The Story of Our Life

by Shari Low

  Of course they would. I was glad I’d made the appointment and it was good to hear the doctor confirming that it wasn’t a serious ailment. I chided myself for letting that bloody internet site freak me out. Of course it was nothing sinister. Since when had I been one to over-react? I blamed over-work. And sleep deprivation. And the stress of keeping us solvent. Perhaps this was the wake-up call we needed. An ironic turn of phrase given the fact that my 5am alarm was part of the problem. However, this was definitely a big bloody red flag signalling that we had to make adjustments to the way we were living our lives.

  I slipped into the chair across from him. ‘Babe, something has to change.’

  ‘Aaah, that conversation,’ he retorted, feigning horror.

  ‘Babe, it has to. We’re killing ourselves with work and stress and I’ve no idea how it came to this.’

  He responded by pointing out the obvious. ‘Because we made the decision that we’d both be self-employed. Look, it’ll get better.’

  ‘How long have we been saying that?’

  ‘But it will. I’m on the verge of landing that ongoing training contact with Bracal Tech and when that happens, we’ll have guaranteed income for five years. I’ll be travelling less, won’t have to do as much sales development and pitching for stuff all over the country, and the revenue will allow you to ease back on your side of things. It’s just about to come good, sweetheart. All this will be worth it, I promise. We just need a few more months and we’ll be out of the woods.’

  A few more months and we’ll be out of the woods. If ever there was a phrase that summed up our lives, that was it.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t love my job, because I did. The business had surpassed expectations over the last decade, growing year by year, and making enough of a profit to allow Colm to decide to start up the company with Dan. They were doing well now too, but not enough to catch up on the lean years of building, when mine was the only salary paying the bills and the mortgage. Our credit card balances were huge, and I was fairly sure our collective overdraft gave our bank manager nightmares. We’d even considered selling the house, but thanks to those tossers in the banking industry who’d caused the crash, it was in negative equity. As a result, there had been nothing else to do but work our way out of this. I had a vague memory of my younger self, so sure and determined, telling Colm when I met him that setting up my own business had been part of a master plan to get the work/life balance right. If the gods were listening they must have been having a good laugh at the naivety of my youth. The last few years had given me no choice. It was work or lose everything, so – whether it was what I wanted or not – there was no point complaining.

  Besides, Colm was right about the progress. As always, his confidence was contagious, one of his many traits that I adored. We were on our way to balancing the books, with half the start-up debt already gone. Just a few more months. Then, as a family, we’d be back in the world of solvency, allowing me to take on some permanent help instead of the temp staff I brought in on a job-by-job basis.

  I’d no longer be living on five hours sleep a night, so I could shrug off the zombie tiredness and snatch back that elusive life quality called ‘free time’. I’d be a happier, more chilled out wife and mum.

  Colm would thrive on the success of his company and the migraines would hopefully stop. I’d feel less guilty that I wasn’t spending enough time with Beth, or arranging exciting stuff for Davie and Joe. The twins were nineteen now, and the days of fixed access were long gone, but they still stayed over at least once a week. We were hugely thankful that they still wanted to hang out with us.

  We might even start taking holidays again, or going on weekend breaks just for fun. The five of us could head to the cinema on a Saturday afternoon, then spend the rest of the day playing football in the park. We might even get one of those date nights we’d been threatening to have since the beginning of time. I’d finally, finally, get to have that life I’d always wanted – fulfilled at work, happy marriage, time to enjoy my family and the husband I loved.

  When was the last time I’d told him that I adored him? We’d slipped so far down a narrow tunnel of going through the motions, of ploughing through obstacles to reach an end game, that we’d stopped taking time just to be together.

  ‘I love you, you know that?’ I told him.

  ‘Och, you’re only human,’ he replied, his grin wide and cheeky. I didn’t see that face enough. I missed it.

  For the first time in weeks, I leaned over and properly kissed him, slowly, tenderly, until the blissful effect of touching him worked its way around my body, awaking senses and sensations that had long since been battered to death by the combination of stress and sleep deprivation.

