‘Wow.’ Sarah nodded her head, fake-impressed. ‘He got home on time,once, so you could go out. When was the last time you went on a date?’
Kiko’s reply was so quiet we had to bend our heads closer to hear it. ‘We went to a fundraising dinner a couple of months ago.’
‘How romantic!’ Sarah clutched her chest. ‘I bet he didn’t leave you alone and invisible in the corner for one second while he schmoozed all the guests.’
I intervened by handing Kiko the box of chocolates I’d brought. ‘Instead of making her feel even crappier, why don’t we do something constructive while we wait for the food?’ We had ordered take-away from a restaurant located on a campsite a few miles into the forest. ‘If this is about trying to boost our self-esteem, maybe we should concentrate on something positive.’
Sarah screwed up her nose. ‘Fair point, Jen. Soz, Kiko.’
We sat for a minute trying to think of something positive.
‘What about the Christmas Book Club Challenge?’ Sarah asked, perking up. ‘Have you decided what to do yet?’
Kiko shook her head.
‘I’m hoping to find something interesting in my grandma’s stuff,’ I said.
‘Like what?’ Kiko asked.
‘I don’t know. I never met her, and my mum never talked about her childhood, so I’ve no idea what I might find. Hopefully something to explain why they never spoke.’ And why Grandma looked so miserable in the photos as soon as my mum appeared on the scene.
‘But isn’t that still someone else’s story?’ Sarah asked.
‘It’s my story too.’ I shrugged. ‘And, honestly, fighting my way through all that junk is enough of an adventure for now.’
The food arrived – mozzarella and chorizo pasta, steaming in the cartons. We dolloped huge portions onto plates and zoomed in on Kiko.
‘What did Ellen say?’ I recapped. ‘Exciting, challenging. Scary. What do you want to do that’s exciting and scary?’
None of us mentioned the scariest thing Kiko was thinking about doing: scooping up her kids and getting the heck out of her marriage.
‘I’ve never really liked that kind of thing.’ She gently blew on a chunk of pasta bake, oh-so-carefully.
‘There must be something,’ Sarah prodded. ‘Some secret dream where you think, maybe if I was an adventurous, feisty, couldn’t-give-a-monkey’s type woman with tons of cash and a couple of years to spare I might fancy having a go at that.’
Kiko thought about it. We helped by lobbing random suggestions at her: ‘Abseiling. Burlesque dancing. Opera singing. Medieval re-enactments. Bee-keeping. Netball. Rally driving…’
When Sarah and I simultaneously paused for breath, she said, ‘Well, actually…’
‘Yes?’ We leaned forward.
‘I wouldn’t mind climbing Mount Everest.’
‘Right.’ Sarah sat back. ‘Ice cream, anyone?’
We spent a while discussing both the figurative and actual mountains that Kiko now contemplated climbing, deciding that she might as well have a look and see if it was even a possibility.
‘I’m only looking for fun!’ she repeated, every two minutes. ‘I’m not serious about doing this!’
‘That’s what you reckon,’ Sarah muttered, winking at me over her coffee.
‘So, what about you?’ I asked, hoping it was something that lay between scaling a pile of rubbish and scaling the world’s highest mountain. ‘What’s your story going to be about?’
She put her cup down and spread out her arms like a circus ringmaster. ‘I, ladies, am going to join a dating agency and find myself a fella.’
‘Oooh!’ Kiko said.
‘Well, I’m going to have a cracking good go and hopefully a few laughs while I’m at it,’ Sarah conceded. She looked at me. ‘Care to join me on this tall, dark and handsome adventure?’
