Page 51 of The F*cking Fabulous Forties Club

‘I can’t believe I fell asleep,’ Niamh says, showering Daniel in kisses until he calms down and curls up at her side. Glancing at my phone I see it’s gone nine. We’ve been asleep for hours. It’s no wonder my bladder is threatening to burst.

Still drowsy and quite stiff, I shuffle to the bathroom as memories of the last two days come into focus.

First of all, the positives. We had a lovely afternoon being pampered at Sonas which had awoken some long-hidden desires in me. I’d had an unexpected frisson of something that felt really quite nice with Conal while I was helping Laura. I’d conquered my life-long fear of my attic – not entirely successfully but it hadn’t been a complete disaster either. I am still alive, after all. And the Christmas tree and decorations have made it onto the landing. Oh, and I’ve decided to go to Amsterdam and get high. Becki would be in awe at that one. How rebellious! Becki Burnside contemplating drugs! The scandal!

But there have also been disasters. Biggest of all is that Laura and I have clashed. We have torn off the sticking plaster that our reunion had been and we’re both going to have to face all the messy, painful feelings that brings up. Whatever way this is going to go – whether we are able to rebuild our friendship or just accept that too much has been said and done in the past – I do know we need to talk it out.

To add to my worries, I’ve also learned that my beautiful, crazy, hilarious best friend is experiencing her very own, very real mid-life crisis. She’s normally so adept at making sure we all stay happy and buoyant that I’ve just assumed everything is great on Planet Niamh. I’ve clearly overlooked the signs that she might need a little help herself. I’ll be there for her now, though. I will. God knows she has hauled me from the horrors more than enough to times to be owed that much.

These are our realities just now. Niamh can’t run from her mental health worries, or the fact she’s ageing like the rest of us. And I can’t run from the fact I’m still angry at and upset with Laura. I was stupid to think I could.

Most of all, I’m learning that just like standing up now I’m finishing having a wee is going to hurt like the bejaysus, so will digging up some very painful memories.

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Niamh is still cuddling Daniel as I half walk/half stumble back to the bedroom.

‘Do you think you need to go to A&E about that?’ she asks, her face wide with concern.

I shake my head. It hurts, yes, but a quick google while I was trying to build up the courage to stand up in the bathroom revealed it is more than likely just a bruised coccyx and pain relief, combined with cold and heat therapies should ease it. Apart from that I’m just going to have to ride it out for a few days. Only then, if it still hurts, will I consider going to A&E just in case it is actually broken.

‘I’m pretty sure I’ve just bruised it,’ I say, as I shuffle back onto the bed beside her.

‘Do you want me to look?’ Niamh asks.

‘That would be a no,’ I say. I have no desire to flash my arse at my best friend. We have shared a lot in our many years of friendship but there are certain lines I don’t ever want to cross with her. My arse falls very firmly across one of those lines.

‘Thank the Lord for that,’ Niamh says with a grin. ‘I love you and all but there are some things I’m happy to never see.’ She seems a little brighter for having had a big cry and a big nap. Maybe at heart we’re all just like big children and every now and again we need to blow off steam and then sleep off the aftermath. Whatever the reason, I’m happy to see her more like the Niamh I know and love. It’s just going to be my job to keep a watchful eye on her in future and do all there is in my power to do to support the times when her low mood comes calling.

She stretches and makes to get up, much to Daniel’s disgust.

‘I know Dan the Man,’ she says. ‘I’d love to stay and cuddle with you all night, but I have men folk at home who are basically useless and a semi-feral seven-year-old so I need to go home.’

‘You know you’re always welcome to stay any time you want,’ I tell her. ‘If you need to take the pressure off a little bit, or just escape, or just hug a dog or whatever.’

‘I know,’ she says with a small, warm smile that says everything that needs to be said about our friendship. ‘I think I need to go home tonight though. I want to talk to Paul about how I’m feeling while I’m in the moment. He’s the one living with my mood swings after all. And I want to hug to my children – even the annoying ones.’

‘I totally understand that,’ I tell her, as I feel a pang for my own boys. ‘And that reminds me. Did you know Jodie is in Manchester?’

Niamh is standing up and straightening her clothes. ‘Jodie who?’

‘Your Jodie!’ I tell her, shimmying my way to the edge of the bed to prepare myself for the inevitable pain that will come with standing up.

‘My Jodie? My daughter Jodie?’

‘Yes!’ I tell her. ‘I’m going to assume by your response that you were very much not aware she is in Manchester. Although to be fair, she might’ve come home by now.’

‘Are you sure? As far as I’m aware she’s still in Belfast.’ Niamh says, pulling her phone from her bag and scrolling through it.

‘Adam told me,’ I say. ‘She’s over visiting him and Saul. He hinted at a romance.’

With that, her eyes fly from her phone to look me directly in the eye. ‘A romance? Who with? No, she would’ve said.’ Her eyes dart back to her phone where she is scrolling some more.

‘With Adam,’ I say, adding, ‘My Adam,’ before she asks the inevitable, ‘Adam who?’

‘Get. To. France!’ she declares and I admire her restraint in using France instead of the swear word that is very clearly on her mind.

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