The Novel - a taster
Perfect Lives
Rajni
What was I thinking? Why on earth would I want to go to a school reunion? I didn’t particularly get on well with my peers when I was at school, had never quite fitted in. Of course, it was the colour of my skin that made me stand out. It still does, living in a small village. You’d think some of the ignorant bigots here had never seen an Indian before and I often see them looking sideways at me or looking the other way to avoid speaking. Thank goodness the reunion was cancelled; there was just the resulting ‘get-together’ to contend with, a smaller group of people rallied round by Laura. She always had been a busybody, typical Head Girl. I wasn’t surprised that she was the same in her thirties.
The phone had rung and rung; my preferred method of communication was to wait until I heard the voice on the answering machine until I decided whether I would pick up or not. The incessant jangling in my head had rattled me until I gave in.
‘Hello?’
‘Rajni? It’s Laura Carr-Jones– you’d remember me as Laura Lidstone of course. We were at Mountview together. I’m organising a little get-together with some of the girls. Do you have your diary to hand?’
She hadn’t given me time to argue, make an excuse, pretend I’d never heard of Rajni Weston. Damn.
‘Laura, how lovely to hear from you. Yes, that sounds wonderful, something to look forward to.’
I would just think of an excuse nearer the time.
Kat
I grabbed the phone when it rang; I’d been practically sitting on it waiting for Paul to phone. Surely even I deserved another date?
‘Hello, Katherine? Laura Carr-Jones here – you’d remember me as Laura Lidstone of course. We were at Mountview together.’
Oh God. I’d have recognised that strident voice anywhere, despite the fifteen years or so since I’d spoken to her last. Horsey Laura. God, I bet she was just the same now; I could imagine her with a Range Rover, tribe of children and a husband called Giles or something. Oh God, God, God. There was to be an informal knees-up, an afterthought of a school reunion that didn’t quite happen. I knew I’d regret posting my details on Friends Reunited; funny how you never quite get the email you wanted from the guy you’d fancied the pants off from the 6th form of the boys’ grammar school, discovering against all odds that he’d been madly in love with you all along and tragically searching the country high and low to find you. Why else would you post your details on the site? To hear from Horsey Laura? Yeah, right. I couldn’t find it in me to turn her down though. She sounded so excited. She probably has Irish Wolfhounds that leap about with enthusiasm like that now. I was sort of curious to see how some of the others turned out. I had been a bit of an oddball, I suppose: lots of black eyeliner, into Siouxsie and the Banshees rather than squeaky clean Duran Duran. Luckily I outgrew the punk hair phase, not a good look when you’re 38. Mind you, I can’t say my style has improved dramatically over the years. Oh, what would they all be wearing at this thing? Laura would no doubt be in cords and a Barbour jacket, splattered with sheep shit or whatever. Oh God, I didn’t even know who else would be there. What a disaster, I felt sick with nerves at the very thought of it all.
Rajni
‘Darling, are you not being a little irrational over this?’ Marcus asked as he cast his eye over the mountain of clothes on our bed.
‘You wouldn’t understand’, I told him. ‘Women are bitches! They’ll all be looking one another up and down, thinking “she’s got fat, let herself go, she’s middle-aged and dull…” I’ve only got tomorrow to go shopping and get my hair sorted out’.
Marcus’ shoulders sagged visibly at the mention of shopping. I think he’d noticed that many of the clothes strewn on the bed still had their labels attached. ‘The girls’, as Laura had called us, were due to meet in two days’ time in a wine bar chosen by me for lunch. Very civilised. The only way I was going to get through this was by being in control. Choosing Greys also meant that I would get a decent glass of wine. I’d long since grown out of the awful wine served in pubs. There were going to be four of us apparently: me, Laura, Celia Someone who I couldn’t remember and Katherine Delaney. I remember Katherine, she used to terrify me. The look on my father’s face on the rare occasion he had picked me up from school, sitting in his gleaming silver Mercedes as he gasped in disbelief at Katherine’s skirt which barely covered her bottom. Her hair was dyed black and stuck up in a hundred different directions, revealing the three or four earrings lined up in each ear. There was something about the way she used to look at me, as if sneering at my regulation-length skirt and plaited hair; my face prickled whenever I passed her. She never actually said anything horrible but I could tell she was thinking it. I hoped she had sorted out the punk hair and piercings by now - I didn’t want to be spotted in Greys with her looking like that.
‘I’m sure she’s grown up and turned out perfectly normal’, Marcus had said, swirling his brandy around the huge bowl of a glass. ‘She’ll have two point three children, an aga and a husband who works in banking. It’ll be fine.’
