Page 5 of The Riviera House Swap
Lonely?
No conversation – house too quiet
Have to sell the house
Not sure I have the energy to start again
The bar was heaving with life, despite the fact it was only Tuesday. Flicking her newly highlighted hair, Nina stepped in, waving at Sal and Bess at their corner table. Her new nails glittered in the light from the quirky, metal light fittings and as the music flooded her senses, she began to get that particularprickle of excitement she always had when anticipating a night out.
Her day hadn’t been the relax-fest she’d hoped. When she’d booked a day off work, she’d imagined herself popping into her parents for the obligatory cup of coffee, before sauntering to the salon for a massage and facial, followed by treating herself to a new ‘do’ and sparkling nails. She’d contemplated a couple of ‘tweakments’ too but had baulked at the price – perhaps when they finally sold their house, she’d feel a little more flush. But right now, she’d decided she’d have to make do with the kind of lift that came from bright colours rather than muscle-freezing chemicals.
But, when she’d popped into her mum and dad’s that morning, she’d found her seventy-five-year-old father up a ladder, being ‘supported’ by the rather shaky hold of her mum as he tried to clear leaves out of the guttering. The ladder, which itself had seen better days, had been thin, spindly and looked as if it might give way at any minute. Her mum, in her desire to keep her husband from falling, was gripping the bottom of it so tightly that any slight movement from her made the whole ladder inch a little from the edge of the roof.
‘Oh, hello love!’ her mum had said delightedly, taking one hand off the ladder to give an enthusiastic but unnecessary wave. Her father, at the top of the ladder, now veering wildly like a flag in the hand of an excited toddler, had taken one reckless hand off too and given her a similar greeting.
So instead of relaxing back on a massage bench, she’d spent most of the morning coaxing an elderly man from atop a ladder and convincing him to take a trip to B&Q with her to buy a ladder that was less likely to lead to a premature demise. Then, donning a pair of borrowed slacks from her mum, she’d taken her life in her hands to fish leaves out of plastic guttering that had seen better days. All while pretending that it wasn’t any hassle andhonestly, she didn’t have anything better to do on her day off, on her birthday, on the day when her single status and prospective homelessness (or at least the necessity to move back to their place) had been confirmed.
To top it all, when she’d called the hairdresser and spa to cancel everything but the hair appointment, she’d been informed that, as she hadn’t given the obligatory twenty-four hours’ notice, she would be charged, so she was out of pocket yet still had knots in her shoulders when she finally staggered into ‘Belle’s Beauty’ with leaf mulch in her hair and every one of her forty years and more engraved into lines on her face a few hours later.
Sitting in front of the mirror, her head covered in tinfoil twists, had done nothing for her self-esteem either – even though the resulting short, highlighted bob admittedly looked pretty sleek – and it had been all she could do to pull on a pair of tight navy jeans and a black, V-neck top when she got home, rather than crawl under the duvet and simply give up.
In short, she needed a drink.
Before continuing her walk, she paused to take a deep breath and reset herself. Right. She wasn’t going to give in to the misery that had been bubbling beneath the surface since this morning. She was going to be loud, proud, happy and healthy, seeing in this new year with her friends. A brand new, positive her.
‘And another thing,’ she slurred, four hours later and several glasses of wine down, ‘is knowing that I’m probably halfway through my life and have nothing to show for it.’ The table was scattered with the remnants of wrapping paper – and she was sporting a new pair of earrings (Bess) and a new bracelet (Sal).
‘That was thefirstthing,’ Bess said, giving Sal a sideways glance.
‘What?’
‘You said that one first, you said, “the worst thing was not having anything to show for it.”’
‘That was about an hour ago,’ Sal added helpfully. ‘Before you told us about Rory’s bad foot hygiene.’
‘Oh,’ said Nina, slightly put off her stride.
‘And then you said what’s the point of having a bucket list when you never bother to do anything on it,’ Sal reminded her.
‘Then that you blame Rory for stealing your childbearing years and convincing you that you didn’t want children…’ Bess added.
‘Even though you’ve mentioned in the past that babies seem more trouble than they’re worth,’ Sal pointed out.
Had she said that? Probably.
‘Well, maybe,’ she admitted. ‘But then they grow into lovely young kids like yours,’ she said. ‘And I know I get to babysit and spend time with Casey and the boys but?—’
‘And hand them back when you’ve had enough,’ Bess reminded her darkly.
‘Yes. True. But you know what, I do get broody sometimes. Not when I see babies so much. But I know your kids now. They’re people. You can talk to them. It must be nice to have kids like that.’
‘You are aware that you can’t gestate a foetus until it’s ten years old though, right?’ Bess said.
‘God, how dilated would you have to be for that labour?’ Sal shuddered.
‘Imagine the kicks!’ Bess exclaimed.
‘And the cringeworthy embarrassment when they realised what the tunnel they’d just travelled through was!’ Sal added, grimacing.
