‘Line dancing.’
‘What?’
‘I’ll be at line dancing, my lovely, but you’re welcome to come with me.’
I tried to keep the hilarity out of my voice. Class. Sheer class.
‘Gran, when did you take up line dancing?’
‘When I got bored rigid at Pilates. There’s no point to it at all. I fell asleep last time I was there, and some strange and very flexible gentlemen with his hair in a bun wasn’t best pleased.’
Hilarity won, as I exploded into giggles.
‘There are no words to express how much I frigging love you, gran.’
‘Try, dear. I need the ego boost,’ she cackled.
‘So, line dancing it is. What time do I need to be there?’
‘Eight o’clock.’
‘Okay, I should be done around seven, so I’ll pick you up on the way.’
‘Lovely. Oh, and you need to bring cowboy boots. And a Stetson. And Vincent.’
I hung up, still laughing, and shouted to Vincent, who was over the other side of the kitchen preparing trays of chicken wings, nachos and mini burritos for the Tex-Mex bowling party we were catering at a huge house on Richmond Hill at six p.m. It was food delivery only, no serving or clearing, so we’d be done by half past. Tomorrow morning, we had a breakfast event in Wimbledon, so it made sense for me to stay at Annie’s house tonight, especially as Colm was away for a few days in… in… I actually had no idea where he was. I’d lost track of where he and Dan were working these days.
‘Annie says I’ve to bring you to her line dancing class tonight.’
He grinned. ‘Is it just me who suddenly got the best mental image in living history?’
‘Does it involve Annie and a large cowboy hat?’
‘It does.’
‘Then no, it’s not just you. Please tell me I’ll be like her when I grow up.’
‘That’s never been in any doubt,’ he confirmed, putting the final piece of chicken on the tray and then slipping off his gloves. ‘Okay, we’re set. Ready to go?’
‘Yup.’ I grabbed my jacket and slid on my backpack. Handbags were out of the question in this job, as I always needed two hands to carry trays. ‘Would you mind dropping me at Annie’s when we’re done and picking me up there in the morning? Colm’s away and I don’t fancy going home to an empty house.’
‘Of course not. Here…’ he handed me the burrito tray. ‘I never want to see another one of those for as long as I live.’
‘Aw, I’m feeling your pain,’ I teased. The burritos were a sore point. He’d dropped the first lot, burnt the second lot and these were the third attempt. So far it was looking good, but I concentrated on getting them to the car before I brought up the question I’d been dying to ask for ages.
‘Heard from Carole yet? Or is she still treating you like a cold-caller trying to sell her pet insurance for a dog she doesn’t have?’
‘Fido is alive and well,’ he retorted dryly, before answering the question. ‘And no, not heard a word since she moved out and called me an emotional fuckvoid. I’ve no idea what that means. Anyway, I tried to call a few times, but I’ve given up.’
‘Are you sure you want to do that? If you just explained that she got the wrong end of the stick…’
‘Do not give her a stick,’ he warned ruefully. ‘Give her nothing that can be used as a weapon.’
He was joking but I knew it had to sting. After the nightclub fiasco last month he’d been mortified, but there was a little indignation thrown in there too.
The next morning, I’d pouted dramatically, sweeping my hand to my forehead like a forties movie star. ‘So you’re not in love with me?’
‘You’re great with a piping bag, but no,’ he’d assured me, laughing. The official verdict was therefore in – I wasn’t thick. Not that there had ever been any doubt.
‘What about Colm? Things any better?’
I shrugged. Were they? I had no idea. We were fighting less, so that was good. But we were like two people floating in the same zero-gravity situation, occasionally bumping into each other and passing the time of day. I was still faking it, I suspect he was too. I wasn’t sure that either of us had the energy to change that. Right now, we just needed the energy to work to pay the bills that were starting to suffocate us. I glossed over the subject and then flipped to talking about next week’s bookings. The diary was full, which was great for the balance sheet, but I was increasingly aware that Vincent and I were so tired we were almost running on empty.
The delivery took half an hour and then we headed to Annie’s house. We were almost there when I said, ‘Vincent, thanks for doing this. I don’t say that to you enough.’
‘For doing what?’ he asked, puzzled, indicating to turn at the approaching set of traffic lights.
‘For working every single day and night with me. I know you’re giving up a lot. I could bring someone else in to help though,’ I told him for the millionth time. ‘Just because I have no life doesn’t mean you should suffer too.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Shauna, stop saying it like it’s such a hardship. Sure, the hours are crap, but I’m taking home half of everything we earn so I’m profiting too.’
There was no time to discuss it any further, as we pulled up outside Annie’s house and she stormed out like an aging SAS when she saw the van. And oh dear God, she hadn’t been kidding about the Stetson.
‘Vincent, you have to come. I swear it’ll be the biggest thrill those ladies have had since before the menopause.’
‘I don’t have a hat,’ he argued weakly. She took hers off and plumped it on his head. ‘You do now, son.’
He was powerless to resist the passive-aggressive demands of my seventy-something Glaswegian powerhouse granny. It wasn’t a surprise. I’d never yet met anyone who could.
