The Mercury Travel Club: Getting your life back on track has never been more funny!

by Helen Bridgett

  Angie, your journey, well what can I say?

  Around you there truly is ne’er a dull day.

  I hope we’re all here toasting in another year’s time;

  To good books, good friends and bloody good wine.

  And that really is all you need in life, I think, through my cosy-fire and red-wine induced euphoria. I get home and spotting Gnorman and Gnora on the step, I take them in to be safely packed away. Once inside, it doesn’t take long for the calm satisfaction of a year well lived to lull me to sleep, dreamless, deep and restorative sleep.

  The refuse truck making its pre-New Year collection wakes me up. It takes a moment or two and then I remember the day’s proceedings. Efficiently I get washed and dressed, packing up my remaining belongings and storing them all together. A final clean and one by one, I close each door for the final time.

  The removal van does road-space battle with the refuse truck but somehow they manage to manoeuvre around each other and complete their tasks for today. Everyone wants to finish work and get the party started.

  I leave the new people a bottle of champagne to welcome them to their new home, pack my bag and with a final glance, throw it in the car. This is it – off to Patty’s.

  I wind down the car windows rather than scraping the ice and put it into reverse.

  ‘Here goes.’

  Taking off the brake, I roll backwards and as soon as I do I hear a screech of pain. I lunge forward and get out to see what I’ve done. It’s Socks; she’d been sleeping behind my wheel and I’ve think I’ve run her over. She’s not moving but is meowing in pain. I pick her up gently.

  ‘What a silly place to sleep,’ I tell her and lay her on a jumper in the back seat.

  We drive to the vet and wait with a genuine menagerie to be seen. He examines Socks and tells me that I’ve run over her tail and that she’ll have to have an X-ray to check on the damage.

  ‘Is she insured?’ the vet asks, stroking Socks.

  I can imagine that this man has many a pet-owning lady swooning. He looks like an Athena poster, strong arms nurturing a soft kitty. He just needs to turn sepia tone for the full effect.

  ‘Er, I don’t know; she’s not mine. She just sort of adopted me,’ I tell him.

  ‘Let’s see if she’s microchipped then.’

  He runs a scanner over her neck.

  ‘Yes she is, she’s registered to a Jenny Ashcroft. Do you know her?’ he asks.

  I shake my head.

  ‘The registered address is 95 Cross Road and there’s a phone number here,’ he tells me.

  ‘No, I won’t phone,’ I say. ‘I’d rather go round and tell them in person.’

  I’m about to ask whether Socks will be OK but one look at her nestling in Athena-Man’s arms and I know that I probably wouldn’t move from there either.

  ‘Don’t hurry back,’ she seems to be purring.

  The day I wanted to run smoothly and efficiently is not going according to plan. I pull back into Cross Road and find number 95. It’s right at the other end of the street so I don’t feel as guilty for not having met these people.

  I park and walk up the immaculately kept garden practising my apology. I ring the bell and take a step back so that I’m not directly face-to-face when they answer. For some reason, I’ve always found this impolite and slightly confrontational.

  The door opens and I turn around to face a rather good-looking man who looks surprised but then smiles as if he knows me.

  ‘Oh hello, it’s good to finally meet you. Come in,’ he says holding out his hand.

  Puzzled I shake hands. I wasn’t expecting this and my pre-rehearsed speech didn’t factor in a friendly introduction. I enter his living room and sit down as he invites.

  ‘Coffee?’ he asks and then adds, ‘I’m Michael, by the way.’

  Why is he offering a person he’s never even met before a coffee? I shake my head and murmur, ‘Angie,’ in response.

  ‘No, no thanks,’ I add as he disappears into the kitchen to retrieve his own coffee. ‘Look, I’m really sorry but I have some bad news for you.’

  I have to tell him soon before he does anything else nice.

  At this he sits down.

  ‘I am so sorry, but your cat was sleeping under my wheel when I reversed out,’ I say slowly, hoping that he’ll reach the inevitable conclusion without me saying it.

