by Beth Moran
‘It calms her down, see,’ Bronwyn had told me, unloading a mountain of ingredients when she’d first arrived. ‘She’s got dementia. Early onset – it’s why I joined the Larks. My dad can manage first thing, but once he’s at work she needs me around. It’s fair dos, he takes the evening shifts while I’m working. But anyway, she was a Saturday girl in a bakery, back in Swansea, and she’s not lost her touch, have you, Mam?’
Gwen didn’t answer, but she smiled faintly while adding a handful of orange peel to a huge metal bowl.
I did my best to smile back. While Joey had often invited whole groups of friends over in the past, this was the first time I’d ever had a houseful. Seeing my kitchen crammed with people – Teammates? Friends?! – discussing and joking and working together, was incredible but overwhelming. I didn’t know the rules, didn’t know how I felt about them rooting through my cupboards, moving my stuff and taking up all my space. Then I thought about the quiet, lonely tomb my house had been for the past few years and decided I felt flippin’ well over the moon about it.
‘Where do you work?’ I asked Bronwyn, while putting the kettle on, a genuine smile on my face now.
‘Oh, security at Outlaws. The new venue in Nottingham?’
‘Security?’
Bronwyn grinned, and flexed her muscles. ‘I’m the best bouncer they’ve got. Ever been there?’
‘No.’ But I’d heard of it. The rumour was that the doormen (and women, as it turned out) were checking that you’d got a suitable weapon before letting you in, rather than the usual way around. Even if I had a social life, was ten years younger and had the energy or the money for a night in Nottingham, I would have had to be a genuine outlaw before venturing inside Outlaws. And Bronwyn was in the paid employ of the crooks who ran the place. Gulp.
She wrinkled her tiny, pert nose. ‘Yeah, I know it’s not one hundred per cent morally sound, but I need the money, and they pay good money. One day Mam might need full-time care. We don’t know how much longer Dad can work since his stroke, and forget a rainy day, I’m saving for the crapstorm I know is heading our way. Once I’ve got enough saved, I’ll be back in an office somewhere.’
‘If you live that long,’ Dani said, looking up from where her laptop rested on top of my hob.
‘Well, the only other way I know how to earn this much a night involves stuff that would make my Daddy cry if he ever found out. And if it all turns ugly, I know a good lawyer.’
‘You better not need this lawyer,’ Dani frowned. ‘I wage courtroom war against some nasty pieces of work, but I would consider retirement before I messed with those Outlaws. The clue is in the name.’
We were interrupted by a knock at the door. Strange. If it had been another Lark, they’d surely have just swanned in. All my friends bar one (who I knew was working all morning) were here already, plus extras. That left ex-boyfriends, pushy journalists or one of Joey’s friends. And Joey’s friends didn’t call round unannounced at this time of the morning.
While I was still wondering who it might be, hoping it would be someone who wouldn’t want to come in – I had hit my physical, mental and emotional capacity for guests about four guests ago – Marjory answered the door.
‘Oh, hello!’ she said. ‘Long time no see.’
‘Marjory,’ a voice I knew better than my own mother’s replied.
Oh no.
Who do I even introduce her as?
How do I explain knowing her?
I’mnotreadytotellthemyet. I still want to be Amy for a while longer.
PLEASE don’t tell them.
Marjory stepped back to allow Cee-Cee in, and any panic that my secret was about to be exposed or annoyance at her uninvited appearance dissolved at the sight of her dishevelled state and grey complexion as she scanned the occupants of the kitchen with shrunken eyes, before they came to rest on me.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you had company. I’ll come back another time.’
Of course she didn’t realise. Apart from Joey’s friends and the odd repair man, she’d been the only company in this house since I’d moved in. Until I joined the Larks.
‘No, it’s fine.’ I tried to ignore the pulse pecking at the inside of my skull. ‘We can talk in the garden.’
‘What?’ Cee-Cee glanced out the window at the sunshine, probably wondering what alternate reality she’d stepped into.
‘Don’t be daft, we’re moving.’ Bronwyn gave Marjory and Dani a pointed look, gently taking her mum’s hand.
Two seconds later, they had joined Mel and the kids in the living room. My kitchen suddenly seemed very empty.
