Page 4 of One Day at a Time

Gregor. They’d been together for almost three decades, since they were both still in high school, and in many ways, they’d had a great life. They’d travelled, they’d done well professionally, and for the most part, they’d been happy. Comfortable. Content. They’d achieved everything they’d wanted, except perhaps a family, but they hadn’t started trying until she was in her mid-thirties and it just hadn’t happened.

She stopped her mind going down that path. It was a subject that she had no intention of spiralling on tonight, not when she had the chance of a few hours of guilt-free, anxiety-free, man-free time. Didn’t her reluctance to think about Gregor, their past, their future, their failings, their regrets, their anything, say it all? If she were her own client, she’d be working on that, perhaps even suggesting a separation to give her time to figure out how she felt. Problem was, she already knew. He hadn’t done anything wrong, other than grow into a man she had nothing in common with, and she should probably have ended it years ago, but they didn’t fight, didn’t argue, so it was easy just to roll along. She knew that if anyone were to ask him, he’d say he was perfectly happy, andthat would be his honest answer. But Sheena wanted more… and it was only now, in her forties, as the menopause thundered towards her and she re-evaluated her life, that she was prepared to make the changes. Deep down, where all her truths lay, she knew that she wanted a different future. One that didn’t come with the man she’d fallen out of love with a long time ago.

‘Are you okay? You’re deep in thought there,’ Chanel asked, as they reached the doors of the St Kentigern hotel. The bar and restaurant on the ground floor of the grand old Victorian building had been their go-to spot since the days when they could only afford one cocktail each, and they made them last all night.

‘I’m fine, but I’ve had enough of listening to myself complaining. Let’s talk tomorrow. We can do a role reversal and you two can be my marriage therapists while I tell you why I don’t think it’s salvageable this time. I really don’t. Wow, that’s the first time I’ve said that out loud. My name is Sheena Carswell, and my marriage is over.’

Another meaningful glance shot between her friends and Sheena guessed that it was because either they were sick of listening to her too, or they thought she wasn’t being serious. They might be right on the first point, but the moment she’d said it aloud, she knew they were wrong on the second. She meant it. She meant every word. All she had to do now was make a plan and find a way to tell Gregor that she wanted to go. And gulp, just admitting that to herself made the perimenopausal anxiety surge yet again.

‘Look I know you don’t get it because you’re happily married…’ That was to Martha, who’d been devoted to her husband, Graeme, since she’d met him at university. ‘And you have a roster…’ That went to Chanel, who was happily single and had two or three ‘special friends’ that she could call on for dinner, theatre or sex, whenever the mood took her. ‘But I’m over it. I need a different life. One that’s only for me.’

‘Evening, ladies,’ the doorman said as they passed him and moved into the stunning foyer, before turning left and crossing the marble floor. They were about to go through a second door that would take them to the restaurant, when Martha suddenly grabbed her arm.

‘Listen, we just need to say…’

Sheena stopped, puzzled by the expression of concern. Maybe they did realise she was being serious after all, but she didn’t have time to find out because two things happened at once.

Just as Martha blurted, ‘We’re sorry,’ the door to the restaurant swung open and there was a loud cheer from inside. And that’s when, in what felt like slow motion, Sheena Carswell spotted dozens of familiar faces, then the banners that said ‘Happy 25thWedding Anniversary’, and then Gregor, standing just a few feet in front of her, arms outstretched.

‘Happy anniversary, darling.’

Her brain raced. The date. Oh bugger, the date. It was the tenth of April. Which meant that tomorrow was, indeed, the twenty-fifth anniversary of the day she’d promised to love him for eternity.

And now, looking at his beaming, handsome face, she was sure of three things. The first was that it was telling that she’d completely forgotten their anniversary. The second was that she no longer loved him. And the third was that twenty-five years was long enough.

Tomorrow, when the champagne bubbles had subsided, she was going to tell her husband that the party was over.

2

MADDIE MCSHAY

If someone had asked Maddie McShay to predict the first words out of the mouth of the owner of her hairdressing salon, the Copper Curls, this morning, she’d have pretty much got it spot on.

As Maddie walked through the Once Upon A Time Café at the front of the building, and into the salon that took up the back half, Jessie spotted her reflection in the mirror, over the top of a head stacked with foils, and managed to make her voice carry over Robbie Williams singing ‘Angels’ on the radio. ‘What are you doing here today, ma love? You should be home in bed. You’re still white as a sheet.’

Maddie wanted to agree, but she knew that if she did, Jessie would have her dispatched home in five seconds flat and, well, she had a busy day of appointments in the book and she needed the money. Especially now that she was about to lose her flatmate and had to find somewhere new to live.

She crossed over behind Jessie and gave her a quick hug as she passed, trying not to inhale the fumes of the bleach from the bowl that was on the trolley in front of them.

At that, more words of wisdom came from under the foils, as Val Murray, Jessie’s partner in eighties fashion crime, oracle of all knowledge in their village of Weirbridge, and all-round legend of a woman, said, ‘Jessie’s right, pet. That bug floored the lot of us. If we’d all bought shares in anti-nausea medication, we’d be on our way to Bermuda for a fortnight all-inclusive right now.’

Maddie tried not to make it obvious that she was still breathing in through her mouth to quell her swirling stomach as she tried to deflect the attention. ‘You’re so right, Val. Are you feeling better now? And you, Jessie?’

Both Jessie and Val, the foil mountain, nodded in synchronisation.

‘Aye,’ Jessie answered first, ‘but, oh dear God, I haven’t felt like that since the year we all got food poisoning from the turkey sandwiches at the Boxing Day lunch in the church hall.’ She shook her head, clearly reliving the trauma. They’d narrowed down the source of whatever hellish bug they’d all contracted to the community centre Easter party last week. The whole village had been there for the celebration and within twenty-four hours it had felled them like a toppling row of dominoes.

‘I’m just glad the party wasn’t here,’ said Alyssa, the owner of the café, who had wandered up, cuppa in hand, and plonked herself down on the seat next to Val and her foils.

Jessie owned this building and for many years it had only housed the Copper Curls, the salon that she’d ran with her daughter, Georgie. However, a couple of years ago, Georgie had met the love of her life and moved to London, and at the same time, the lease on Alyssa’s café across the road had ended, when the owners had sold it to a developer who had turned it into flats. Jessie had saved the day by offering to downsize the salon and share the space with Alyssa, who, just to add another layer of complexity, was her husband, Stan’s daughter, the result of a longforgiven affair thirty years ago. Now, they were just a happy, extended family who ran this dual-purpose hub of the community, where the villagers congregated for food, chat and regular touch-ups for their roots. Jessie only worked a couple of days a week now, and Maddie had been renting one of the other chairs in the salon for the last few months. It had been an unexpected life detour, returning to live in Weirbridge, the village she’d grown up in, but she hadn’t regretted it for a moment.

The sickness conversation was making Maddie feel worse, so she changed the subject. ‘Anyway, Jessie, much as it’s lovely to see you, it’s Monday. Shouldn’t you be off today?’

‘Aye, but Val’s hair was becoming an embarrassment – it was so wide, it was starting to resemble a motorbike helmet, and the ozone couldn’t cope with the amount of hairspray she was using.’

‘The Green party would have had me locked up if they’d seen it,’ Val concurred.

Jessie jumped right back in. ‘So I came in to get her sorted, but I also planned to stay the rest of the day and take care of your clients for you.’