Life Or Something Like It

by Annie Lyons

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Cat. ‘But I’m glad he’s talking to you about it – that’s the key really. We’re hoping to roll it out to lots more schools but I think it’s going to take time. And money. We’ve got our charity status now though.’

  ‘That’s great and listen, let me know if there’s anything I can do. I work in fashion and I’ve got a few contacts. You used to work in PR, didn’t you?’

  ‘I did. I’ve put out feelers with my contacts too. Thanks, Amy. I really appreciate you coming to speak to me.’

  Amy nodded. ‘My pleasure. Here’s my business card. Let’s keep in touch and maybe catch up over a glass of wine sometime?’

  Cat smiled. ‘That would be great.’

  Ellie and Cat walked home slowly. Cat was never really in a rush these days. She still made sure she was on time for every appointment or on the days she was picking up the children but when she had time, she took her time. As they let themselves in to the house, her phone buzzed with a call.

  ‘Ava,’ she answered. ‘How are you?’

  ‘I’m really good. I just wanted to say congratulations.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘Mac and cheese! You really have lost your touch. I’m guessing you haven’t been on Twitter this afternoon?’

  ‘No, why?’

  ‘Because, sweet-cheeks, CyberGurus is trending and you got a lot of support.’

  ‘Wow! How come?’

  ‘It looks as if your old PR buddies have been spreading the word.’

  ‘Wow,’ repeated Cat.

  Her final dealings with Jesse before she left Hemingway had been emotional. He had begged her to stay but Cat remained firm. She could tell he was hurt but they had parted as friends. ‘You’re one in a million, Cat Nightingale,’ he told her as she left. She’d sent him a press release about CyberGurus last week but hadn’t received a response. She assumed he was still upset.

  ‘I know. You escaped the rat-run without burning your bridges, which isn’t easy. Plus you got Saffy Bridges and Sam Taylor on board and they’ve been retweeted over one hundred thousand times so far. And there’s all sorts of people offering cash. I think you’re going to be very busy.’

  ‘I don’t even have an office and I’m selling my house to pay for it.’

  ‘Well you might not need to now.’

  ‘That’s amazing. Thanks, Ava.’

  ‘No problem. You deserve it, sweetheart. And listen, I’ll run a feature for you now you’ve got a celeb angle and put me down for twenty grand.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Sure I’m sure. I always knew you’d do great things. Right, I got a meeting. Brunch on Saturday?’

  ‘Perfect.’ Cat hung up and went into the kitchen.

  Ellie was sitting at the table, licking the jam off her fingers, her face covered in sugar. ‘I couldn’t wait,’ she explained.

  ‘I don’t blame you,’ laughed Cat, helping herself to a doughnut. ‘I’ll just see if Charlie wants one.’ She approached the bottom of the stairs. ‘Charlie!’ she called. ‘Do you want a doughnut?’

  ‘No thanks,’ came the reply.

  ‘All the more for us.’ Cat grinned, sitting down next to Ellie and taking a bite. Her head was buzzing with excitement about Ava’s news. In the past she might have reached for her phone but she decided it could wait. ‘So how was your day? Did you do anything fun?’

  Ellie frowned. ‘It’s school. It’s not meant to be fun. Although we did do art today. We’re doing buildings. My favourite is the Shard because it’s pointy.’

  ‘We could go and see it sometime if you like. It’s not far on the train.’

  ‘That would be cool. Oh and Emily has nits.’

  ‘Poor Emily,’ said Cat, smiling to herself at Ellie’s choice of news.

  ‘I wanted to pick them out but Miss said we should let her mum do it.’

  ‘Miss is very wise,’ observed Cat.

  There was a knock at the door. Cat rose from her chair to answer it. ‘Don’t eat any more doughnuts,’ she warned before heading down the hall.

  Cat smiled as she opened the door, feeling her heart lift with happiness at the sight of the man she loved. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her on the mouth.

  ‘Finn! Stop kissing Auntie Cat and come in – we’ve got doughnuts!’

  ‘Oh in that case,’ said Finn, pretending to push Cat out of the way in a bid to get to the kitchen.

  ‘It’s a good job I love you,’ laughed Cat following him.

  ‘Well I am adorable.’ He grinned.

  ‘How’s Daisy?’ she asked.