Cee-Cee lowered herself onto one of the chairs, wincing. ‘You don’t need to look at me like that. It’s just arthritis.’
Are the side effects of arthritis lank, unkempt hair and giant eye bags? Does it cause extreme weight loss and sagging shoulders where a curtain rod used to be? A surge of compassion welled up in my throat as I took a seat beside her, rendering me speechless.
‘I see you’ve been busy.’ Replacing me.
I poured her a tea from the pot and sat down. ‘It’s Redbush.’ Because, yes, I had wondered if a certain non-normal-tea drinker might pop in after finishing work to see how things were going. ‘I joined a running club. We’re starting a campaign to raise money for a disabled hoist at the new Greasby pool.’
‘Right.’
We sat there for a moment in awkward silence.
‘How do you know Marjory?’ I asked.
‘Mexico ’68. We became… very good friends.’ What does that mean??
‘You competed at the Olympics?’ And never told me!?
For a startling moment, I realised how little I actually knew about Cee-Cee’s past. She had always been Coach Coleman to me. But she was also a woman, had been a girl before then, with hopes and dreams and hobbies and homework. My guilt jumped up a gear as I realised that the context of our relationship meant that I’d always thought of Cee-Cee in terms of how she related to me, and then Joey. I had considered her my closest friend for thirteen years, and I didn’t even know her real first name. My illness had reduced me to a horribly self-obsessed person. A terrible friend. If Cee-Cee had been a mother to me, she had endured a spoilt brat for a daughter.
Before I could begin to convey any of this, Cee-Cee shook her head, impatiently. ‘She ran the eighteen hundred metres. I was with the coaching team. Things were more… flexible then.’
‘Maybe you could tell me about it sometime.’
She scoffed at that. ‘No point dredging up the past.’
‘I think Marjory might do some dredging. She knows who I am.’
‘Don’t the rest of them?’
‘They only know me as Amy.’
‘And now you’re spearheading a campaign for the Amelia Piper Swimming Centre.’ Something akin to a smile flitted across Cee-Cee’s face. ‘How do you expect that will turn out?’
‘I’ll tell them before the opening. Once I’ve regained enough self-respect that admitting it won’t make them pity where I’ve ended up.’
She nodded. ‘You think that’s likely?’
I shrugged.
‘Maybe you should aim for enough self-respect that you won’t care what they think.’
We both drank some more tea, listening to the lively buzz of chatter from the living room.
‘Was there a reason you came over?’ I cringed as I asked, still finding confronting her hugely difficult.
‘Heard Sean had turned up. Thought you might need some moral support.’
I took another sip of my tea, considering that. Was I ready to welcome Cee-Cee back? I ached for some support, but could I accept it from her, or would moral support soon morph into her controlling and undermining me? With everything else going on, I didn’t think I had the energy to fight her. But looking at Cee-Cee, she wouldn’t be putting up much of a fight, either. And I was not the same woman I had been a few months ago. I took a deep breath, drew a mental boundary that would not be cr
ossed, and nodded.
‘Have you got any plans for Christmas Day?’
Cee-Cee took a careful sip of tea, avoiding my eyes. ‘Not as yet.’
‘Will you join us for dinner?’
‘Yes. Thank you.’ Her chin tipped up then, and I saw something of my old friend glinting in her eyes. ‘I’ll come early and help you prep. You can tell me what needs doing.’
So that was that – Cee-Cee was back. I hoped I was ready. I hoped I wasn’t to blame for her shabby appearance and hollowed-out cheeks. I hoped that we could start again, on an equal footing, and build a genuine friendship this time. I hoped that one day the shard of icy guilt now sawing through my guts would stop and let me enjoy one of Gwen’s mince pies, which turned out to be a miraculous combination of fluffiness, buttery crumbliness and warm, spicy Christmas all in one.
Bored of campaign prep, by noon everyone was in the living room surrounded by empty cups and pastry crumbs, chatting about who would be doing each section of the triathlon. Nobody seemed in a hurry to leave, or to have considered the possibility that I might actually have plans other than entertaining a houseful of unexpected guests for the day, and when Selena and Audrey turned up, I started to wonder how I was going to rustle up lunch for eight women, two children and the bottomless teenager currently stripping my fridge bare like a locust.
