Juliette
‘It’s an evening for your new blue dress again, Mum,’ says Rosie, as she applies my makeup in the bedroom. ‘There’s no way you can go to Brannigan’s wearing your summer gear in that weather.’
She sticks false eyelashes onto my eyelids, much to my disapproval and insists on filling in my almost non-existent eyebrows and I have to admit, even though my patience is wearing thin with all this beautifying, it really is lovely to be pampered by Rosie in such close proximity, to watch her face as she concentrates on her work. It’s just that I am not used to pruning and priming and all these fancy things.
‘Are we nearly done yet?’ I ask her, marvelling as I always do at the amount of brushes and tools she goes through for what normally takes me three minutes maximum. Tinted moisturiser and a quick flick of mascara is as much as I do these days but for some reason Rosie is insisting that I need to make an effort this evening.
‘You are going to look a million dollars when I show you, so please let me finish,’ she says. ‘It will be worth the wait.’
We have spent the past two hours pampering ourselves and while it has been most enjoyable as I had a long soak in the bath, then had my nails painted a deep plum colour, fake tan applied and now this, I wonder why we have to go to so much effort when we’re only walking across the road to the local pub to hear some traditional Irish music.
Rosie concentrates with such precision and I try to stop my feet from fidgeting and my mind racing with all the other things I could be doing right now. My headaches, although they have eased a little now that I am well-rested and laced with painkillers, are still very much there and the knocking sensation I felt earlier has now turned into a dull repetitive thud.
Rosie goes to the dressing table and brings over my old faithful friend ‘Marilyn’ and I help her fix it on my head, not wanting to offend her by suggesting I wear a headscarf instead to avoid any discomfort or itching later.
‘Is that okay, Mum? You look amazing. Or is it too uncomfortable?’ she asks, admiring her work of art but obviously seeing the doubt in my face.
‘I was going to wear my multi-coloured headscarf, if I’m honest, love,’ I confess to her. ‘I know the wig probably looks much more glamorous and you have gone to all this effort but I can’t cope with much around my head when this headache just won’t shift.’
She fetches the headscarf with no fuss and gets me a mirror to fix it and I do a double take when I see how I look with my new lashes and brows and a fully made-up face that is tasteful and subtle and, for just a second or two, it makes me forget this demon in my head and the pain that it is causing.
‘Ta da!’ Rosie announces when the headscarf is in place and she holds the mirror out to give me a better look. ‘What do you think?’
What do I think? I think so many things when I look at my reflection but I can’t put them into words. I really can’t speak. I think I might cry if I do try to talk and I am determined not to let her see me cry, no way. Not tonight. I think of my beautiful girl and how creative she is and how she sees the need to bring out the good in others just to make them feel better. She has so much ahead of her and she has so much talent to share in this world. If only I could see the amazing woman she is about to become.
‘You don’t like it, do you?’ asks Rosie. ‘Oh, it doesn’t really matter, so don’t think you’re offending me and if it’s too much you can fix it yourself or just do it your way. I knew I wasn’t as good as Melissa. There’s just something about the way she contours that I can’t figure out, but—’
‘Ssh!’ I say to my baby girl and I pat the bed for her to come and sit beside me. And when she does I put my arm around her and she puts her head on my shoulder as we both look into the mirror together.
‘Here we go,’ she says, pulling a face. ‘This is the bit when you tell me we look alike now that we both have make-up on and then lecture me for wearing too much sometimes, and how I don’t need it because I have perfect skin and have no need for so much foundation?’
I shake my head and smile.
‘No, I am certainly not going to lecture you about make up because I can see how much time and effort you go to,to learn about all your brushes and applications, and I think you are a real natural,’ I tell her. ‘Even better than Melissa and that’s not me being biased. It’s true.’
‘Oh Mum, don’t exaggerate,’ Rosie says to me, lifting her head off my shoulder for just a second and then putting it back there. ‘Melissa is way better. You don’t have to pretend she isn’t. I can live with it. I’ve accepted it by now.’
She leans into the mirror a little to wipe off a black dot that has made its way onto her cheekbone.
