The Dream Life I Never Had Read online

  The children had finished their cereal and the cup of fresh juice that constituted breakfast, by some miracle Ben managing to actually drink his instead of spilling it everywhere as he did most mornings, so it was time to shepherd everyone upstairs and start the bathroom and getting dressed routine.

  This consisted mainly of a complicated interwoven choreography between bathroom and bedrooms that had evolved over the last year or so, where I would supervise washing and the brushing of teeth interspersed with short bursts of carrying out my own ablutions and trying to apply mascara and a bit of lipstick in-between doing up shoes and buttons on shirts or turning jumpers the right way round. Having brushed everyone’s hair and re-styled Kate’s usual ponytail into bunches as apparently no-one in her class had a ponytail and she didn’t want to be the odd one out, and I had thrown on whatever clean clothes I could quickly grab we went back downstairs to begin round two.

  Round two was a similar process where I would juggle buttoning up coats with finishing off the lunch boxes and at least put the breakfast dishes in the sink even if I didn’t actually have time to wash them, and making sure Kate had her reading folder which invariably she had mysteriously lost and we had to search for.

  Usually I had flicked on the washing machine at some point in the pre-bathroom part of the morning ritual, loaded the night before, and by now it had finished and I would hastily hang the contents outside if it was a dry day or spread everything out indoors if it wasn’t. This morning however I had forgotten to press the all-important ‘on’ button so nothing was finished, but as we were running late I wouldn’t have had time to do any hanging or spreading even if I had remembered, which meant a double load tomorrow.

  I grabbed my bag and we jostled our way through the front door only to return a moment later because un-noticed by me Ben had got dressed without putting on his pants under his trousers, a fact luckily discovered before we had gone too far by all the complaining he was doing because evidently his trousers were rubbing in places they shouldn’t have been.

  By the time we had corrected this omission we were seriously late and only just managed to sneak Kate in as the bell sounded, if the school had been any further away than the top of the road we’d have been sunk. As it was Kate was not a happy bunny, she liked to arrive early and play with her friends for a few minutes before all the serious learning began, and even though there was no time for her to complain I knew it would put a serious crimp in her day. My Mum guilt kicked in big time and I swore to myself yet again that I would try to be better organised.

  I dropped Ben off at his nursery which was in the building adjoining the school; luckily they weren’t as concerned at nursery about late comers as they were at school, and Ben bless him didn’t have a clue whether he was early or late and wouldn’t have been bothered either way even if he had known. I said a hasty goodbye and coerced a kiss from him before hurriedly dashing to the bus-stop in time to see my bus pulling away and heading off to town without me.

  Happy Birthday Sophie I thought sourly as I waited for the next bus.

  3

  I arrived at the salon only ten minutes late which given the morning I’d had wasn’t too bad going, but Gregory the owner and my employer still tuted at me while I hastily took off my coat, threw it in the back and donned my hated pink tabard.

  ‘Sorry Greg it was just one of those mornings’ I said while still buttoning up the shapeless pink travesty.

  ‘Mrs Goodison has been waiting for fifteen minutes’ Greg said thoroughly irritated and ignoring my apology.

  ‘Oh rats I forgot about her’ I said. ‘That’s all I need this morning, Mrs bloody Goodison and her nothings good enough and it’s not how the wonderful Marianne used to do it’ I groaned referring to my predecessor who used to tend the Goodison mane before bequeathing it to me.

  ‘She’s a good customer Sophie and has been coming here for years.’

  ‘I know’ I sighed. ‘It’s just . . . it doesn’t seem to make any difference how hard I try or how nice I am to her she’s still never happy. I don’t know why she still comes if she thinks I’m so terrible.’

  ‘Yes Marianne used to say the same thing’ Greg said.

  ‘Did she, then why the hell does Mrs Goodison still come to us to get her hair done?’

  ‘I don’t know but let’s just be grateful that she does’ Greg said leading the way back out to the business part of the salon.

