She sighs, looking away. This is why Paula tends not to look in mirrors. In her head, she’s still young. She’s perhaps thirty-two-ish. It was a good age to be, an age where she felt like she was a grown-up to the outside world but not toogrown-up yet on the inside. Either way, her face no longer matches the way she feels. It hasn’t for a long time.
But Audrey is twenty years older than Paula, and she doesn’t seem to mind that fact. She is the youngest old person Paula has ever met.
Paula takes a deep breath, looking at her reflection again. She takes in her sun spots and laughter lines, and decides to be kinder to the person looking back. She is going to be more Audrey.
Which also probably means facing up to things that scare her.
With a resigned sigh, Paula turns away from the mirror again and heads back in the direction of the therapy room. She pauses for a moment outside the door, hearing Tilly’s raised voice. She and Seb are talking to the counsellor and her daughter sounds upset.
‘What’s wrong with her though? Why is she so . . . cut off?’
There is a pause before Gerald replies, ‘It’s likely your mum still hasn’t processed what’s happened yet. But that is completely normal! Everyone deals with grief in a different way. You need to give her more time. Be patient with her.’
‘You don’t understand, thisisn’tnormal. Not for her! This isn’t . . . her! She’s not herself. Is she, Seb?’
Seb’s reply is sarcastic, ‘Oh sure, yeah, because she reacted sooo differently when her last husband died suddenly in a horrifying car accident.’
‘Shut up, you idiot.’
‘I mean, c’mon, Tills,’ Seb’s voice is lower – less invested. ‘She’s just trying to cope or whatever. Just because she’s being bananapants weird lately, doesn’t mean there’s something more going on. She’s just – I dunno – sad about Dad or whatever.’
‘Butisshe?’ Tilly cries. ‘Because she doesn’t seem that sad to me.’ She gulps, sounding like she wants to cry. ‘This doesn’t feel like grief at all! I’m so worried about her. She doesn’t cry. She doesn’t seem sad or morose. She’s not depressed. She doesn’t even get angry. There are no tentacles, Seb!’ Paula can hear her daughter shift position in the room, turning to Gerald. ‘What are the seven stages of grief again?’
Seb interrupts, ‘Isn’t it twelve steps?’
Tilly angrily sighs, ‘Shut up, Seb! It’s seven, right, Gerald?’
Paula’s daughter always has to be right. Especially around her little brother.
‘Um.’ Paula can sense the counsellor’s discomfort through the door. ‘Well, it’s actually five stages. I think, Seb, you’re thinking of AA? And, Tilly, maybe . . . deadly sins? Or wonders of the world?’
‘Oh.’ Tilly sounds embarrassed. ‘OK, but I was closer. Twelve steps was way wronger, Seb.’
Gerald clears his throat. ‘The five stages of grief are thought to be denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. Although I would argue that grief is a much, much more complicated—’
Tilly interrupts, ‘See! Mum’s not doing any of those! Where’s the secretive weirdo stage?’
Secretive weirdo? Paula doesn’t much like that description of herself. Has she really been acting so oddly? She’s just been getting on with things, hasn’t she? Trying to make her way in this new world. And hasn’t she always kept certain, difficult things to herself? Maybe Tilly doesn’t know her as well as she thinks she does.
It occurs to Paula that her children are only just noticing her now. And they seem to be discovering they don’t really like what they’re seeing.
Behind the door, Paula’s phone buzzes.
It’s Audrey, sending a video of Paula the Dog doing something called the ‘zoomies’.
Buying a car together yesterday has been quite the bonding experience. Teddy even created a new WhatsApp group for them all. It’s named TLWWC. Paula still thinks it’s a rather silly name, too clunky and awkward. And, for goodness’ sake, where are all the apostrophes supposed to go? Surely they warrant at least two or three? Paula’s mother was an English teacher, she’d know the answer. Teddy doesn’t use any at all, which surely can’t be right, but she’s the one who seems very set on the name – even after Paula brought up the grammar issue – so it seems they’re stuck with it.
Either way, it’s been a nice distraction. It seems not an hour can pass without one of them sending some funny picture or Facebook meme. Many of them, Paula is well aware, Tilly would probably tell her off about, for being inappropriate or sexist towards men, but they still make Paula chuckle.
She steels herself and opens the door.
Seb startles in his seat, looking guilty. Tilly looks upset and vaguely annoyed.
‘Your tummy OK?’ she says pointedly and Paula dips her head, reddening. She hid in the bathroom for too long.
‘I’m afraid we’re at the end of the session for today,’ Gerald says, giving Paula a regretful look over his grandpa glasses. Tilly sighs. Paula knows it’s directed at her, but she’s relieved all the same. They’ve signed up for six of these sessions,which means she’s a third of the way through already. Paula gathers her bag and coat, pleased with her quick maths.
They head out to the car park where Tilly’s Mini Cooper waits. A strange silence hovers around them as they all pile in and Tilly asks the sat nav to take them back to Paula’s.
