to speed when they arrive, to answer their questions, to stand up when the old mum comes in. It’s as if I’m supposed to know what happened and what’s going on. That it’s for me to make things better, smooth things over, console, comfort, be strong, break down, grieve, cry….
Except, I can’t.
I don’t stand, I don’t speak, I don’t cry, I just sit there numb. I’m not sure if I’m holding Charlotte’s hand or if she’s holding mine and I don’t know why we’re here. I just really want to go home.
Then, as promised, because it’s always about them, Eleanor starts.
She’s one of the Original Jameson Girls.
And they’re all from the same mould.
It’s always, always about them, and even if it isn’t at first, then they make it so.
Every time.
‘How far apart are the pains.’
Rose, who has been so lovely to Charlotte, is now kneeling down beside Eleanor and she’s got her hand on her tummy. I’m not watching, I can just sort of see it in my peripheral vision and it’s scaring Charlotte. Can’t they take her to a cubicle or up to maternity; does she have to sit groaning and carrying on here?
Oh, that’s right – she’s an Original Jameson.
And I’m sick of them.
‘I want to go home.’ I sort of slur it out to Jess, but we’re waiting for an interim certificate, whatever that is, and then joy of joys Jess tells me that my mum is on the way.
That, I so do not need.
But worse, far worse than that, I hear Eleanor tell the nurse, so too is Gloria.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Gloria
I don’t know how I feel.
I just get in the car and drive. I want to get there but there’s a diversion that’s been set up at the roundabout and I keep getting taken back to the same point. The hospital’s not far away, but I can’t get there and now the traffic lights are red and I sit there and wait for the green arrow.
I’ve thought about this day.
Not often.
But I sort of wondered what would happen when he died or what he’d do if first it was me.
Women think like that I think – I’m sure he doesn’t.
Didn’t.
I’m not ready for him to be past tense.
He should already be past tense – I mean he’s been my ex for years. It doesn’t work like that though.
I think, when he left, he thought that was it.
But when you’ve had children together, it never is.
I hear a car toot behind me and then another one and I look in the rear view mirror and I realise they’re tooting me. I’ve missed the light change and now we’ll have to wait.
I catch sight of my newly arched eyebrow in the rear-view mirror and I know there is a God.
You see, I’ve thought about this day, not just about him dying, I’ve thought about facing Lucy again. It’s ironic that I look the best I have in years, in decades in fact, and I’m pleased that I do.
I am.
I’m really pleased.
In the days when I used to plot my revenge, or his come-uppance, when I made up scenarios in my mind, I always looked amazing. I was always a lot thinner and a lot more glamorous than I am in real life. I had a camel coloured coat on, that was knotted at the back and lots of jewellery from Marcel, my sexy French lover - his car is waiting in their carriage driveway, as I stop by to let them know that I’m leaving the country today and no, I’m not taking the children. ‘But who’s going to look after Alice?’ Lucy begs.
‘And Bonny!’ I remind her, because even though she’s older she still lives at home. ‘And I have Eleanor’s kids two days a week,’ I tell Lucy and I just hand the whole sodding lot over to her and she starts crying because she can’t deal with them. ‘You knew he had kids when you took him,’ I tell her and she’s really crying now and not prettily either.
‘Shut up,’ he snarls to Lucy. ‘It’s not just the kids. Gloria, I’ve been thinking…’ he looks at me with those green eyes that once melted, that could always get me to forgive. ‘I’ve been thinking about us,’ he says and I whip my dark glasses off and shoot him an incredulous stare. He pleads with me not to go and live in the lap of luxury in the South of France with Marcel, then he pleads with