‘I was going to tell you a story about when you were little, actually,’ I tell her as she does so and I can see her dimples starting to show when she smiles, just as she always does when she hears stories from her past. ‘You were just three or four years old and you got your hands on my brand new makeup collection and you came in to me from the bathroom with lipstick all over your tiny little rosebud mouth, your eyelids were a fetching shade of green and your cheeks were rosy and pink and I just couldn’t believe it. You even had mascara on your eyelashes but you’d missed them a bit and you’d brush marks all under your eyes.’
‘Oh no, I destroyed your makeup? You must have been so mad.’
‘No, no, well, yes you did actually destroy my makeup but that’s not my point,’ I say to her. ‘My point is that my first thought wasn’t that you had destroyed my makeup or made a mess in the bathroom that I was going to have to clear up, but it was that you had put all the different products on the right places and you were so young that I knew you could only have learned how to do so by copying me. You had been watching me so closely and it made me fill right up with love that you were imitating me with such clarity. You really were like my little shadow.’
‘Ah, that’s so sweet. I must have been a really cute child,’ she jokes and I can’t help but agree, of course.
‘You had the curliest brown hair and the cutest dimples and gorgeous green eyes that everyone remarked on when they saw you. You were always my little princess.’
‘Were?’ she jokes again. ‘Past tense?’
‘You are, sorry,’ I say to her. ‘You are my little princess, though you’ve grown quite a bit in height since then. I think I have a photo of the makeup incident in one of your albums in the attic. When we get home, I’ll get it for you and I want you to look at that picture of that little girl and remember how proud you made your mum that day when you wrecked her makeup but filled her heart with a moment of magic that she’s never forgotten.’
Rosie snuggles into me again and then she lifts her phone and takes a sneaky selfie of us both and I barely have time to pose.
‘You rascal,’ I tell her. ‘Is it okay? Don’t be sharing that with your friends before I see if it’s okay!’
But instead of running and hiding the photo like she normally does when I say that, she shows me the photo of the two of us sat together just now, both looking fabulous and flawless – well, as fabulous and flawless as you can look with a headscarf on where you are meant to have long flowing locks, and I have to admit, it’s a good one even if I wasn’t quite ready.
‘I’m going to get this photo printed when I get home,’ she says to me and I sit back and look at her.
‘Really?’ I ask her. ‘That one? Why?’
‘Yes, and I’m going to frame it along with the picture you just told me about and when I look at it I’m going to remember the mother I had who loved me so much that she only ever saw the good side of things, even when I messed up.’
‘Oh, Rosie.’
‘And I’m going to see in her smile all the kindness and love and positivity that she brought not only to me but to everyone she met,’ she continues. ‘I’m going to remember her love of life and her appreciation of music and art, fashion, food and flowers and everything that adds a little sparkle to every day on this earth. I’m always going to remember that she made me the person I am and I will always try to make her proud of the person I will become as I grow up in the big bad world without her.’
Her lip is trembling and her voice sounds choked as she makes her speech, but she tilts her chin up in defiance and I have never been so proud of her as I am right now. Despite the rush of emotion, I daren’t shed a tear and ruin her work of art on my face so I just pull her in close to me and we squeeze each other tight. When we let go I see the fear that she is trying to hide from me in her beautiful eyes. She already knows what is coming, but I need to make sure she fully understands.
‘I don’t think I have very long left, Rosie,’ I whisper to my beautiful girl and now I can’t help it as the tears flow. ‘But you already know that, don’t you? I’m not feeling great tonight if truth be told and yesterday was just awful. I’m doing my best to be brave, just like you are, but it’s okay to cry if you have to. You don’t ever have to hold back your tears, do you hear me?’
She sniffles and nods her head and then she looks right into my eyes.
‘Don’t be afraid of leaving me, Mum,’ she says to me, shaking her head. ‘You will always be a part of me no matter where you go, and I’ll be a part of you. We don’t have to be afraid because I’ll always feel you near me and I’ll just close my eyes and know you are right in here.’
