What She Wants (40 page)

The ice was broken and they all dug into the cheese and crackers, chatting wildly about anything and everything. Sam, who was not given to confidences, found herself sitting beside Mary-Kate and talking about herself and her distraught flight to see Hope. ‘It sounds so stupid to be sure I’m seriously ill without any actual medical evidence,’ she said finally, the hand holding her martini shaking with nerves. ‘I don’t think you’re stupid to get upset,’ Mary-Kate said in her warm, soothing voice, ‘but don’t plan the funeral until you know for sure.’ Sam smiled weakly. Hope had said that Mary-Kate had a very direct way of making you see sense. ‘What I mean,’ Mary-Kate continued firmly, ‘is that you know nothing for definite. Doctors do sometimes make horrific mistakes, I know that, but from what you’ve told me, I’m not so sure he has. If he thought you were seriously ill, he wouldn’t have let you off into the ether with an appointment a month down the road. At least you’re going to see a consultant in a couple of days. When you’ve got it all sorted out, you’ll feel better. So don’t panic yet.’ She grinned at Sam. ‘I’m an ould wan and a pharmacist, so I know what I’m talking about.’ ‘I do hope I’m just overwrought, I really do,’ said Sam earnestly. ‘But I’m not the sort of person to get all worked up like this, really I’m not.’ ‘Well then, your body is trying to tell you something,’ Mary-Kate pointed out. ‘It’s up to you to work out what it is and deal with it. You’re used to looking at worst case scenarios, so that’s what you did, mistakenly I hope.’ Sam realized that Mary-Kate had put her arm around her and was hugging her gently as she spoke, holding Sam’s thin body against her own wiry one. Mary-Kate couldn’t have been that much older than Sam but there was something comfortingly motherly about the embrace. ‘I’ve never been much of a one for listening to my body,’ Sam said wryly. ‘I’ve spent years making it listen to me: get

out of bed; you don’t have flu; so what if you’re sick, keep going. That sort of thing.’ ‘You might have to change, you might have no option. Imagine if you were seriously ill, you’d have to change your life. So why not change it now? You are going through a crisis, Sam. You must see that.’ Sam nodded. ‘Racing over here to see Hope is definitely a sign of something. I’ve never done anything like that before. My colleagues would be astonished to see the Queen Bitch being vulnerable about anything.’ Mary-Kate tipped her head to one side and scrutinized Sam. ‘Are you Queen Bitch in the office?’ Shrugging her shoulders, Sam said: ‘Not all the time but I feel that I’m becoming it. And I don’t want to be but…’ ‘Then change,’ said the other woman bluntly. ‘It’s not that easy to change.’ ‘Why not? Hope sees another side to you, a warm, kind side, the sister she loves.’ ‘Yes, but we’re all different with our families,’ Sam protested. ‘And you’re trying to be something you’re not because you think that’s the way to remain strong and in control,’ Mary-Kate said. ‘Ouch,’ laughed Sam. ‘You’re good at this but it hurts. I don’t know if I can cope with much more analysis.’ ‘Yes you can. You’re a strong woman and you need strong friends and strong words to help you.’ Mary-Kate was silent for a minute, as if she was considering whether to mention something or not. ‘In the old days at the Macrame Club we used to have a game, our own truth or dare, without the dare bit. When we had problems, we talked about them, said truthfully what we really wanted in life and - this is the hard bit ‘ she added, ‘asked our friends to give their opinion.’ ‘We’ve never done that since I’ve been coming,’ interrupted Delphine, tuning into their conversation. ‘Done what?’ asked Hope, looking over at Sam to check she was all right.

