Chapter 27 #2
Amy gave Caz a wink. ‘And aren’t you grateful? Don’t you remember what we used to be like when we went away? We’d walk around in circles trying to figure out where to eat, everyone too polite to make a decision.’
‘I thought we were just being super laid-back,’ I said, thinking back to our trips.
‘Don’t you remember that time we were in Nice and we ended up in McDonald’s because we’d walked around for that long that all the restaurants had stopped serving lunch?’
I laughed. ‘I’d forgotten that.’
‘We kept walking up and down that street with all the boards outside, trying to work out where to go.’
‘I thought we went to Maccy D’s because it was cheaper? Then we had more money for wine?’
‘Was that it?’ said Amy, scrunching up her face.
‘All I can remember from that trip was Caz trying to flirt with that guy with the boat, thinking we’d get to go for a drink on a super yacht.’
Amy snorted. ‘And then it was that little dinghy.’
‘How was I supposed to know it would be that small? It wasn’t like they had Below Deck back then.’
‘It’s probably a good thing though – three women in their twenties going back to a yacht with a creepy old dude … ’ said Amy.
‘Old?’ I said. ‘I’m pretty sure he was only early thirties.’
‘Was he?’ she said. ‘I just remember him being ancient. God, that’s depressing. Do you think that young people think that about us?’
‘Well, we are forty.’
‘Speak for yourselves,’ I said, holding up my hands. ‘I’ve got another four hours of being thirty-nine, thank you very much.’
‘Well, make the most of it; in four hours you’ll be positively ancient like the rest of us.’
‘Come on,’ said Caz, ‘it’s not that bad.’
‘Let’s face facts, we’re old. Skin is wrinkling, body parts are sagging.’
‘I’m making your coffin now, Amy,’ I said, scooping up another fork of salad. It barely looked like I’d touched it, but I seemed to have been eating it for ages.
‘But some things are better with age,’ Caz said. ‘This trip for example. If we’d done this in our old style, we’d probably not have got further than the end of the block we’re staying on.’
‘That’s true.’ I pointed at Amy.
‘Oh my goodness.’ Amy’s fork clattered. ‘I’ve started eating this and I haven’t taken a photo of it.’
Caz did a mock gasp. ‘How will you cope?’
‘How else will I make Paul jealous?’ she said, laughing and taking a snap of her bowl. ‘Selfie, whilst I’m here?’ Amy leaned towards me, holding out her phone.
I gave what I hoped was a flattering smile, trying my best to angle my head down to avoid multiple chins.
‘Lovely,’ she said.
‘We should do a toast.’ Caz picked up her glass. ‘To getting older, and Amy getting even more organised.’
We raised our glasses and chinked before drinking.
‘And I’m going to propose a toast to Lucy. Here’s to tomorrow being your best proper leap year birthday yet.’
‘To Lucy and the best birthday,’ chimed Caz as she chinked my glasses.
We all sipped our drinks, and I placed my glass back on the table.
‘Right then, when are you going to tell me what we’re doing tomorrow? I was thinking that Brooklyn seemed fun to explore.’
‘Oh, don’t you worry about anything. We’ve got plenty of surprises in store for you,’ said Amy, and her and Caz exchanged a sneaky look with each other.
‘Don’t I get any clues?’
‘Only that you’d be best off wearing your new trainers. More walking to do.’
I groaned. ‘Don’t you look so smug,’ I said to Caz. ‘You’ll be walking too.’
‘Uh-huh,’ she said, a big smile on her face and it made me even more nervous as to what was planned.
I hadn’t had the best of sleeps since being away. The concoction of jetlag and hectic sightseeing schedule had left my body tired and my mind constantly buzzing. Which meant at first when my phone started ringing that night, it took me a while to work out what it was.
Caz reached out, feeling for her phone and when she realised it wasn’t hers she rolled back over. I hastily picked mine up, saw it was Mum and answered it, creeping into the bathroom so as to not disturb the girls any further.
‘Hello,’ I whispered into it as I fumbled for the light switch. My heart was racing in panic that something awful had happened.
‘Lucy? Lucy?’
‘It’s me, Mum.’ I flicked on the light and the brightness floored me. I shut my eyes, trying to adjust to it more slowly. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I’ve been looking for you upstairs and you’re not in your room.’
I thought of the single-storey care home that she now lived in, with not a stair in sight. Whilst part of me relaxed that it wasn’t the care home ringing from her phone, the other part of me tensed for one of these types of calls.
‘I can’t see you on the screen. Where are you?’
I flicked the call to video and I saw her face scrunched up, staring at the screen. She visibly relaxed when she saw me.
I barely recognised either woman on my screen anymore; me and Mum had changed so much. I scraped my hair back into a messy bun.
‘I’m here. Are you OK?’
‘I’ve been calling you upstairs.’
‘I’m not upstairs, Mum. I’m in New York. I’m here until Saturday.’
‘New York?’ she repeated, the furrow on her brow that was almost permanently there deepened.
‘Yes, New York, until Saturday.’
‘Saturday. I always wanted to go to New York.’
‘I know, Mum.’
It broke my heart that I’d never gone with her.
We could have gone when I was living in London, one of my bonuses would have paid for it.
I should have just booked it, pride on her part or not.
Or we could have gone in the early days of her illness.
Looking back, if I’d known how good she really was then, how much we could have made of her time.
‘New York, New York,’ she almost sang.
‘That’s right. And I’m here. Until Saturday.’
‘Saturday. You won’t be here today?’
‘No, Mum.’
‘Is it raining?’
I closed my eyes trying to wake up. I had no idea what time it was and the noise of the heating system provided the kind of white noise that made it impossible to hear the weather outside, even if it was hammering down.
‘I don’t think so. It was sunny yesterday.’
‘It’s raining here.’
‘Is it now?’
‘Pelting it down. All day.’
‘Sounds bad.’ I put the toilet seat down and sat down on it, balancing the phone on the vanity unit next to it.
‘Doesn’t matter to me. I’m staying inside.’
‘Wise decision. Just you stay there.’
‘I’m not going anywhere.’
We sat there for a moment in silence. This usually happened, after the initial panic of what had caused her to ring had subsided.
If I was in the middle of something, I’d tell her that I’d speak to her later, and then I’d wait for the next call.
But sometimes, like now, when I had nothing better to do, I talked and she listened.
‘Shall I tell you about New York? It’s just like we imagined it would be. The buildings really are as high as they look on TV, maybe even higher, and smoke really does come up from the side of the pavements.’
I looked at the clock in the corner of my screen.
It was 3 a.m. It was officially my birthday.
I was forty. I almost laughed at myself.
This wasn’t how I’d thought I’d be spending it, whispering into FaceTime whilst sat on a toilet.
I leaned my head back against the wall and carried on telling her about the trip whilst the words washed over her.
I was never sure whether she was following what I said or not, but it seemed to calm her and these days that was the best I could hope for.