The Happiness List

by Annie Lyons

  I’m terrifying the poor man, she thought, but she couldn’t help herself as she sobbed and sobbed. She was amazed when she felt him put his arms around her and pull her close. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He simply held her until she stopped crying. Eventually, Heather pulled away. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, staring up at him, noticing his clear blue eyes for the first time.

  ‘Is okay. You were sad. You have to cry when you are sad. You don’t need to be sorry.’

  She smiled. ‘Well, seeing as I’ve soaked your coat with my tears, can I at least offer to make you a cup of tea?’

  ‘Thank you.’ He nodded, following her into the kitchen. ‘You have very nice house.’

  ‘Thanks. Although it’s a bit weird living here alone now.’

  ‘I like being on my own,’ said Georg.

  ‘Do you?’

  He nodded. ‘Watch what you like on TV, eat what you like, go to bed when you like.’

  ‘Don’t you get lonely?’

  He shrugged. ‘If I do, I go out and see friends. But I like my own company.’

  Heather placed a mug of tea in front of him. ‘Mmm, maybe. I guess I’m a bit of a wuss. I’ve never really been on my own.’

  Georg fixed her with a look. ‘You will be fine,’ he assured her. ‘You have friends.’ He took a sip of the tea and pulled a face. ‘I am happy to come and drink your terrible tea with you any day.’

  She laughed as he gave her a wonky half-smile. ‘Thanks for the offer but just as friends – I don’t need another boyfriend yet.’ Georg looked horrified. ‘That was a joke, by the way.’

  ‘Good because not only do you make the worst tea but you are also not my type.’

  ‘Please, Georg, don’t spare my feelings,’ chuckled Heather.

  He looked into her eyes. ‘I am gay.’

  Heather was stunned. ‘Oh. Wow. Sorry, I didn’t know.’

  ‘Not many people do. It is hard for me. You don’t advertise the fact you’re gay where I come from.’

  She nodded. ‘I’m touched that you felt able to share it with me.’

  He smiled. ‘I feel accepted here. People say London is unfriendly but I think people let you be who you want to be. I like that.’

  ‘Be who you want to be. I like that too,’ said Heather. She knocked her tea mug against his. ‘Cheers to that.’

  ‘Cheers to that and to your very terrible tea.’ He grinned.

  ‘Georg! I think you’re finally getting the English sense of humour,’ she laughed.

  Once Heather knew that Barry was going to be all right, her thoughts turned to Luke. She knew it was ridiculous to even contemplate the idea of going to New York but in those dark middle-of-the-night periods of wakefulness, her mind flooded with irrational uncertainty. What if she never met another man? This was a chance to go to New York – the city of dreams! Could she forgive Luke and give it go? She was pretty sure that his infatuation with Gemma had been just that. Was there a world in which she could forgive him and they could start afresh?

  ‘Are you out of your effing mind?’ cried Fran when she shared her thoughts over the phone the next day. ‘Stay right where you are. I’m coming round.’

  Heather smiled. Sometimes in life you need a straight-talking, sweary friend to tell you the truth.

  Fran arrived twenty minutes later with a bottle of wine under her arm and a look of scary determination on her face. ‘Right you, get this open – we’re thrashing out your future here and now and let’s be clear, it doesn’t involve that fuckwit Luke.’

  They sat at the kitchen table and did just that. For every concern, Fran offered reassurance.

  ‘What if I’m on my own for ever?’

  ‘You won’t be and if you are, get a dog.’

  Heather laughed. ‘What about having kids?’

  ‘Overrated. Next!’

  More laughter. ‘But it’s New York!’

  ‘Yes and that’s where Donald Trump comes from so you know, it’s not all good.’

  ‘Am I overreacting to what Gemma and Luke did?’

  Fran’s face grew serious. ‘Abserfuckinglutely not. She is basically the nearest thing you have to a sister and sisters positively do not do that to one another. It is a betrayal of biblical proportions. Never forget that.’

  Heather nodded as the tears fell. Fran didn’t say anything for a moment. She simply topped up Heather’s wine and reached for her hand. Heather stared at her with wide, sad eyes. ‘Listen to me, Heather Brown. You are a beautiful, clever, funny and wonderful woman. You deserve better than you’ve had and you will find it. You can do this – you can be on your own, find your thing and enjoy it. Just be brave and take life one day at a time.’ Heather held her gaze and nodded as fresh tears fell. Fran let her cry for a while before squeezing her hands and leaning forwards. ‘Now then, you’re allowed ten minutes of self-pity a day and no more. So dry those eyes and fetch some crisps, will you? I’m starving!’