‘Macrame Club Truth Drug,’ said Mary-Kate. Giselle laughed. ‘My last baby was born as a result of one of those nights. Too much of Mary-Kate’s truth drug and you forget to use your contraceptive cap!’ ‘What’s the truth drug?’ asked Sam. Mai smiled. ‘You’re drinking it.’ ‘Oh let’s do it,’ begged Delphine. ‘It’ll be fun. I love girlie confessional nights.’ ‘It’s not easy,’ Giselle said. ‘People may say things you don’t like to hear. But the good point is that you can talk about anything and know that it’s safe. Nobody refers to it again and not a word of it goes beyond this room.’ ‘Let’s do it,’ Delphine said again. Mary-Kate, Mai and Giselle looked at each other and shared a smile. ‘We need a vote,’ Mai said. ‘We can only do it if everyone agrees. All in favour put your hands up.’ ‘Only if you’re gentle with me,’ begged Sam. ‘Deal,’ said Mary-Kate. Six hands were raised. ‘Right, Delphine, you go first,’ said Mary-Kate, ‘but just let me make up some more martini first.’ ‘You have to pick one area of your life that you want to change and be truthful about it,’ Giselle explained. ‘Then, we can offer advice, if we think we can help.’ ‘Do I have to go first?’ Delphine said. ‘Yes,’ said the others. ‘Right, confession time,’ she said, taking a deep breath. ‘Hold out your glass first,’ Mary-Kate said, returning with another jug of martini. ‘This reminds me of this game we play in the beauty salon,’ Delphine said, when her glass was full and she had three fat olives on a stick into the bargain. ‘You have to pick three words to describe yourself. It’s much more fun when other people have to do it to you. Last week, the new girl, Anna, did me and said I was sweet, sexy but couldn’t stand up for myself.’

Everyone winced. ‘That was a bit cruel,’ Sam said. ‘Yes, I think she believed we had to be deeply honest when for the rest of us, it’s a bit of fun,’ Delphine admitted. ‘You know, you say nice things about each other. The manageress is always worried about her figure, so I said she was voluptuous. The odd thing is, Anna was right. I’ve been thinking about it all week and she was right. I don’t stand up for myself.’ ‘Neither do I,’ Hope said, not wanting Delphine to feel exposed. ‘It’s terrible, isn’t it?’ Delphine said, twirling her olives. ‘I want to stand up for myself but it’s easier not to.’ ‘Is that what you’d like to change, then?’ asked Giselle. Delphine’s chin stuck out firmly. ‘Yes.’ ‘How can you do it?’ persisted Giselle. For once, Delphine was speechless. ‘This is the bit where we interrupt,’ Mary-Kate pointed out. ‘Marry Eugene.’ Startled, Delphine looked up at her. ‘You know why we haven’t got married …’ she said. ‘I do know why and it’s because you won’t stand up to Pauline,’ retorted her aunt. ‘Fill us all in on this story,’ Sam interrupted, sliding forward on the seat. Delphine took a big slug of martini. ‘My fiance is divorced and my mother won’t even meet him, never mind go to our wedding. We’ve been putting it off until Mum gives in and accepts him, but she still won’t. My dad has met him, secretly, mind you, because she’d kill him if she knew. She thinks getting married to a divorced man will destroy my immortal soul. She wants a big church do and that’s out of the question because he’s divorced.’ ‘Poor you,’ said Mai, patting Delphine’s shoulder. ‘That’s what I would describe as a textbook example of not standing up for yourself,’ Sam said. ‘It’s simple: you’ve got to arrange the wedding, invite your mother and, if she

