‘A new car and a holiday in Ibiza?’ Jodie asks hopefully.
‘Nice try.’ Niamh laughs as her daughter rests her head on her shoulder. ‘You know exactly what I mean, young lady! I need you to believe that. We are here for you. In whatever way you need, and there is still time for you to pull out of these exams and arrange to do them in the summer.’
‘I know, but I’ll be fine, Mum. I’ve no plans to go on the mad tear up here. I’m too tired and too nauseous, for a start. I’ll be taking it easy and any sign of anything untoward and I promise I will phone you.’
‘You bloody better!’ Niamh says. ‘Whether it’s three in the morning or the middle of the day. My phone will be on. I will be here for you.’
‘You’re the best mammy,’ Jodie says with a smile.
‘Sure, don’t I know it?’ Niamh laughs. ‘But you’ll be a great mum too. Not as good as me, of course,’ she says, happy to tease her daughter, ‘but good enough.’
‘That’s the goal,’ Jodie says and laughs. ‘But promise me, Mum, promise me you’ll look after yourself too? And keep the boys cleaning their own rooms?’
Niamh nods. ‘I fully intend to.’ She has a lot of things she wants to do, and top of the list is getting better.
She even considers getting her photo taken with Laura and Becca on Wednesday forNorthern Peoplepart of her mission to get back on her feet properly.
She hadn’t been keen on the idea initially, but then she had given herself a good talking-to. If this article could help other women of her age feel less alone then she was happy to get 100 per cent behind it. Just as she was excited to look into more ways to get involved with helping women feel less lonely and more valuable. She’d spent the last two nights reading some of the papers and articles Laura had sent her about different cultures and how they celebrated their older women – as well as looking into some of the physical and chemical changes which take place during menopause.
She isn’t sure what it is she wants to do just yet, but she knows she wants to do something. She’ll take her time figuring it out. Just as she’ll take her time figuring out what she wants to do about teaching.
In the meantime, she has her yoga classes, which admittedly, she has actually enjoyed this week. More than ever before.
She’s even taken to practising some of her poses at home. Fiadh has delighted in trying to copy her mum, while Paul has offered to clear out the little-used garden room to make her a space of her own where she could do her yoga, practise her meditation or just escape the incessant shouting of Cal and Ethan. ‘Is there a female equivalent of a man-cave?’ he asked.
‘A witch’s lair,’ she’d replied dead-pan, aware they’d been cowed by Paul’s threat she would move out to her own witchy cottage.
‘Mum,’ Jodie says, cutting through Niamh’s thoughts.
‘Yes, love?’
‘You know you doactuallyhave to leave at some stage? And poor Becca has been waiting for ages now.’
‘I know,’ Niamh says. ‘Just two more minutes and I promise I’ll leave.’
‘Okay,’ Jodie says, snuggling closer into her mother than before. ‘But if I have to call security to throw you out, I’m filming it and putting it on TikTok. Be warned!’
45
DON’T WORRY, THE DOG’S NOT DEAD
Becca
My back is aching by the time I get home. I’m so delighted to finally get out of the car and stretch. It has been a long day, at the end of a long week. What I want now more than anything is a soak in the bath, a glass of wine and an hour with a good book before going to sleep.
Letting myself into the house, I sigh with relief. Conal had offered to take Daniel out for a walk earlier and I’d asked him to flick a few lights on and set the heating for my getting back. It makes such a lovely difference to walk into a lit, warm home and I decide as soon as I have my coat off and have checked in on Mr the Spaniel I will text him to let him know just how much I appreciate it.
I can guess what he’ll say though. ‘You need to stop setting the bar so low, Becs. It’s the least I can do.’
I wonder how I can make myself believe him. That I am worthy of acts of kindness and affection. I am worthy of being cared for. What I do know, though, is that I am exceptionally grateful for him and his kindness.
It’s strange, I realise, that Daniel has not bounded into the hall already. Normally he takes up sentinel position at the door as soon as he hears my car in the driveway, but not today.
‘Daniel!’ I call, expecting to hear the scrabble of his paws on the floor as he runs to me. But there is no sign of him. This, I think, can only mean one thing. That I will push back the door to the living room, or climb the stairs to my bedroom, only to find Daniel dead. There is no other logical reason. My heart starts to thud. How will I tell the children? They always ask to see Daniel on FaceTime. And what do I do with a dead dog? Call a vet? I don’t want to find him. I don’t want to see him still and gone. He’s an awful pain in the arse, but he’s still my baby.
Panic starts to claw at me. ‘Daniel!’ I call again, my voice broken and way too squeaky. ‘Where’s my puppy?’ I call in the playful voice I always do. There is no response.
My hand shaking, I take my phone out of my pocket. Should I call Conal? See if Daniel was okay earlier when they went for their walk? Maybe I really should find Daniel first though. So even though I don’t want to move, I force myself into the living room where the rug is clear and his favourite spot on the sofa is empty.
