It's Now or Never (2 page)

Panic constricted my throat.

‘Wait for me,' I wanted to shout. The life train was about to leave the station and I hadn't even bought my ticket yet.

I consumed a sigh. To be honest, it wasn't only Angie's unexpected imminent departure over to the other side that was depressing me. For months now I'd been fighting the feeling that I'd stepped into a gooey patch of quagmire on the way to my full and exciting life and somehow I'd got stuck, knee-high in a puddle that I had little hope of pulling my feet out of.

My love life was non-existent, I'd been stuck in the same job for years and I'd suddenly realised that all those things I was going to do when I was a fresh-faced eighteen-year-old straight out of school just hadn't happened. I hadn't gone to university, I hadn't travelled the world, I hadn't had a mad and passionate affair with a gorgeous older man and I hadn't even been sky-diving or skinny-dipping in an azure-blue sea. The list of things I hadn't done yet was endless.

It didn't help that Gramps was acting like a lovestruck teenager. When your elderly granddad was seeing more action than you were then something was definitely wrong. Honestly, it was ridiculous. Only the other day I'd popped round to see him and found him up in the spare bedroom, surrounded by cardboard boxes and black bags.

‘What are you doing?'

‘I only came up here to find my best shirt. The one with the double cuffs. I'm off to a tea dance this afternoon with the lovely Marcia.' He adopted a dancing hold and gave a twirl around the spare bedroom, a bloom to his cheeks. ‘But then I got distracted by all this mess. I think this room is well overdue a clear out, don't you? Maybe I'll give it a fresh lick of paint too.'

I grunted my reply. Marcia was bossy and brash, wore over-bright orange lipstick and heels I suspected were far too high for a woman of her age. I didn't know what Gramps saw in her.

I cast a gaze over the room with its daisy sprig wallpaper and soft yellow curtains. I'd slept in this room hundreds of times over the years, as a child and then as a teenager, and even now occasionally at Christmas and Easter – the room's cosy familiarity was always fondly reassuring. Why mess with things now?

‘Aren't those Nan's old knitting magazines?' I said, noticing the pile by the doorway.

‘Yes, they're no good here just gathering dust, are they? And unless you have any plans to take up knitting in the near future I can't see any reason to keep them.'

‘Oh…' I looked at Gramps, his shirt hanging expectantly on the door frame with its promise of tango nights full of love and passion, and I felt a pang of sadness for my nan. What would she have to say? She wouldn't be happy about those magazines. Or Marcia. To be sure.

‘It's up to you,' I said, forcing a smile. ‘Throw them away if you want to.'

‘What I did find though,' he said, looking at me with a pensive smile on his lips, ‘was this.' He picked up a book of poetry from the bookcase in the corner and pulled out a piece of paper. ‘It's a copy of that letter from your mum. You know, the one she left for you in with her personal bits and pieces.'

‘Really? I didn't realise you had a copy too. Mine's at home. In a shoebox on the top of the wardrobe.'

I'd read it once on the day of her funeral, over eight years ago now, and then consigned it to its current resting place. Funny, I found it hard to recall what was in that letter now.

‘I think she wanted me to have a copy just in case you lost yours or decided to throw it away. Do you want it?' he asked, holding the folded up piece of paper towards me. I took it from his hands and opened it up, the vivid reminder of my mum's distinctive handwriting pulling at my heartstrings.

I plopped down on the single bed and paused for a moment or two, turning the letter over in my hands. I took a deep breath and began to read.

My dearest darling Jennifer

This is undoubtedly the hardest letter I will ever have to write, but I wanted to leave you with something, just a brief note, that hopefully will bring you some comfort in the coming months and years. Hopefully when you come to read it you will hear my voice as if I'm standing in the same room as you because I honestly believe I will never be that far away. Funny really because now I've picked up the pen I'm not sure what it is I want to say, only that you mustn't feel sad or scared because now I've come to terms with what is happening, what is my fate, I'm feeling neither of those things.