doesn’t turn up, that’s her loss. You’ve made your decision and how she reacts to it is out of your hands.’ Delphine looked at her. Sam was so self-possessed and confident. Hope had told them all about her fabulously bright sister and her incredible job. Even too thin and tired with dark circles under her eyes, she emanated forcefulness and drive. ‘It’s easy for someone like you,’ Delphine fretted. Sam laughed ruefully. ‘Delphine, I make mistakes all the time but one of the few I don’t make is not standing up for myself. Standing up for myself is practically my area of expertise. When I’m at work and a tough decision needs to be made, I think of it in simple terms to make sense of it. So, in your case, imagine say, you want to dye your hair pink, right?’ They all grinned. ‘She’s had it pink already,’ Mary-Kate said. ‘Punk is dead,’ announced Delphine. ‘I was only sixteen and it was not a good look for me. Continue, Sam.’ ‘OK, you want pink hair but you’re afraid to do it in case your mother won’t like it. What do you do? Dye it and let her deal with how she feels about it? Or don’t dye it and spend ages feeling bitter and angry because you’re letting her feelings prevent you from doing what you want?’ ‘You do have a great knack of reducing problems down to their most simple form,’ said Mary-Kate admiringly. ‘It’s easier when it’s someone else’s problem,’ Sam said with a wry smile. ‘Let’s see if I’ve got this,’ Delphine said. ‘I get married anyway, no matter what Mum says.’ ‘Well, Pauline isn’t talking to you now,’ Mary-Kate pointed out prosaically. ‘What’s the difference if she’s not talking to you afterwards? Maybe she needs a kick up the backside to make her see that the world doesn’t revolve around her.’ ‘Hear hear,’ said Giselle. Delphine’s eyes blazed with righteous fervour. ‘You’re

right. I’m going to do it. Go and buy hats girls, you’re all invited to a wedding next month.’ ‘A toast,’ said Mary-Kate delightedly. ‘To Delphine, Eugene and the fabulous Truth Drug!’ More crackers and cheese had to be produced to soak up the drink. ‘Sam,’ said Mary-Kate meaningfully, ‘do you want to go next?’ Sam winced. ‘I’m not good at this kind of thing,’ she confessed. ‘Taking advice is like taking cough medicine: I try and avoid it.’ Hope leaned over and gave her a hug. ‘Go on,’ she said, ‘we’re with friends.’ It took five minutes for Sam to relate the story of her last few months, and this time she admitted that she had probably totally overreacted to the whole thing and now felt embarrassed at dropping everything to race to Redlion to see Hope. ‘There’s nothing wrong with that,’ Delphine said. ‘You wanted to be with your sister, that’s perfectly normal.’ ‘I know, but I don’t usually do things like that,’ Sam said. ‘Ah ha,’ pounced Mai, ‘then something is different. You are different. You might not be ill but you are suffering from a crisis. This is a sign to tell you that you must change things, rearrange the pieces.’ ‘What do I change?’ Sam said helplessly. ‘I have a job, a mortgage, responsibilities. What can I change? C’mon girls, this is the real world here, not Yoga-Land.’ ‘Ask yourself are you happy with what you do every day?’ Giselle advised. ‘Work is so fundamental to happiness and if you’re not happy doing the same thing any more, you must change your job.’ ‘Make time for the people in your life: you feel left out of your friends’ lives and yet you can’t hope to have a life of your own if you work so hard and push yourself to the limit,’ Virginia added.

‘Take care of your body,’ Hope said fiercely. ‘I pray that you’re going to be fine and when you are, I’ll personally kill you if I hear you’re burning the candle at both ends. You don’t eat properly, you never rest, you don’t relax. Why are you surprised when your body rebels.’ ‘Stop pushing people away,’ said Delphine eagerly, keen to help the woman who’d made matters so clear to her. ‘You’ve got all these barriers up. You liked that hunky guy next door but when he tried to make friends with you, you froze him out. That’s crazy, Sam. You’re beautiful, I’d kill to look like you, so why not get some benefit from it. I didn’t know how happy I could be until I met Eugene. This guy might be your Eugene.’ ‘I never wanted a Eugene, you see,’ Sam pointed out. ‘I didn’t not want him either, if you see what I mean, but it just happened that way. In the past few years I’ve been interviewed a couple of times and the journalists always want to know how I made the choice between career and family. But I didn’t, and they don’t understand that. Who plans their life?’ Nobody said anything but they all looked on sympathetically. ‘I didn’t have a great master plan where I said no to some things and yes to others,’ she continued fiercely. ‘It just happened that way. I’m fed up having to justify my life.’ She looked as if she might cry. Mary-Kate leaned forward earnestly. ‘Nobody is asking you to justify your life, Sam. Your life is as valid as anyone else’s here, whether they’ve got a scatter of children or not, or husbands or not or toyboys or whatever. But when you’re so defensive about your own life, that’s saying that you feel uncomfortable with it for some reason. Not us, you. There are lots of people round here who think I’m a dotty old bat because I had this great job, a fine premises, money and yet I never got married. But that was my choice and I wouldn’t change it.’ Virginia shot a glance at her.