  ‘Mrs Goodison’ I said brightly. ‘I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting.’

  ‘I thought my appointment was for nine’ Mrs Goodison said accusingly.

  ‘I know and I can only apologise for being so late’ I said ingratiatingly as I gestured for her to take her place at my station.

  Luckily for me she only wanted a wash and blow dry this morning so thirty minutes later was on her way out again. She hadn’t stopped complaining for the whole session, mostly about my lateness but then she branched out into the weather and some diatribe about her bothersome neighbour and of course the never to be omitted poor standard of hair dressing since the precious Marianne had left. Still though despite all the moaning she did leave a pretty good tip.

  The Friday rush didn’t really kick in until after ten which meant unless we had a ‘walk in’ I had time for a coffee before my next customer was due. I stood out the back savouring my cup of instant and after only a couple of sips Julie and Di came out to join me.

  ‘Happy birthday’ they said simultaneously as Julie handed over a card.

  ‘Thanks’ I said balancing my coffee mug on the unopened product boxes that were stacked up in every available space and accepting the card from Julie.

  ‘So what did Martin get you?’ Di said.

  ‘A steam cleaner’ I said matter of factly.

  ‘A what? For your birthday, really?’ Julie expostulated while making coffees for herself and Dianne.

  ‘Yes really’ I said laughing at her astonishment.

  ‘If my Chris gave me something practical for my birthday I think I’d throttle him’ Julie said referring to her husband.

  ‘Yes I was tempted’ I said.

  ‘I’d at least withhold sex privileges until he bucked his ideas up’ Julie said.

  ‘Is he taking you out tonight? Di asked.

  ‘Not that I know of.’

  ‘You need to trade him in for a better model’ Di said.

  ‘Mm again tempting but I think the kids might miss him’ I said.

  ‘Maybe he is taking you somewhere but he’s keeping it as a surprise’ Julie said.

  ‘Maybe’ I said not believing it for a moment. Martin wasn’t big on surprises.

  ‘If I had a husband that bought me a steam cleaner for my birthday and didn’t take me out I’d divorce him pronto’ Di said.

  Julie and I said nothing to this statement we just looked at her knowingly and somewhat pityingly.

  ‘Well don’t look at me like that, I would’ Di protested.

  It was easy for her to talk, she wasn’t married. She was a few years younger than either Julie or myself and still anticipating the happy-ever-after fable we all believe in and had yet to be disappointed by her Prince Charming when he did finally turn up.

  Greg came out the back and started complaining that the three of us weren’t supposed to be out here together at the same time and that the salon was beginning to look like the Mary Celeste, so we all dutifully if reluctantly went back to our posts.

  The morning flew by and I didn’t get another break until getting on for one o’clock, and even then it was only long enough for a quick trip to the loo, another coffee, and a couple of dark chocolate digestives stolen from the packet hidden at the back of the coffee and tea cupboard. There was rarely time for a proper break on Fridays or Saturdays with them being our busiest days owing to the entire local female population needing their hair done for the weekend, but on the upside they were also the days when I earned the most tips.

  My two o’clock a Mrs Stebbings and last appointment
of the day, for me at least as I was only part time, was a new customer; always a bit worrying especially as I hadn’t been the one who’d booked her in so had no idea what to expect. Imagine my surprise then when Claire Farmer of all people arrived and was shown to my station.

  ‘Oh my God. Claire I can’t believe it’s you’ I said.

  ‘Sophie’ Claire said giving me a perfunctory hug before she sat down.

  ‘I haven’t seen you since we left Thorpefield Secondary how many years ago?’

  ‘No it’s been a while’ she said talking to my reflection in the mirror.

  ‘Well how are you, what have you been up to for the last . . . must be fifteen years at least?’

  ‘Oh you know, working, getting married, living’ she said flippantly.