  He does and his expression saddens. He must think it’s worse than it is.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ I add, ‘she seems fine and she’s at the vet’s but is going to need an X-ray. I can drive you there if you like?’

  Looking relieved he gets his coat and we head off.

  Socks is still recovering but the vet shows us her X-ray and confirms that the end section of her tail has been fractured. He says it will heal with a bit of rest and we can take her home in a couple of hours.

  We both relax a little as we head back out into the winter sunshine.

  ‘I know that it doesn’t compensate for running over your cat,’ I say, ‘but can I take you for lunch while we wait?’

  ‘Don’t you have to be somewhere?’ he asks and I shake my head.

  ‘Then yes,’ he says, ‘I’d like that.’

  We drive to a bistro pub on the canal. It’s setting up for tonight’s festivities, so we grab a table outside next to one of the patio heaters. It’s early afternoon and the sun is already starting to set behind the buildings; there’s an end-of-year peace about the place. We both take warming bowls of soup served with great doorsteps of bread, comfort food to ease the stress of the morning.

  We talk about the beauty of winter, the simple wonder of soup, the redevelopment of the wharf, in fact everything and nothing until the time comes to go back to the vet’s. Conversation flows easily and I wonder how a couple I could have been friends with lived on the same street as me and yet our paths never crossed. It’s been a nice day, running over the cat notwithstanding.

  We drag a reluctant Socks from the arms of her hero and drive her home. She snuggles into her basket and I turn to leave.

  ‘Thank you for a lovely lunch,’ I say as I reach the door. ‘I am really sorry about Socks but it looks as if she’ll be fine.’

  ‘Socks?’ he asks.

  ‘The cat,’ I explain, ‘I called her Socks because of her white feet.

  ‘Ah,’ he says, ‘her real name is Grace, after Grace Kelly, my wife said they looked like white gloves. Jenny thought she looked very elegant.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I did see that on the microchip registration. She’s your wife’s cat, isn’t she?’

  ‘Was,’ he says. ‘My wife died.’

  Oh Lord, I nearly killed the cat that is the only living memory of his dearly departed wife. I would have truly been on my way to hell.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ I say.

  ‘Thank you,’ he says. ‘It was a year ago today that we buried her. When you turned up and said you had bad news, well I thought, not today of all days.’

  A year ago today? I cast my mind back and remember driving in for my fresh start but watching a hearse leaving the close. I remember a sallow face in the car behind.

  ‘I moved in a year ago today, that was you,’ I think aloud.

  ‘I remember,’ he said. ‘I was thinking how strange it was that life was going on for some people. Jenny’s death released her from a lot of pain but I felt so guilty for even thinking that.’

  ‘That New Year’s Eve was just awful,’ I agree and sit down again.

  We sit silently for a moment, both of us remembering that night.

  ‘These big celebrations are horrible if you’re on your own,’ he says eventually and we both nod.

  ‘Grace really missed her until you came along,’ he continues. ‘I saw that she came to see you and you didn’t seem to mind.’

  ‘I enjoyed her company,’ I reply. ‘She helped me through a lot. I feel awful I didn’t meet you sooner,’ I confess, ‘but I’m moving out today.’

  ‘Yes, I saw the
removal van doing a dance with the rubbish truck earlier,’ says Michael. ‘Grace was lucky that you ran her over and not them.’

  We both laugh.

  ‘I hope you’re taking Nobby and Nessy,’ he adds.

  ‘Who?’ I ask.

  ‘The gnomes. I thought the one you had needed a partner, so I bought him a little girlfriend,’ he tells me.

  ‘That was you?’ I’m astonished.

  ‘I also tidied up the garden a bit,’ he says. ‘I could see that it wasn’t your thing but I did leave some instructions when I planted the forget-me-nots.’

  ‘I saw them.’ I am gobsmacked.

