Everything Has Changed

by kendra Smith

  Victoria sat back in her chair and considered what Lulu had said. ‘But what about your ambitions, Lu? You used to come alive when you got a microphone in your hand. Most people would be terrified, but not you. That school play you were in – what was it?’

  ‘That was years ago!’ They smiled at each other.

  ‘But still, High School Musical or something, you were the lead, the lead for God’s sake. It was your dream to be in the spotlight, you wanted nothing more than that, to get to the West End, I do remember that. But the rest—’ She waved her hand around the kitchen. ‘Not so much.’

  Victoria looked out the window and then back again. She fixed her eyes on appliances she didn’t recognise, willing them to shed some light on her life. She thought about Zoe – her ‘friend’. She thought about the sadness in James’s eyes. She thought about her body.

  ‘Especially these.’ She nodded to her bust and then both of them started to laugh, and after a while tears were streaming down Victoria’s face with shoulder-shaking giggles… but before she could help herself, the next breath turned into body-wracking sobs. Eventually, Lulu handed her a tissue, put her arms around her, and they sat there, Victoria glad of the human warmth next to her. Eventually she pulled away. ‘What happened to me, Lu?’

  ‘Honey.’ She touched Victoria’s cheek. ‘You sort of became obsessed with all the trappings of your life, if you want the truth, we – well,’ Lulu ran her hands through her hair and looked straight at Victoria, ‘we were all wondering what was happening to you. And you and me, we were kind of growing apart. It was complicated. I was making decisions you weren’t sure about.’ Lulu sat back. ‘It’s a really long story.’ She closed her eyes and opened them again, as if summoning up strength. ‘Anyway. I’ve got Simon now, things are different.’

  If Victoria didn’t know better – and actually, she didn’t – she’d have thought her sister wasn’t quite herself. The va-va-voom had vanished. She stared at her clever, sparkly blonde sister who could hold a crowd in the palm of her hand with a sweet ballad. ‘Lulu, getting married mustn’t stop you being who you want to be.’

  ‘And who do you want to be, sis?’

  That was the point, wasn’t it? She couldn’t remember who she wanted to be. But if it was anything like the woman she was discovering, this ‘New Victoria’ as she was calling herself in her head, she didn’t want to be that Victoria at all.

  ‘Hey,’ Lulu said, sniffing, ‘I think it might be a good idea for you to lie down, OK? Remember the doctor warned against any big stress, any emotional drain on you while your brain – and your body – is healing, right? And as for these cupcakes? Fat-free?’ She picked one up, and then lobbed it in the bin. ‘That’s stress in itself.’ They smiled at each other, and then Lulu carefully tucked a piece of hair behind Victoria’s ear. Which almost made her cry again.

  Upstairs, Victoria sat on the edge of the bath, and started to fill it. She wafted her hand through the mixer tap, waiting until it was the right temperature then let it fill midway, grabbed some purple bubble bath from the side, and then stepped in. Did she like purple bubble baths? After about five minutes she was bored counting the tiles around the wall. Enough. She stared at herself in the bathroom mirror and wondered where her soft, round belly had gone? In its place were perky boobs and a flat stomach. The boobs seemed to defy gravity and looked utterly out of place on her body. What had she been thinking? She had always been someone who made the best of what they’d got. She vaguely remembered talking to Izzy when she found her pinching her lipstick as a little girl. It was cute, but Victoria had a hazy memory of reminding Izzy that she was beautiful without make-up. And how much had they cost? Had she used her savings? What had she told the kids when she went into hospital? She dried between them gently and stared at her alien figure. Many women would be pleased, she realised. But it didn’t feel like her. She had become someone else. A different Victoria. Not ‘Squishy Vicky’ as James used to call her; she smiled ruefully to herself in the mirror. Then she leant in closer and looked at her taut forehead again. Sighing, she pulled her dressing gown around her, walked out the bathroom and lay on top of the bed. Come on, memories. Where were they? A tiny spider scuttled across the wall and eventually stopped by the windowsill.

  What if she could find more things that would jog her memory like the doctor suggested? Old clothes? From before her apparent ‘transformation’. Didn’t she used to keep boxes under the bed? There was a vague memory of things under the bed, important things.

