The Happy Endings Book Club (2 page)

Jean shook her head at her daughter’s stupidity. “Honestly, Paige, you’ve never listened to me, have you? I didn’t say your father was gay. I said he was a fairy. One of the little people that live under the hills in Cornwall.”

*

Paige’s hand shook as she knocked on Arley’s door. How cruel old age could be. Her mother had always been the most sensible woman she’d ever met. For her to be reduced to this babbling, delusional creature was almost more than Paige could bear.

“Come in,” Arley called.

Paige entered the room and he waved her into a chair.

“So how did it go?”

“Not as well as I …” And with that Paige burst into tears. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I feel like I’ve been such a bother all day. But I’m dreadfully worried about her. She’s completely lost her mind.”

Arley pushed a box of tissues toward Paige and waited patiently for her to stop crying. Then, once her eyes were dry, he continued.

“What makes you think she’s lost her mind?”

“When she told me my father was—is—a fairy, she didn’t mean gay. She meant …” Paige’s eyes opened wide. “She believes he’s a fairy.”

Arley nodded. “Yes.”

“A fairy,” Paige said again.

“Right.”

“A
fairy
. As in pixies, goblins and fairies.”

“Three completely different races, but yes, I understand what you mean.”

Paige was bewildered. Arley either didn’t understand at all, or he didn’t think it was that shocking. “I think my mother has dementia,” she said.

“There’s only one way to find out,” he told her.

Paige nodded. A meeting with the doctor. A round of tests, no doubt.

Arley’s eyes twinkled. “You’ll have to find out if your father is alive.”

*

Paige spotted Eva at their regular table in the far corner of the small Indian restaurant. She still did a slight double-take when she saw her friend. Eva had only recently decided to stop dying her hair and embrace the gray. She now had a silver pixie cut that, if anything, made her even more beautiful. She was one of those knockout women at any age, with curves in all the right place, incredible eyes and cheekbones to die for.

Eva saw her and gave a wave. Here they both were well past middle age, yet Paige often felt like they were two kids, always so thrilled to see each other. She needed to see Eva tonight. She was so wound up about her mother.

Jean had been a devoted parent, but not a warm one. She’d always kept Paige at arm’s length. There were times Paige would catch Jean watching her and she’d have the strange feeling that the look in her eyes was one of regret. Their relationship was built on habit and responsibility rather than affection, but even so, she was filled with fear at the thought of her mum disappearing into the abyss of dementia. As frustrating as Jean could be, she was the only mother Paige had, and it was a comfort to know she was there.

Paige gave Eva a kiss and relaxed as she took off her coat. It was cold outside, but nice and warm in here.

Paige glanced at the menu. “Have you ordered for us?”

Eva nodded. “All sorted. Masala mushroom, aloo jeera and some samosas for starters. Now tell me about your mum.”

Paige gave her an update. She gave her all the details, including the bit about her father being a fairy and living in the hills of Cornwall. Eva nodded and asked a few questions, and a couple of times reached across the table and patted Paige’s hand.

“So have you spoken to Jean’s doctor?” Eva asked.

“No, Mum doesn’t want me to. She said children should only take over dealing with their parents’ doctors when those parents are in adult nappies.”

“She’s got a point. So what did this sexy physiotherapist say?”

“Did I say he was sexy?”

Eva laughed. “No, but I could tell you think it by the way you blushed when you said his name.”

Paige rolled her eyes. “I’m so pathetic.”

“Au contraire, my friend. It’s a charming quality, and I’m sure the physio agrees.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter how sexy he is, I think he’s as mad as my mother.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because his solution is for me to go and find my father.” She gave her friend a look that said,
Can you believe it?

“Your real father who’s been dead for years, or the fake fairy one?”

“Arley says it won’t do any harm, and will show my mother that I’m supportive of her.”

“He has a point. I had an uncle with dementia and it’s incredibly hard to diagnose. They deteriorate so gradually, over time. And the early stage dementia patient can feel frightened by their lack of recall.”

“So you think I should follow his advice and go hunting for fairies?”

“Darling, what harm will it do?” Eva said.

“I have a bookshop to run.”

“I’m sure fairy hunting can take place outside of trading hours.”

Paige was quite surprised by her friend. “You don’t believe all that supernatural stuff, do you?”