  ‘Better, thanks. She should be back at school tomorrow,’ replied Finn, helping himself to a doughnut and taking a seat at the table. ‘So, Miss Ellie, how was school?’

  ‘Emily’s got nits,’ reported Ellie gravely.

  ‘Poor Emily.’

  ‘But I don’t want to talk about school.’

  ‘Oh. What do you want to talk about?’ asked Finn.

  ‘I want you to tell me the story of how you got back together.’

  Cat grinned. ‘Again? Why do you like that story so much?’

  ‘Because I like a story with a happy ending.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Finn, licking the sugar from his fingers. ‘It was a dark and stormy night – ’

  ‘No it wasn’t!’ cried Ellie outraged.

  ‘Go on then, you tell it,’ he said with a grin.

  ‘Cat should tell it,’ declared Ellie.

  Cat smiled. ‘All right then. It was a bright and sunny evening when I left your house that Sunday.’

  ‘And you phoned that wally, Jesse, to tell him to bog off because you loved Finn,’ interrupted Ellie, nudging the hero of the story. Finn chuckled.

  ‘Not exactly,’ laughed Cat. ‘Now who’s telling this story?

  ‘You are. Carry on.’ Ellie smiled.

  ‘So I drove round to Finn’s flat but he wasn’t there. Next I went to Ronnie’s and she told me that he was playing at a pub. So I went to the pub.’

  ‘And Finn was playing your song and crying,’ Ellie piped up. She leant over to Finn and whispered, ‘I added that bit for drama.’

  ‘Anyway, he was playing our song and I walked right up to him and kissed him.’

  ‘In front of everyone!’ cried Ellie, hugging herself with delight.

  ‘And luckily he kissed me back,’ said Cat, smiling at Finn.

  ‘And everyone cheered! Hooray!’ shouted Ellie, leaping up.

  ‘Everyone cheered.’ Cat nodded.

  ‘I love that story,’ murmured Ellie. ‘All stories should end like that.’

  ‘With kissing?’

  ‘Euw, no! With cheering.’

  ‘I like your thinking, Miss Ellie.’ Finn smiled and reached for Cat’s hand.

  ‘So are you and Cat going to get married?’ asked the little girl looking from Finn to Cat and back again, like a spectator at a tennis match.

  ‘Direct as ever,’ laughed Cat, looking in to Finn’s eyes. ‘We’re not in a hurry, are we?’ Finn shook his head with a smile, pressing his lips to her hand.

  ‘Well don’t leave it too long otherwise I’ll be too old to be a cute bridesmaid,’ observed Ellie. ‘What about children?’

  ‘I don’t really like children,’ joked Cat, nudging Ellie.

  ‘Cat!’ cried Ellie. ‘Be serious. This is important. Are you going to have children or not?’

  ‘Do you think we should?’ Cat smiled.

  Ellie pursed her lips, studying them with an expert eye. ‘I like things as they are. You look happy.’ She leant forwards and whispered. ‘Children can be very messy.’ Cat and Finn laughed. Ellie stood between them and reached an arm around each of their necks. ‘I mean if you really wanted a baby I suppose I could help. I would play with it but I don’t do nappies. Also, you still have to pick me up from school on the days Mummy’s working late.’

  Cat pulled her niece in closer for a hug. Finn fixed Cat with that steady gaze. ‘I thin
k we like things as they are too, don’t we?’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ Cat nodded, her face bright with happiness. ‘I think we do.’

  Loved Life or Something Like It?

  Then turn the page for an extract from the hilarious first novel by Annie Lyons,

  Not Quite Perfect

  Chapter 1

  Emma Darcy wakes to the brain-imploding sensation of another hangover and wishes she had more self-control. She opens one eye and, finding the prospect of daylight nauseating, closes it again and rolls over with a groan. She wants the duvet to comfort her, to wrap its arms around her and cure her but all it is doing is making her feel sweaty and restless. She glances at the empty space next to her and moves into it, breathing in the musty aroma of man. She can already hear said man, also known as her fiancé Martin, in the shower, cheerfully murdering a Stevie Wonder song. She pulls the pillow over her head and prays for sleep or death or both.

  The volume of the singing gets louder as Martin makes his way back into the bedroom and flings open the curtains. Ignoring her protests, he prises the pillow from her face and kisses her forehead. She opens one eye and attempts a weak smile. It doesn’t feel good.