  We’d be fine. We were almost there. A few more months.

  ‘Yukkkkk! You’re kissing!’ Beth exclaimed from the doorway she now filled with wild curls and outrage.

  Her precociousness transformed the romance of the moment into a cacophony of giggles.

  ‘Yes, we are,’ Colm confirmed, in mock seriousness. ‘You should really consider a career as a detective.’

  ‘No way! I’m going to be a singer,’ Beth shot back, before wandering off into the lounge while belting out the chorus of ‘Let It Go’. Again.

  ‘We really need to teach her a new song,’ Colm joked.

  ‘Yes, we do. Before I let go of my sanity.’

  ‘How long have we got until the boys arrive?’ he asked.

  ‘About an hour.’ The boys lived in Regent’s Park with their mum, Jess, and stepdad, Steve, who were always happy to work with us in getting them to and fro between their homes. As co-parents went, we’d always had an amiable relationship and kept it friendly for the sake of the boys, who pretty much came and went as it suited them. They were both in their first year at Kings College London and it preyed on both our minds that they were another step closer to leaving home and building their own lives, and we’d never get this time back with them, so we encouraged them to come as often as they could.

  ‘Excellent. Now, where were we?’

  I didn’t answer, preferring to show him instead. I was once again kissing my husband and feeling so good, until he suddenly stopped, pulled away.

  I opened my eyes to see his brow furrowed in confusion.

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘I don’t know – it’s the weirdest thing. I can see you perfectly, but the peripheral vision on my right side keeps… disappearing. If I hadn’t been at the doctor’s today, this would be completely freaking me out,’ he added, making my stomach twist just a little.

  ‘He said it’s definitely migraines though?’ I asked, unable to hide a tinge of uncertainty.

  His frown was making me uneasy. Colm underplayed everything. He was the least hysterical, least dramatic person I’d ever known. ‘Och, it’ll be fine. It’ll all work out,’ was his stock reply to any problems. ‘We’ll worry about it when it actually happens,’ was his frequent counter when I raised any possibility of future issues.

  Now, he was saying neither. Instead, his complexion had turned a deathly shade of pale and no glib platitudes were forthcoming from a mouth that was pursed with worry or pain or something.

  He picked up the chemist’s bag from the worktop and emptied it out on the table, before opening the packet of beta blockers and popping two from the foil.

  ‘Definitely. I’m sure I just need to get these down me and I’ll be fine. The doc said there’s nothing to worry and a few weeks on these and I’ll see a difference. I’ll be fine.’

  Of course he would. After all, we were almost out of the woods.

  8

  2001

  Shauna and Colm’s Four-Week Anniversary

  The banging of the bedroom door against the wall woke me and I groaned, then managed to prise open one eye to check out the source of the disturbance. It was standing right in front of me.

  ‘Happy anniversary!’ Colm announced proudly, as he stood there, in his boxer shorts holdi
ng a huge wooden tray. When he put it down on the bed, I saw there were two glasses of fresh orange juice, both of which had been over-filled and were dripping down the sides, two bananas, a tub of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream and the pièce de résistance, a large pancake with a candle in the middle.

  ‘What are you talking about, you crazy person?’ I murmured, glad my vocal cords were working because most of the rest of my motor skills seemed to be refusing to wake up. How long had I been asleep? It felt like one hour, but according to the clock at the side of Colm’s bed, it had been four. I rolled over on one side, my groaning body feeling like I’d run a marathon. Not that I knew what that actually felt like, but I was pretty sure it would come with the same aching legs and stiff muscles. Again, I had no personal frame of reference, but I was fairly sure that several hours of incredible sex was far more enjoyable than a marathon too.

  Turns out I hadn’t had to change my number or cross the road when I saw him coming after all. God, it was so good. So, so good. And everything else about our time together over the last month had been pretty fantastic too, including this morning’s decision to wake me up with a pancake.