Perching on an old beanbag in her pencil skirt and towering heels, thanks to everyone ignoring her hints to give up their seat, Selena proudly showed us her plans for the social media part of the campaign. ‘Facebook for the oldies, Instagram for the rest of us. Hashtag PoolPalforPiper. We’ll link to the JustGiving page, have updates of how much money we’ve made, how the triathlon training’s going and include some sweaty shots of Nathan for sex appeal. Who’s liaising with the council? We want to make sure they reference PoolPalforPiper every time they mention the leisure centre, especially when promoting the grand opening.’
‘Amy’s on council liaison,’ Mel said, before breaking into a grin. ‘Eh, this is like being on The Apprentice, in’t it? Reckon I might get one of them tight skirts, Selena. I’ve seen one in Primark.’
‘No you haven’t,’ Selena replied. ‘And are we sure Amy is the right person for that role? I can’t help wondering if it needs someone with more… presence. No offence, Amy, but it’s going to take brains, panache and twenty-six years’ experience in the marketing industry to get us anything past a token gesture. They’re going to chew you up and spit you out before you can say hashtag PoolPalforPiper.’
‘For mercies’ sake, Selena, we get the hashtag. Congratulations. We’re very impressed. You don’t need to mention it every two minutes,’ Dani said.
‘We should all be mentioning it every two minutes! That’s how a campaign goes viral and Tate gets his hydrotherapy! Now, are we all agreed I’ll step in and handle the council?’
‘I’ve already secured their full backing,’ I said, examining my fingernails in a deliberately nonchalant manner.
‘Eh?’
I reeled off the generous agreement I’d made with Antonio Galanos, including poolside café profits and masses of publicity, never mind his personal donation of one thousand pounds.
Selena narrowed her eyes. ‘Are you screwing him or something?’
‘This may come as a surprise to you, but not everything is about sex,’ Dani scolded. ‘How dare you imply that Amy doesn’t have the brains and the panache to get the council on board without prostituting herself! And, no offence, but I’m not sure five decades of playing at marketing in your daddy’s firm will be of that much use when it comes to actual marketing.’
‘Five decades!’ Selena squeaked, as if that was the most insulting comment in that statement.
‘Speaking of Nathan’s sweaty sex appeal—’ Bronwyn interrupted.
‘Bronwyn, that was ages ago, keep up,’ Mel said.
‘Yes, but at the time I couldn’t get a word in, and then Dani said sex and that reminded me. Plus, this is good, so let me finish. Speaking of Nathan, and sweaty sex.’
My heart plummeted, while somehow still pumping copious amounts of blood to my cheeks. I knew from the wicked twinkle in Bronwyn’s eye where this was headed. Would it be bad manners to ask everyone to leave immediately?
‘Amy hasn’t told us about her personal, out-of-hours, late-night, sweaty training sesh the other night. With Nathan.’ She pointed, triumphant, as everyone else’s heads whipped round to face me.
‘Why would you want to know about my training session?’ I asked, as if I didn’t know. ‘Nathan coaches lots of people, I don’t see why mine would be any different.’
‘Well, if it’s all so innocent and fitness-related, you can tell us everything, can’t you?’ Dani asked. ‘Maybe we’ll pick up some tips for the triathlon.’
‘Maybe if the triathlon events were flirting, snogging and seduction,’ Bronwyn smirked.
Every woman craned her neck closer. Even Audrey, plonked on a cushion next to the fire, seemed to be listening.
Ah, what the heck, I decided. Every moment we’d spent together, from leaving training to Nathan dropping me off at my front door one-hundred and seven minutes later, had been replaying in the back of my mind like a loop for the thirty-eight hours since. Maybe if I told the Larks, saw them sag with disappointment at the obvious nothing-to-be-excited-about it might help me to stop boring myself with it. And for goodness’ sake, it was a huge deal for me to be finally growing myself the tiny shoots of a life. And not only did I have a life, I had people to talk about it with. How could anyone resist blabbing under these circumstances?