The poor postman, I’m sure he almost had heart failure the way I leapt out of the door at him in the tiny ‘Frankie says Relax’ t-shirt I’d found in my box of old school stuff.
‘Thank you Postie!’ I squealed, plopping a wet smacker onto his cheek. He even had the good grace to blush. Thank God the parcels had arrived in time. There was no way those posh, accomplished, perfect-life women were going to know what a dismal failure I’d become… I now had designer clothes to rival the best of them. OK, so they were slightly out of date and second hand but nobody would know… would they? Oh God, I bet Horsey Laura had never had her clothes arrive in a Jiffy bag from eBay.
I looked in the mirror as I cleaned my teeth. Had I changed much since school? I certainly looked older but what did I have to show for my first grey hairs? Not a lot was the easy answer. The tiny bathroom filled with steam until I couldn’t see my reflection anymore. I tipped in the remaining half bottle of orange, olive and bergamot bath milk and sat on the cold, hard edge of the bath as the Mediterranean smells surrounded me. I closed my eyes, taking a long, deep breath. How long was it since I’d had a holiday, felt the sun warming my skin? Why wasn’t I successful, glamorous, loved? I eased into the scalding bath, scowling at my porridge-coloured legs. I lay back, swooshing the water, listening to the bubbles fizzling around me, just like it had said in the self-help book. I was a goddess, basking in my beauty. It sounded as if I was lying in a bowl of Rice Krispies. Oh, yes, very bloody glamorous.
I’d been up for an hour by the time James and Lawrence padded down the stairs.
‘Ugh, Mummy, you look like a monster,’ said James.
Lawrence slapped his arm.
‘Don’t be mean to Mummy, she’s getting beautiful, aren’t you?’
Lawrence knew how important it was to look good. I was always proud of the way he brushed his hair and asked for his school shoes to be polished mid-week if they were looking scuffed. I didn’t know many eight-year-olds who’d do that.
‘That’s right.’ I put down my Earl Grey and pushed my chair back from the kitchen table. ‘I’ll just wash this off my face and then we’ll make Daddy a nice cup of tea to take up to him.’
I looked at my face in the mirror, smeared with Crème de la Mer, wondering why I was up before 7 o’clock on a Saturday morning and making such a fuss about meeting a few women whose opinion of me counted for nothing. I’d probably look better than Laura anyway; I could imagine her looking like a farmer’s wife, all wiry hair and ruddy cheeks. At school she’d always looked slightly flushed and sweaty as if she’d run straight into class from the hockey pitch.
‘You can’t cancel now, it’s far too late,’ Marcus said. ‘Besides, we have plans, don’t we boys? We’re going to take the ball to the park to practise for rugby tomorrow.’
‘Why can’t we just play in the garden like my friends do?’ asked James, snuggling up under the covers.
‘Because the ball squishes Mummy’s pretty flowers, doesn’t it? And then she’ll be cross with us.’
‘Shall we have crisps and ice cream like we did last time Mummy went out for the afternoon?’ grinned Lawrence. ‘We could play in the garden and eat treats and do all the naughty things Mummy doesn’t let us do!’
Great, even my own children thought I was dull and uptight.
I arrived first at Greys. There were several reasons for this but the main one was that I knew the others would recognise me. The thought of walking into the bar and scanning the tables for people who I could barely remember and hadn’t seen for fifteen years just didn’t appeal. It also meant I could have a drink while I was waiting. I seriously needed one now. I’d finally decided to wear my soft beige suede trousers, high heeled brown boots and a chocolate-coloured cashmere turtleneck top. My nails were manicured with clear varnish, my grey hairs obliterated and silver bangles jangling far more merrily than I felt at this moment. I ordered a bottle of good Sauvignon Blanc, asked for four glasses and sat down at a table. Quarter to one, only fifteen minutes and the others would be here. I took a large gulp of the ice-cold wine and topped my glass up.
I spotted Laura through the large window, sitting at a table opposite someone with long, dark, perfect hair, like a real life Snow White. She had her back to me so I couldn’t tell who it was. Laura herself looked much the same as she always had, her blond hair slightly crinkled as if she’d slept with it in a plait. She had on just a touch too much make-up; she’d obviously made a real effort. She looked great with a few more pounds on her; she’d had the figure of a broom handle at school. I swung through the door, trying to look as if I was used to waltzing into gleaming chrome wine bars rather than slugging back pints of cider in a dark local.