  I pushed myself up to a sitting position, reached down, grabbed the white vest I’d been wearing last night and pulled it on. I made it a general policy not to eat breakfast with my boobs on show. ‘What anniversary?’

  ‘Four weeks today,’ he replied, like it should have been obvious.

  I slipped my arms around his neck and kissed him. ‘That is pathetically over-sentimental and romantic.’

  ‘You’re absolutely right. I’ll probably be drummed out of the manhood. To be honest, I only remembered because Doug told me last night on his way out to work. He does a four-week shift pattern and he remembered it was his first night shift last month that I met you. I don’t want you suing me under some trade descriptions act, so I’ll confess now that I’m usually shite at stuff like this.’

  It was clear that admitting his failings didn’t trouble him. Actually, I’d learned that nothing much troubled him at all. Other than our time at work, we’d been pretty much inseparable, alternating between spending the nights at my flat and his.

  I felt strangely at home in his bedroom, but it was a fairly safe bet that he wouldn’t win any awards for interior design. If I threw a white cotton pillow in any direction it would hit something that had been bought in IKEA.

  Thankfully, other than a slight lacking in the soft furnishings imagination department, I hadn’t detected any underlying character flaws so far. No controlling behaviour, no temper, no distasteful personal habits, other than a fondness for eating cheesy Wotsits in bed.

  I took a spoon and dipped into the ice cream. Caramel. My favourite. ‘What time are we picking up the boys?’

  ‘Noon.’ He took a bite of the banana. ‘Nervous?’

  ‘Not really. I suppose I’m more apprehensive about meeting your ex.’

  ‘Och, don’t worry about that,’ he said, as he flipped his legs on to the bed and pushed up so he was sitting beside me. ‘Jess moved on a long time ago.’

  ‘So what’s your relationship with her like now?’ I probably should have pondered this subject and asked this question before now, but I’d been otherwise occupied by emotional and orgasmic bliss.

  He shrugged. ‘It’s fine. There are no hard feelings. We’d been together since college. Way too young. She just wanted a different life. The fact that I’m living with Men Behaving Badly and she’s now dating a guy who bought her a Porsche as a birthday present says it all. She’s happy. Feck, I might shag him too for a Porsche.’

  Only a month in and I’d sussed that this was how he dealt with most things. He was a curious blend of humour, impulsiveness, deflection and decency, with a large slice of ‘fuck it, why not.’ He claimed his whole family back in Blackrock, near Dublin, was exactly the same. I already knew that one day I hoped to find out for myself. Wow, I was actually thinking about meeting his family. Clearly my inner commitment-phobe was currently having a lie down in a dark room.

  Thankfully, he hadn’t mentioned any such longing to meet my family. That could only be a good thing.

  ‘What’s up?’ he asked.

  ‘Nothing, why?’

  ‘You shuddered. Are you cold?’

  ‘Nope.’ Close call. I changed the subject. There was nothing that could spoil a perfect morning more than talking about my family. I knew a thing or two about deflection too. ‘So what’s the plan for today?’ I asked.

  ‘I thought I’d make up a huge picnic and we could take it to Regent’s Park.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Nope, I’m lying. Not about the park bit, but, Christ, I brought you a pancake and a banana for breakfast. Do I strike you as the kind of guy who owns a picnic basket?’

  Ice cream midway to mouth, I decided this was worth giving up the opportunity to cater for forty ten-year-olds at a birthday party in Hampton Wick. It had been a last-minute call and I never, ever refused business, but this time I made an exception and referred the client on to my old college pal Vincent. His business was doing great and we occasionally passed clients over to each other if we were double booked. He didn’t normally operate out of the city but he’d made an exception for me this time. I was so glad he had. A night with Colm definitely trumped chicken goujons and hot dogs. Although my bottom line wouldn’t thank me if it became a habit.

  I noticed Colm was staring at me. ‘What?’

  ‘That ice cream is dripping on the sheets I washed in honour of your visit. You’re in some kind of ninja trance there.’

  ‘Sorry I was thinking about work.’

