Lots of nodding. Aggs had started to feel a swirling storm brewing in her stomach and a recurring mantra in her head. Please don’t ask me to say anything. Please don’t. This had just all got very real, very quickly.
Her eyes had flown to the exits, wondering if she could commando crawl that far.
‘Val, why don’t you go next?’ Yvie had suggested.
Aggs got the feeling that Val was probably the go-to person in this situation as she didn’t flinch, just took a deep breath, her fingers twirling the gold and red wrapper of a Caramel Log.
‘I’m Val,’ she began. ‘And I come here for the cakes.’ The joke had made the corners of several mouths turn upwards, because it was so obviously meant to be a gentle ice breaker. ‘But also because it helps me deal with some of the things that I’ve been through in my life. Several years ago,’ she went on, ‘my daughter, Dee, was killed by a drugged-up driver. She ran into the road to save a little kid who was about to be hit by the scumbag’s out-of-control car and it got her instead.’ There was a discernible anger in her voice as she’d said it and she took a moment to steady herself.
‘That’s the kind of lass my Dee was. For a long, long time, I thought I’d never breathe without pain again. But somehow I did.’ She’d paused and Aggs could see that she was determined to hold it together. ‘One of the people who got me through it was my best pal, Josie. Och, she was a cracker, but then, last year, she passed away too. One minute we were drinking champagne and having a right old laugh in a hotel room after a wedding, and then she was gone. And since then… well, our Josie is a big, loud hole to fill. When Dee died, I used to walk the aisles of supermarkets all night long just to have somewhere to go. This time, I come here and talk and listen and it makes me feel a bit less… sore.’
More nods of recognition and empathy. In the pause after Val had finished, Aggs took a sip of tea, hoping beyond words that it wasn’t her turn to speak.
‘Agnetha?’ Yvie had prodded softly.
Bugger.
Get it over with. Just say your name. Cut it short.
‘I’m… I’m… Ag-Agnetha.’ Damn. First time she’d ever actually stuttered over saying her own name.
She’d slipped her hands under her thighs so it wouldn’t be obvious to everyone how much she was physically shaking at the prospect of speaking here. Put her in a café and load her up with a Victoria sponge and a tray of brownies and she could talk the socks off anyone. Ask her to get real and bare her soul? No thanks. That involved dealing with emotions, it required the ability to think about herself, to be publicly vulnerable and open and she was way, way out of practice on all counts.
‘Most people call me Aggs.’
Okay, move along. Nothing to see here.
Silence. Her toes had clenched inside her biker boots as she prayed to the gods of mortification for a bloody big hole to swallow her.
They were waiting for something more, while she knew without an iota of doubt that she had no more to give without risking a full-scale watershed. How ridiculous was that? It had been months. She knew she should be more together. More composed. But that’s one of the things she’d learned about grief. She could discuss what happened with her family and no longer dissolve into pieces. She could talk about it with friends without crumbling. But no one tells you that the first time you break the news to someone new, whether you know them or not, the reality of it can catch you unawares and make it hurt just as much as it did the very first time you ever uttered the words. He’s dead. She’s dead. They’re gone.
All around her, they were still waiting.
Aggs had heard Yvie take a breath and realised she was about to jump in to save her and, in that split second, something inside had her compelled her to rip off the plaster.
‘I met Yvie when she looked after my dad before he passed away a few years ago. He’d been pretty much bed bound for years after his last stroke. He had three strokes altogether over twenty years or so and each one left its mark.’ Her eyes had caught Yvie’s and she could see the encouragement there. It was enough for her to give just a little bit more. ‘And then we met again when Mum was admitted to the geriatric ward last year before she… she… died. Bowel cancer. She’d been battling it for many years, but still, the shock…’
As a river of tears had swelled and made their way to her eyes, a triffid of pain had tangled itself around her throat and begun to tighten, slowed only by the touch of Val’s hand, which was now on hers.
‘I lived with them and I cared for both of them for the last ten years. So now, I’m forty-five, and both my parents are dead. Taking care of them, and raising my children, took up every minute I had, so now my daughters are adults and my parents are gone, and I’ve no idea how to fill the void that they’ve left. That’s why I’m here. I feel like my life has belonged to other people for over twenty years, and now that I can have it back, I’ve no idea what to do with it.’
Back in the present, a knock her bedroom door interrupted the memory and snapped her back to the real world. She put the cold coffee down, aware she’d been daydreaming for ages. How far she’d come since that day. Yvie and Val were now two of her closest friends. And as for the others… well, they’d all become a gang of survivors, there for each other through every tear and the bittersweet laughter of the grieving process.
‘Right, Mother, your enforced chill is over. Wow, you look fab! You’ll be putting selfies on Insta next.’
‘I’d rather poke my eye with a fork,’ Aggs retorted, pleased though, that Isla noticed the effort she’d put in.
Isla grinned at the standard response to any mention of social media. Aggs had successfully avoided the social media revolution, leaving it to Isla to set up Facebook, Twitter and Instagram accounts for the café.
‘Come on then. We’ve got loads of surprises for you today,’ Isla gushed.
Aggs held her breath. She wasn’t great with surprises and she really hated being the centre of attention or anyone making a fuss. However, it was a different thought that had the stomach butterflies on spin setting again.
Her family and friends might have a few surprises for her. But she had a few shocks of her own to deliver.
6
Mitchell
Mitchell was back in the kitchen, showered, dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt, and making a protein shake, when Celeste appeared in her workout gear, carrying a suit hanger which she hung on the back of the door. ‘I’m just going to go straight to lunch from the studio. No point me coming home to change when it’s on the way.’
Mitchell shook the plastic bottle to mix the chocolate flavoured gunk that was a part of his daily diet now. ‘Okay, darling. Makes sense. Where’s the lunch?’
‘City centre,’ she answered curtly, and he considered probing further, but she was making it obvious she was in a hurry, so he let it go.
Polite. Civil. Non-confrontational. When had they become so fucking pedestrian?
Once upon a time they hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other. Weekend-morning sex was a must, and then they’d spend the rest of the day together, desperate to milk every minute with each other.
Karma. Was that what this was?
He didn’t have time to finish the thought because she reached up and kissed him on the cheek. ‘See you later.’
Skye came back from the bathroom and interrupted them before he could reply with another banality.
‘Well,