‘Laura, how fantastic to see you! I’m so sorry I’m late’, I lied. I’d been loitering in shops, not wanting to look like the Queen of Hussies by walking into a bar on my own.
We kissed on the cheek and exchanged ‘don’t you look greats’ and I turned to see who Snow White was. Rajni Rao. She looked even more beautiful than she had at school. Her jet hair hung in a cloud to her shoulders, framing her tiny face and emphasizing her diamond earrings. She looked like a Bollywood princess in seriously effortless clothes, pure style in motion. Well, sitting on a chair actually. I felt hideous in my hand-me-downs.
‘Would you like a glass of wine? I ordered white if that’s ok?’
I’m cringing to admit it but I adopted my telephone voice, attempting to match her well-spoken manner.
‘That would be super, thank you.’
Laura swigged her wine enthusiastically, trying to retrieve her ancient, brick-sized mobile phone which was squawking in her huge, battered leather bag.
‘Just the three of us now girls,’ she beamed, settling back into her chair. ‘Celia has been called away to Barcelona, important client by all accounts. All the more wine for us, eh?’
Rajni
Laura looked just as I’d imagined. I bit my tongue, wanting to ask if she’d left her hockey stick outside the door. She was chatty enough though so at least we wouldn’t sit in silence. Katherine arrived late. I hate to admit it but she looked great in a rich bohemian sort of way. Expensive clothes but put together in an offbeat way that would have told us she was an artist even if she hadn’t mentioned it. The pleasantries became less strained as the second bottle of wine disappeared. We ordered food, opting to eat in the large leather chairs and sofas rather than the restaurant, as the conversation eased from the mundane to the more personal. We established that Laura had married her university sweetheart, had three children and spent her time looking after the family, being involved with good causes and generally being very busy. Her husband, Alex, worked in the city. I explained my life, such as it was. After talking about Marcus and the boys, there wasn’t much left to say. Katherine, or Kat as we had been told to call her, seemed to be living life to the full, having never settled down but with an apparent string of admirers. She had an apartment in Brighton and ran an art gallery. Her life seemed a million miles from my drab existence of daytime TV and shopping.
Kat
I knew the conversation would turn to men. When wine’s involved, that’s what women are most interested in: your sex life. Not that I had one to even talk about, just a string of single dates who were never heard of again. Except Paul, I made it to three dates with him. He was totally off-the-wall, having given up his well-paid career in the City to paraglide and paint. We’d strolled over the South Downs in the rain, looking out for deer, and I’d admired the three cookers in the tiny kitchen of his ramshackle house.
‘Why three cookers?’ I’d asked. It seemed like a fair enough question.
‘Well, that one’s really good for cooking. And I found the aga in a skip – got it for twenty quid. I had to pay two burly blokes three times that to lug it into the kitchen though. And this one, well… I just liked the handles.’ Yep, he was the one for me.
I sighed. I was trying to explain that dating was really no fun. The ‘hot guy’ I found in the music shop had turned out to be just as useless. A mad Mormon pianist, just what every girl needs.
Kat had us choking on our wine with her tales of failed dates and boyfriends but we could tell she loved it. Who wouldn’t? She asked about Marcus. A clairvoyant had told me I’d marry a man who somehow had direction in his surname. When Marcus Weston, as white as they come, arrived on the scene, it had been obvious he was the one for me! I think my parents were just glad I wasn’t a lesbian.
‘I’m so envious’, sighed Kat, ‘you have such perfect lives.’
Perfect but as dull as a repeat of Fern and Philip I thought, smiling benignly. We looked at Laura. A solitary, fat tear rolled down her thread-veined cheek.
‘He’s leaving me. But the worst thing about it is that you’re the closest people I have in the world to tell.’
***
Laura climbed over the stile and let the dog off his lead. She had to pull herself together. She was mortified by her behaviour yesterday with Rajni and Kat. They had been so kind, Kat hugging her until the sobs subsided and Rajni rustling up another bottle of fortifying wine. It had been good to talk to someone but, in the cold light of day, it seemed rather undignified to have let it all spill out. Oh well. It would probably be another fifteen years ‘til she saw them again. Hopefully they’d have forgotten what an idiot she was by then. In fact, they had probably forgotten about her by the time they got home last night. She felt drained, keeping up the façade of cheer and normality, not just for the children but also the other mums at the school gates. It was embarrassing, your marriage failing. Good old Laura, always cheerful, smiling and doing her bit. How could she let them all down?