  Heather laughed. ‘Fair enough,’ she said, fetching a tube of Pringles from the cupboard. ‘So, how are your attempts at being braver going?’

  ‘Hmm, are you sure you don’t want to do a bit more self-pitying?’ asked Fran.

  ‘That good?’ teased Heather.

  Fran shrugged. ‘I’m working my way up to it, like when you go swimming in the sea and it takes you a while to get in.’

  ‘You’ll get there,’ said Heather, helping herself to a crisp as the doorbell rang. ‘Don’t eat them all,’ she warned over her shoulder.

  ‘Sorry – can’t promise that,’ said Fran with a grin before stuffing two into her mouth. Heather laughed and made her way down the hall, peering towards the front door, unable to make out who it was at first.

  Heather thought about slamming the door when she saw Gemma but soon realized that she was oddly pleased to see her. Despite everything that had happened, she missed her cousin. At the same time however, Heather wanted Gemma to see that she was okay. In spite of the betrayal and hurt, Heather was okay. ‘What do you want?’ she demanded in a voice keen with anger.

  Gemma looked at the floor before flicking her gaze to her cousin. ‘To apologize.’

  ‘Is everything all right, Heather?’ came Fran’s voice from the kitchen doorway. ‘Would you like me to go?’

  Heather turned and smiled at her friend, taking courage from her presence. ‘No. It’s fine, Fran. Gemma has merely popped round to apologize – it won’t take long,’ she said casually. She turned back to Gemma with a frown. ‘Come on then, get it over with.’

  Gemma eyed her pleadingly and Heather felt her heart flood with sadness. ‘I’m sorry.’

  The sadness was shoved aside by renewed anger at these two feebly inadequate words. ‘Right. Fine. You’ve said it. Now off you trot.’

  ‘I miss you.’

  I miss you too, whispered Heather’s heart until a jolt of fury brought her to her senses. Not today. You don’t get to make me feel sorry for you today.

  ‘Maybe you should have thought about that before you tried to steal my fiancé,’ said Heather angrily.

  Gemma nodded. ‘You’re right but I want you to know that I didn’t sleep with him and I wasn’t trying to steal him.’

  So Luke was telling the truth for once.

  ‘That’s a great comfort,’ snapped Heather. ‘I’m sure my ruined life feels reassured that your efforts to destroy it were completely unintentional.’

  Gemma seemed surprised by Heather’s bluntness. She hesitated before she went on. ‘I completely understand your anger and I deserve all of it. I only wanted to come here to apologize and to tell you the truth.’

  Heather folded her arms. ‘I’m waiting.’ Gemma shot a glance in Fran’s direction. ‘Fran is my friend,’ said Heather. ‘She knows everything so just get on with it.’

  Gemma took a deep breath. ‘I was in a weird place after Freddy was born. That’s not an excuse by the way – I know what I did was unforgiveable. I just need you to know that I’ve not been myself. What
happened with Luke was a moment of madness. Things haven’t been great with Ed and then I saw Luke when I dropped off Freddy. He suggested we do lunch and we were texting and it all got a bit out of hand.’

  ‘Understatement of the decade,’ said Heather curtly. ‘So what did you do?’

  Gemma stared at her with sorrowful eyes. ‘We met up for drinks a few times, went dancing. Kissed. It meant nothing.’

  ‘And yet you did it anyway.’

  ‘Yeah, I did, stupid cow that I am and now I’ve lost everything.’

  Heather turned on her. ‘Please don’t expect my sympathy.’

  ‘I don’t but I would like your forgiveness.’

  ‘Too bad.’

  Gemma stared at the floor before giving a resigned, tearful nod. ‘Do you think you’ll ever stop hating me?’ she asked.

  Heather’s gaze was strong and constant. ‘I don’t hate you. That’s the problem. This would all be a lot easier if I could.’

  Gemma nodded again. ‘What are you going to do next?’

  Heather regarded her for a second. ‘That’s really none of your business. And now, I think we’re done here. Bye, Gemma,’ she said before closing the door.

