by Alix Kelso
The Next Forever
Alix Kelso
Copyright © 2019 by Alix Kelso
The moral right of Alix Kelso to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events is purely coincidental.
ISBN (paperback): 978-1-913098-01-8
Lake Falls Publishing Ltd, Glasgow, Scotland UK.
For my husband, David.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
A Message from Alix
The Reader’s Club
About the Author
1
Chrissie Sullivan woke to spring sunshine slicing through the window blinds and the sweet stillness of a gloriously, wonderfully silent house. A smile spread across her face as she lay in bed listening to the sound of absolutely nothing at all.
The clock on her bedside table said it was eight-fifteen. Chrissie couldn’t remember the last time there’d been such peace and quiet at this hour. No stomping around out on the landing. No yelling about mislaid keys or bags. No crying toddler. No pandemonium or crisis or desperately late rush out of the house.
Instead, there was only beautiful silence.
Rubbing her feet together beneath the warmth of the duvet, Chrissie thought about the day ahead. Today was her day off from work, from family, from everything. She’d been looking forward to it ever since she’d sat down with her daughter, Alison, and explained how important it was for her to get this little bit of time alone. No, not important – essential. Essential for her sanity, mostly.
Alison, along with her boyfriend, Gregor, and their little daughter, Poppy, had been living in Alison’s old room across the landing for almost a year, after being forced out of their rented flat on account of a catastrophic water leak and the discovery of structural problems in the old building. The young couple had been looking for a new place to stay ever since.
Chrissie loved her daughter, and adored her granddaughter, and there was no denying that Gregor was a nice young man. But Chrissie hadn’t expected to still have the three of them living with her after all this time.
She needed a little space to herself. And so she’d asked Alison if she and Gregor might, just for one day, be able to get themselves and Poppy up and out the door without their usual commotion. All she wanted was a nice lie-in, she’d explained. Was this possible?
Alison had nodded and promised that it was, but Chrissie hadn’t been entirely convinced. Now she realised she ought to have had more faith in her daughter, and Gregor for that matter, because they’d apparently managed it.
It was nothing short of a miracle. And now Chrissie’s day off lay ahead like a glittering prize.
First she’d lie in bed and be lazy. Then she’d make breakfast and actually sit down and enjoy it. After that, she’d have a long soak with the new bubble bath she’d bought. She’d carefully style her hair instead of just frantically pointing the hairdryer at it and hoping for the best. She’d even put on a nice outfit knowing she wouldn’t have to worry about it getting covered in gunk at work, because today there would be no work.
Rather than rushing over to the speciality cake shop she owned on Caledonia Road on the other side of Fairhill to begin the daily routine of warming the ovens and preparing batches of batter and assembling cake decorations and talking with customers, Chrissie would instead do something completely different.
She’d stroll down to Shaw Street and have a coffee in Valentino’s restaurant and watch the world go by outside the windows. She’d stop by Dot’s Boutique and treat herself to something new. In the afternoon she’d come home to her quiet, empty house and enjoy a spot of kitchen pottering. While something delicious bubbled away on the hob, she’d pour herself a glass of wine – a very big glass of wine, actually – and…
Her thoughts were interrupted by a noise on the other side of the landing. Frowning, Chrissie cocked her head and listened. It sounded like singing. No not singing, more like…
With a sinking sensation, Chrissie sprang from the bed and stepped out on to the landing. The house was still in silence – except for that sound coming from Alison and Gregor’s room. Crossing the landing, Chrissie knocked on the door. When she got no answer, she stuck her head inside.
And found Poppy standing in her cot, clutching her teddy bear and chattering happily.
“Poppy!” Chrissie said. “I thought you and your parents had already left.”
Poppy beamed and shoved the head of her teddy bear through the cot slats. Chrissie’s gaze shifted to the bed in the corner, which was neatly made with the duvet smoothed and the pillows plumped. Alison and Gregor had clearly got up already and begun their day. So where on earth were they?
Stepping back on to the landing, Chrissie glanced around. The house still sounded perfectly quiet. “Hello?” she called out. “Alison? Gregor?”
No response.
Back in the bedroom, she caught a terrible smell coming from Poppy’s direction.
“Oh, Poppy,” Chrissie said. “Are those gruesome odours coming from you?”
Poppy shrieked with laughter and bashed her teddy bear against the cot slats. Grimacing, Chrissie picked her up and sniffed tentatively at her nappy.
“That really smells awful, young lady,” she said and laid Poppy on the changing table. “I’m not supposed to be doing anything like this today, you know.” Poppy shrieked again and waved her teddy in the air as Chrissie unbuttoned her onesie. “But Granny Chrissie is good at staying nice and calm, isn’t she? Granny Chrissie has no choice.”
