Chapter Thirteen
Grace put the book Annie had given to her in her bag, choked by the thoughtfulness of the gift.
More members of the book club arrived, and Grace saw she’d been right that they would all sit in the same seats they had at the previous meeting at Books En Parade.
Earnest strolled around sniffing everyone in turn, his claws tapping lightly on the parquet flooring, before settling at Harry’s feet.
He dropped his head onto his paws and began a quiet purring snore.
‘How is everyone?’ said Crush, at seven-thirty on the dot. ‘Any news?’
‘How are you, more to the point?’ said Harry. ‘You’ve been through a lot.’
‘You’re all those people,’ said Annie, and Grace remembered the conversation she’d had with Annie when they were sitting on the bench the first evening they met.
‘They all live inside you. And they all add up to the amazing person you are now. I think people are little Russian dolls really, slotting inside each other, adding another layer with each new experience.’
‘They’re actually called Matryoshka dolls,’ said Lee, leaning forwards with his elbows on his knees. ‘They are meant to represent a mother carrying her child inside her.’
‘If that’s true, then what about those fellas?’ Crush asked and Lee sat back, his lips tight. ‘All I could see was a bunch of old blokes like my dad: more weathered, knackered versions of who they’d always been.’
‘The same will be true of them, I expect,’ said Harry, ‘but on a smaller scale. You might only be in your forties, but you’ve already lived a big life, Crush.
You’ve had extreme experiences. Most people don’t, at least not like yours, but they’ll still have had many formative experiences, all of which will have added up to the whole. ’
Crush pursed her lips, seeming to give it some thought.
‘Story checks. When I think about it, I suppose Dad wasn’t exactly modelled good parenting when he was growing up.
His dad was savage, man, and what Dad saw when he was younger, his dad beating on his mum, that would be scarring, I suppose.
And my mum left. That’s gonna have hurt him as well as me.
’ She glanced up at the group, the piercing blue of her eyes just visible behind her fringe.
‘So, you’re saying I should forgive him? ’
Annie smiled, the green and white lamp on the table beside her made her face glow. ‘I don’t think we’re qualified to say what you should or shouldn’t do. I find it helps me to consider everyone’s dolls.’
Crush nodded. ‘Consider his dolls. Yeah. I’ll give that a go.’
‘“The rarer action is in virtue than in vengeance”,’ said Harry. ‘Prospero, The Tempest.’
‘Yeah, well, it’s bit late for vengeance since he’s been through the furnace and there’s nothing left but powder and his gold tooth.’ Crush half laughed. ‘Although I suppose I could scatter the old goat’s ashes at sea. He was terrified of water.’
‘I’m not sure that’s—’ began Annie.
Crush’s laughter cut her off. ‘I’m joking. It’s all good. I’m all right, honestly. I’m not even reading Dorothy Parker today, that’s how good I am.’
‘What are you reading?’ asked Tracy, who was wearing her gym kit again, although Grace thought perhaps it might be called leisurewear these days. Today’s Lycra leggings were patterned with multi-coloured butterflies and a running vest showed off her slim, toned arms.
Crush held up a book with one side of a woman’s face on the cover, her hazel eye staring out pensively. ‘Plath. The Bell Jar.’
‘Ah, right,’ said Tracy, her lips pursed. ‘And we’re supposed to believe you’re okay?’ She stared directly at Crush, a challenge in her eyes.
Grace watched the exchange, befuddled. These people seemed to have their own language. How did Crush reading The Bell Jar tell Tracy about the state of her mind? What was she missing?
Crush dropped her head back onto the beanbag. ‘Gah, give me a break.’ There was humour in her voice. ‘I’m not ready for Marian Keyes yet. As soon as I feel up for a laugh, I’ll crack open her new one. Just let me wallow for now.’
Maybe a funny book was exactly what Grace needed after Jude the Obscure. ‘Marian Keyes?’ she said. ‘Does she write funny books?’
‘They’re hilarious, but she tackles serious stuff too, things we can all relate to. Her last one has a woman going through the menopause and, oh, my God, did I relate to that.’ Annie tucked her chin in and crossed her arms.
‘Goodness,’ was all Grace could think of to say.
She was used to being candid with Rosie about the ins and outs of bodily functions, and she was no prude, but she could never imagine introducing her menopausal mood swings to a group back when they were in full flow.
Perhaps she should have done. She’d felt like a pressure cooker for the best part of a decade, and maybe letting off a bit of that steam would have given her some release.
She was beginning to wonder whether her choice to keep herself to herself had been the best one.
She shoved the thought into the background.
She had enough regrets weighing her down for now.
‘Night sweats still bad?’ asked Tracy quietly, twisting the first of many studs trailing up her ear.
‘I’m changing the sheets every day,’ said Annie.
‘And with Jack … Anyway, I’ve made an appointment at the medical practice.
I thought I’d left it too late, but I read Nina Stibbe’s memoir, and she said she went on it at sixty.
I’m fifty-five and I’ve tried to cope long enough.
If they don’t give me some HRT they’ll get the full force of my menopausal rage. ’
Grace remembered the night sweats, and the hot flushes and felt enormous sympathy for Annie, but she hadn’t spoken to anyone but Frank about what she was going through. She also noted Annie stopped herself from speaking when she mentioned her husband. That had happened before. Grace wondered why.
‘One hot flush and I’ll be banging on that doctor’s door for all the drugs,’ said Crush.
‘Me too,’ said Jasmine.
Grace looked across at Jasmine, who appeared to be so young she must’ve only just gone through puberty. Too early to be thinking about the menopause. Although, was it ever too early? Knowledge is power, after all. ‘How old are you, Jasmine?’
‘Twenty-four.’
‘Oh, to be twenty-four again,’ said Annie. ‘I’m already starting to feel like old bones.’
‘Try being over seventy,’ said Harry. ‘Almost ready for the knacker’s yard.’
‘Ah, wheesht,’ said Tracy. ‘There’s only one thing worse than getting older.’ She turned to Grace then Crush, eyes wide. ‘God, sorry. That was insensitive.’
‘Not at all,’ said Grace. ‘It’s true.’ She was suddenly very grateful to be in this room with this group of people who were clearly honest, authentic friends. As Frank didn’t have the luxury, it was up to her to embrace it for the both of them.
She turned to Annie, meaning to give her a warm smile, but Annie was looking down at her hands, and Grace couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw tears in her eyes.