  She saw her cousin linger outside the door for a second before turning slowly and walking away.

  ‘Wow,’ said Fran. ‘You were bloody awesome.’

  Heather pulled a face. ‘Was it too much?’

  Fran shook her head. ‘Absolutely not – you were the bollocks.’

  ‘Thanks, Fran. It was good to have you here. I was surprised you didn’t give her a piece of your mind.’

  Fran smiled. ‘I was biting my tongue the whole way through but seriously, Heather? You didn’t need me. You’ve got this.’

  Heather felt a skip of confidence at her friend’s reassuring words. ‘Right, come on. Carpe diem and all that,’ she said, walking towards the kitchen.

  ‘What are we doing?’ Fran grinned.

  ‘We’re writing the “get lost, loser”, email to Luke,’ she declared.

  ‘Correction.’ Fran smiled. ‘You’re writing it. I’m going to drink wine, eat crisps and keep you company.’

  Heather laughed. ‘I’ve got this?’

  Fran nodded. ‘You’ve so got this.’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Fran

  Happiness List Thing

  1. Accept a world without Andy (too soon!)

  2. ‘Digital Detox’ day with kids

  3. Go on even more walks with Alan

  4. Have dinner with a nice man (NOT a date) & laugh if appropriate

  (he is nice and I did laugh)

  5. Stop feeling guilty and like Gary (EPIC fail)

  6. Take up gardening again (with a little help from Baz & Mum)

  7. Work myself into an early grave helping local elderly people with their gardens – most fun I’ve had in ages

  8. Get punched in the face by grief and take it

  9. Get rid of that bloody uncomfortable sofa

  Fran didn’t miss sex. Not really. She’d enjoyed having it with Andy of course, but as with many couples after they become parents it was often something that got pushed down the ‘to do’ list, like sorting out that drawer full of spare keys and rubber bands in the kitchen. It was a school night or they were tired or a bit drunk. It didn’t matter to her – they loved one another. They had sex when they could be bothered and it was always lovely.

  What she did miss though was the companionship and if that made her sound like an octogenarian out of her time then so be it. She missed someone who had her back, who understood her down to her bones, who made her laugh and annoyed her like no other person in the world.

  Your rock. Your soul mate. Your ‘happy-ever-after’. Whatever you wanted to call the person who anchored you to life; that was what she missed.

  Andy’s were big, impossible shoes to fill. Fran had realized that trying to replace him was like walking up a down-escalator in custard-filled wellies – exceptionally hard work and not much fun. But she had also realized that other people – her friends and family – had begun to ‘fill in’ for Andy in some ways.

  Her mother often co-parented in a sometimes annoying but always well-meaning fashion, her brother would rock up and horse around with the children as Andy had done, overexciting them usually right before bedtime. Nat, Pamela and Heather were the indulgent ones – giving the kids too many sweets as Andy would have and letting them stay up too late.

  And now there was Gary. He had slotted into Fran’s life without fuss or complication. She knew that he cared about her but he also respected Andy’s memory and was happy to be the friend she needed. And because their meetings had been in Elsie Loveday’s garden and on a trip to Ikea, there was no hint of romance to it – they were two people who liked each other and enjoyed one another’s company. Perfect. Sort of.

  One day she invited Gary along to a Sunday walk with the kids. As a friend. She made sure that Charlie and Jude understood this too.

  ‘Just a friend. We get it, Mum,’ said Charlie, rolling her eyes.

  ‘Do I have to come?’ moaned Jude.

  ‘Yes, you do. Sunday is a digital detox day – remember?’

  ‘Day of misery, more like.’

  Fran put an arm around his shoulder. ‘Aww, your life is so hard. Want me to call Childline for you?’

  ‘I’ve got the number,’ offered Charlie helpfully.

  ‘I hate you all,’ said Jude but she knew he didn’t mind these excursions once he got there – jogging along the paths with a laughing Charlie and a happily barking Alan. There were worse ways to spend a Sunday.

  ‘You got any crampons or Kendal Mint Cake in that bag?’ teased Fran, gesturing at Gary’s all-weather hiking gear and rucksack as they bundled out of the car.

