The Happiness List

by Annie Lyons

  ‘Heather,’ said Georg, appearing in front of them.

  She stood up to face him, suppressing her amusement at his serious face. ‘Yes, Georg. Are you about to tell me that I’m the most beautiful woman you’ve ever met?’ Fran snorted with laughter. ‘Shut up, you,’ said Heather over her shoulder.

  Georg looked confused. ‘No. I wanted to tell you that I enjoy working with you – you are good company.’

  Heather stared at him in surprise. ‘Thank you, Georg. That means a lot.’

  ‘Welcome,’ he said before moving away.

  Heather grinned at Fran and Pamela. ‘How about that? Turns out Georg likes me!’

  ‘At least someone does,’ teased Fran. ‘Right, I’m off to spread the love,’ she said, standing up. She spotted Jim talking to Sue and was about to make her way over when Nik appeared before her.

  ‘Fran. How are you getting on?’

  ‘Fine,’ she replied. ‘I was on my way to tell Jim how much I like his bald head.’

  Nik nodded. ‘Can I tell you something?’

  Fran eyed him suspiciously. ‘Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like it?’

  ‘Sometimes we have to tell people things they don’t want to hear at first and then they come to realize that we’re actually being kind.’

  ‘Cruel to be kind?’ she suggested.

  ‘If you like.’

  ‘Go on then – hit me.’

  Nik fixed her with a knowing look. ‘Humour is a wonderful thing – it helps us through the toughest times but you have to be careful that you’re not using it as a shield to protect yourself from the things you need to feel.’

  Fran stared at him for a second before answering. ‘Okay. Thanks for that,’ she said, bristling with indignation. I’ll give it some thought.’ Or alternatively, completely ignore it you bloody Scandi know-it-all.

  Nik’s words rang in Fran’s ears for the remainder of the evening. She knew he had a point but like a daily dose of Trump news, she didn’t want to hear it.

  At the end of the session, he drew them together again. ‘So. I hope that you can see how much we benefit from small acts of kindness. You are all very kind people, I can see this. But it’s easy to live in our own little world sometimes – to go to work, come home and simply live the day-to-day. However, if we reach out – into our community and beyond – everyone benefits. For this week’s homework, I want you to find something for your list which enables you to reach outside yourself – to make that connection and make a difference if you can. I think you’ll be amazed at how rewarding this can be.’

  And then he accused me of using humour as a shield, reported Fran indignantly, rearranging the cushions and lying back on the sofa.

  And do you think he has a point?

  Probably, she shrugged. Let’s just say I prefer laughing to crying.

  Fair enough. And what about the gardening? Do you think it will help? he asked.

  Ask me again tomorrow night. I’m going for it – Barry’s going to help me start to clear ours in the morning and then I’ve offered to go round and tidy up a little old lady’s garden in the afternoon.

  Wow, you’re really throwing yourself into it, aren’t you?’

  Oh yeah, I’m a regular Monty Don. And Alan is looking forward to taking on the role of Nigel. We’re a dream team.

  I hope it brings you what you need.

  Fran smiled. Me too.

  As she carried the tray containing coffee and a plate of ginger snap biscuits into the spring sunshine, Fran realized with a certain amount of satisfaction that today was turning out to be a very good day.

  ‘Coffee’s up!’ she cried. Barry emerged grinning from the undergrowth, like David Attenborough after an astonishing new naturalist discovery.

  ‘It’s an absolute treasure trove in there!’ he declared. ‘Come and see!’

  ‘What have we got?’ She smiled, handing him a mug and feeling a spark of excitement.

  ‘Just look at this hydrangea!’ said Barry, making a sweeping gesture with his arm as if introducing a famous movie star. ‘If we clear the ivy from round the roots, that’s going to be a beauty! And I can’t believe this rhododendron – it’s huge!’

  There were day lilies and roses, lavender, rosemary and vast swathes of hardy geraniums.

  ‘Be careful of those,’ said Barry, giving the geraniums a suspicious prod. ‘They’ll take over your garden if you let them.’ Fran smiled. It was like a new world opening up and she loved it. ‘All we need to do is clear the weeds to give them a bit of space and they should start to flourish within weeks. And then we can make space for your new plants.’