What I must say is that you are the most amazing, beautiful and special daughter and I feel so lucky and privileged to have had you in my life. You are very much loved by me and, of course, Nan and Gramps, and you can never know how much joy and pleasure you've brought and will continue to bring to our family.

I'm sad, of course, that I won't be around to see you blossom into the amazing young woman you are destined to be. I mean, you already are that woman, but I know there's so much more to come from you and you have a dazzling future ahead of you.

What possible advice can I have to give you? Only to be brave and to live your life to the full and take all the opportunities you are given. It's true, life is short, so we need to make the most of every minute we have here. I know I've passed my ‘worry' gene on to you and I apologise for that! Possibly that's one of my only regrets, spending too much time worrying about things that never happened. I wish I'd been braver, bolder, taken more chances, laughed more, loved more, got drunk more, eaten that extra slice of pizza and had the big wedge of chocolate brownie for pudding instead of being ‘good' and I so wish I hadn't worried so much about what other people thought about me. It really doesn't matter! If you can, lovely Jen, send that pesky ‘worry' gene packing and grab hold of your life by the scruff of its neck.

You still have the time Jen, to do all those things you want to do. Basically all I would say is get out there and enjoy yourself. Don't sweat the small stuff, and the big stuff, well, I have a sneaky suspicion that looks after itself anyway.

I have a feeling that in ten years from now you'll be in a great place. I can only imagine what terrific things the future holds for you: a fulfilling career, a home by the sea or perhaps a city apartment, a gorgeous husband (or not – I couldn't really recommend marriage, but I know lots of people speak very highly of the institution), six beautiful children (I can definitely recommend having children – I only wish I'd had more so you'd have some siblings to share your future with), a golden labrador (ah, that could be my other regret, never getting the dog). Anyway, who knows? It might be none of those things; you might want to take a vow of silence and commit your life to God. Whatever it is, I don't care, darling. I just want you to be happy in whatever it is you choose to do. If you can promise me one thing, it would be that!

I love you very much sweetheart, today, tomorrow and always, and you'll always be here in my heart.

Keep an eye out for your Nan and Gramps, as they will you, I know.

Love Mum xxx

PS. Chuck out those scales! Now, do it now! Don't waste another moment worrying about how much you weigh. Another half a stone or two isn't going to kill you. You're beautiful as you are. Remember that. Chin up, head held high and embrace your inner gorgeousness. Lord knows, you've got plenty to call on. Lots of love, darling. Mum xxx

I tipped my head back to look at the ceiling, the memories rushing back. Mum was right. I could hear her voice clearly, as if she'd just made an unscheduled visit from high up above and had wafted down into the spare bedroom. I could see her big wide smile, the way her bright blue eyes lit up her face and could feel her warm breath against my cheek, the warm, caressive tones to her voice echoing around the little room.

What would I say to her if she was here now?

‘Oh hi, Mum! That letter you wrote to me, the one about being brave and bold, and living life to the full. Yep, really good advice, only I haven't actually done anything about it yet. I was just going to get round to it soon.'

Would she still think I was an amazing young woman or would she feel disappointed that I hadn't taken my chances? I blinked away a rogue tear that threatened to fall and folded up the letter again in my lap.

‘You all right, love?'

‘Yep, I'm absolutely fine!' I looked up at Gramps and smiled, my gaze travelling around the little room. I batted away the pang of nostalgia stirring in my stomach. Like me, this room was stuck in a time warp. We were both in desperate need of an overhaul.

A sense of urgency consumed me. I wanted to be that woman Mum was so certain I was destined to be. What the hell was I waiting for?

‘Come on Jen,'
I could hear Mum whispering in my ear, ‘
It's now or never!
'

Chapter Two

‘Can I have a minute please, Matt?'

‘Yeah sure, go through to the office. I'll grab us a coffee.'

In fairness, I had actually tried to hand in my notice to Matt on three separate occasions already this year. My resignation letter had been growing worn and tatty in my pocket for some time now, but each time I tried to do the deed my attempts were thwarted by one thing or another.

