Page 26 of The F*cking Fabulous Forties Club

‘I’m sure you weren’t that bad,’ Niamh tells her. ‘And you can’t judge grown-up you by teenage you’s actions.’

Laura raises one finger to signal we should wait just one moment while she rifles in her bag and pulls out a folded sheet of A4 paper on which I immediately recognise the distinctive loop and swirl of her handwriting. She unfolds it, scans it for a second and clears her throat.

‘I hope that you – grown-up me – have acknowledged all the sacrifices Kitty made to be your mother. She hasn’t had half the opportunities you have and it must be hard for her to face the reality that her children are smarter and more worldly-wise than she is.’

I try to keep the cringe from my face, and I know Niamh is trying to do the same when I hear her cough and protest that her drink went down the wrong way.

‘I – we – have a responsibility to help her expand her horizons beyond her own front door. I have realised that sooner rather than later…’ Laura stops and takes a deep breath before looking at both Niamh and me. ‘Hang in there, girls, this is a doozy,’ she says. ‘I have realised that sooner rather than later it will be my job to parent my parent and to become her educator. In fact, I think I might already be doing that.’

I want to assure Laura that it’s not that bad. That’s it’s not patronising. That it reflected the kind of remarkable, hard-working and whip-smart woman Kitty O’Hagan was. But I can’t. As well-intentioned as my dear friend was, this is pretty damn ropey.

Laura continues. ‘I won’t make the same mistakes Kitty made. I am already wise to the pitfalls of life. I already know I have one thing in my favour that Kitty did not – and that is a loving, fearless mother. And I’m going to make sure the pair of us live the big life we both deserve. I’ll bring her with me on my life’s great adventures.’

There is silence in the room – punctuated with sniffs and sighs – because we all know that Laura and Kitty did not set off on some grand adventure together and it’s now too late for them to do so. This is a much more painful realisation than the smug bollocks of her teenage bravado-fuelled intro.

‘So, you can imagine, I feel like shit. I really let her down. She didn’t get to live a big life. We didn’t travel the world together and I certainly didn’t take her on my great adventures, unless you count getting her to babysit Robyn for me while I was at work. Girls, I think I treated my mother like the hired help and not like the legend she was. I can’t stop thinking of the times I mentioned going to concerts, or away for city breaks with Aidan and she mentioned she’d love to do something like that sometime, and I never arranged it for her. Not that I even arranged them for myself all that often. It was so hard to find the time. I kept thinking I’d get round to doing it more and bringing her with me, but I didn’t because I was too caught up in raising Robyn and trying to keep my marriage on track and working… I let her down in the end and I can’t change that – unless we get that damn time machine,’ Laura sobs.

But her words, and her tears, act as another spark to the kindling I set after reading my own letter. We can’t change the past, but we’re not dead yet and we can absolutely change the future.

And I should have realised as soon as I saw all three of our names on the top of the box, that I am not in this on my own.

18

NOT DEAD YET

It seems so blindingly, incredibly obvious that what I need to help my friends do is exactly what I myself have planned for myself.

If I can make changes and achieve the things I have written off somewhere along the way then why can’t Laura and Niamh? Why can’t we all support each other with the same vigour and verve we used to when we were in our late teens and early twenties?

Yes, we’ve moved on from letting each other copy homework, or holding hair back after one or more of us had one too many Bacardi Breezers but that doesn’t mean we can’t help each other in other ways. If the last few days have taught us anything it’s that none of us know what’s ahead of us or how long we’ll be here for, or how long we’ll be fit and able to do stuff for.

I’ve lost sleep in the past regretting the things I didn’t do when I was young enough to do them. Like… I don’t know… going on a Club 18-30 holiday even if the thought of a Club 18-30 holiday is my absolute idea of hell. Shagaluf? No thanks. But still, it would be nice to have the choice. Isn’t that what ageing takes from us? The choices we had when we were young and not a bit appreciative of the possibilities that lay before us.

‘What’s that famous saying? The one about your biggest mistake being that you believe you have time? Or something like that,’ I ask.

The girls look at me a little confused.

‘I think we’re all acutely aware that time is precious and we might not have as much as once thought,’ Niamh says.

‘Exactly!’ I say, gathering up the chip papers and taking them through to the kitchen. I can hear my friends talk behind my back.

‘Have you any idea what she’s on about?’ I hear Laura ask.

‘Nope. But I do know Becca and she’ll get there eventually and it will all make perfect sense. You just have to trust the process,’ Niamh tells her, and I smile – smug in the knowledge my bestie has my back.

I grab a couple of notebooks from my completely unnecessary collection of unused notebooks – it’s an addiction, okay? – and a few pens and walk back into the living room where the girls have hauled themselves back up onto the sofa, and Niamh is now lavishing a delighted Daniel with ear scratches.

‘Oh God, she has the notebooks and pens out,’ Niamh says.

‘She hasn’t grown out of that phase yet, then?’ Laura asks.

‘Girls, I am in the room and I can hear you! And no, I have not outgrown my love of stationery and I have no plans to do so,’ I protest, with a smile.

‘Yes, Monica,’ Laura smiles.

‘You can’t hurt me by comparing me to the one and only Monica Geller. Everyone knows she was the best of all the Friends!’ I protest. ‘It doesn’t hurt to have a few spare notebooks. You never know when they might come in handy,’ I say, handing one to each of them before sitting down on the armchair by the window.

‘True enough,’ Niamh says. ‘You might run out of loo roll or…’

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