  She reached underneath and pulled out a shallow cardboard box. Opening the top, she found some very old summer dresses. Definitely pre-breast enhancement. Next, she uncovered a couple of small photo albums. One was of the twins when they were about two, they were both in highchairs, creamy white skins with little pink cheeks, plastic spoons in their hands, and what looked like a bowl of pasta in front of them. There were two egg yolk yellow baby blankets in the box as well. She held them in front of her face and inhaled. It was musty and sweet and something in it ignited a memory in her brain of a twin pram, of covering the twins in these blankets, walking around the streets of Little Norland. She could feel tears leaking from her eyes and she pressed the soft blankets close to her face. Where were all her memories? The car crash had stolen parts of her life from her and she wanted it back.

  Victoria rummaged in the box. Her wedding ring. She took it out and tried it on; the gold glistened and she was mesmerised, staring at it on her finger. Why had she taken it off? Half-formed memories were floating in her brain, like balloons she couldn’t catch. Next, she found a little pink ribbon nestled at the bottom of the box tied in a bow. Was it Izzy’s? Then, out of nowhere Victoria felt a dragging sensation in her stomach, a feeling of dread. She looked up and stared at the blinds framing her window. Bright red poppies on a beige background. There was something about those cheery poppies that unsettled her. She’d stared at them, hadn’t she? For a long time and something had been wrong. Very wrong. She shook herself. Next to the blankets was a delicate piece of netting. Her veil! She pulled it out triumphantly. Lying underneath it was the silk daisy garland she recognised from her wedding photo. She traced the fragile little flower buds with her fingers. A surge of emotion ran through her and she felt light-headed. She would look at that later.

  As she was placing the veil back in the box, something at the bottom caught her eye. She fished about and pulled out an old iPad. The blue cover triggered a memory.

  She flicked open the cover, it was blue with tiny yellow glittery butterfly stickers on it; they were peeling off. She had a strong memory of Izzy sticking them on the cover, pulling off the backing paper and gently placing them on the front. She had flashes of carrying this iPad in her handbag. She opened up the lid and a few Post-it notes fluttered onto the bed. She picked one up. It was a list.

  Izzy: ballet shoes!

  Birthday cake! 14 candles!!

  Bouncy castle?

  Magic show?

  Remember milk

  Then 6/10 had been circled in red pen with ‘Jake, maths.’

  The writing didn’t look like hers. When had she written this? Fourteen candles? She had always made sure each twin had their own cake, so had they been seven? 2011? She got off the bed and plugged the charger in. She sat cross-legged on the floor waiting for the screen to light up. Then she pressed the home key and sat staring at the screen. She somehow managed to navigate her way to the email icon and pressed it. It took a while, but then stopped. They’d had a Hotmail account back then – she remembered that – and she stared at the email icon as memories came and went. Then suddenly, her fingers flew over the on-screen keypad with surprising agility and she was typing in a username and password.

  The messages took ages to load, but one after the other, old emails started to appear. There were apparently 649 emails in her inbox – many of them junk, she could see that, but she started to scroll through, getting a weird sense of déjà vu. But there, amid all the mail for holiday co
ttages and mortgages, was an email from James, the subject ‘Hi darling’. There he was, her James. It was like finding buried treasure under a mountain of spam.

  She clicked on it:

  Hey Squishy,

  Still stuck in this crumby hotel in Newcastle. One more presentation to go. How are you doing? I thought about you yesterday. There was a woman at the indoor pool – no, she wasn’t as good looking as you before you ask ;) – and she had twins too! They were adorable, they were about four. It made me think of our little six-year-old tykes! Made me really miss you all. Back on Saturday, for the birthday party! Did you get the bouncy castle? Can’t wait to give you and the kids a massive hug. Right, I’m off to the gym here now, been trying to keep training up for the Suffolk Sevens! It’s pouring outside so giving the treadmill a go.

  See you on Saturday! Can’t wait! Look after yourself. J. Xx

  James had actually written to her like that? Her hands were trembling. This was not the man living with her at the moment. The man living with her could barely give her the time of day. She wanted that James back, email James. She climbed back onto the bed and hugged her knees to her chest. That was what she wanted to reclaim. But how? She picked up her phone from the bedside table and started to look through old photos. Something made her flick to the texts to see if she could find any feel-good ones from James too. She started to scroll through her messages and then suddenly her heart started to beat. Something was telling her this was all wrong. She scrolled down to one set of messages – they were from the same number but no name. All signed by ‘A’. Who was that? Dear, God. They were flirty. Another caught her eye.