‘Not that I’m saying I never had a man in my life,’ Mary-Kate put in, with a wicked glint. It broke the tension and the women laughed. ‘I think Sam may have had enough advice,’ Virginia said softly, looking at Sam’s shell-shocked face. Sam shook her head. ‘No, it’s great,’ she said. ‘It’s years since anybody told me what I should do in such blunt terms. I’m the person who normally lays down the law. The only problem is, where do I start?’ ‘Wait till you see the doctor and then decide what to do with the burden you’re bearing. You’re an intelligent woman, you’ll know which seems right,’ said Giselle. ‘I can’t change my job, though. Whatever about all the rest,’ Sam added. ‘I’ve only been doing this for a few months and I’ve got to make my mark …’ Her voice trailed off. For the first time since she’d found out about ovarian cancer on the internet, she began to think she’d been overreacting. Had she merely panicked - the cool, calm Sam Smith flipping and panicking for the first time in her life? And if she had flipped rather than intuitively known something was wrong, what did that mean? Sam knew the answer, even though she’d have killed for it not to be true: that she really couldn’t cope with her life any more for some reason. Perfectly content and emotionally secure people didn’t have mini-breakdowns where they thought they were dying. ‘I suppose it’s my turn next,’ Mary-Kate said, seeing that Sam was very tense about the whole discussion. ‘We can’t have Sam on the rack all night. What do I want?’ she mused out loud. ‘Other than a himbo with a six-pack?’ inquired Delphine naughtily. ‘Very funny. Actually, that would be nice,’ her aunt joked. ‘One with massage skills so he could do things for my bad back.’ ‘Would he be restricted to your back?’ asked Mai with a glint.

‘I won’t say anything if you don’t stop teasing me,’ Mary-Kate said, picking up the cat and settling him on her lap. ‘What I want…’ she stopped. ‘What I want is to stop looking back all the time,’ she said wistfully. ‘There, that’s it. I don’t want advice and I’ve decided that I’m too old to be psychoanalysing myself. Every time my sister, Pauline, turns up here, she does it for me for free. She tells me where I’ve gone wrong in my life, asks me why I couldn’t be sensible and get married like her and, this is the best bit, adds what a joy marriage has been for her. No offence to your father, Delphine,’ Mary-Kate added, ‘but I would never have put your parents’ marriage up there on the great love stories of all time list.’ Delphine nodded grimly in agreement. The evening began to wind down as Mai had to leave. Her husband was scheduled to pick her up at eleven and it was five to. ‘Sorry, ladies,’ she said, ‘but I have to be up at six and if I wait any longer, I will not be able to move out of my bed in the morning. I’ll have to tell you my truth at the next meeting.’ She left after much hugging and the rest of the guests began searching for handbags and coats with a view to going too. Mary-Kate phoned taxis. ‘You never said what you wanted, Hope,’ Mary-Kate said when she came back into the room. Hope blushed. ‘Nothing really,’ she said. ‘Go on,’ urged Sam, ‘you must have something you want to change, something you need to get out of your system. It’s amazing really to have everyone give you advice like this. I feel better already!’ And she did, thought Hope, looking at her sister’s pale face which seemed to have miraculously had all the worry lines taken from it. Hope dithered, not because she had nothing to say but because she had so much to say that if she started, she might lot stop. She sat down again. Oh well, she might as well say something but what?