  ‘It’s wonderful. Thank you, Barry,’ she said.

  ‘My pleasure – I’m happy to help. Pammy always says that I spend too much time in the garden but I enjoy it – it’s the place where I feel most at home.’

  Fran nodded. ‘I get that, I really do. I haven’t had a proper chance to garden since before the kids were born. It feels as if I’ve been reunited with an old friend.’

  Barry smiled. ‘I’m always here if you need any advice. Sorry I can’t give you a hand at Elsie’s this afternoon.’

  ‘Don’t you worry, you’ve got a dream date to prepare for. Are you looking forward to it?’

  ‘I’m a bit nervous to be honest but glad I’ve got you girls directing me. Heather’s coming round at four.’

  Fran nodded. ‘And then Charlie and I will be round by half five. It’s going to be wonderful. All you have to do is talk and listen.’

  Barry nodded uncertainly. ‘Talk and listen. Right. Well, we’d better get back to it. Lots to do!’

  After Barry left, Fran made herself a sandwich and sank into the nearest chair. Her back ached, her calf muscles were sore and she had scratches up and down her arms, but she hadn’t felt so positive about the world in ages. Alan’s ears pricked up as the doorbell rang.

  Fran hauled herself to her feet, ready with a frown for the inevitable cold caller.

  ‘Woah, someone looks cross,’ said Gary with a teasing smile.

  Fran laughed. ‘I thought you were a Jehovah’s Witness,’ she said, surprised at how pleased she was to see him. ‘Do you want to come in? I’m just grabbing a sandwich before I head out. I could make you one too?’

  ‘If you’re sure? That would be great, thanks.’

  ‘Aren’t you meant to be shouting at poor unsuspecting boot-campers?’ she asked as he followed her into the kitchen.

  ‘The advantage of being the boss is that you can take time off whenever you like,’ he said.

  ‘Good for you. So what brings you here?’ After the disastrous trip to the art gallery, Fran was pretty sure that she’d never see Gary again.

  ‘I saw Pamela this morning.’

  ‘Oh yes?’ said Fran with an air of dread.

  Gary smiled. ‘It’s fine. She told me that you were in need of a strapping lad to help with your garden so I thought I’d pop round and offer my services.’

  Fran placed a sandwich in front of him and slid into the chair opposite. ‘Gary—’ she began.

  He held up his hands. ‘Fran, you don’t need to say anything. I just want to be your friend. That’s all. I like you and I want to help you, if you’ll let me?’

  She gazed into his kind face and felt her stomach dip with something unexpected – was it longing? She shook off the feeling before she answered. ‘Just friends?’

  ‘Just friends.’

  She fixed him with a look. ‘Okay. How would you like to come and help me tidy an old lady’s garden this afternoon?’

  Gary picked up his sandwich ready to take a bite. ‘Best offer I’ve had all year,’ he grinned.

  Fran took a deep breath and grasped the plant tightly.

  ‘Right, come on then, you bastard. You’ve picked the wrong woman to mess with today.’

  She gave a sharp tug. As the roots emerged from the earth, she sat down hard on her backside with the tenacious weed and all its gnarly roots held alof
t like a trophy. ‘Yesssss! Get in! Got you, you bugger!’

  ‘Remind me never to get on the wrong side of you!’ laughed Gary, pulling at a spiky bramble that kept coming, like a line of scarves from a magician’s sleeve. ‘Ow! That is bloody vicious!’

  ‘Who knew gardening could be so dangerous?’ grinned Fran, rubbing her sore behind.

  ‘Tell me about it,’ said Gary.

  ‘Well, keep going,’ bossed Fran. ‘We’ve got about another three hundred of the blighters to go.’

  ‘Yesss, ma’am,’ said Gary with a smiling salute.

  They worked in companionable silence, which was broken only when one of them drew the other’s attention to a particularly impressive weed or commented on how well they were doing. Fran couldn’t remember the last time she’d relished such a challenge. Pruning back a chaotic buddleia may not seem a big deal to most people but she found it endlessly satisfying. She realized that the world paused while she was working, her brain stilled, the whirr of distracting thoughts quietened for a while. She also realized that Gary was the ideal gardening companion, particularly when she needed extra muscle – he managed to pull up several deep-rooted enemy weeds without breaking a sweat.

