Five Winters

by Kitty Johnson

Grace pulled a face. “Oh yes,” she said. “The self-cannibalisation story that threatened to sabotage our wedding. I’m so glad you brought that up again, darling.”

Wow. You're a bitch.

“I guess if things had turned out differently, you’d be with your real family today?”

...A MAJOR bitch. She's lived with them since she was 13. Been a surrogate daughter since she was nine. That IS her family.

She knew. Grace knew how I felt about Mark. This was her way of dealing with it.

She wouldn't be dealing with it that way if she didn't think you were a threat.

For Jaimie, I had put my reservations about rural living aside and ignored my longings for my old job and my former work colleagues.

Girl, no.

When I had made the decision to give up my job and move to Ely to be with Jaimie, I had decided to embrace my new life, heart and soul, which meant becoming a vegetarian, since Jaimie and his girls were vegetarian.

Girl, NO

But when I’d said that to Rosie once, she had pointed out that everyone else would tell them about it. That I’d take my son or daughter to the school Christmas fair, and there would be Santa, giving out presents and ho-ho-hoing, and if I didn’t let my little one join the queue, they’d be left out and devastated. It was a total dilemma.

It's really not. Plenty of people do it every day. You don't even have to not let them join the present queue. You just tell them that it's pretend and a lot of people like pretending so they shouldn't spoil it for anyone else. Problem solved. (Except for the problem of school Christmas fairs which should not exist in a modern democracy, but that's a whole other issue.)

we’re going out for a meal later on. Grace always looks so glamorous, doesn’t she? I thought you’d like to too. Go on, try it on.”

Oh HELL no

“No, it’s all right. I should have thought. They’re too young for nail varnish just yet.”

Too young for nail varnish? Is that a thing? Every girl I know started having her nails painted as soon as she was old enough to not get polish everywhere while they dried. It's supposed to be cute

“To get back to my original point,” persisted Rosie, “in my opinion, both of you have sold out. You’ve changed yourselves to try and suit your partners, and I’m not sure that’s a good thing. They ought to love you just as you are.”

She's not wrong

He sighed. “I know. But what I mean is, don’t you think they’ll want to be left alone with their grief rather than have to think about a guest?”

What part of "part of the family" do you not understand?

“I’m going to work,” he’d said. “I’ll be back by four. I want you and your belongings gone by the time I get back. Understood?”

Dodged a fucking bullet. Also, no. Take your time. He can go to a friend's if he's that torn up about it

“Yes, about the garden.” Clare moved a little so she could see out the window. “From what I can see, it looks very pretty. But perhaps not very child friendly? Would you be prepared to make over some of your flower borders to grass, do you think?”

...What's not child friendly about flowers? Do you think children can only play on bare lawn?

Grace looked at me consideringly. “Perhaps you’re one of those people who’s happiest on their own,” she said.

Oh my god why are you such a cunt

She shook her head. “Maybe that’s why it didn’t work out for you with them, then,” she said. “You not understanding that. The girls might see Harriet, spend plenty of time with Harriet, but what about when they need her when it’s Jaimie’s weekend to have them? Sometimes only a mother will do.”

They have these things now. They're called phones. And absolutely no one would have succeeded at becoming a step-parent in that situation. She was being undermined on all sides, including by you.

For just a moment my thoughts stuck with Jaimie, as I realised this was Harriet’s year to have the girls. Then I forgot about him and focussed on the way Jake was looking me straight in the eye. I remembered the spark of attraction I’d felt for him when we first met, the ease with which we’d chatted together at the light festival.

No. Do not. You have tried this already and it blew up in your face. Go get some ice cream. And maybe a dog.

“Grace didn’t want him. Can you believe that? Wouldn’t even entertain the idea of having him. Wanted him gone right away. We rowed. It was awful, Beth. I didn’t know where to go or what to do. So I came here.”

Who doesn't want a puppy? A teeny tiny border collie puppy. Anyone who doesn't melt at the sight of a border collie puppy is a soulless monster

The kiss was every bit as intoxicating as I’d ever imagined it would be—sweet and soft and firm, demanding all at the same time, the core of me lava hot as my lips parted to let in his tongue. I reached for him with shaking hands, pulling his body hard against mine.

Um. You realise he's still married, right? Back up a bit.

Last Christmas, Giorgio had surprised Rosie by declaring that he wanted a relationship with her more than he wanted to be a father, and ever since then, they’d spent every possible minute they could with each other, flying back and forth between London and Rome.

That's not gonna stick. You don't repeatedly break it off with someone because you want kids and they don't only to suddenly realise you're happy without kids. He's gonna hit 45, realise he desperately wants to be a dad, and have a wildly inappropriate fling with someone 20 years younger.

Then I got busy creating a Tinder profile.

Why do you hate yourself

Somehow I pulled myself together enough to do the introductions.

No. No introductions. Tell him he's a creepy stalker, shove him out the door, and block his number from your phone.

Just at the exact same time, Tom said, “Out with the old and in with the new, eh?”

Oh my god.

Then I remembered Mark telling me last Christmas that Grace was barely at home. That she had often had weekend clients. And my thoughts took a leap further. “D’you think they were seeing each other when you two were still together?”

Oh, honey. They were seeing each other when *you* two were still together.

He frowned, remembering. “I had George Michael hair. I wore double denim.”

The early 90s were a terrible time for fashion.