Poppy began babbling as Chrissie fastened a new nappy into place. A mirror hung on the wall beside the changing table and Chrissie glanced at her reflection there. The woman gazing back at her looked tired. Her eyes used to be a little brighter, her chin a little higher. The lines on her skin were breeding uncontrollably and something inexplicable had recently begun happening to her hair. Thinning, her mother called it, a description that gave Chrissie the creeps. Was that how things would be now that she’d passed the milestone of fifty? Would she just whittle down and wither away into insignificance? She’d enjoyed her forties and had thought her fifties would be even better. But lately, she’d begun to wonder.
The problem wasn’t that her life was going in t
he wrong direction. The problem was that her life wasn’t going in any direction at all.
Chrissie studied her reflection for a moment longer and figured that if her mouth drooped any more, it’d be sitting in her lap. She tested a smile and winced. She resembled a deranged Jack Nicholson.
“Morning, Chrissie!”
Chrissie jumped and turned to find Gregor standing in the doorway with a towel around his waist. “You gave me a fright, Gregor.”
“Sorry, I thought you knew I was in the shower. Didn’t you hear it running?”
She shook her head and then frowned when she saw that Gregor was holding the bathroom towel rail in his hand. “What are you doing with that?”
Gregor offered a sheepish grin. “The screw was loose, but when I tried to tighten it the whole thing came off the wall. Don’t worry, I’ll get it fixed.”
Chrissie groaned. The towel rail had been perfectly fine the last time she’d been in the bathroom. But ever since he’d moved in, Gregor had appointed himself house handyman, no doubt assuming he was performing a vital manly service. The problem was that Gregor was clueless at DIY and had a knack for transforming even the most basic of repair tasks into disastrous sagas. Whenever she saw him prowling the house with a screwdriver in his hands, looking for things to fix, Chrissie’s stomach dropped.
And now her bathroom towel rail had become Gregor’s latest casualty.
Chrissie decided to ignore this and focus instead on the more pressing question of why Gregor – or anyone else for that matter – was still in the house at all. “Aren’t you on early shifts this week?” she said.
“Finished those yesterday, Chrissie. I’m off today.” He walked to the chest of drawers and pulled out a t-shirt. “But I know this is your day of peace and quiet, so me and Alison and Poppy will be out of your way in no time.”
“Where is Alison?” Chrissie asked.
Gregor looked around the room in surprise, as if he’d only just noticed that his girlfriend wasn’t there. “Maybe she’s downstairs. I think I smell something cooking down there.”
Chrissie thought she could smell something cooking, too. Picking up Poppy, she headed downstairs, but soon found that the smell was no longer of bacon being cooked, but of bacon being burned.
She hurried into the kitchen where a frying pan sat on the hob, filled with angrily hissing bacon and tendrils of dark smoke, but there was no sign of Alison. Quickly depositing Poppy into her high chair, Chrissie pulled the pan off the heat before throwing open the kitchen door to vent the acrid stench and stop the smoke alarm triggering. The hob was covered with sprays of grease and the bacon was burnt almost black.
“Morning, Mum!”
Chrissie turned to see Alison coming into the kitchen. “Where were you?” she said, frowning.
“I popped outside to put something in the bin and got talking to one of the neighbours.”
“Well, for God’s sake, Alison, I came down to find this frying pan almost on fire! What were you thinking, leaving the kitchen when there’s a pan on the heat? You could’ve burned the house to the ground!”
Alison’s eyes widened as she took in the smouldering pan and the blackened bacon. “Oh my God, I’m sorry! I completely forgot!”
Chrissie’s eyes narrowed. “You forgot you had a pan of bacon cooking? Alison, what’s the matter with you?”
The look of shock and shame that crossed Alison’s face made Chrissie regret her tone. Alison took the pan to the sink and began cleaning it.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I wanted to treat you to a cooked breakfast on your day off work.”
“Well, that’s sweet. But you know you can’t walk away from a hot pan on a hot hob.”
“I know, I just…”
Alison stopped scrubbing and stared out the window. When she said nothing further, Chrissie stepped over. “Is everything okay?”
Alison smiled, but Chrissie thought it looked just a little too bright and brassy.
“Everything’s fine,” Alison said. “Listen, I’m running late. Could you help feed Poppy breakfast while I clear up this burned mess?”
Chrissie nodded. Of course she’d help. How could she not?
“Okay, what would mademoiselle like for breakfast?” Chrissie said as Poppy began hitting a plastic sheep against her tray. “Full Scottish? Eggs Benedict? Or maybe mashed up Weetabix and banana slices? Yes? Good.”
