Read Online Lola's Secret by Monica McInerney - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Monica McInerney
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Electrocution by toaster. Drowning in paddling pools. Spider bites in toilets. I’ve made it this far. I plan to take it easy to the end now too. No point tempting fate or putting myself at risk.”
“You don’t have the urge to try something new? Use what time you have to do something, I don’t know, spectacular? Important? Life-changing?”
“Like what? Skydiving?” Patricia laughed. “Win a poker tournament? Of course. I just do it all online.”
The conversation had immediately turned to their various online activities. Lola was left vaguely dissatisfied. She’d wanted to be told that the way she was feeling was normal. But it seemed she was on her own.
She sighed now. Once upon a time, she might have brought up the subject with Bett. Of her three granddaughters, she’d always been closest to her middle one. But Bett had moved into that chaotic land known as Parenthood, and while Lola knew she would have tried hard, listened as best she could, perhaps even made suggestions, only a percentage of her would have been paying attention.
Lola knew from her own experience with Jim, and then the girls themselves, that one’s mind was never truly one’s own once children came along. Yes, on the surface, conversations took place, opinions were offered and listened to, but underneath it, at all times, there was a constant soundtrack of maternal worries, organizational lists being made, scenarios being played out. Parenthood was exhaustion mixed with elation, anxiety with contentment. It was why mothers naturally gravitated to other mothers. There was a shorthand language, a mutual understanding.
But if Lola did ask for Bett’s opinion, she knew Bett would encourage her. “I’m sure there’s nothing you couldn’t do if you set your mind to it, Lola.” The same advice Lola had spent many years giving her three granddaughters, and now, even Ellen and the other great-grandchildren too.
But what was there for people her age to set their minds to? Those who weren’t ready to play bowls, or be admitted into old folks’ homes? Who didn’t only want to reminisce, but also wanted to look forward, to plan, to hope? She ran through a mental roll call of famous people her age who were still active, still filled with energy. Clint Eastwood. The Queen. Rupert Murdoch. Marvelous. All she had to do was direct a few films, become a monarch, and run a global media empire and she’d sleep easy at night.
A sudden call from Margaret broke into her thoughts. “She’s here!”
Drat, Lola thought. She’d hoped they might have had a last-minute reprieve, a call to say her car had broken down or her drains needed fixing. Sadly not. “Coming,” Lola said, with a sigh.
“She” was Mrs. Kernaghan. Her first name was believed to be Barbara, but from her first appearance at the charity shop three months earlier, she’d made it clear she wasn’t to be treated as “one of them.” She’d introduced herself as Mrs. Kernaghan and Mrs. Kernaghan she’d remained at all subsequent fortnightly meetings.
Lola had had her measure from the moment Mrs. Kernaghan stepped into the shop. Lola had moved so many times herself over the years that she recognized the key types of new arrivals. The ones seeking a sea change. Those searching for a fresh start in a country town. The city ones making a show of bringing their expertise to their simple country cousins. What people forgot was that the town had got on perfectly well before their arrival and would continue to prosper after they left.
Mrs. Kernaghan was clearly a fierce combination of all the types. She also managed to get under Lola’s skin in the first minutes of their meeting. Their committee of five had been sitting around the table in the back of the shop. Patricia was unofficial chairwoman, introducing everyone to the new arrival. Mrs. Kernaghan acknowledged each name with a regal nod. When it was Lola’s turn, the nod changed into an even more condescending smile, as she
“You don’t have the urge to try something new? Use what time you have to do something, I don’t know, spectacular? Important? Life-changing?”
“Like what? Skydiving?” Patricia laughed. “Win a poker tournament? Of course. I just do it all online.”
The conversation had immediately turned to their various online activities. Lola was left vaguely dissatisfied. She’d wanted to be told that the way she was feeling was normal. But it seemed she was on her own.
She sighed now. Once upon a time, she might have brought up the subject with Bett. Of her three granddaughters, she’d always been closest to her middle one. But Bett had moved into that chaotic land known as Parenthood, and while Lola knew she would have tried hard, listened as best she could, perhaps even made suggestions, only a percentage of her would have been paying attention.
Lola knew from her own experience with Jim, and then the girls themselves, that one’s mind was never truly one’s own once children came along. Yes, on the surface, conversations took place, opinions were offered and listened to, but underneath it, at all times, there was a constant soundtrack of maternal worries, organizational lists being made, scenarios being played out. Parenthood was exhaustion mixed with elation, anxiety with contentment. It was why mothers naturally gravitated to other mothers. There was a shorthand language, a mutual understanding.
But if Lola did ask for Bett’s opinion, she knew Bett would encourage her. “I’m sure there’s nothing you couldn’t do if you set your mind to it, Lola.” The same advice Lola had spent many years giving her three granddaughters, and now, even Ellen and the other great-grandchildren too.
But what was there for people her age to set their minds to? Those who weren’t ready to play bowls, or be admitted into old folks’ homes? Who didn’t only want to reminisce, but also wanted to look forward, to plan, to hope? She ran through a mental roll call of famous people her age who were still active, still filled with energy. Clint Eastwood. The Queen. Rupert Murdoch. Marvelous. All she had to do was direct a few films, become a monarch, and run a global media empire and she’d sleep easy at night.
A sudden call from Margaret broke into her thoughts. “She’s here!”
Drat, Lola thought. She’d hoped they might have had a last-minute reprieve, a call to say her car had broken down or her drains needed fixing. Sadly not. “Coming,” Lola said, with a sigh.
“She” was Mrs. Kernaghan. Her first name was believed to be Barbara, but from her first appearance at the charity shop three months earlier, she’d made it clear she wasn’t to be treated as “one of them.” She’d introduced herself as Mrs. Kernaghan and Mrs. Kernaghan she’d remained at all subsequent fortnightly meetings.
Lola had had her measure from the moment Mrs. Kernaghan stepped into the shop. Lola had moved so many times herself over the years that she recognized the key types of new arrivals. The ones seeking a sea change. Those searching for a fresh start in a country town. The city ones making a show of bringing their expertise to their simple country cousins. What people forgot was that the town had got on perfectly well before their arrival and would continue to prosper after they left.
Mrs. Kernaghan was clearly a fierce combination of all the types. She also managed to get under Lola’s skin in the first minutes of their meeting. Their committee of five had been sitting around the table in the back of the shop. Patricia was unofficial chairwoman, introducing everyone to the new arrival. Mrs. Kernaghan acknowledged each name with a regal nod. When it was Lola’s turn, the nod changed into an even more condescending smile, as she
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