Fabulous at Forty

January 4^th. The start of a new year. The start of a new decade. The start of a new life. This year would be when Harriet, finally, became herself.

She knew she’d broken all the rules about new year’s resolutions. They must be specific, measurable, realistic, blah, blah, blah.

Too bad. She’d played by the rules for almost forty years and where had it got her? Living a miserable lie, that’s where.

This year it was time to think big and to act bravely. If she failed, well at least she’d damn well tried.

Harriet turned the shop sign around to ‘Open’ and looked at her little empire with satisfaction. Her New Year sale signs almost screamed at her;

“Half price Christmas cards.”

“A third off calendars.”

“Two angels for the price of one.”

Harriet wandered happily amongst the displays, straightening angel’s wings and putting cards straight as she went.

“Buying this shop was just what I needed to help me through this year,” she said to herself.

She stopped by the “Cards for Special” occasions section. Frowning slightly while she rifled through them, she selected one and pulled it out. On the outside was a lurid picture of a champagne bottle, the cork hovering impossibly above. Inside were the words, “To wish you success in your new venture.” Yes, that was good although she would have liked “life’’.

Mr Roberts, her bank manager, had advised against buying this shop.

‘It’s too risky. You’ll be up against too much competition from on-line and cut-price retailers. Besides which you have a lot of other expenses planned this year.’

He flushed slightly as he spoke, uncomfortable with the subject he’d raised.

Harriet thanked him for his concern but pointed out that she’d made a great deal of money and now intended to spend some of it.

A customer’s arrival put an end to her reverie. She picked up a pen and wrote inside the card,

“To Harriet. Show them girl! With love.” She placed the card on a shelf behind the counter and then served her first customer.

Business was brisk throughout January. Lots of people seemed to like to buy their Christmas cards early. Harriet imagined them sitting by their fires on January the fifteenth writing, “Peace and joy throughout the coming year.” She sometimes wished that she believed in God so that she could pray that she too would find tranquillity and happiness at last after so many years of torment.

Lots of people bought calendars and diaries well into January. How did they remember their appointments during the missing weeks? Maybe they just buy a calendar to cover up a stain on the kitchen wall or because they liked pictures of cats. Harriet had all her appointments written in both her online diary and her wall calendar so that there was no chance of forgetting any.

On the first of February Harriet shut up the shop early to visit her doctor. Her hands shook slightly as she turned the key in the lock. Once in his consulting room he asked her lots of questions but seemed pleased with her answers.

“Are you getting out much?” he queried, peering at her over the top of his half-moon spectacles.

“I’m running a little card shop on the High Street which keeps me busy. I’m meeting a lot of new people through that,” she replied.

“Splendid,” said the doctor. “Keep it up. I’ll just give you your injection and then you can book your next appointment for three months’ time.”

The shop was particularly busy throughout February selling Valentine cards. Harriet was amazed at some people’s choice. Tweed suited women bought cards with teddy bears on them inscribed,

“Be my teddy and I’ll take you to bed with me.” She imagined that these were married to the ones who sent embarrassing messages to The Times, “Me Tarzan, you Jane” type of thing. You would never recognise Tarzan if you sat next to him on the train. To you he would look like any other bald, tired commuter. She felt very happy to have rented the flat above the shop so that her commute now took less than five minutes.

She found it hard to believe that she’d started work at six, in her previous job, and rarely got home before nine at night.

Harriet decided to choose a pretty Valentine card for herself and selected one covered in red hearts and green ivy. Inside she wrote,

“Every day, in every way, you’re getting lovelier and lovelier. Love Harriet.”

Her mirror told a different story, but her hair was growing, and a bit of make-up did wonders.

In March the Mother’s Day cards were very popular. She enjoyed serving the children who all wanted a card “To the best mummy in the world.” Harriet shed a few tears that she would never be a mother. Maybe she could be a better aunt to her sister’s children.

Lots of adults too came to buy cards for their mothers. Harriet chose one for her mother. It was small and elegant and simply said, “Happy Mother’s Day.” It was returned unopened a week later.

Easter was in April that year. The weather had been raw and damp but during the week before Good Friday the sun came out and the grey clouds disappeared. The fine weather helped to keep her spirits up. Harriet’s window display of chicks and bunnies brought a smile to the faces of passing shoppers. Many popped in and bought a few things.