  Where are you? I’ve been missing our chats… Andy x

  Her hands were shaking and she nearly dropped the phone. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod who was this? And had she had an affair? Jesus sweet fucking Christ. She wasn’t that kind of woman! She loved James. She’d married James, she’d had daisies in her hair for goodness sake – she’d seen it in the photo in the lounge – she was his Squishy Vicky.

  She sat back and hit her head on the headboard with a clunk, her fingers wrapped around the phone. She shut her eyes and held on to the memory of James’s email from the iPad, the twins’ seventh birthday party, the garden, the wine, holding hands, even the vomiting child, they were such happy memories. That’s who she wanted to be.

  12 Victoria

  ‘That’s, like, so much butter! What are you doing?’

  It was Saturday morning. Victoria looked up at her daughter, who was standing with her hands on her hips in the kitchen next to her. She had her hair tied in a high ponytail and her face was plastered in make-up. Her foundation was thick and her eyebrows looked as if she’d found two brown caterpillars in the garden and stuck them on – and that diamond piercing on her left eyebrow glinted at her in the kitchen lights.

  ‘Well you need a lot to make brownies.’ She piled more butter onto the scales.

  ‘Butter? In those disgusting fat-free ones?’

  ‘Fat-free?’ laughed Victoria. ‘What’s the point of that?’

  Her daughter’s eyes widened. ‘You tell me! Your mate Zoe was always bringing fat-free stuff round, and you started to bake it. Tasted like baby sick.’

  She came round to where Izzy was standing and squeezed her woollen-jumper clad arm. ‘Did I?’

  Izzy moved away. ‘Yes. You used to make revolting Weight Watchers recipes. But if we said anything you’d snap at us, reminding us about childhood obesity and dental fillings.’ Izzy flicked her ponytail off her shoulder. ‘Remember, Mum, C-A-L-O-R-I-E-S?’

  Had she actually behaved like that? What happened to the chaotic popcorn-eating, mother of ten-year-old twins who used to hide Maltesers in her knicker drawer so the twins wouldn’t find them? Where had she gone?

  ‘Well, um, I don’t think it’s wise to cook brownies unless they’re totally moreish and that’s what we’re doing now,’ she said, her hands shaking a little as she opened up the hot chocolate lid. ‘The more the merrier,’ she announced, almost to herself, and to prove that she could jolly well bake fattening brownies, she poured the whole tin of hot chocolate powder onto the mounds of butter. It slid down the sides of the butter making little brown sugary ski slopes. ‘That should do it,’ she said, mixing it up into a chocolatey pile. Then she lifted the spoon up and took a big lick.

  Izzy was staring at her. She felt rather sick, but she had to go on. She licked off the whole tablespoon. ‘Who’s eating fat-free now?’ She smiled and wiped some goo off her chin.

  Izzy leant in beside her and, eyeing the mountain of chocolate and fat in the bowl, narrowed her eyes. ‘Have you been drinking?’

  Victoria studied Izzy. Her daughter’s eyes sparkled under her heavily made-up smoky purple eyelids. They made her look twenty-six, not sixteen. What had she missed? Had Izzy had her first kiss? Sex? Dear God. She dropped the tablespoon with a clatter then picked it up and opened her mouth. ‘Of course not. Listen, Izzy, erm, have you, you know, kissed a boy, do you need me to talk to you about—’

  ‘This is so not happening, Mum!’ Izzy flashed her a look of panic and then smiled slyly at her: ‘Maybe I’ve kissed a girl.’

  ‘Right. OK.’ What was the protocol here? Victoria plunged the spoon back into the mixture for something to do. ‘That’s fine.’

  ‘Only kidding, Mum.’

  ‘Oh, I see. OK,’ she faltered, ‘but Izzy, there’s so much I’ve missed, or at least might have missed.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Mum, you were here, only you weren’t,’ Izzy shrugged and looked down, her fake eyelashes quivering, then she looked straight up at her.

