The Secret Life of Beatrice Alright

1

3 DECEMBER

‘Tabby, are you nearly ready?’ Mark, my fiancé, shouts from the bathroom.

‘Nearly,’ I call back, my fingers tapping the keyboard of my laptop as I sit cross-legged on the floor in the spare room, crammed between some storage boxes, my old easel and the ironing board. ‘I just need two more minutes.’

I said that ten minutes ago, and ten minutes before that, but this time I really am nearly ready. I scroll back to the top of my Word document and read my chosen header. New Year, New Me . Then I count the bullet points. Twelve. Twelve carefully crafted New Year’s resolutions – one resolution to be completed each month for the whole year. Perfect. I open my email and attach the file. My fingertips tingle with anticipation as I hit send.

‘Tabitha, seriously. We’re going to be late.’ Mark opens the spare room door as I close my laptop and set it down on top of one of the boxes. ‘What are you doing in here?’

‘Just sending a quick email.’

Mark rolls his eyes. ‘This self-improvement stuff again.’

‘Resolutions,’ I whisper under my breath as I stand up.

I pull a large Velcro curler from the front of my hair and straighten out my somewhat creased trouser suit.

‘How far did you get last year?’ Mark asks. ‘April?’

‘March, actually. And that doesn’t matter because this year is different.’

‘Do any of your “ resolutions ” include being on time, for once?’ Mark asks, adding air quotes, then taps his watch. ‘The party starts in twenty-five minutes and I don’t want to have to explain to everyone why we’re late. It’s embarrassing.’

‘I know. I know. I’m ready now. Promise.’

I hurry towards the mirror in the hall and run my fingers through the giant curl to break it into softer waves that frame my face and I slip my feet into the waiting, uncomfortable but elegant, black patent heels. Mark fetches my coat and drapes it over my shoulders.

‘Oh God, what is that smell?’ he says, taking a deep, exaggerated inhale of the air around me. ‘Is that perfume?’

‘Yes. It’s new. Do you like it?’

Mark pulls away. His nostrils are wide and his face is twisted.

‘It’s the one your mam gave me for Christmas,’ I say.

His expression relaxes and he steps closer again, placing his hand on the small of my back to guide me out the door.

‘It suits you, Tabs. You smell lovely,’ he says, as he closes the front door behind us with a gentle click.

I pull my coat hood over my hair as we hurry towards the car, dodging giant raindrops. But before we sit in, Mark pauses. Rain trickles down the side of his nose as he locks his narrowed, blue eyes on mine and shakes his head. ‘Don’t you think it’s time you gave up these nonsense resolutions? Nothing ever changes.’

I cross my fingers behind my back and say, ‘Maybe this year will be different.’

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