Remembering the main purpose for her outing, Vic arrived at the fish-and-chip shop, to see a young woman with a pushchair flying out of the door, causing a delicious waft of frying batter and the cries of a screaming toddler to fill the freezing air.
Thirty-five had also set off a trigger in Vic’s mind about having a family of her own. Before that, she had never felt even the twinge of a maternal pull and still wasn’t sure if the thought had arisen because she should be doing it or because she wanted to do it. Without discussion, she and Nate generally picked child-free hotels when they went away. Was that a sign of what was to come? And if she did decide to go down the family route, what kind of support could she expect? Her mother could hardly be relied on as the doting grandmother. Nate would be the most fun dad a child could ever wish for, but as much as she loved him, he couldn’t be classed as financially or emotionally secure. Her brother lived in his own world and his gambling was a worry. And if she didn’t contact her father – who was currently living with a woman twenty years his junior – on birthdays and at Christmas, she wouldn’t ever hear from him. Logic told her to just let him go. But despite Barry Sharpe not being a constant in her life, she didn’t want to break that bond completely. Especially now that her mum seemed to be there for her only in body, most of the time.
Hard as it was, she had to get real and accept that her life would never be like the movies, and her family were – and always would be – dysfunctional. Her father would never be that special someone she could go to for life advice; her mother would never resemble that sweet little old lady knitting baby clothes; her brother would forever be fighting his own demons. And as for her resembling the angelic daughter – well… that would never be the case, either.
She had always wished that life would throw her some kind of magical future, that her love life would start representing a heartwarming romcom, that her illustration skills would be sought after by a famous author, or her existing painting portfolio by a huge collector. Or that she would have an art gallery with her name above the door.
Mandy cementing her future was the wake-up call Vic had needed. For nobody was coming to save her, and if she wanted all these things, she realised that the only person who could set the ball rolling on this magical mystery tour called life was her! Maybe this was what a mid-life crisis felt like? Her mother had told her that Sidney West, chairman of the Simpson Crescent neighbourhood watch, had had one recently, but he was fifty and it would take more than a two-seater sports car and a piercing through her nose to satisfy hers.
Vic shortened Chandler’s lead and headed for her favourite bench at the leisure-centre end of the river path. When the beloved pooch gave a tiny bark, she swept him up and snuggled him into her for warmth.
‘If only we could look into a crystal ball, hey, fella?’ Or maybe not, Victoria thought. As well as the good, you’d see all the bad things to come – what a terrifying prospect.
She knew that to get where she wanted in life, she would have to put a plan in place – but that would mean making big life decisions, and she wasn’t particularly good at those.
And how on earth could anyone be expected to ride ahead into a happy future if they were always pulling the reins back on it themselves?
Eleven-year-old Chandler could no longer be said to be in the prime of life, and with his short legs tired, and tiny paws cold after the walk, he whimpered to get in the front door when they arrived back at her mum’s place. Vic let him in, deposited the fish suppers and wine on the hall table, and stealthily headed back out to clear up the dog’s mess from next door’s lawn.
Just as she was bending down in front of the bay window, the front door opened and Joti screamed loudly, causing Vic to drop to her knees and scream even louder. Vic then saw the funny side. ‘I’m so sorry I startled you,’ she said through her laughter. ‘I was just?—’
‘I sorted it already,’ Joti replied tightly. She was clearly in no mood for laughing back. ‘Excuse me, I must get to work.’
‘Work? At this time?’
‘Yes, work at this time.’ The attractive woman headed towards her Golf, her face deadpan. ‘And anyway, I didn’t think you liked nosy neighbours.’
‘Touché.’ Vic stood up and bit her lip. ‘Look, I’m sorry I was so rude earlier. You really didn’t deserve the way I spoke to you, and certainly not Chandler’s untimely defecation. It was just?—’
‘You’re right, I didn’t,’ Joti cut in. She got in the car and slammed the door, but then the window slid down, and she regarded Vic thoughtfully. ‘When I have a little tantrum like that,’ she said, her voice softer now, ‘I usually take stock and ask myself what’s really the matter.’
As Chandler whined for attention through a crack in the front door, Victoria stood for a second, taking in Joti’s wise words. Then she burst into tears.
2
LONDON
The Boyfriend
‘Jesus, Nate.’
Victoria put down her overnight bag, threw her coat on a chair and reached to turn down the radio, from which the Pussycat Dolls were blaring out at full volume. The kitchen sink was overflowing with unwashed glasses, dishes and pans. The draining board was empty, apart from an ashtray that was bulging with cigarette butts.
At just five feet two, with a petite frame, soulful blue eyes, neat appearance, and hair that cascaded like a waterfall of mahogany waves down her back, Victoria was the antithesis of her tall, gangly partner, who, with messy chestnut hair and full lips, had appeared in the doorway yawning loudly, wearing only a pair of snug black boxers.
Victoria tutted. ‘It’s three o’clock. Don’t tell me you’ve just got up.’
‘Give me a break, Vic. I haven’t had a weekend off in months, and I’m on a straight seven after today.’ Nathaniel Carlisle’s usually light Cumbrian accent strengthened.
Embracing her, he leant down to kiss the head of his girl. ‘So, how was Katherine?’
‘Katherine was pissed.’
‘The whole time?’
‘Yep.’ Vic sighed heavily. ‘My fault on Friday, though, as I felt I had to drink wine to get through it myself.’
‘Oh, dear.’ Nate held her tightly.