  ‘Of course you’re Mrs Stebbings now, so what’s he like your husband, where are you living I heard you’d moved away, and what are you doing back again after all this time?’ I quizzed her excitedly.

  ‘My husband has a dental practice in Esher, and I came back for my mother she’s not been well.’

  ‘Oh I’m sorry to hear that, about your Mum I mean nothing serious I hope.’

  ‘Fairly serious, I’ve had to stay over for a few days’ Claire said.

  ‘But she’s on the mend now is she?’ I asked as I smoothed out one of the cape-like customer gowns around her shoulders.

  ‘Yes’ Claire said still talking to the mirror.

  ‘I can’t believe it’s really you’ I said just standing and gazing at the reflection of my old friend.

  ‘And what have you been doing with yourself since we left school?’ Claire enquired.

  ‘Well working here for one thing. And I’m married and got two children now’ I said.

  ‘Children, that’s nice’ Claire said but I got the feeling that actually she didn’t think it was that nice.

  ‘Do you have any children?’ I asked.

  ‘No Robert and I decided to wait until the house was sorted out before we started a family.’

  ‘Oh’ I said not quite sure what the appropriate response should be to a statement like that. I mean should I congratulate her or commiserate, the tone of her answer gave me no clue as to whether she was happy about not having children or devastated. ‘So how did you end up in Esher? . . . D’you remember all those years ago the day we decided on our dream life by the time we were thirty, and how we were going to have our own business and live in London?’

  ‘Yes I remember’ she said.

  ‘You’ve got to laugh at how naive and stupid we were back then’ I scoffed.

  ‘Actually I did have my own business, well still do. And I did live in London for a while before I married Robert.’

  ‘Well I never’ I said properly gobsmacked. ‘What sort of business?’

  ‘It’s a flower shop, I’m a florist’ Claire said with just a hint of gloating one-upmanship.

  ‘Really?’ I said as if I was impressed. To tell the truth I was impressed, she’d done it, she’d achieved the dream and what’s more she was wallowing in her success. What a bitch. ‘So what would you like done to your hair today?’ I said all smiles and hopefully hiding my irritation.

  ‘Just a blow dry please, I think I’ll wait to get it trimmed at my usual place when I get back to Esher’ she said all dismissive and business-like.

  I was tempted to over-straighten her hair and give her a few split ends along with the frizziness overheating can cause, but I restrained myself.

  We didn’t indulge in anymore chitchat and half an hour later she was all coiffured up and ready to go. I’d excelled myself and was doing a bit of gloating one-upmanship of my own; I might not have my own business or have a house in snob-land but at least I could do my own hair, hah put that in your pipe and smoke it I thought. ‘It’s been so nice seeing you again’ I said flashing my best plastic smile.

  ‘And you’ Claire said as she pressed a generous tip in my hand.

  I waved a cheery goodbye as I watched her leave and as soon as she was out of sight I slumped down into my customer chair still clutching the paper money she’d pressed on me.

  ‘Old friend?’ Julie said.

  ‘I thought so, but I’m beginning to wonder now.’

  From time to time I’d wondered what Claire was up to and imagined her living a not unsimilar life to my own. Never once did I think she might have turned into the snobby bitch who’d just come into the shop. True her exam results were better than mine so I guess she was always going to have more opportunities, of course whether she made the most of them was another thing, but good exam results and opportunities or not I never thought she’d get so stuck up and look down her nose at me like that.

  The dream life meeting my old friend again, regardless of whatever life changes or events we’d dealt with over the years, was all gushing emotion and laughing at the good times we’d had. It was sentimental and touching how we’d fall straight back into the close friendship we’d always had. It was ‘we’ll have to meet up for a drink or a meal’ and meaning it. It was hugging and talking non-stop to fill the gap of fifteen years of not seeing each other. It was promising to keep in touch despite maybe living at opposite ends of the country.

  The actual meeting my old friend again was disappointing to say the least and only served to emphasise the failure of my boring little mundane life, not to mention underlining the fact that I’d totally misjudged her and what I’d thought was our shared BFF status.