So it shouldn't have been any surprise to me that it was a full twenty minutes later before Matt backed his way through the door, juggling two mugs of coffee in his hands. Matt was a very hands-on boss. If there was a problem then he would be there sorting it out. He much preferred to be outside, more often than not zooming up and down the yard on a fork-lift truck, but he was just as happy to be on the shop floor lending a hand at the tills chatting away cheerily to the customers.

‘Sorry about that, I got waylaid!' He had a big apologetic smile on his face. He shoved a couple of cardboard boxes away with his foot and with difficulty found a rare empty spot on his messy desk to place the brimming mugs, sending a whole heap of paperwork scattering to the floor in the process. I smiled and leant down to collect the papers, returning them to his desk.

‘Oh, don't worry about that. I'll pick them up later.' He sat down in his leather swivel chair and gave a little side-to-side jiggle. ‘So what was it you wanted to speak to me about then?'

‘Well…'

I wondered if I wasn't about to make the biggest mistake of my life. Matt was much more than a boss to me. Over the years he'd been a mentor, a funny and supportive colleague, and always a friend.

Today he was wearing the Browns standard issue green polo shirt, the same one that all the employees wore, with brown khaki waterproof trousers and big black boots. It only occurred to me now that with his tall, broad build and his well-defined physique, out of all the workforce, Matt probably suited the company uniform best of all. To be honest, with my mid-brown hair (mousy to anyone being unkind) and pale skin (pasty, to the unkind lady over there) it had never really done me any favours.

In comparison, it did Matt many favours. I wondered for the first time if he hadn't chosen the earthy colours of the corporate identity to complement the warm brown of his eyes and the chestnut hue of his unruly curly hair. His strong, defined forearms were a deep golden brown, testament to the number of hours he spent outdoors, where he could always be found lending a hand to any department where there might be a shortfall of labour that day. You rarely saw Matt suited and booted or sitting behind his desk, come to that. Which probably explained the mess…

‘The thing is, Matt…' I faltered. Why was I suddenly distracted by the colour of his eyes? It wasn't too late to change my mind, to come up with an excuse for why I needed to talk to him.

‘The thing is, Matt. I wanted to give you this.' Boldly, I handed over the envelope with my letter of resignation inside. Too late for backing out now.

He looked askance, at me and then at the envelope.

‘What is it?'

‘I'm really sorry, but I've decided it's time for me to move on. It's my resignation,' I added, in case he was in any doubt.

He fell silent, looking at the paper in his hands, his eyes scanning the words, before he looked across at me again.

‘What? Why? You can't leave! I won't allow it. You're my right-hand man, Jen. A central player in the Browns team. Why would you want to leave?'

I squirmed in my seat, my hands clasped together tightly in my lap. That was a good question. It would have been so much easier if I could have told him that I had a brilliant new job to go to, or that I was going off to university to study something unfathomable or I was rushing off to marry my soulmate and we were going to sail around the world together, but I had no such excuses.

‘Well, you know when I joined Browns it was only ever intended to be a temporary summer job. That was nine years ago now.'

‘Yes, and look at you now, Jen! You're part of the Browns family.'

What is it they say about the best laid plans? It was my first job after finishing my A-levels, a way to earn some extra cash before going off to university in the September, but when Mum fell ill everything changed. There was no way I was going to leave her and move three hundred miles to the other end of country. A gap year spent working at the garden centre and nursing Mum back to health would have been the perfect compromise, but it wasn't as straightforward as that. Mum's illness was long and drawn-out and when she died two years' later my desire to go to uni died with her. In the long and dark days following her death, my job had been a lifeline; it gave me something to wake up for in the mornings, a comforting routine that brought an element of normality to my life. Matt had been instrumental in offering me that small sense of hope.

Since then I'd worked in every department there was; from serving in the restaurant, to working outside caring for the plants, to sourcing items for the gift store, which had become my permanent role over the last couple of years.