Eva stared at the wall behind Paige for a moment. “I don’t know. Sometimes I have this overwhelming sense that Geoff is with me. Once or twice I’ve caught something in the corner of my eye, but when I’ve turned my head, nothing was there.”

Paige gave Eva’s hand a squeeze. They’d met not long after Eva’s husband had died, when Eva joined Paige’s book club, and had become fast friends.

“What surprises me each time is … how dreadfully disappointed I’ve been when I turn and nothing’s there. Like deep down I do believe Geoff’s spirit could drop by and comfort me. And here I was thinking I was a skeptic.” Eva blinked away the tears and smiled. “I don’t know what I believe anymore … but the world is a much nicer place with the possibility of magic. Don’t you think?”

“I’ve never thought about it. I just think what you see is what you get,” Paige said.

Eva nodded thoughtfully. “And I think that’s our problem.”

*

“Paige!”

Paige turned around the see Arley striding down the hall toward her. Her hand instinctively shot up to check her hair.

“I’ve been thinking about your mother,” Arley said.

I’ve been thinking about you
, thought Paige, but nodded.

“Why don’t you drop by after you’ve seen your mum? I have someone you should talk to.”

“A specialist.”

Arley gave her a mysterious smile. “Yeah, she’s a specialist. In her field.”

Paige nodded. “That would be great. Thank you.”

Arley cocked his head to the side. “By the way, your hair looks lovely today.”

Paige willed herself not to blush, and despised herself when she did. “Thank you. It’s nice of you to notice.”

She quickly turned and walked away toward her mother’s room. She prayed he wasn’t watching her. She felt almost certain that he was, but she’d rather eat bugs than turn around to see.

*

Paige was completely stunned to find her mother wearing lipstick. She couldn’t ever remember her mother wearing lipstick before.

“Where did you get a lipstick?” Paige asked.

“One of the nurses bought it for me.”

“I would’ve bought you some, Mum. All you had to do was ask.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, dear, but do you even know what lipstick is?”

Paige felt miffed. She knew she didn’t spend much time or money on make-up, but it wasn’t as though she made no effort at all. “I wear mascara,” she said, sounding slightly defensive.

“You do, and your eyes are all the better for it.”

“Mum, we need to speak. About what you told me yesterday.”

Jean glared at her daughter. “Fine … just don’t use that tone with me.”

“What tone?”

“The tone you’re using now. People use that tone with toddlers and dementia patients. And usually for the same reasons. They don’t want them throwing tantrums and soiling themselves.”

Paige readjusted her tone. At least, she hoped she did. “Okay, Mum—I’m sorry. But what’s this about my father being a fairy from Cornwall? It just doesn’t make sense.”

“Very few things in life do.”

“Mother, fairies aren’t real.”

“They are.”

“They aren’t.”

“Says who?”

“Says … I don’t know, me and every other sane person.”

Jean sighed. “You think I’ve gone mad. I can see it in your eyes. Alzheimer’s fear. You don’t want to look at me in case you fall into the same abyss.”

“You seem sane, Mum, but surely you can see the changes.”

“What changes?”

“The nail polish. The lipstick.”

Jean propped herself as high as she could and held her chin in the air. “I was quite a looker once, you know.”

“I’m not suggesting that you weren’t. Or aren’t.”

“I was the most stunning woman in Cornwall. And I have no problems admitting that. A man like your father would never ever cross over for anything but the best.”

Paige let her bulging eyes do the talking.

“After I left your father, I went into hiding. I don’t kid myself. He could’ve found me. But I made sure he wouldn’t want me. That man was like a drug … and the only way out was to go cold chicken.”

“Turkey.”

“What?”

“It’s cold turkey. Not cold chicken.”

“Whatever. To make the break, I made myself look … fowl.” Jean laughed at her own joke. “What’s up, you didn’t find that funny?”

“No, I didn’t,” snapped Paige. “I’m too busy trying to wrap my head around all this.” She massaged her temple. “So why the sudden change? Why now?”

Jean’s voice verged on hysterical. “Firstly, I’m sick of being a bloody frump. It’s not me, and it’s never been me. I miss dressing up. I miss it, I tell you.”

Paige was completely taken aback by her mother’s outburst. “Mum, I had no idea.”