  ‘You alright?’ Julie said.

  ‘Yeah I guess’ I said standing up again.

  ‘Well have a good time tonight birthday girl, and behave yourself’ she said.

  ‘Make your mind up, either I’m having a good time or I’m behaving myself, I can’t do both’ I quipped.

  I went out back to get my coat and thought I bet Claire doesn’t get steam cleaners for her birthday.

  4

  After a quick trip to the Tesco’s express I caught the bus back to school, there was no time to drop the shopping off at home first so it slowly defrosted on the pavement while I waited to collect Ben from nursery and then ten minutes later Kate from school, by which time everything was a little soggy.

  The short walk home was the usual Kate talking a mile a minute about who’d said what and why and how and when, and Ben was beaming and jumping around at gaining his freedom once more and trying his best not to hold on to my free hand as we walked while I struggled to hold all the shopping in the other. On the upside, for once it wasn’t raining.

  We burst noisily through the front door and before they’d even taken their coats off Ben and Kate were demanding a drink and something to eat.

  I dumped the shopping on the table and made them each a drink of juice insisting they sat down to drink it while I put the shopping away hoping that we weren’t all at risk of getting a bout of E coli from the partially melted soon to be refrozen groceries. I flicked the kettle on for a much needed cuppa and noticed the lack of washing anywhere sighing to myself at the double load I’d have to do tomorrow morning. Well at least it’s a Saturday so I haven’t got to do the school run I thought.

  When’s tea Mum?’ Kate asked as she did every night.

  ‘In about twenty minutes’ I answered as I did every night.

  ‘Can we have sausages?’ Ben said as he did every night.

  ‘Yes alright’ I said. This I didn’t agree to every night, often but not every night. Sausages were Ben’s favourite and if he had his way we’d have sausage, chips and beans every night of the week and sometimes on the weekend as well.

  As it was a Friday night I didn’t insist that Kate got changed out of her school uniform, a once a week treat for her, and told her and Ben to go and watch a bit of telly while I got their tea ready. There was a time when I resolved to never be one of those mothers who let her children watch endless hours of brain numbing cartoons, or the equally brain numbing after-school rubbish that was churned out on television in an endless loop. Nowadays though I was well an
d truly over such impracticable lofty ideals and regularly thanked heaven for the trite juvenile dross passing itself off as entertainment. ‘And don’t make a mess’ I shouted after them as they elbowed each other out of the way to reach the remote first and therefore be the one to decide which particular piece of trite dross they’d be watching today.

  I carefully laid out four sausages and a handful of oven chips on a baking tray and bunged it in the oven, I made myself a cup of tea and sat down grateful for five minutes hopefully uninterrupted peace, but I should have known better.

  Two minutes later Ben burst back into the kitchen complaining bitterly and on the verge of tears because his sister wouldn’t let him watch his current favourite programme Team Umizoomi. ‘Kate’ I shouted ‘can’t Ben watch his programme?’

  My stroppy five year old daughter doing her best moody teenager impression stomped out to the kitchen still holding the remote in her hand. ‘It’s boring Mum and he always gets to watch what he wants. I want to watch Sophia.’

  ‘It’s only on for ten minutes; can’t you let him watch it?’ I wheedled.

  ‘Okay’ she sighed deeply and resignedly as if I’d asked her to give up breathing for a couple of weeks.

  Ben grabbed the remote from his sister, laughed wickedly at her and ran back to the living room. Kate sighed again with all the weight of the world and her annoying little brother on her shoulders and plodded after him.

  An hour later half of which I had spent trying to persuade Kate to finish her dinner; she was going through a ‘fussy’ period at the moment and decided she didn’t like baked beans because they were a yucky colour although she wasn’t actually eating much in the way of real vegetables either whatever colour they were, I was washing up and the kids were back in front of the telly.