She puts her hand on her heart and I feel like I am crumbling to pieces inside. This fifteen-year-old girl who will be left with no parents to call her own is telling me not to be afraid of leaving her. She is the one who is going to be left to pick up the pieces and she doesn’t want me to be afraid.
‘I am totally blown away with what you have just said, darling but can I ask where in the world you got this strength from?’ I ask my daughter who seems to have had some enlightenment all of a sudden. This was not what I was expecting at all and I am both shocked and delighted that she is able to look at it that way, if only for now and if only to make me feel a little bit better.
‘I think that’s how Shelley is starting to deal with losing Lily and her own mum,’ she announces as if she is suddenly a psychologist or an expert on grief. ‘I know it will take a long time but I think that I will one day be able to remember you in a way that helps me be a better person. If Shelley can get through it, so can I.’
She looks at her phone as a message comes through and she straightens herself up. It must be important, whoever it is as it seems to have distracted her.
‘Get your blue dress on, Mum,’ she says to me. ‘We need to be over at Brannigan’s for seven or Shelley will be wondering where we are.’
She gets up and puts her phone in her pocket and I get the feeling that whoever has just sent her a message, it’s something she doesn’t want to share as she looks all-consumed by it. Teenagers, eh?
‘I’m sure Shelley doesn’t expect us to be there on the button,’ I tell her, feeling the need to lie down again just for ten more minutes. I don’t think I will last very long at the music session but I have to show my face after Shelley’s arranged it all on my request, plus I am desperate to hear the music of Ireland that fills my soul so much every time I listen to it.
‘Well, I think it would be rude if we just swanned in late like it didn’t really matter,’ she says to me, scolding me almost. ‘I don’t think it would be fair on Shelley.’
Shelley, Shelley, Shelley, I think to myself and smile. I will always be so grateful for how she has come into our lives just when we needed her, when Rosie needed someone to lean on and to talk to – someone who understood, in her own way, what Rosie was going through and what she had ahead. What on earth would we have done on this trip without her?
Shelley
I walk around the house and feel like the walls are giving me a hug as I have worked my ass off for the past two hours making it look and feel like a home again.
The elephant that Lily used to climb on is back in the hallway, the canvas from our travels in India is up on the wall in the dining room, our wedding picture takes centre stage in the living room and photos of our life and memories and, most importantly, of our baby daughter who brought so much joy and happiness in her three short years are in every single room and every place where she should be.
I have put candles out and little trinkets and ornaments that I had packed away back on worktops and windowsills, and lamp shades back onto the bare light bulbs that hung so lonely in different rooms and I have put lighting in corners and switched them all on and their glow warms me up inside.
I’ve put rugs down on the tiled and wooden floors and throws back over the settees and armchairs and a mirror here and there where they used to be – and now they no longer frighten me to walk past them and catch my reflection.
Merlin looks more comfortable than ever as he tries out each of the rugs and I kneel down on the floor beside him and snuggle into his furry coat.
‘I’m home, Merlin,’ I tell my forever faithful old friend. ‘At last I think we can remember her properly and keep her a part of me and her dad and even of you. She is part of all of us and I’m going to embrace that from now on and feel her love in every room instead of fearing it. Everything is going to be alright now, Merlin. We’re home again now.’
I take my time getting ready to go out and Matt talks me through how I am going to face up to meeting so many people I know in public, all at the same time, something I never thought I would be able to do again. I have set the phone on my dressing table and I have him on loudspeaker. I haven’t told him about my domestic burst of activity because I want to surprise him with a welcome home surprise so I’m glad he hasn’t video called like he sometimes does in the evenings. Even our bedroom is back to how it once was with pictures on our bedside table – one of the three of us the morning Lily was born on my side of the bed, and another of the two of us on the day of our engagement in New York City where he proposed on Broadway and almost took my breath away.
‘It’s only Brannigan’s,’ he reminds me, ‘and it’s a very kind gesture you have made to take the time to invite people along to make it special for your friend, so try not to overthink it. You’re going to your local pub to listen to some music, that’s all. You will love it, just you wait and see.’