Chrissie got the Weetabix soaking in some milk and filled the kettle. Her gaze caught the washing machine which was still full with the clothes Alison had put through a cycle yesterday and promised to hang over the airier. Opening the washing machine door, she smelled that the clothes had gone sour overnight. Alison, still absorbed in her pan washing, hadn’t appeared to notice the discovery of this new domestic mishap. Suppressing a sigh, Chrissie refilled the laundry detergent tray and turned the machine on for another cycle before finishing Poppy’s breakfast plate.
“Breakfast is served,” Chrissie said and set down the bowl of Weetabix and plate of banana slices on Poppy’s tray.
Poppy kicked her legs in excitement and reached for the plastic spoon. After banging it against the bowl a few times, she finally ate a mouthful of cereal before giving Chrissie a look filled with such considered seriousness that she couldn’t help but laugh.
“Poppy, my little gorgeous girl,” Chrissie said, squeezing her granddaughter’s chubby arms. “I could eat you up.”
“Once I’ve had my shower, we’ll be out of your way,” Alison said, finishing her pan scrubbing and joining Chrissie at the table.
“I thought you had an eight o’clock start this morning?”
Alison shook her head. “Ten, and I might even make it in on time.”
“Looks like I’ve got everyone’s shifts mixed up today.”
“So, I’m not the only one with memory problems.” Alison gave her a wry smile. “What are you doing with your day off?”
“Well, I’m having a bubble bath to start with, and then—”
Chrissie’s phone rang. Checking the screen, she saw the number was Frank Jackson’s, who ran the appliance repair shop in the little commercial unit next to Chrissie’s on Caledonia Road. She wondered why he was calling when he’d known her shop would be closed today. They only ever phoned one another if there was a problem.
With a sinking feeling, she answered the call. “Hi, Frank, is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” Frank said on the other end. “A customer’s turned up at your door. She insists she has an appointment this morning. I thought I’d better let you know.”
Chrissie grabbed her tablet and opened her appointments and found the day’s time slots blank as expected. “Did the woman give her name?”
“Hang on, I’ll ask.”
On the other end, Chrissie heard some muffled talking. While she waited, Alison gestured that she was going up for a shower, and then pointed to Poppy. Can you watch her until Gregor comes down? Alison mouthed silently. Distracted, Chrissie nodded as Alison darted from the kitchen.
“Her name’s Eva Collins,” Frank finally said. “She says she’s here to talk about her wedding cake.”
Chrissie glanced at her schedule. Eva Collins did have an appointment, but not until tomorrow. The young woman had struck her as sweet but scatty when they’d talked on the phone and set up the meeting. Brides-to-be were naturally excited, but Eva Collins had talked non-stop before mixing up their consultation arrangements as they’d hung up. Chrissie scolded herself for not whizzing off yet another email confirmation of the correct details before finishing work yesterday.
Now she had a hyperactive bride with no appointment standing outside her closed cake shop and Frank Jackson was the one having to deal with it.
“She’s got her appointment date wrong,” Chrissie told Frank. “It’s not until tomorrow morning, but—”
“Chrissie says your appointment isn’t until tomorrow morning,” Frank said on the other end of the line before she could stop him.
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“Tomorrow?” Eva Collins could be heard screeching. “But I’m meeting my dress fitter tomorrow morning! I can’t change that!”
Chrissie could hear that the young woman was on the verge of tears. In the five years she’d been running her cake business, she’d learned that for some bridal customers, the pressure of wedding organisation just got too much. Eva Collins was one of those customers.
Chrissie realised she had two options. Option one – she could rearrange the appointment. Option two – she could head over to her cake shop and meet with Eva before the young woman flipped out any more than she already had. Rearranging the appointment was the easier choice and would mean that Chrissie could get back to enjoying her day off. But then she’d just spend the day feeling guilty about having sent this young bride off in a muddle.
Her day off had already got off to a bad start anyway. Between her own chaotic daughter and her scatty bride-to-be customer, Chrissie wondered if this day wasn’t simply doomed.
“Frank,” Chrissie said, “tell Eva I can be there in half an hour.”
“I’ll take her into my appliance shop for a seat while she waits,” he replied. “By the looks of her, she might need me to put the kettle on.”
After they’d hung up, Chrissie turned to Poppy who was mashing a banana slice into her plastic toy sheep.
“Well, Poppy,” Chrissie said, “it looks like today isn’t going as planned.”
Poppy screeched and banged the banana-smeared sheep against her seat tray. Upstairs, Alison yelled, “Mum! I’m in the shower, but there’s no shampoo! Could you grab some from the cupboard?”