Just The Way You Are(5)

‘Fan-bloomin’-tastic!’ Steph hollered. ‘At last!’

I wasn’t so ecstatic. A tear trickled miserably down my cheek.

‘What if it never happens, though? What if I never find a Dream Man to complete the list with? What if Mum’s made me incapable of having a healthy relationship?’ I blotted the tear with my jumper sleeve. I had started writing the Dream List back in sixth form. It contained twelve things I planned to do when I finally fell in love like Steph and Drew. Over time some of the list had been edited (for example, deleting the original number eight: watch the live UK tour of Glee and replacing it with a summer evening at an outdoor theatre), but it had been transferred between the back pages of all my journals for twelve years.

Steph shook her head in dismay as she ate a handful of blueberries. ‘Have I taught you nothing over the years? Why do you need a man to complete your Dream List? Why not do it on your own? By the time you’ve finished it, you’ll be so independent, and interesting and confident that there’ll be Dream Men queuing up to help you write a new one.’

I know. It’s pathetic. I was pathetic, thinking I needed someone to complete my Dream List – which was really my dream life – instead of getting on with it by myself. But twenty-nine years of a mother who baulked at the idea of doing a big supermarket shop by herself, who called 999 to avoid spending an evening alone, had conditioned me for dependence.

The thought of setting out into the unknown to tackle my dreams solo was terrifying.

But at the same time, the thought of never tackling them at all scared me even more.

As I sobbed, Steph squeezed around the table and wrapped her arms around me, and a minute later a sweaty-faced Nicky burst in and came to join in the hug. A text beeped from Aunty Linda to say that she was thinking of me, and I knew that even if I did resign from Team Tennyson, I would never be alone.





I still might not have done it, I might have let enough time pass, enough excuses take hold that I ended up slipping back into old habits, if Mum hadn’t sprung another surprise on me that evening.

‘So, we need to start planning your birthday,’ she said, eyes glowing with anticipation.

‘We’ve got months yet.’ My thirtieth birthday was in September. ‘I haven’t even decided what I want to do.’

‘Well, you can’t leave it until the last minute!’ Mum laughed. ‘If we’re going to give you a proper celebration, there’s a lot to be done.’

‘I might not want a big celebration.’ I wriggled uncomfortably on the side of the sofa that was sagging and worn, because I’d been sitting in the same spot for so many years.

‘Pshewee! I know you’re going to want this!’ Mum stood up, doing a sort of dance as she dramatically reached into her back pockets and then whipped out two tickets. ‘Much Ado About Nothing is on at the outdoor theatre at Wollaton Hall a week after your birthday!’ She beamed. I wasn’t smiling. ‘But on your actual birthday, we’ll have a party. Fancy dress, maybe a retro theme from your childhood, one of your favourite books or something, and a cocktail bar. We could even borrow one of those dance videogames, that’ll be fun.’

‘What?!’

‘I know! Don’t say your mother doesn’t know you!’

My stomach muscles hardened into a ball of anger. ‘I won’t. But I will say that my mother has been snooping through my stuff!’

This was not a coincidence. I had never once mentioned to Mum that I wanted to do any of those things. We never did things like that, because we always did what she wanted: days out by the seaside, craft fairs, toasted teacakes in cafés with net curtains.

I saw the flash of guilt in her eyes before she snapped back to overly jolly bewilderment. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

An outdoor theatre and a not-yet-updated Harry Potter-themed party, along with a cocktail bar and the Just Dance videogame were on my Dream List, safely tucked away in my journal, hidden in my bedside drawer.

‘You’re not even going to admit it?’ The anger had dissolved into bone-weary exhaustion. My decision on Valentine’s Day had been right. I couldn’t do this any more.

‘What?’ Her eyes jerked in every direction but mine, before she accepted there was no escape. ‘Okay, okay! I was looking for my favourite bra and thought it might be in your room. The journal ended up falling out of the drawer and landed open at your list. I didn’t mean to look at it, but I couldn’t help spotting a couple of things on there while I was putting it safely back… But isn’t this perfect? Aren’t you pleased? We’ll be able to celebrate your dream birthday!’

I could have argued, but it would have been pointless. I closed my eyes for a brief moment, and then got up and walked away.





I lay awake most of that night. By morning, I had reached a decision. I knew Steph would complain that it wasn’t drastic enough, but I had to go with what I could handle.

I was going to move out. One advantage of having next to no life was that I had some savings, but I wasn’t going to blow them on a half-hearted move that I could end up backing out of. If I was moving, it was to a house that I would buy, not rent, and it would be as close as possible to the one on the Dream List.

I wouldn’t leave Mum floundering alone, treating her as badly as my dad had done. I would find her a lodger (however long that took) and I would ensure all the practical things like bills were properly sorted.