  ‘Wake up, Bungle Bonce. It’s gone eleven and we’ve got to be at your parents’ in an hour.’

  ‘Nnnnnnnng’ is the only sound Emma can make.

  ‘Someone should have stopped after that first bottle of champagne, shouldn’t they?’ grins Martin, running a hand through his dark brown hair, still wet from the shower.

  Emma can find no reason to disagree.

  ‘Magical Martin’s Hangover Cure coming right up!’ he whispers, stroking her cheek and gently kissing the corner of her mouth. ‘I hate to say it Em, but I wonder if you might want a shower before we head over to your parents’? You smell like a barmaid’s apron!’ Emma aims a feeble punch in Martin’s direction, which he sidesteps with ease. He laughs and jogs down the stairs, whistling happily.

  Emma marvels at this man: he drinks far more than she does and yet never seems to have any side effects. She seems to have a permanent hangover of late. It’s hardly surprising as ever since she and Martin announced their engagement a month ago it’s been a steady round of celebratory drinks and dinners with friends and family. Last night, it was just the two of them with a Chinese take-away and yet they still managed to polish off the champagne from Emma’s godmother, Rosie, plus another bottle and possibly something more potent in a smaller glass.

  They had been in celebratory mood as Emma had picked up some honeymoon brochures and they had worked their way through them, narrowing it down to a beach holiday in Bali or a safari in Kenya. They had then celebrated this decision by casting the brochures to one side and indulging in passionate sex on the living-room rug. As she fell asleep that night, Emma couldn’t imagine being happier. As Sunday morning dawned, she couldn’t imagine feeling worse.

  While waiting for the shower to warm up, she shudders at the thought of lunch at her parents’ with a hangover, her sister, her brother-in-law and their three not particularly quiet children. She stands underneath the jet of water, its warmth slightly masking the feeling that her brain is trying to exit her body through her ears.

  ***

  Martin is kind and presents her with a poached egg, which she nibbles, a cup of coffee, which she sips, and a glass of water with two paracetamol, which she almost inhales. She is feeling nearly human again as she staggers to the car for the short drive to her parents’ house.

  Her recovery is short-lived as Emma’s mother opens the door and Buzz Lightyear leaps out in best Space Ranger form, fixing her with a determined eye, his stubby finger poised over his wrist-laser.

  ‘Prepare to be eliminated, evil Emperor Zurg!’ he squeaks.

  ‘Fuck!’ cries Emma in genuine surprise.

  ‘Gra-neeeeeee. Auntie Em said fuck. Again.’

  ‘Emma, honestly,’ chides her mother.

  ‘Sorry. He just sort of scared me.’

  ‘Em’s a bit shaky today, Diana,’ says Martin, putting an arm around his fiancée. ‘She’s tired. She’s been working far too hard and then of course there’s the wedding to think about.’

  Emma rests heavily against Martin’s shoulder, grateful for his attempt at damage limitation.

  ‘Auntie Em, Uncle Martin!’ squeals Lily with unmitigated glee, darting down the hall towards them.

  ‘Ah my darling Pica-Lily.’ Emma scoops up her niece and tickles her delightfully chubby little ribs.

  ‘Doppit, doppit, doppit!’ shrieks Lily and then, ‘again, again, again!’

  ‘Let them come in, you horrible lot,’ interrupts Emma’s dad. ‘Gin and tonic, Mart? And maybe just a tonic for you eh, lovely girl?’ he says, wrapping Emma in a restorative embrace. She kisses him on the cheek and puts an arm around his middle as they walk into the living room, where Rachel is flicking through the Sunday newspapers.

  ‘I warn you, your mother’s current favourite topic is weddings,’ he whispers as he disappears into the kitchen to fetch the drinks.

  Emma grimaces.

  ‘Who’s talking about WEDDINGS?’ says Rachel in a too-loud voice, giving her sister a playful nudge as she flops down next to her on the sofa.

  Emma pulls a face. ‘Keep it down, Rach. I’ve got a hangover the size of Wales and could really do without Mum on my back today.’

  ‘What? I only said the word “WEDDING”’ smirks Rachel.

