footsteps on the hall stairs below loosened her bowels more efficiently than a week in Mexico.
Annie looked at her bedside clock. 6 am.
Shit. She knew Jake was moving in soon, but she had no idea he’d come so early. Since when did he ever get up before noon?
She turned over to lie on her back. She could feel the pulse of her heart against the duvet.
Jake Bloody Mead was in the building.
He was in her home.
She tried going back to sleep, but every time she shut her eyes, she saw his face as it had been all those years ago.
After five minutes of useless tossing and turning, she reluctantly got up, feeling tired yet restless. She would be fine, she told herself as she slipped on her vest top. She would be calm, mature, serene, tranquil, sophisticated. Butmost of all calm. She would not give in to her anger. She was a big girl now, not the pathetic teenager whose heart he had broken.
She went to the toilet like she did every morning. See? Fine. She brushed her teeth, while listening to the radio. Utter and complete calm. She put on the kettle just one hour earlier than usual. Serenely tranquil. Jake’s eyes flashed into her mind. Totally mature. She heard his whispered ‘Annie’ in her ears. Sophisticated. His mouth, his cheekbones, his nose, his smile. In her building. Dear God, his smell. In her building.
She felt fine, calm, serene, mature and completely in control of her emotions.
Maybe just another visit to the toilet.
Where her insides imploded.
* * * * *
Annie’s reflection gazed reproachfully back at her.
‘What did you expect?’ It seemed to be saying. ‘You’re no spring chicken, honey. Let’s face it, you’re more of an autumn duck.’
Her skin was still butter-smooth. Her eyes bright. She examined the new gossamer lines just starting to feather the corners of her eyes. She knew it went against everything the beauty magazines said, but somehow those lines made her feel more … more real.
Unfortunately there was one part of her reflection that still had a girlish glow. Her skin. Or to be more precise, her ‘T-zone’ – forehead, nose and chin. In fact, a veritable 80s revival fest was going on underneath it. How could that happen? she thought, staring at a small but fierce pimple on her chin. Spots and wrinkles at the same time? She could join the circus with that, surely.
Yes, she admitted it, where once there had been easy elasticity in her body, there were now comfortable curves. But still. She wouldn’t go back to her teens. Yes, time had had its effect on certain parts of her body, but in contrast, her mind had grown supple, flexible and taut from the lessons that had come with each year.
She stared at herself in the mirror until she became nothing more than the sum of her parts.
I am who I am, she told her reflection gently.
And you are a feckless idiot, Annie’s reflection replied.
* * * * *
She had found herself unusually short-tempered at breakfast with her family all week.
‘Can I have chocolate for breakfast?’ Harry asked.
She shook her head.
‘Chicken nuggets?’
‘Would you like spinach and liver?’ said Annie, cutting up his toast. ‘Because you’re going the right way about it.’
Harry didn’t like the sound of that. It was just like Mummy.
Annie had been up so early all week that she’d given the boys breakfast and walked them in to nursery school. Bertie was not enjoying this new routine. It was much nicer when Mummy drove them in. He practically had to jog to keep up.
‘It’s good for you,’ Annie said this morning. ‘Puts hairs on your chest.’
It was only when Bertie started crying that Annie slowed down.
By the Friday morning, the boys’ headmistress was seriouslyconcerned by their unusual punctuality. She phoned Victoria to see if everything was all right at home. Annie hadn’t returned yet.
‘Of course they’re happy at home,’ Victoria said, nonplussed into the phone. ‘I’m just an amazingly efficient mother.’
‘Ye-es.
Annie looked at her bedside clock. 6 am.
Shit. She knew Jake was moving in soon, but she had no idea he’d come so early. Since when did he ever get up before noon?
She turned over to lie on her back. She could feel the pulse of her heart against the duvet.
Jake Bloody Mead was in the building.
He was in her home.
She tried going back to sleep, but every time she shut her eyes, she saw his face as it had been all those years ago.
After five minutes of useless tossing and turning, she reluctantly got up, feeling tired yet restless. She would be fine, she told herself as she slipped on her vest top. She would be calm, mature, serene, tranquil, sophisticated. Butmost of all calm. She would not give in to her anger. She was a big girl now, not the pathetic teenager whose heart he had broken.
She went to the toilet like she did every morning. See? Fine. She brushed her teeth, while listening to the radio. Utter and complete calm. She put on the kettle just one hour earlier than usual. Serenely tranquil. Jake’s eyes flashed into her mind. Totally mature. She heard his whispered ‘Annie’ in her ears. Sophisticated. His mouth, his cheekbones, his nose, his smile. In her building. Dear God, his smell. In her building.
She felt fine, calm, serene, mature and completely in control of her emotions.
Maybe just another visit to the toilet.
Where her insides imploded.
* * * * *
Annie’s reflection gazed reproachfully back at her.
‘What did you expect?’ It seemed to be saying. ‘You’re no spring chicken, honey. Let’s face it, you’re more of an autumn duck.’
Her skin was still butter-smooth. Her eyes bright. She examined the new gossamer lines just starting to feather the corners of her eyes. She knew it went against everything the beauty magazines said, but somehow those lines made her feel more … more real.
Unfortunately there was one part of her reflection that still had a girlish glow. Her skin. Or to be more precise, her ‘T-zone’ – forehead, nose and chin. In fact, a veritable 80s revival fest was going on underneath it. How could that happen? she thought, staring at a small but fierce pimple on her chin. Spots and wrinkles at the same time? She could join the circus with that, surely.
Yes, she admitted it, where once there had been easy elasticity in her body, there were now comfortable curves. But still. She wouldn’t go back to her teens. Yes, time had had its effect on certain parts of her body, but in contrast, her mind had grown supple, flexible and taut from the lessons that had come with each year.
She stared at herself in the mirror until she became nothing more than the sum of her parts.
I am who I am, she told her reflection gently.
And you are a feckless idiot, Annie’s reflection replied.
* * * * *
She had found herself unusually short-tempered at breakfast with her family all week.
‘Can I have chocolate for breakfast?’ Harry asked.
She shook her head.
‘Chicken nuggets?’
‘Would you like spinach and liver?’ said Annie, cutting up his toast. ‘Because you’re going the right way about it.’
Harry didn’t like the sound of that. It was just like Mummy.
Annie had been up so early all week that she’d given the boys breakfast and walked them in to nursery school. Bertie was not enjoying this new routine. It was much nicer when Mummy drove them in. He practically had to jog to keep up.
‘It’s good for you,’ Annie said this morning. ‘Puts hairs on your chest.’
It was only when Bertie started crying that Annie slowed down.
By the Friday morning, the boys’ headmistress was seriouslyconcerned by their unusual punctuality. She phoned Victoria to see if everything was all right at home. Annie hadn’t returned yet.
‘Of course they’re happy at home,’ Victoria said, nonplussed into the phone. ‘I’m just an amazingly efficient mother.’
‘Ye-es.
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