‘There was none of that,’ I laughed. ‘And I don’t think wine, cheese and dancing are in the triathlon either.’
‘How can you even begin to class that as a training session?’ Selena asked. ‘Even one of those three would constitute a date.’
‘Hear, hear,’ Mel agreed, along with everyone else.
‘It’s not what it sounds like!’ I protested, wishing I’d never said anything. Panicking at what Nathan would say when the women started making comments. ‘Nathan’s helping me with my anxiety. I’m getting over severe agoraphobia. And because despite living as a recluse with no friends for the past three years, I still have a smidgeon of pride dragging along with me, I insisted I return the favour.’
I went on to explain how the wine and cheese night was a challenge for both of us. I actually put on a dress (another online order, but I’d ordered five dresses in the hope one would fit, which this did), blow-dried my hair, got in a car and ventured more than a mile out of the village, to a place that I would never have been able to contemplate going without Nathan.
Nathan wore a shirt and allowed me to direct him to a local country club, famed for its snobbery and snootery. He sampled all six types of full-fat, pure-dairy cheese, only two of which were organic, and every time he noticed my anxiety popping up, he took my mind off it by eating something else. We had to ask the waiter for an extra plateful.
And then, after we’d spent an hour or so (fifty-seven minutes, if we’re clock-watching) chatting and trying to distract ourselves from freaking out by making up stories about all the other guests, I insisted we dance.
‘Oooh,’ Bronwyn sighed. ‘I bet Nathan’s a smooooooth dancer. Did you swoon in his arms?’
‘It was the end of the night. They were playing “Livin’ on a Prayer”.’
‘That is so romantic!’ Mel clasped one hand to her chest. ‘Me and Mr Malone walked down the aisle of Grace Chapel to that when we were eighteen. It were our song!’ She let out a honky sob. ‘Only ’e didn’t make it, no matter how hard ’e sweared. Or prayed. And ’e did both. A lot. We did only get halfway there, thanks to the shit-evil cancer. See, I’m swearing just thinkin’ about it. Close your ears, kids.’
‘That’s enough to make anyone swear, poppet,’ Marjory said, next to Mel on the sofa. She offered her the box of tissues from the coffee table, and by the time we’d passed it round, I hoped we’d moved on from
my extracurricular activities, especially given how they didn’t seem to think it was as innocent as I’d thought they would.
‘So, was it romantic?’ Dani asked, blotting her mascara smears. ‘Did you sway in his hunksome arms?’
‘I told you, there is nothing romantic about this! If Nathan thought there was, he’d ditch it in a heartbeat. And even if there was the slightest bit of interest on either side, you lot know he’s one hundred per cent professional.’
‘That’s true,’ Selena said, nodding her head like one in the know. ‘However much chemistry Nathan has with one of his clients, he won’t budge an inch. He’s like a robot.’
‘I can fully concur with that. It was the most robotic I’ve seen anyone move while not trying to dance the robot,’ I agreed.
‘Boo!’ Bronwyn said. ‘I can’t believe he’s a rubbish dancer! That is SO not what I imagined!’
‘I can’t believe you’re surprised,’ I replied. ‘He’s hardly Mr Uninhibited.’
‘That’s a good point. Maybe when he’s able to let his guard down, the super-sensuous-sexy Nathan slinks out.’
‘I would not like to meet that Nathan.’ Mel pulled a face.
‘Please, ladies,’ Marjory huffed. ‘Show your coach some respect. We do not need to discuss Amy’s date like schoolgirls.’
‘So, what happened after you danced?’ Mel asked, giving Marjory a friendly nudge.
I shrugged. ‘We chatted a bit more, then he drove me home.’
‘Without the tiniest hint of frisson as he said goodbye?’ Dani asked. ‘Did he run round and open the car door? Walk you down the path? Linger on the doorstep and tell you what a lovely evening he’d had, his voice slightly rough, his expression one of wonder?’
‘He did not. He pulled up, said “See you Sunday” and drove off once I’d summoned the strength to open the car door and heroically got myself down my own drive.’
‘Ah, well. We can always dream,’ Dani sighed.
‘You lot need to get your own love lives, stop inventing ones involving Nathan,’ Selena scoffed.