Dear Rosie Hughes: This is the most uplifting and emotional novel you will read in 2019!
and hit the cider.
Come on then: how many have you done? You were always a bendy gymnastic-type, so I reckon you could do a flick-flack if you really tried. What about the violin – surely you carried on with that? God knows why we chose such an arbitrary age as thirty-five to complete the list by. Why so long? Other than getting married I could crack out the whole lot in a month. That said, so far, I’ve only managed to achieve no’s 13 and 15. Although I could probably claim number 1 with a bit of artistic licence, because although I haven’t river danced, I did learn tap dancing for a year, so if I do it faster along to some Irish music and keep my arms by my side, I’ll have nailed it!
Anyway, another mercy parcel is winging its way out to the Middle East. It includes chocolates and a photo of the two of us posing outside the youth club disco when we were about fourteen. You’re wearing wicked Madonna lace gloves but I’ve got an afro and a snake belt (why the fuck did you let me rebel against fashion all the time?). I’ve also sent you a recent photo of me. It was done for my agent. I do articles and short stories for magazines in my own name. Let me know what you think of the photo. Do I look too tall? I was going for the ‘intelligent but fun’ look, but I think you can tell I’m pulling my tummy in. Diet starts tomorrow. I’ll confess that I didn’t buy the chocolates. Isabella sent them as a thank you for writing her a funny speech for her spot on This Morning, but I get a headache if I eat dark chocolate, so I thought I’d send them your way. I wish Isabella would send Milk Tray. Why do people believe the more they spend on a gift, the more significant the gesture?
What else? Oh, Paddy phoned. He wants to get going with the phone sex again (I was a foolish, desperate buffoon to shag him). I said (in my no-nonsense voice), ‘No, thank you’, but soon discovered that my no nonsense voice just turns him on even more. I explained that I had been swept away in Venice and that the ambience had led me to reveal a wild and exotic side of my personality which, on reflection, would have been best kept under a bushel. Undeterred, he asked if he could join me under the bushel – naked. So, I told him I was taking holy orders (the audition for Maria being the inspiration for that little gem) and hung up. I may have to change my telephone number. Thank God I told him I’m a podiatrist from Hull and didn’t let on I write for Isabella.
In other news, my publisher wants me to give Isabella a side-line in erotica. They think her present run of romance has had its day. Do you think the cosmos is rubbing it in that I’m not having regular sex? I’m not sure I’m up to erotica as my enthusiasm for spicing up my (already spicy) sex scenes is waning. I may have to resort to more internet dating for the sake of my career, but if I do, I must remember to only date men who show their teeth on their profile picture. I once met up with a chap who was absolutely stunning, but then he opened his mouth and revealed only one tooth – one bloody tooth! A top front incisor. I felt so sorry for him I actually kissed him goodnight … no tongues, though.
Sod it. You’re right. I need a plan for my manhunt. I’ll give the Internet a second chance with a new fake name and I should also re-think my fake job. Maybe I’ll post a doctored picture of a more streamlined, younger me, and ditch the Nigella brunette look too and go blonde, but I’ll keep my tits and arse, obviously.
Ciao, Bella
‘E’ Bluey
From: The Staff at The Shop, Midhope
To: Rosie
Date: 13 January
Hello, Rosie, love.
Your dad has been giving people in the village your address, so we thought we’d write you a quick letter to say, WELL DONE YOU! We don’t see your mum much, but then it’s always been your dad who’s done their big shop.
Nothing much changes. Tracy Babcock is expecting again (that family allowance must be stacking up) and old Mr Jenkins passed away, bless him. It was a good turn-out at the funeral, but the sandwiches at the club afterwards were a bit disappointing (soggy egg) and Jack Blackmoor got pissed as a newt, daft sod. Mind you, he was like a son to Mr Jenkins, so we’ll let him off.
That lass you used to knock around with was in here the other day. It seems like only yesterday the two of you were running in here (it was Mrs Barker’s shop then) to buy jubilee lollies for ten pence-apiece. What a little bugger Agatha was. Why did she always insist speaking in French? Far too big for her boots, but that’s what happens when your mother disappears off to Paris to work for a Russian Cossack and comes home pregnant with money in the bank. God only knows who the father was, not that it’s our business, but with those thighs I don’t suppose the apple fell far from the tree. Did you know that the school burnt down? The kids are being ferried to Oakworth, but it’s a blooming long way for the little mites every day, and you know how treacherous that road over the tops gets in the winter. Old Mrs Butterworth was in here the other day and she was crying. Her kitchen window overlooks the playground. She loves listening to the kids. But the council say they haven’t the money to re-build it and Jed Jenkins wants to build houses (never one to miss out on an opportunity, our Jed).
Anyway, the bread man has just walked in, so I’ll sign off. Andrea Jones says, ‘Hello.’ She works two afternoons a week. I don’t think you’ll remember her, but she says to say she’s the one who used to sit next to you in Geography and fainted a lot. Keep smiling.
Pat (and the girls at the shop)
Bluey
From: Rosie
To: Aggie
Date: 13 January
Oh, Aggie
Thanks for sending the bucket list - I can’t believe you kept it all these years. I’ll confess that I was overcome with melancholy reading it and felt happy and sad all at the same. Happy, because it reminded me of all the fabulous times we had growing up together – my favourite memories are of us duetting on the piano and violin in your mum’s front room (we were bloody good, weren’t we!) Your dear old Mum would weep in her chair if we played that old Leroy Anderson melody, Forgotten Dreams) – but sad because, compared to you, I feel like I’ve been living a dull, joyless life for ten years. I’ll explain another time, but I’ve been so preoccupied with wanting to start a family these past few years, I’d forgotten to keep having fun. To answer your question, it was me who stipulated the ‘age thirty-five’ caveat (there’s a surprise). It was the latest age I was prepared to have a baby by (didn’t manage that one, did I?).
But here’s an idea: can we start the bucket list now? After all, we’re both thirty-five in July, so we haven’t got much time to crack it out. Admittedly, being stuck in the desert means that my options are limited (can’t imagine the Dalai Lama rocking up in the HQ tent and teaching me to river dance), but maybe you could do some of the list for both of us? I’d love that – experience my joy vicariously through your joy – it would help to cheer up my miserable existence *note sad face*.
In other news, I have finally found a friend! Actually, he’s very quickly turning into a brother, which is handy, as I haven’t heard a peep from my own. He’s called Gethyn, he’s thirty-seven and he’s a doctor in the RAF. He’s originally from the Welsh valleys. There’s a lovely calmness about him, but he also has a glint in his eye and a dry sense of humour. You’d like him, he’s tall and built like a brick shit house. He sings all the time (which is a little annoying) but being Welsh, I suppose he can’t help it (singing, not being annoying). But don’t get any ideas about me hooking up with him because there is not one iota of attraction between us. However, I’ll find out if he’s got a girlfriend because if not, he would be perfect for you!
Thanks for the book. I loved it. I’ve passed it on to Gethyn and asked him to give you an honest review. He’s been reading it ALL evening (with a wry smile on his face) so it should be a good one. I think he’s impressed with the sex scenes so he’ll probably be falling over himself to meet you when we get back. Aren’t I clever?
Loads of love, Rosie
P.S. Random question. Do you ever worry you won’t get around to having a baby?
P.P.S. Nearly forgot. You’ve ticked off 13 and 15??? So you’ve met the