“I did it to protect you. I don’t have to now. You’re old enough to know. And I’m old enough to wear lipstick again. Because quite frankly … even if your father walked through that door now, he wouldn’t look twice at me. I’m too old.”

Paige glanced over at the door. She couldn’t help herself.

“Don’t worry. He won’t walk through it.” Jean sounded disappointed.

“I wasn’t expecting him to,” Paige said, feeling foolish. For a moment she
had
almost expected a strange man to come striding in. Everything else was strange and crazy and upsetting. Who knew what would happen next?

“All these years, Mum, and you’ve never said a thing.”

“It was never my intention to tell you. I figured I’d go to my grave with it.”

“But then you decided to go to your grave wearing lipstick.”

“It’s more than that.” Jean looked pensive. “I made a mistake. I should’ve told you, when you were young. It might’ve made a difference.”

“To what, Mum? I don’t understand.”

Jean stared at her daughter and then blurted, “You’re so much like me.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Paige innately knew it wasn’t a great thing.

“It’s my fault. I stripped the world of all its magic, thinking I was protecting you. But now I’m not so sure. You’re so …”

“So?”

“Solid.”

“Solid?”

“A bit dull,” said Jean. “You’re smart, and you certainly did the right thing divorcing Tim. What an insipid excuse for a man he was. You need to fall madly in love. That’s what you need.”

Paige’s mouth was open in disbelief. “You think I’m boring?”

Jean reached out and took her daughter’s hand. “No. I think your view of the world is boring. There’s so much more to it, but I stood in the way of you exploring that. I was trying to protect you from your father’s world. But that might be the exact thing you need, Paige.” Jean smiled sadly at her daughter. “Do you see what I mean?”

“No, I don’t.” Paige was confused.

Jean sighed. “Exactly.”

*

Paige didn’t stop by Arley’s office after talking to her mother. She was too upset. And after all, he was her mother’s physiotherapist, not her doctor or shrink. She shouldn’t really be talking to him about anything that didn’t involve her mother’s hip or aged care rehabilitation. All these conversations about fairies! The guy must have thought she was mad.

She went straight home instead, to her flat above her bookshop. She felt like the world was out of kilter and her little flat was the one place she still felt safe.

Tim had originally bought the building as an investment. (Tim liked investing in property, just not in marriage.) The intention had been to open the bookstore and run it without rental overheads, and to lease out the flat above it. During the divorce, Tim had been an utter bastard. He wanted the house, and the investment properties in Hounslow and Lewisham, and the three in Spain. Paige had agreed, but only if he signed over this building, which he had. Grudgingly.

Some of her friends were amazed that she didn’t demand more, but she didn’t need more. She didn’t want more. Paige renovated the apartment upstairs for herself. She had her shop and her apartment and she had her freedom.

The flat was small, but lovely, with large bay windows in the lounge that captured the sun. There were wood floors throughout, with high ceilings, and French doors opening to a small patio, where she grew herbs. There were two bedrooms and the bathroom had a claw-foot bath. She had plenty of cupboard space and, importantly, shelves for her books. She had central heating, a reasonably modern kitchen, and her own entrance. It was home, it was hers and she loved it. It was usually a very comforting space. Usually, but not tonight.

Paige tossed her keys and phone on an entrance shelf. She noticed a text from her daughter, Linda. “Just wondering if you’ve made a decision on spending Christmas here? I need to order the turkey.” She’d reply tomorrow. Paige adored her daughter, but their relationship had been strained since she’d left Tim. Of all people, she’d expected her daughter to support her. But Linda, a professor of criminology at the University of Cambridge, had taken her mother’s inability to forgive her father as a personal insult. She felt the divorce and the bookstore were Paige’s midlife crisis, conveniently ignoring Tim’s affair and much younger new wife.

I wonder how she’d feel about having a fairy grandfather?
thought Paige.

Paige paced up and down, pausing to stare out the window at regular intervals. She tried to eat, but couldn’t. She opened a bottle of wine and had a glass, but it didn’t help. Eventually, she grabbed the keys to the shop and made her way downstairs, into the shared entrance, and opened the back door of the shop. She’d always thought it was like entering a fairyland at this time of year, with the shimmering, twinkling Christmas lights she’d installed. But this time, for just a moment, she wondered if that was what fairyland really looked like.