Back Just the Way You Are Save as PDF
Chapters (42)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. Acknowledgments
  39. Author’s Note
  40. More from Beth Moran
  41. About the Author
  42. About Boldwood Books

Steph tried arguing with me, but it turned out that the next possible booking was a month away, so that decided it. For the next few weeks I balanced work, hanging out with Joan, trying to teach my puppy who was boss, and ticking off the things on the list that would help build up my courage to complete item six.

I went to the Nottingham Contemporary Art Gallery one Saturday, soon feeling quite comfortable wandering about and forming my own opinions about the artwork, and even having a perfectly pleasant conversation with a forty-something man who then invited me to join him for a coffee. I of course turned him down, on the one hand because he was a man, and this was the No-Man Mandate, and on the other because I was meeting Karina at an Italian restaurant for a late lunch that ended up lasting until an early dinner, thanks to cocktail hour and lunch being taken up with talking about how Mum was doing. In summary: not great, but better than before. She missed me, but still couldn’t comprehend how I felt, or that what I needed also mattered. Karina and Aunty Linda were trying to persuade her to see a counsellor. Karina had also signed her up for a silver singles night out. I wasn’t sure which of these was more improbable.

One Thursday evening I watched Romeo and Juliet at Newstead Abbey’s outdoor theatre, surrounded by groups of middle-aged friends and younger couples with picnic hampers while I sipped my single glass of wine, a plastic plate of cheese and crackers balanced on my lap. At the half-time interval, Sam’s mum, Pia, spotted me. She invited me to join her group, while somehow not making me feel at all strange for being at the theatre alone. When I politely declined, she discreetly pulled down the neckline of her tunic to show me her bottle-green bra strap – ‘This is the one I was telling you about. So comfortable!’ – before patting my arm with a wink and leaving me to it.

I had tea and cake with Aunty Linda, and met Steph and a couple of her work colleagues at a gin bar. Not on the Dream List, but equally vital in helping my confidence grow as I wobbled my way through my newfound freedom.