“These little chicks are just right for decorating my Simnel cake,” said one elderly woman. Harriet smiled as she put them in the paper bag. At home that night she looked up “Simnel cakes,” in her cookery book in order to be more informed next time.

In May, Harriet paid a further visit to her doctor. She took great care in getting ready for the appointment. She wore a trouser suit with a pretty top and made her face up carefully. Finding shoes to fit was a struggle and she had to settle for smart sandals.

“The injections are working well,” he told her. “I’ll keep them at the same level.” She tried to book her next appointment for August but was told that the doctor always spent the month in the South of France. The middle of September was therefore agreed.

June saw the bridal and anniversary cards disappear from the shop. She noticed a growing trend for cards for bridesmaids. “Congratulations on being a bridesmaid,” one said. This seemed highly fanciful to Harriet who was not at all sure what qualifications were required for the task except to be a friend or relative of the bride. Harriet noticed from the catalogues that it was now possible to announce your divorce by way of a card.

“Just to let you know that after ten years together we have decided to go our separate ways.” The picture on the card was a sunrise which she thought was a terrible cliché. Harriet knew that soon she would have to face the lawyers herself and the division of possessions and property. For her it was fifteen years of marriage that would be dissolved. It needed to be done but it could wait a little longer.

July was a special month for Harriet. She was due to celebrate her fortieth birthday on the tenth. She’d noticed that people didn’t often say the word “forty” when discussing this particular age. They were much more likely to say “four o.” It was as if there was some kind of taboo about it like saying the big C when you meant cancer. She was actually quite excited about being forty. The thirties had not been the happiest time of her life and she was glad to see the end of them. No, forty meant the start of a new era for her.

She bought herself the biggest birthday card she could find in the shop. It was padded and had a bouquet of roses on the front. Harriet wrote inside, “Fabulous at forty, Love H.”

In August the weather was hot and humid. She struggled to keep cool even with an electric fan on all the time. She found it hard to keep her legs smooth enough to go bare legged and often wore tights in the sweltering heat. She sold out of ‘’Congratulations on your exam results” and “Better luck next time” cards.

During September Harriet went to see her doctor as arranged. At this appointment he said,

“I think it’s time we discussed surgery again.”

Although the thought of going under the knife made her feel sick, she knew that it had to be done. The doctor drew pictures to show her exactly what would happen and she managed to ask one or two intelligent questions.

“We’ll do it in December,” he said.

Harriet argued that December would be her busiest time in the shop and pleaded for it to be done in the New Year. As Harriet was paying him, he had no choice but to agree.

Early autumn was rather slack in the shop and Harriet found that gave her too much time to think. She knew that she was doing the right thing but that didn’t stop her from being scared. She put together a Halloween display to take her mind off things. The children loved it and bought all sorts of scary masks and props.

By November, preparations for Christmas were well under way. The shop was piled from floor to ceiling with decorations, wrapping paper, candles and cards. By early December every day felt like a Saturday. The time went by quickly and evenings were just as busy restocking shelves and doing the paperwork.

“If business continues to be as good as this next year, I shall have to think about taking on an assistant,” Harriet told herself optimistically.

When she finally shut the shop on Christmas Eve she realised that she had yet to choose a card for herself. Maybe she wouldn’t bother. Her operation was scheduled for January the sixth, so she had more important things on her mind than a card.

On the day of the operation the doctor came to see her in her room at the hospital.

“Are you quite sure that you want to go through with this?” he asked. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”

“I have to go through with it,” Harriet replied, ‘’if I’m ever to find the real me.’’

Several hours later, while still groggy from the anaesthetic, Harriet opened her eyes and turned her head to look at a card that had been placed on her bedside locker. She reached up and took hold of it. Inside it said,

“To Harriet. Welcome to the world of women. It was hard to lose my husband and my best friend, but I’ve learned to live without Harry.’’

The card was signed, ‘Rosie.’

Harriet felt a surge of regret which seemed to come from her insides and move up towards her heart. Her breath came in ragged sobs. She’d thought that she and Rosie would always be friends; go shopping together, get their nails done, have lunch.

She’d achieved her goal. She wasn’t yet sure whether it would be worth it.