Annie Lyons - The Happiness List - A wonderfully feel-good story to make you smile this summer!

‘Wow,’ said Fran. ‘What kind of things does he write?’

‘He’s a journalist really but he’s got all sorts of projects on the go. You know how it is.’

Fran nodded. ‘Well if he ever needs an editor, let me know.’

Pamela smiled. ‘I’ll do that – thanks, Fran. How do you fit your job around your kiddies? Must be tough juggling it all.’

Fran shrugged. ‘I’m lucky. I’m freelance and I’ve got some good contacts who trust me and get in touch whenever they need an editor. I enjoy the work, but after I had the kids, I wanted to be at home and then after Andy died, it was all a bit trickier, but I keep my hand in – I manage.’

‘You have to, don’t you? I really feel for you young women – so much pressure on you to do it all. In my day, you gave up your job when you got married, you didn’t have a choice.’

‘Sometimes the choices make it harder.’

‘Don’t they just?’ agreed Pamela. ‘Anyway, where are my manners? Let me make you that coffee.’

‘How are you getting on with your happy homework?’ asked Fran. ‘To be honest, I’m struggling.’

Pamela flicked on the kettle and fetched three mugs from the cupboard. ‘I went with the obvious.’ She handed Fran her notebook. ‘It’s my favourite hobby but I get the feeling I could do more with it.’

‘ Just bake ,’ Fran read out, nodding. ‘Looks good to me and, for the record, I shall do all I can to help you. I’m an excellent eater of cakes.’

Pamela laughed. ‘I might have had some chocolate muffins for you today. I had a go at that mindful baking that Nik suggested but I fell asleep and they all burnt!’

‘I think there’s a fine line between meditating and sleeping – so easy to get the two mixed up,’ joked Fran.

Pamela smiled. She liked Fran – she was easy to talk to and good fun. She felt rather protective towards her too. She was very young to be a widow and as for her poor children – Pamela’s heart went out to them.

She placed a mug of coffee in front of Fran, along with milk and sugar. She opened the back door. ‘Barry! Coffee!’

Moments later, Barry appeared. ‘Thanks, Pammy. Did you get milk then?’ he asked before spotting Fran. ‘Oh sorry, I didn’t realize you had company. Hello.’

Fran smiled. ‘Hi, I’m Fran.’

‘Fran and I are doing that course together.’ Barry nodded without comment. ‘Barry thinks it’s a lot of old mumbo-jumbo, don’t you, Barry?’

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘You didn’t need to. It’s written all over your face.’

Fran looked uneasy. ‘Well, I suppose some of it is a bit “out there”, but I was surprised how much I enjoyed it.’

‘See? Fran’s enjoying it and she’s a widow. No offence, Fran.’

‘None taken,’ laughed Fran.

‘My garden gives me happiness,’ declared Barry. ‘So if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to the pruning. It was nice to meet you, Fran.’

‘You too.’

After he’d gone, Pamela turned to Fran. ‘Sorry, lovey. That man infuriates me sometimes. All he thinks about is his garden. It’s as if I’m invisible.’

‘Maybe you should try telling him?’

Pamela snorted. Fran made it sound so easy and maybe it was for her generation, but Barry and Pamela didn’t really talk about their feelings. She would have liked to but wasn’t sure where to start. ‘You saw what he’s like. He doesn’t want to know. He can’t get back to his garden quick enough.’ She stole a glance at Fran and felt a pang of guilt. ‘Sorry. Here I am moaning about Barry when you’ve got real problems.’

Fran laughed. ‘Thanks for reminding me.’

Pamela looked horrified. ‘Sorry, Fran, I didn’t mean it like that. I get a bit carried away sometimes.’

Fran waved away her concerns. ‘It’s fine. Honestly. I’m joking.’

‘So how is your list going?’ Pamela asked, trying to cover her embarrassment.

‘Not great. I need to open up but old habits die hard,’ said Fran, pulling a face.

Pamela reached over and squeezed her hand. ‘You’ve been through a lot. You stick with me and Heather – we’ll help you.’

‘Thanks, Pamela. So what do you think Nordic Nik’s got in store for us next? Knitting big jumpers and field trips to Ikea?’

Pamela laughed. ‘I don’t know but I’m looking forward to it.’

Fran held her gaze for a second. ‘You know what? Me too. Thanks, Pamela – you’ve given me the kick up the bum I needed.’

‘Have I?’ asked Pamela, feeling buoyed by the compliment. It was so much nicer than being taken for granted. ‘Well I am glad.’

‘So you should be. It’s easy to be cynical, much harder to see the bright side. Right, I’d better get back. Those psychological thrillers and cupcake romances won’t edit themselves.’

Pamela followed her to the front door and before Fran left, she folded her into a hug. Fran’s body was rigid at first but she relaxed into the embrace. ‘Thanks for popping round, Fran. I really enjoyed our chat.’

Fran smiled. ‘Me too. And remember, if ever you need a guinea pig for your recipes, I’m ready and willing. See you soon.’

‘Mind how you go,’ said Pamela, feeling ticklish with excitement. It was lovely to have a new friend like Fran and she was determined to support her as best she could.

Pamela closed the door and walked back to the kitchen, pausing to gaze at her children’s photos. Her gaze rested on Matthew’s university picture. She’d been so proud as she watched him collect his degree from the Dean. But even then, Barry had been disparaging.

‘What’s he going to do with an English degree?’ he’d scoffed. Pamela had shushed him but she saw from the dark look on Matthew’s face that he’d heard. Poor Matthew. Pamela felt for him. He’d had articles published, of course, and managed to get by, but she sensed that he compared himself unfavourably to his siblings. Pamela had therefore taken on the role of chief protector. Laura and Simon seemed sorted but Matthew – her Matty – needed a bit more support. Barry might disagree but wasn’t it important to feel that your mum had your back, regardless of how old you were? Pamela’s maternal instinct told her that it was and Barry would just have to deal with it.

Pamela moved around the kitchen fetching the ingredients for toad in the hole. She liked to make her batter early and leave it to sit – it seemed to make for a fluffier Yorkshire. She went to the fridge and realized that she still didn’t have any milk, having insisted that Fran take home the remainder of the pint she’d brought with her.

Pamela picked up her bag and made for the door. She considered telling Barry where she was going but realized that he wouldn’t notice anyway. She felt as if she was punishing him somehow by just leaving the house. She knew it was childish but she was still cross with his comment about Matty earlier that morning. Didn’t he understand that he would push their son away if he carried on like that?

Pamela breathed in the fresh spring air as she made her way to the end of the road to Doly and Dev’s shop. She loved this time of year – the trees bursting with new life, everything beginning again.

The bell tinkled above the door as she entered the shop. Doly’s head popped out from behind the shelf she was stacking. ‘Pamela! How are you?’ she said with a smile. Pamela felt a surge of warmth from that smile. Doly always seemed so happy and calm. She wondered what her secret was.

‘I’m fine, thanks, dear. How about you? How are your lovely girls?’

‘Noisy but beautiful.’ Doly beamed. ‘How is your son? Has he found a job yet?’ Pamela shook her head. ‘Well, it’s not much but I may have some runs to the cash and carry if he’s free. Dev and Hasan have had to go back to Bangladesh for a while as their grandmother is ill.’