  ‘Oh, you’re doing a marvellous job!’ cried Elsie, carrying a tray of drinks into the garden. ‘I thought you might like a glass of squash.’

  ‘You’re an angel, Elsie,’ said Fran, accepting her drink and passing one to Gary.

  Elsie beamed at them both, her eyes twinkling with delight. ‘It’s lovely having a strong man for a husband, isn’t it?’ she declared. ‘I do miss my Reggie – he was a big muscly man like your Gary.’

  Fran opened her mouth to correct Elsie when Gary interjected. ‘Feel free to call on us any time, Elsie – we’re happy to help, aren’t we, Fran?’

  Fran stared up at him and smiled. ‘Absolutely. Any time.’

  Every inch of Fran’s body ached as they left Elsie’s house later that afternoon. ‘All I can think about is sinking into a bath full of Radox,’ she groaned.

  ‘You deserve it,’ said Gary.

  ‘Thanks for your help. I enjoyed this afternoon.’

  ‘Me too.’ He smiled.

  ‘And I’m glad you stopped me correcting Elsie when she mistook us for a couple.’

  ‘She misses her husband – I didn’t see any point in making her sadder.’

  ‘It was a nice thing to do,’ she told him.

  He shrugged modestly as they reached his car. ‘What can I say? I’m a nice guy.’ She laughed. ‘See you around, Fran Parker. Have a good weekend.’

  ‘Bye,’ said Fran, waving him off. An unexpected realization trickled into her brain as she walked up the front path. It was familiar but long forgotten – something she hadn’t experienced for a while. It wasn’t longing, that was too strong a word. It was something smaller – like a whispered wish, so quiet even Fran could barely hear it.

  It would be nice to see him again.

  She smiled to herself, like a child with a secret – a secret she would never share, but one which she treasured all the same.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Pamela

  My Happiness List

  1. Just bake

  2. Dinner with Matthew and Barry – be in the moment! (DISASTER)

  3. Go dancing with Barry? (Not likely)

  4. Laugh like we used to! (with Heather instead)

  5. Try something new – lovely trip to art gallery with Fran & Charlie (and Gary!)

  6. Teach other people how to bake

  7. Let Matty go and be kinder to Barry

  20.28, Thursday, 14 April 2016

  Hi Mum,

  Just wanted to let you know that I’m okay and having a great time in sunny LA! Sorry I haven’t been in touch before but I assumed Dad would have filled you in. I hope you’re managing to sort things with him. He’s right – I have been a waste of space but I’m sorting that, I promise. I hope to have good news for you soon but I can’t say more at the moment. Thanks for believing in me and thanks also for telling me what I needed to hear. You’re right – I need to stand on my own two feet instead of letting you hold me up. And I’m sorry if I haven’t always told you this but I love you. You’re an amazing mum and an inspiring woman – I don’t think you always realize that.

  I’ll be in touch again soon.

  Love,

  Matthew x

  Pamela wiped away a tear of pride as she reread the message. Los Angeles! Wait until she told Heather and Fran. She also felt a wave of guilt. It was clear that Barry and Matthew were on better terms than she’d thought. She’d accused Barry of not seeing her point of view but maybe she’d been refusing to see his too. Pamela realized that her anger had waned a little and she was definitely softening towards her husband. She’d been grateful when he’d come to her aid with Heather and Luke’s dance lesson and was touched by the way he’d helped Fran with her garden. He still had a lot to learn about his own wife but he was a good man. She knew that. Her phoned buzzed with a call and she almost laughed when she saw who it was.

  ‘Barry! How funny – I was just thinking about you.’

  ‘Were you, Pammy? All good I hope.’

  ‘Not all bad,’ she replied. Keep him on his toes, Pammy. ‘I’ve had an email from Matthew in LA.’

  ‘Oh yes.’ Barry didn’t sound surprised.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she demanded.

  ‘You wouldn’t exactly let me get a word in edgeways, Pammy.’

  ‘I was angry.’

  ‘Yes. I got that.’

  Pamela laughed. ‘Good. Because you need to hear it,’ she insisted before admitting, ‘and maybe I do too.’