‘Oh, I wish you were here so much,’ I tell him as I put in a pair of tiny silver earrings. I have chosen black jeans and a grey silk blouse from the shop to wear with heels and a biker jacket, that I picked up years ago in Covent Garden market and just had to keep it for myself. ‘I hate walking into pubs on my own, even if it is just Brannigan’s.’
‘Is Sarah going to be there? And Tom?’ he asks me and I know he really does wish he was here too. It has been ages since we all hooked up and after breaking the ice with Sarah, I am really looking forward to hearing more of what she has been up to.
‘She texted to say she would do her best to find a babysitter and if so, they’ll both come out, but it may be hard at short notice,’ I explain to him, remembering the torment of finding a decent babysitter around here when you wanted to go out for an evening. ‘If not, then she’ll pop down herself for an hour to see Juliette. I can’t believe they go home the day after tomorrow. I just hope Juliette doesn’t get any worse. I didn’t like how she looked earlier today when I left. She is exhausted.’
I stand back to look at my reflection and I wish I had some of Rosie’s ability to apply makeup, especially when I’m preparing to deal with all the nudges and stares and whispers that will inevitably come my way.
‘Maybe she won’t be able to hang around too long,’ says Matt, ‘but you can’t control any of that so just relax and do what you can do and be there for her. All she wants is to listen to some music, not a party, so you don’t need to worry about who shows up and who doesn’t. Dermot will make sure there are two or three musicians and the rest of the evening will fall into place naturally.’
Matt is right of course. It’s only a few people sitting round a table playing Irish tunes and maybe singing the odd song. It’s not a leaving party or a celebration or a sad farewell. Juliette wanted to hear some music. I called a friend who plays some music. I invited a couple who I have been friends with for years to come along. I really don’t need to panic about anything. Anyone else who is there would have been there anyway and I’m not being fed to crocodiles. It’s not even about me, after all, and for that I am delighted.
‘I think I’m good to go,’ I tell Matt and I now wish he was on video so he could tell me if I look alright. ‘I’ll call you when I get back and tell you how it goes.’
‘Don’t be worrying about that, either,’ says Matt. ‘Just go and enjoy yourself and have a few drinks with your pals. I’m going to schmooze in the hotel restaurant with more of Bert’s clients and then I’m hitting the hay early, but call me if you want of course. I’m just saying you don’t have to. I want you to have fun, Shell. It’s about time you did this and I am so, so proud of you.’
I feel my heart glow again and it makes me stand tall knowing that I love this man more than anything and that he has totally got my back in everything I do.
‘We’ve come a long way,’ I say to him before I hang up. ‘I’m proud of you too, Matt and I … well I want to thank you for not giving up on me. I think, after what we have come through and will continue to have to live with forever, that we can face anything this world throws at us. We are stronger than we think we are. Thank you for sticking with me and helping me get this far.’
‘I think that anything else life throws at us will be a walk in the park compared to losing our daughter,’ he tells me and I know that he is finding it so hard to have this conversation over the phone when we can’t embrace or celebrate the love we have managed to hold on to throughout this living hell. ‘Now, roll on Saturday when I’ll get home and see my wife and show her in person how much I have missed her.’
I feel a flutter in my belly at the thought of lying beside him and holding him and touching his body like I used to. We have a lot of catching up to do in that department and I can feel the hunger rise within me to make up for lost time.
‘Maybe we can go dancing again soon,’ he says to me, softly. ‘Dinner, drinks and dancing, remember that was always your request when we needed a night out?’
I laugh like a giddy teenager at the memory of how excited we used to be when it was just the two of us, all dressed up and an evening of laughter and love stretched out ahead of us.
‘And then we’d go home and have dessert,’ I say to him and I can’t help but wink at the thought. I make my way downstairs and put Merlin in the kitchen for the evening. I take a moment to look at Lily’s smiling little cherub face from a photo in the hallway as I walk past.
‘I am the happiest man in the world right now,’ says Matt. ‘I think I’ve got my wife back and I’ve fallen head over heels in love with her again.’
‘I’m so in love with you too, Matt,’ I tell my husband as I close the door on our beautiful house that is now beginning to feel like our home again. ‘I always was. It just took a bit of self-love and selflessness to realize it.’