  He laughed. ‘You may mock but I’ve checked the forecast and know for a fact that you’ll get very wet if it rains and you’re wearing those,’ he remarked, gesturing at her thin summer jacket and ancient trainers.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ she said dismissively as they set off.

  An hour later, Fran was soaked to the skin and shivering as the rain fell in sheets. Jude and Charlie were fine because they were both far more sensible than their mother and wore cagoules over jumpers, whilst Alan bounded along beside them, barking at the sheer joy of being outdoors in the rain.

  ‘Bloody English weather – it’s supposed to nearly be summer,’ muttered Fran as she inched gingerly down a muddy slope. ‘Woah!’ she cried as she slipped. Shit, that’s it – I’m about to land on my arse. Gary caught her under one elbow and steadied her. ‘Thank you,’ she said. He smiled.

  If this was a romance novel, I’d be falling into his arms right now, thought Fran, surprised at how much the idea appealed to her.

  ‘Isn’t this the moment when you say “I told you so”?’ she asked.

  ‘I could but to be honest, it would have taken away from my knight rescuing the damsel-in-distress moment,’ said Gary, his eyes glittering with amusement.

  ‘I’m taking you down with me next time,’ she retorted.

  ‘I look forward to it,’ he replied.

  Nothing wrong with a little harmless flirting, thought Fran as they sat in her toasty kitchen later that afternoon, drinking mug after mug of restorative tea and eating their way through a whole packet of Jaffa Cakes. She watched Gary chatting with Jude now and smiled. She could see from Jude’s face that he liked Gary, not least because he’d just told him that his brother was a music curator.

  ‘What’s a music curator?’ asked Fran, looking puzzled.

  Jude rolled his eyes. ‘Duh, mother. It’s a person who puts together playlists for hotels and stuff. He used to work for Apple.’

  ‘Fancy,’ said Fran, smiling at Gary.

  ‘It all goes a bit over my head but he does get us tickets for gigs sometimes – your mum mentioned that you’re an Ed Sheeran fan. I’ll ask if he can get tickets for his tour next year,’ offered Gary.

  ‘Thanks.�
� Jude grinned. ‘That’d be cool.’

  ‘Praise indeed,’ observed Fran. ‘I don’t think I’ve done anything cool for about five years.’

  ‘Six actually, Mum,’ quipped Jude, planting a kiss on his mother’s head as he walked out of the kitchen. ‘But who’s counting?’

  Fran and Gary laughed. ‘More tea?’ she asked, gesturing at his empty mug.

  ‘No, I’m all tea-ed out, ta, and I’d better get going,’ he said, standing up. ‘I really enjoyed today. Thanks for asking me along – your kids are brilliant.’

  Fran smiled. ‘Well, I think they rather like you too.’

  As do I. But I’m not going to tell him because that would make all this seem too real. Repeat the mantra after me – just friends, just friends, just friends.

  And yet. You had that rather graphic dream about him the other night. You know the one. You woke feeling all sweaty and guilty, secretly longing to fall back into it. That kiss felt so deliciously real. Too real.

  Just friends, just friends, just friends.

  ‘Fran?’ Gary was staring at her now. ‘Did you hear me?’

  ‘Sorry, what?’ Fran hoped she wasn’t blushing.

  Gary smiled. ‘You were miles away. I said I’ll call you in the week, okay?’

  She nodded and followed him down the hall. He paused in the doorway to the living room. ‘Bye, Charlie,’ he called.

  She looked up from the chaotic American teen comedy she was watching and leapt to her feet, rushing forwards to put her arms around his middle. ‘Bye, Gary. Before you go, say that thing again.’

  ‘Marsh-mallow?’ he offered.

  Charlie snorted like a pig. ‘Classic! Marsh-mallow! Who says that? Not even the Queen! It’s marsh-mellow! Brilliant!’

  ‘My daughter lives in a very happy place,’ said Fran, ‘far away from most other human beings.’

  Gary laughed. ‘She’s a superstar. So when does the new sofa arrive?’ he asked as they walked to the door.

  ‘Tomorrow,’ said Fran, thinking back to when they’d gone to buy it. She had mistakenly assumed that the new sofa would fit into her car and Gary would provide the muscle to help her bring it home but it wouldn’t. Gary didn’t seem to mind but Fran felt embarrassed so had stopped off at the garden centre and asked him to help her with three large bags of compost instead.