  Barry cleared his throat. Pamela could tell he was nervous. ‘Perhaps we could start tonight.’

  ‘Tonight?’ Pamela was caught off guard.

  ‘Yes. I was wondering if you might like to come to dinner?’

  ‘Are you cooking?’ she teased.

  ‘I am,’ he said proudly. ‘So will you come? Please?’

  She hesitated. She was still cross about so many things but she could tell that Barry was trying and you had to give people a chance, particularly when you’d been married to them for nearly forty years. ‘All right. What time?’

  The hall was chaotic and noisy, and the kitchen felt unbearably stuffy. Pamela feared she was having a hot flush and pushed open the fire door to let in some air. She was starting to wonder if this was a good idea. She’d been so buoyed by the success of the baking workshop and inspired by the idea of doing more in the community that she’d suggested this afternoon’s baking class to Angel without really thinking it through. She’d been shocked to see nine mums all with various numbers of kids in tow waiting for her to arrive. Pamela had brought out some toys that she usually used for toddler group and was now nervously sorting out her ingredients and baking equipment, wondering how on earth to make this a success.

  But Pamela hadn’t reckoned on Angel. As one of the older single mums, she was their unofficial leader and organizer. She appeared in the doorway of the kitchen.

  ‘Right, Mrs T, shall we get started? How about you teach three of us at a time while the others mind the kids?’

  Pamela smiled at her gratefully. ‘That sounds like a good plan, Angel dear. Sorry, I’m a bit all over the place this afternoon,’ she said, fanning herself with a baking tray.

  ‘Don’t sweat it, Mrs T – s’good of you to do this for us. Shall I get the first three in?’

  ‘Please, Angel.’

  Angel turned back towards the hall, put two fingers in her mouth and gave a loud, expert whistle. Everyone, children included, fell into silence.

  ‘Oi, listen up! Leila, Dee – you’re with me. Everyone else, watch the kids and try to keep it down so that we can hear what Mrs T is saying, will ya?’ The hubbub lessened to a murmur. Satisfied, Angel turned back to Pamela. ‘Right, Mrs T, let’s do this!’

  Within ten minutes, Pamela had forgotten her nerves and realized that s
he was enjoying every second. She taught the girls how to make banana and blueberry muffins. They listened to what she told them and followed her instructions but they also had fun too – nudging each other when they were trying to weigh out ingredients, joking and singing. Pamela had always been fond of this group of mums and she realized that it was because she admired the way they supported one another. She knew they had tough lives – she knew for a fact that most of them regularly went to the local food bank – but it didn’t seem to dampen their spirits. They were always laughing, always having fun. They understood that life was about more than what you had and that if you had friends – people you loved, people who supported you – you could get by. Pamela admired that and felt pleased to be invited into their world.

  ‘You’ve all done brilliantly,’ she declared as they shared the muffins at the end of the session. ‘Well done.’

  ‘That was great, Mrs T, thanks.’ Angel grinned. ‘These muffins are sick!’

  Pamela looked nonplussed.

  ‘That’s a good thing,’ Leila assured her.

  ‘I might have a go at doing some baking with the kids,’ said Dee.

  ‘I think you should,’ smiled Pamela. ‘And maybe next time we could get the kiddies involved?’

  ‘Next time?’ asked Angel, her eyes shining. ‘Are you sure you want to sign yourself up for that, Mrs T?’ Nine pairs of eyes looked at Pamela hopefully.

  Pamela beamed. ‘I think it would be sick!’ she declared.

  The girls giggled. ‘Thass it, Mrs T – you got it!’ laughed Angel, shaking her head in amusement. ‘You got it.’

  Pamela arrived back at Heather’s house feeling tired but elated. She was surprised to find the house empty and decided to take a shower in preparation for the evening. As she got ready, she realized that she was excited and oddly nervous about what lay ahead. It felt strange to be going round to her own house for dinner – she’d eaten at that table with Barry hundreds of times before, after all. It was the fact that he’d invited her which made the difference. It felt like a date and that felt rather lovely too.

  She put on the only dress she’d packed and brushed her hair, before applying a little make-up and dabbing her favourite perfume behind each ear and on her wrists. She checked herself in the mirror. ‘Not bad for an old bird,’ she said, smiling at her reflection.