  ‘Good to know I’m keeping you interested here,’ he joked. ‘Right, I’m about to pull my best moves, so pay attention.’

  I’ve no idea what happened to my spoon, but it was cast aside as he kissed me, a long, delicious snog that I’d have been happy to prolong for the rest of the day.

  When hunger and the thought of melting ice cream got the better of us, he released me, and pulled the tray into the newly formed space between us.

  ‘So are you definitely sure about today, about me meeting Davie and Joe?’ I asked, hoping he hadn’t changed his mind.

  ‘Absolutely. They’ll love you.’

  I really hoped he had a contingency plan in case they didn’t. According to Lulu, I just had to be bold, otherwise, ‘They’ll smell the fear and then you’ll be toast,’ she’d warned me. I was fairly sure she hadn’t been quoting verbatim from a ‘dealing with children’ manual.

  I should have researched this. Studied the best way to approach it. Sought advice. But then, when I wasn’t turning down jobs to spend time with my new boyfriend, I regularly catered for large parties of small children, and I hadn’t broken or lost one yet. In fact, they mostly seemed to quite like me. That had to go for something. Even if I took into account the fact that I was usually plying them with cake.

  A niggling thought popped into my head and I immediately pushed it away. It came back. I resisted for a few moments, then succumbed to curiosity.

  ‘Have you ever introduced anyone to them before? I mean, like a girlfriend?’

  It blurted forth from my mouth. What was I thinking? I’d never pegged myself as particularly jealous before now.

  As far as relationships went, when I was engaged to Lenny I never grilled him on where he was going, where he’d been or who he’d been with. I was pretty laid-back. I trusted him.

  But this wasn’t about trust. This was something more, and I had no idea where it was coming from. Great. I was coming over as needy and suspicious. I’d be dumped before I got my Big Mac and fries.

  He turned to look at me. ‘At least a dozen. One a week. I had them lined up, all dying to date me and take on a father-of-two so they could spend alternate weekends in the screaming hell of an indoor play centre.’

  There was an involuntary eye roll from my side of the discussion, before he lifted my chin and kissed me softly.

  ‘Never,’ he said,
uncharacteristically serious. ‘You know Jess and I were separated for two years, but we were only divorced a month when I met you. Honestly, they’re great little guys and they’ll be cool about it.’

  ‘Are you sure it’ll be okay? What if this isn’t the right time for them?’

  I sounded like I was having doubts, but I wasn’t. I was sure about this, about him, about meeting the boys, about all of it. I just wanted to know that he was too.

  ‘It’s the right time. Besides they have to meet you now.’

  The fact that I’d just chomped down on my banana delayed my bewildered response. ‘Why?’

  He rolled over towards me, sending the ice cream flying off the bed, stopping when he was up on one elbow, his face only inches from mine.

  ‘Because I love you. I know that sounds crazy after four weeks, but to be honest, I could have told you on the first night I met you. If this terrifies you and you feel the need to call law enforcement, I think Doug just got home so he’ll be in the kitchen.’

  For all the joking around, his voice, his expression, his eyes, all told me that he meant every word. And I could see that, despite his surety, there was a question there. Without thinking, I reached over and ran my finger down his nose, then rested the tip on his bottom lip.

  ‘You know, this should be terrifying. Or at least grounds for a restraining order. But you’re only saying exactly what I’ve been feeling too. I… love you back.’ I did. It was crazy, and wild, and if anyone had predicted this I’d have told them they were crazy. And I couldn’t believe he felt the same. ‘Even though you don’t have a Porsche.’

  He grinned as my hand slipped into his hair, then leaned towards me and kissed me slowly, tenderly, before pausing, pulling back, looking at me again.

  ‘Shauna Williams – you know we’re getting married don’t you?’

  It was so matter-of-fact, so blasé, that my first instinct was that he was joking again. My second instinct told me he wasn’t. My third told me he was right. My fourth was that I agreed with him. And every reaction was sweetened with the thought that I couldn’t wait to tell Annie. She’d be blowing the dust off her best hat before I’d finished the story.