Page 15 of The Happiness Project

‘Oh, I’m definitely out,’ Charlie says. ‘Talking of which, coffee anyone?’

I say no; I usually work all day Saturday but I’ve taken a half day today as we’re doing one of mum’s bucket list items. I wanted to show her we were taking it seriously — and at the back of my mind, I’m hoping that by giving her a bit of excitement with the easy things on the list, she’ll decide she doesn’t really want to go as far as having an affair. I still can’t believe my mother actually wants to do this but everyone else seems to find it hilarious.

‘You’re joking,’ exclaimed Josie when I told them both during one of our coffee breaks.

‘Good on the old girl,’ adds Charlie. ‘I hope I’m still being scandalous when I’m her age.’

‘It’s not good,’ I say earnestly. ‘It’s awful. And the worst part is she expects me to facilitate it.’

‘Are you gonna put her onto a dating app?’ Josie asks. My eyes widen. ‘I can’t think of any other way of doing it and there must be one for oldies.’

‘Really?’ I swallow hard.

‘Yeah,’ quips Charlie. ‘It’s called Carbon Dating.’

He gets a high five from Josie as I try to ignore them both. I’d like to ask Patty how she intends to make this happen but she’s told me to keep my nose out of it as it’s her item to sort and she knows I’ll just try to stop it happening.

I tidy my desk, pick up my things and ask the guys to wish me luck. Charlie starts singing ‘Born to Be Wild’ as he heads out to the break room.

* * *

I start with Mum’s desire to ride a motorbike, as at least I know she’ll be safe with Ed. He finds it as amusing as everyone else but agrees to help and to rally some of his biker friends to make it happen. I can’t have Mum going out alone so Patty and I plan to be with her. Ed’s chapter are having a ride-out this afternoon and will end up at a pub in the countryside where there’ll be a rock band playing. So Mum will get the whole experience of being out with a biker gang. And even though it’s been a very mild January, I’m hoping it will be cold enough to put her off going out again. I’ve never known my mum to abandon her creature comforts, so today should be interesting.

We’re all meeting at Patty’s to get dressed for the occasion. In my mind this means ensuring my elderly mother is wearing several layers of thermals but it doesn’t seem to be what she or Patty are planning. I hear them up in the bathroom when I open the front door and go up to investigate.

‘What are you doing?’ I ask as I walk in.

‘Making your mum look a bit more rock and roll,’ replies Patty, pausing to look up at me with a can of coloured hairspray in her hand. I peer behind her and my eyes almost pop out of my head when I see my mother with green, red and purple streaks across her head.

‘Does that come out?’ I ask in horror.

‘You don’t half sound like an old woman,’ chortles my mum. ‘I used to say that to you when you dyed your hair.’

This is true. Whenever I experimented with hair dye kits as a teenager, Dad would simply say, ‘That looks nice, love,’ whereas Mum would say, ‘I hope you can get your money back,’ or if it was really bad, ‘That had better be temporary, young lady.’ It has finally happened — I sound like my mother.

‘Do you want some?’ asks Patty, turning the spray can onto her own hair. ‘I thought I’d just do the fringe and the ends so the parts that stick out of the helmet look a bit grungy. Can you do the back for me, Mrs S?’

My mum obliges, giving my best friend bright red tips and doing such a good job of it that Patty actually suits her new look. They stand together admiring their rainbow tresses in the bathroom mirror and when I move next to them, I look so boring and sensible in comparison that I grab the green can and give myself a money piece — a couple of highlights that frame my face. Not too adventurous, but I feel like one of the gang. Next stop, Patty’s bedroom.

She has managed to get hold of some pleather trousers for Mum and a flying jacket with a sheepskin lining. I’m so relieved; at least Mum will be warm.

‘Where did you get all of this?’ I ask.

‘Vinted,’ Patty says. ‘I’ll just sell it all again later.’

Mum is admiring herself in the new get-up, and I have to admit that if she really needed to feel that she was breaking free of the stereotypes that surround older women, this is a pretty good way of doing it.

Patty gives her sturdy boots and big gloves but Mum rejects them, preferring her own wool-lined winter gloves.

‘At least these fit,’ she explains.

I can’t help but smile at the dinky little gloves with silver buttons peeping out of the enormous jacket, and I begin to lose my sense of dread. I’m actually looking forward to this.

The roar of engines coming down the street has us squealing with excitement and rushing to the window to watch Ed and his friends approaching the house. Mum’s eyes light up and I can tell from the flush in her cheeks that she is utterly delighted with what is going on and the fact that Patty’s neighbours have come to their windows to see what all the noise is. As Mum and Patty go out to greet the bikers, I make a discreet call to Dad and tell him we’re on our way out. After getting Mum’s bucket list, I had to call and ask him if he knew about it. He told me that she’d kept the contents private but mentioned that she was doing it. I ventured to tell him about the list but he stopped me and said he respected Mum’s wish and that after fifty-five years together he doubted anything she’d written would surprise him. I didn’t like to add that I thought at least one of the items would. I just promised to keep her safe.

And I think the safety of my practically octogenarian mother was also on Ed’s mind when he selected the friends to take part in this. The bike they’ve selected for Mum isn’t a bike — it’s a trike and it is magnificent. With its gleaming electric-blue body and shiny chrome pipes, it is simply stunning. It’s painted with some Nordic pattern and the man who stands beside it looks every inch a Viking. He’s tall, with long blond hair and a braided beard, and when he holds out his bear-sized hand to shake my mother’s, I notice he has runic symbols tattooed on each finger. He tells her that he loves her hair and Mum quietly thanks him. She’s dwarfed by him, and I think the excitement she was showing earlier has been replaced by a little trepidation.

‘You’re going to be in good hands with Eric, Mrs Shepherd,’ Ed tells her as he helps her up onto the pillion seat.

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