A few hours and a whole lot of heel-tapping later, ‘Achy Breaky Heart’, ‘Boot Scootin’ Boogie’, and my personal favourite, ‘Honky Tonk Badonkadonk’, were just a few of the tunes that stuck in my mind. Annie knew every step, every turn every holler, while Vincent and I tried desperately to follow, like the two new kids on the yee-hah block who didn’t have a clue what was going on. We were hopeless. Embarrassing. Yet, it was the most fun I’d had in as long as I could remember.
‘Gran, you totally put us to shame,’ I told her on the way back to her house.
‘Aye, there’s life in me yet, love,’ she preened. ‘The day I can’t spin around a dance floor you can shoot me.’
‘Gran! Don’t say that. Anyway, you can’t pop your cowboy boots you’ve taught us how to do those bloody dances. Vincent, we were officially rubbish.’
Annie sighed. ‘Aye, thank God you’re good-looking, son, because you’re never going to get a woman with those dancing skills.’
Vincent hooted with laughter. Sometimes there was really no answer to my gran.
At the house, she persuaded him to come in for a nightcap. The woman was incorrigible. It was near midnight and she still wanted to keep the party going.
Inside, she headed to take her coat and boots off, while Vincent and I went to the kitchen to make tea.
‘So, not exactly how I anticipated tonight unfolding,’ he said, deadpan. ‘Kidnapped by Annie, forced to dance for my life, scarred by my inability to co-ordinate my arms and legs.’
I plopped two sugars in my gran’s tea and poured her two fingers of her beloved MacCallan nightcap. ‘Are you traumatized?’
‘Absolutely. But I don’t think I’ve ever laughed more. You’re some team, you two.’
I took that as a compliment.
Picking up the tray, I headed to the lounge, Vincent at my back. I’d only taken a few steps in, when I stopped, forcing him to crash into the back of me.
‘She’s sleeping,’ I whispered, nodding to Annie, in her favourite chair, eyes closed, a hint of a smile on her lips.
I put the tray down on the table and lifted a throw from the couch to keep the chill off my gran when…
I stopped. Something wasn’t right. A look. A sense. I flew over to her side.
‘Gran. Gran! Vincent call an ambulance! Call an ambulance now!’ I screamed.
He dived to the phone while I slipped my arms under her and lifted her over to the couch, her frame tiny, but even so, requiring strength I never knew I had. ‘No gran. Oh God, please no.’
With shaking, furiously fast fingers, I checked her pulse by pressing on her neck. Nothing. I listened to her chest. It didn’t rise or fall. ‘No, no, no, no! Come on gran. You can’t do this. You can’t. Come on!’ This couldn’t be happening. She been bloody dancing only an hour ago.
I placed my hands on her chest, one on top of the other and I pressed. One. Two. Three. Four. A steady rhythm.
‘Don’t leave me, gran. Annie, wake up. Please wake up. Oh God, please…’
Vincent was at my side. ‘Ambulance is on the way. Let me take over.’
‘No, I can’t.’ Twenty-five. Twenty-six. Twenty-seven. Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. Thirty presses, then I moved to her head, gave two breaths into her mouth. Still nothing. Back to her heart. Steady beats, 100 a minute, just like I’d been taught on every first aid course I’d ever been on. Thirty presses. Back to her mouth. Two breaths. Nothing. Back to her heart. One. Two. Three.
‘Come on gran. Please. Please. Please. You can’t. Not you. Please not you.’
‘Shauna, let me…’
‘No! Go outside and wait for the ambulance in case they can’t find the cottage. Flag it down,’ I gasped. Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Nothing. No response. No movement. No sound. No beat of her heart.
Again. Again. Head. Heart. Press. Head. Heart. Press. Nothing. Again. Again.
Hours passed, days, weeks. Head. Heart. Press. Again.
No response. Had to keep going. She’d come back. She’d never leave me. Not Annie. Never. Keep going. Had to keep going.
Vincent ran in, two guys in hi-vis jackets following him.
‘Shauna, they’re here. Let them take over.’
Head. Heart. Press. One. Two Three.
‘Shauna, you need to let them…’
Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Had to keep going.
‘We’ve got this, love.’ A voice I didn’t recognize.
Twenty-one. Twenty-two.
‘Shauna…’ Arms around me, pulling me back, gently, forcefully, holding me to him as we sat on the floor. Two men moving to Annie’s side. Oxygen mask. Head. Heart.
I fought to get back to her, but Vincent was too strong. ‘Gran. Gran!’ I screamed.
They pressed. They counted. They worked on her until one looked at the other and I knew. I was still on the floor, Vincent was holding me and I pushed him off, crawled to her. The men moved to let me in.
I wrapped my arms around her and I lay my head on her motionless chest.
‘Please don’t go,’ I whispered. ‘Please….’
She didn’t answer. Didn’t laugh. Didn’t touch me. Didn’t run her fingers through my hair. Didn’t hold me. Didn’t tell me everything would be okay.
It would never be.
I stayed there, held on to the woman I loved more than any other and I wept until there was nothing left.