  Alfie appears at Emma’s side and, seeing his mother’s smiling face, decides to join in the game. ‘WEDDING! WEDDING! WEDDING!’ he cries with glee.

  Emma gives her sister a look. ‘Could you ask him not to do that?’

  Lily appears alongside him and starts to join in. Rachel grins at her sister and shrugs her shoulders. ‘I’m so sorry. I’ve lost control of my children,’ she says innocently.

  ‘Yes, well, not for the first time, Rachel,’ declares Diana, appearing behind them. ‘Emma, we need to talk menus, dresses and flowers.’

  Emma and Rachel roll their eyes at one another as Edward returns with the drinks. ‘At least let them have a drink first, eh darling?’ he says, handing out the glasses and winking at the girls.

  Diana adopts a look that suggests she is not to be trifled with. ‘Well, Emma is the one who’s decided to get married. If she wants our help I think she needs to co-operate a bit more. Yes?’

  ‘Yes, Mum,’ says Emma with tired resignation.

  ‘And you can stop this conspiratorial “Mummy is a villain” thing, Edward. I only want what’s best for my family.’

  ‘Yes, dear,’ says Edward, suppressing a smile.

  ‘Right, I’ve made quiche and salad. I don’t expect the children will eat it as it’s not fish fingers but I’ve done my best.’

  Rachel opens her mouth to protest but sees Emma looking smug and decides to change tack. ‘Sounds delicious. Let’s eat so that we can talk weddings,’ she says, looking victoriously at her sister.

  ***

  Emma manages to pick her way through lunch feeling more and more miserable as her mother attacks each item on her list with the gusto of a military commander.

  ‘So Lily will be your flower girl and Rachel your matron of honour.’

  ‘Of course, and I want Ella to be a bridesmaid too.’

  ‘Who is this Ella? Do I know her?’

  ‘She’s my best friend at work, Mum, and no, you’ve never met her.’

  ‘Yes, but don’t forget that Daddy and I will be putting money towards this so we don’t want people there we don’t know.’

  ‘Look, Mum, I know you’re doing this with the best intentions, but we haven’t even set a date yet. It is up to Martin and me.’ Emma’s painkillers are starting to wear off and she can feel a dull throbbing at her temples. She looks around for an ally.

  Rachel is sitting with her arms folded enjoying every second of the spectacle while her husband, Steve, talks to Edward about football. Meanwhile, Martin is being coerced into the role of Captain Hook by the t
hree children.

  ‘I’m only trying to help. I know how stressful these things can be and I’m just trying to take some of the pain out of it. By the way, my cousin Eunice has already said she will do the flowers and I think it has to be white lilies, yes?’

  ‘Mum, just stop it!’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘I said stop it. You’re not helping, you’re interfering!’

  Rachel is watching Emma wide-eyed and impressed.

  ‘Well really, there’s no need to be rude!’

  ‘I’m sorry. It’s just that – ’

  ‘I only wanted to help.’

  ‘I know but – ’

  ‘I’m just trying to make it special for my little girl. I mean Rachel just eloped so I didn’t get the chance then.’ Her eyes are beginning to fill with tears and Emma is wishing she could dig a large hole and crawl into it.

  ‘Mum, please!’

  The tension is broken by a piercing cry as Alfie falls off the lowest branch of an apple tree having been made to walk the plank by his determined older brother, Will. Chaos ensues and everyone runs over offering advice. Steve and Rachel bundle the hysterical patient into the car with Diana following them, barking instructions about where to park when they get to A&E. Edward reassures the distraught Will, and soon has him and his sister distracted with a spot of blackberry-picking.

  Martin looks sheepishly at Emma.

  ‘I hope you’ll take better care of our children,’ she jokes.

  Martin wraps her in his arms. ‘I will always take care of my family,’ he says.

  Sensing an exit plan, he and Emma take the chance to leave, but she is still wound up on the journey home.

  ‘I mean, what is she on? How many years exactly do you get for matricide?’

  ‘You probably won’t want to hear this, but I think she is just trying to help, Em.’

  ‘Oh why do you have to be so bloody reasonable?’

  ‘It’s why you love me.’

  ‘I know and I do feel bad because I guess she is trying to help and I’m just tired and hung over, but it’s our big day and I don’t want anyone hijacking it,’ she says resting her hand on Martin’s knee.