  Why had she missed so much? It couldn’t have just been all her fault, could it? Perhaps they all just needed some time. Bonding time. Like now, making cakes. Surely that’s what mums and daughters did. Even at sixteen? She arranged her face into a smile. ‘Right, can you get me the mixer and we’ll get to work on these.’

  ‘Get it yourself,’ Izzy said and then flounced off to a chair in the corner of the kitchen and pulled out her phone from the back of her jeans’ pocket. Victoria’s gaze fell on her daughter’s face, lit up by the screen, as she frowned, then swiped left, then right. She was sure Izzy had said ‘bitch’ under her breath.

  ‘What?’

  Her mouth was turned down at the edges. ‘Nothing. School stuff, a bitch of a project we’ve been set.’

  Victoria scraped the mixture from the beaters and glanced at Izzy again. ‘Anyway,’ Izzy suddenly looked up at her. ‘What do you care?’ She sat frowning for another ten minutes as Victoria bit her lip.

  ‘Izzy? I do care. Maybe pop your phone down?’

  Izzy flicked her head up abruptly. ‘Pop my phone down? Are you for real, Mum? Just chill, will you? I’m surprised yours isn’t glued to your hand, usually it’s Insta, TikTok, Twitter, God knows what. You’re never off yours! Looking at all your influencers.’ Izzy said ‘influencers’ with the same disdain as if she was wiping dog-doo off her shoe.

  Never off yours. Was that true? What the hell was TikTok? Or an ‘influencer’ for that matter?

  ‘Izzy, put your phone down and come here.’

  Izzy looked up from the phone, sighed heavily, pressed a few more buttons and swore under her breath and then came towards Victoria. ‘What?’

  ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Oh, here we go. Is it a mum-daughter counselling session? Have you got time for this?’ She stared at her mutinously. How had her daughter become this bitter? ‘Course I’m not OK,’ Izzy’s shoulders slumped. ‘My mum’s had a crash and come back, like, as some weird person, one who bakes.’ Izzy folded her arms. ‘You’re acting like me and Jake are like five years old. And all that stuff with Dad—’

  ‘Look, I’m going to fix it, all right?’

  Izzy flinched. ‘Fix it? What, fix getting a divorce? I don’t think so.’

  ‘Look, your dad and I, we – er, nothing’s been finalised yet, as far as I can see. I just need to talk to him. And I don’t real
ly understand what sort of mum I had become, either, Izzy, but I just need to get to the bottom of it—’ She touched her daughter’s cheek and registered that Izzy didn’t move away as if she’d had an electric shock. ‘I promise to do better, OK? All I know is that I love you, Dad and Jake. That’s all I can manage at the moment.’

  Izzy shrugged. ‘Whatever.’ And with that Izzy grabbed the spoon from the bowl and began licking it in front of Victoria, then tilted her head to one side. ‘You’re not going to tell me off?’

  Victoria shrugged. ‘Why would I do that? You love brownie mixture.’

  ‘Yeah, I do,’ she said, giving it a final lick, then tossing it in the sink before wandering out the kitchen.

  One victory. Just one. I’ll take that, thought Victoria as she picked up a spatula and started to fold the creamy mixture into the familiar brown comforting goodness she could remember. Folding it in and around the bowl, scraping it off the sides and then pausing. Why had Izzy become this uptight? She reached for a baking tray, lined it with greaseproof paper and scraped the mixture into the tin. Once it was in the oven she leant back on the side of the cooker and folded her arms. Never off yours. Was that true? She glanced over at the table where Izzy’s phone lay.

  Just then, Victoria’s phone started to bleep and flash. Her dad’s profile picture flashed up. Oh, that’s rather cool, she found herself thinking. She pressed the button. ‘Hi Dad.’

  ‘Hello sweetheart, how are you?’

  ‘OK,’ she lied, trying to sound chirpy. She knew she’d been off-kilter when he’d last phoned.

  ‘Good girl. Lulu’s been keeping me posted but I was worried I hadn’t heard from you in a couple of days. How’s your head? The headaches? Memory?’

  ‘Comes and goes.’

  Her dad let out a laugh. ‘I wouldn’t worry about that, pet, that’s probably ageing.’

  ‘No, but Dad, important stuff like my wedding day – stuff with the twins, a lot has gone.’ She let out a long breath.