The dog lolloped about, ears flapping as he chased through the mud. Laura couldn’t remember the last time she had felt carefree. It was only half past three but already the sun was beginning to sink. She’d better get a move on if she was going to get home before dark. At least walking faster made her think less. She was sick of thinking, lying awake at night listening to Alex breathe and wondering how long he would be there for. Wondering what he was dreaming about, whether he would roll towards her in his sleep and put his arms around her. Wondering whether he was dreaming of someone else if he did. Good Lord, no wonder he was fed up with her. The dog lapped up icy water from the stream. She was quite tempted to jump in herself. She was roasting in one of Alex’s fleeces and her Barbour. She hadn’t felt quite right all day and was appalled to realise she had a hangover. A hangover indeed. What would the PTA say about that?! Marching resolutely back up the hill, she frowned at the cows huddled along the hedge.
‘I’ve got a hangover,’ she yelled at them. ‘What d’you think about that?’
The cows rolled their huge eyes in her direction. They don’t care, thought Laura. And if the cows don’t care, I’m not going to care either.
Comments»
\love it and I’m dying to know how they all end up…….my heart is breaking for Laura despite everything!
Oh, thanks Liz… it’s reassuring to know that the different voices work - I’m quite curious to know which characters people like most…
Thanks for ploughing through it - it’s quite a slab, I know!!
I thought I’d posted a message here but obviously not….having a cold is making me more dippy than ever.
Love the taster and love Laura the best….especially when she talks to the cows as I do that a lot.
Fiona
Love the taster. What a great start! Really feel for Laura, bless her! Nice contrast of voices too.
Jude x
well when can we read more? what about the addictions the obesity the loony kids and the unfaithful rowing partners? who will be a random victim of the criminally insane ? can’t wait!
This is great. I like all the characters, Kat’s my favourite, I think. I’m hooked. I’m already wondering about the mysterious absentee, Celia. Lots of commercial potential, I reckon. More please!
Mya x
Ian, this is supposed to be fiction - not a true reflection of our lives?
Mya - ooh, thank you so much. It means a lot that people will actually wade through it and still think something nice at the end. ‘Tis terribly good to get a ‘proper’ author’s view too - ta!
I’ve just visited your site for the first time (Got your link from Teastains) and couldn’t resist having a read. This is brilliant - your characters are totally believable and the different voices work really well. I felt for Laura, loved Kat (She was definately my favourite) and felt that there was something unfulfilled about Rajni’s life. Loved it and can’t wait to find out what happens next……
Carol
Carol, thank you! I’m having a bit of a confidence crisis about the novel right now so your lovely words have come at just the right time to oomph me along. I find it fascinating that different people have a different fave character. Thanks again - I might writ some more now
I love this. It’s a great start to the novel.
I would suggest, though, that you break up those long paragraphs. They look daunting on a page.
Thanks Rachel. I see what you mean about the long paragraphs. Looks much worse here than it does on paper. Thanks for the heads up - will definitely make them shorter. X
This is really GREAT Jen. Really. I love the way you show how paranoid Kat and Rajni and Laura are…but then show how they each envy one another and see the others as having a smooth, in control, wonderful life. (so like real life)
And it’s all written so well - very smooth and tight - and funny AND sad. I’d certainly, most DEFINITELY buy the book.
I see great things in store…..
(but- and tell me to piss off if you want - I reckon this sentence needs a bit of fixing. “My nails were manicured with clear varnish, my grey hairs obliterated and silver bangles jangling far more merrily than I felt at this moment.” Maybe make it two sentences??? )
Oh, Rebecca, thank you. You have no idea how much it means to have these bursts of encouragement. And you’re right, that should be two sentences. I am too often long-winded. Unfortunately, I talk in great big long sentences too… Thank you thank you thank you for the oomph. X
I am a bit slow. Only just got to read your taster. I am so mad! I should have read it ages ago. It is FABULOUS!! I so want to read more.
Aw, shucks, thanks Sarah. Seems funny to think I’m coming to the end of writing it now. Eek.
Girk,
Great. I love the flow and the different voices. I like all the characters. I think Kat is my fave though. When do I get to read MORE??? I love the way you write and not just because you are one of my favourite people. Can’t wait to read the whole thing when its done…so hurry up mujer.
Gabi, coming from one as talented as you, that’s a compliment indeed. I’m hurrying, I’m hurrying!
I’ve only just got round to this, and it’s official. I really have got cause to be jealous. It’s only bloomin’ well fab. Can’t wait to read the whole thing :o)
Oh this is so going to be in print! I love the idea and I was hooked in quickly - which surprised me because I haven’t been fond of fiction for a while. Do you have an idea in your head of what the cover looks like?