  ‘Well, you were looking after the cat,’ Michael continues, ‘feeding her and everything. I felt that I should do something for you.’

  ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’ I ask.

  ‘I felt stupid. There gets to a point when frankly rocking up and introducing yourself as the guy who’s been secretly doing your garden seems weird, so I just stopped,’ he confesses.

  I burst out laughing and tell him that I thought I was being stalked.

  ‘By a phantom lawn mower,’ he joins in. ‘I am sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.’

  He has a gentle smile which lights up his face and very blue eyes.

  ‘You didn’t,’ I lie. My phone buzzes with a text from Patty, I have to go. I stand up.

  ‘It would have been good to meet you sooner,’ I say.

  ‘Yes,’ he replies, shaking my hand for longer than he needs to. ‘It would.’

  ‘Do you have plans for this New Year,’ I ask. ‘Will you be having a toast to Jenny?’

  He shakes his head. ‘She wouldn’t want me to spend every New Year thinking about her death. I celebrate her life and I do that once, on her birthday.’

  ‘So I guess tonight,’ he continues, ‘it’s pizza and TV.’

  I pause briefly then go for it.

  ‘Well,’ I say coyly, ‘if it doesn’t seem inappropriate, would you like to come to a party with me?’

  Epilogue

  Spring has sprung and the Mercury Travel Club team is still going strong. Our second BIN night resulted in Josie leading a ‘Learn to Flamenco’ trip; her own personal attempt was a sight to behold. After Matt posted it online, she can never again mock my Granny-Oke days.

  Mum and Dad have started a new killer quiz team with James’s grandparents and are cleaning up wherever they compete. They call themselves ‘Three Centuries and Counting’ – that should keep them going for a while.

  As a consequence, Zoe and James have had to stay together for the sake of their grandparents. Mum has threatened that James will get custody of her should they ever split up. It’s just as well they’re still very much in love.

  Cheter came back from their cruise gushing as much about Patty’s nineties tribute (her MC Hammer brought the house down) as their wedding. They’re now working their way through the compatibility shelf as newly-weds; last month they learned how to cook authentic Thai and next month they’re going back to the Caribbean to try swimming with dolphins.

  Patty’s relationship with Dr Lurve has blossomed at sea – so her frequent, gory texts expound. I honestly didn’t need to know that she pretends to be unconscious so that he can give mouth-to-mouth, but I do now. I can’t wait to have her back.

  And as for me, I’ve bought a luxury duplex in that mansion block after all. I’ll move out of Patty’s when she gets back and will of course be taking the gnomes with me. Michael and I have seen a lot of each other, but I hope when I have a place of my own, I’ll be seeing even more.

  I have absolutely no idea what Alan is up to.

  Acknowledgements

  My thanks and much love to:

  Mam and Dad for teaching me to read and beginning a life-long love of books.

  Jason for your support and cajoling – I got there in the end!

  Chris and Victoria for the music and banter.

  Clare for proving Bucks Fizz wrong and John for being John.

  Julie, Hazel, Janet, Jonesy, Clare, Debbie, Verity, Trish, Pauline and Julia for being my guinea pigs and for your kind words.

  Clare, Heather and Anna from RedDoor Publishing for making it happen.

  And finally, the musicians and song-writers who give us all one helluva good time whatever our age!

  A Letter from the Author

  Thank you for buying The Mercury Travel Club. I really hope you enjoyed reading about the adventures of Angie and Patty. In creating this story, I wanted to develop characters we all might recognise, and to show that it’s never too late to follow your dreams. Don’t worry if you’re dying to find out what happens next − there’s another Mercury Travel Club novel on its way!

  I’d love to hear what you think so do follow me on Twitter or catch up with me on my website. Looking forward to hearing from you.

  Can I ask you a favour? If you've enjoyed this book, would you please leave a review for me? It doesn't have to be very long but they do mean at lot to me. Thank you so much.

  www.twitter.com/Helen_Bridgett

  www.helenbridgett.com