I am actually in awe of this woman. She has grabbed onto life and is living it even if it’s sometimes a little scary, or she knows no one at all. It takes courage to do these things as a lone woman in this world. It takes courage to live your life.
‘I want to be just like you when I grow up,’ I say.
‘Ah, stop it! Sure, look at you three! You’re here, aren’t you? Living your best lives? Having each other to hang on to? We don’t all have to do the same thing to be doing great things. If that doesn’t sound too cheesy?’
‘We’re all about the cheesy,’ Niamh tells her, and we start walking towards the yurts, where we invite Deirdre to come in and join us for an absolutely rock-and-roll cup of tea before bed, since it seems the drugs orgy is off the table.
31
THE FABULOUS FORTIES CLUB
I’m sitting outside the yurt, drinking a cup of tea as the sun is starting to rise. It’s so incredibly life-affirming to watch the sky turn from the darkest black to navy streaked with pink, orange and red before the day arrives in all its dry and bright glory.
It’s freezing though – frost lies thick on the ground, glinting and sparkling in the early-morning light. My breath plumes and rises in front of my face and I can feel the cold pinch at my nose and cheeks.
I feel amazing though, even though the cold and I are not usually friends. That’s the power of a good dryrobe, I suppose. And the thermal leggings and socks I’m wearing, along with my thickest, most oversized and insanely comfortable hoodie. Do I look good? Absolutely not. I look three times my normal size and I haven’t bothered to brush my hair yet. I’ve simply popped my pink bobble hat on top of my head instead.
The truth is I don’t feel the need to make an effort here. I don’t feel I need to put on any make-up, or make sure my clothes are designer. I don’t feel the need to straighten, curl or even brush my hair. I’m maintaining basic levels of hygiene because I’m not a total dirt-bird but that aside, I’m just enjoying being me.
Ideas for my article are dancing around in my head and I am already so excited to sit down and write it. It’s the most excited I’ve been about writing anything in years – leaving all those listicles and industry updates cold in the dust.
I think of how Deirdre – lovely, amazing Deirdre – is finding her voice and I think that she was quite right when she said we are all allowed to live our lives in our own way. I’m finding my voice too. Yes, I’m shit-scared, but I’m still doing it. Because deep down inside I believe that I have something to say that people might want to hear – or read. Maybe that makes me sound full of a sense of my own self-importance. Who am I to think people will want to read what I write? But if the experiences of the last two days have taught me anything it’s that we have more that unites us than divides us.
Or maybe I’m just buzzing off the feeling of being with friends, in the fresh air and just getting to put myself first for a bit.
The flap to the yurt lifts and Laura creeps out, wrapped up as much as I am and with a coffee cup nestled between her hands. ‘It’s a cold one,’ she says.
‘Yeah, but it’s absolutely gorgeous. Look at that sunrise!’
‘Yeah,’ she agrees and sits down on the wooden bench just outside the entrance way. ‘It’s breathtaking. And speaking of breathtaking… Becca, I love you very much and I’m absolutely so proud that we did the sea swimming yesterday. Honestly. I’ll probably do it again sometime. But please don’t make me do it today. It’s Arctic out here and I don’t think my nipples would survive the challenge.’
I honk with laughter, mixed with relief. ‘You’re safe,’ I tell her. ‘I just can’t imagine willingly walking into the sea in that. I might go and walk down to the beach though – cheer those mad women on and get a little fresh air before breakfast.’
‘While wrapped up nice and warm?’
‘While wrapped up very nicely and very warmly.’ I raise my cup to clink it against hers.
‘Sounds like a plan,’ she says.
‘Are the others still sleeping?’ I ask and Laura nods.
‘Completely out of it. I think they sat talking for a while last night after we went to sleep.’
It’s not really a surprise to me that Deirdre ended up bunking in with us last night. All four of us had sat around the wood-burner until the early hours when Laura and I could no longer even try to keep our eyes open. I’d heard Niamh and Deirdre still talking as I drifted off to sleep. Just nice easy chatter about nothing and everything, and making plans to meet up again after the weekend. Niamh has invited Deirdre to go to yoga with her and I’m perfectly happy about that. Anything that gives me an excuse to avoid the zero-craic version of Twister is fine by me.
‘She seems really lovely,’ I say.
‘Doesn’t she? It’s heartbreaking she was so lonely, although I admire the hell out of her for getting on doing things anyway on her own.’
‘I imagine there’s a lot of women in her position,’ I say. ‘Not necessarily single, like, but women who are having to redefine their lives at our age. Maybe their marriages have ended, or their kids have left home, or they’ve just drifted away from their friends. It’s not easy to make new friends. Options are limited, aren’t they? Night classes and joining a club.’
Laura pulls a face. ‘I’ve never been one for clubs.’
‘Me neither. But maybe we’ve just not found one we’d really like. I’ve been thinking about it, you see. Being away this weekend has been so good, and so empowering, but when we go home later today that will be it. We’ll have our memories and we’ll talk about the cold water, or the body-positive yoga or surviving the green sludge of doom, and for a while we’ll feel great – and empowered. Then life will take over again and we’ll just go back to the way things were…’
‘God, I hope it’s not more green sludge for breakfast today. I don’t think my stomach could take it.’ Laura grimaces. ‘But sorry, back to the point… are you talking about forming some sort of club?’ She raises one eyebrow in suspicion. I don’t blame her. I haven’t formed a club since the informal David Duchovny Appreciation Society when I was fifteen. And I was the only member.
‘I don’t really know,’ I say. ‘Maybe. Don’t you think it would be a good idea to have a regular date in the diary to meet for these things – things you might not want to try on your own but you’d give a go if you knew you were going to be there with like-minded?—’
