked in.’
‘She’s right. Not a good look unless you’re lean. Oh. Not that I’m saying you’re not – oh, you know what I mean.’ Now it was Debs’s turn to squirm. I laughed and she grinned back at me.
‘So what else?’
‘Nutrition,’ she said. ‘We do a lot of that here at the centre. What are the best supplements? Devil’s claw for ar
thritis, diet, that sort of thing. Cranberry for urinary problems.’
‘Fish oils. Blargh. I take them for my dodgy knees. They repeat on me. Sorry. Too much information.’
‘But they are effective and you could add a section on how to lower blood pressure and cholesterol naturally, what are the best treatments around for aches and twinges that come with ageing. We find here that most clients would prefer to take the natural route before submitting to tablets for the rest of their lives, so many of which have side effects.’
‘I’m sure a lot of people would be interested in that.’
‘That could fill a whole programme,’ Debs continued. ‘And you could also look at beds, chairs – all the items that can make life easier.’
I chuckled. ‘Stairlifts?’
‘Why not? After that you could go on to the other angles. So many are dealing with losing friends, ageing parents, and so inevitably having to face our own mortality.’
I nodded. ‘It can be depressing; sobering at the least.’
‘So important to keep talking, not bottle it all up.’
‘Fear of ageing and all that comes with it,’ I said. ‘Losing hair and finding it growing in places you don’t want it.’
Debs laughed. ‘Nose, ear, chin. We have a therapist here who specializes in just that. Very popular with the over-sixties. Also … maybe have a section on sex for the over-sixties too; what you need, etc.’
‘An oxygen cylinder,’ I said, and Debs laughed again. I was beginning to see her in a new light. Her ideas were good, not off the wall, plus it had been a long time since I’d had the attention of an attractive, younger woman, and had to admit that, despite myself, I felt flattered.
‘And maybe have one programme dedicated to attitude. The importance of staying engaged with others and stimulated—’
‘Wahey,’ she said, ‘KY jelly. Sorry. I know what you mean, mentally stimulated and not just Sudoku and crosswords. The importance of learning new things.’ She pointed at the Buddha. ‘And you can’t leave the spiritual side out. In ancient society, older people were respected for their wisdom – not so now. The word “crone” used to be a term of great respect for an old wise woman; now people associate it with sad, bent, wrinkly old folk.’
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