The Kicking the Bucket List: The feelgood bestseller of 2017. Cathy Hopkins
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start with you, Fleur. Three words about Rose.’
Fleur looked at Rose then back at Beverly. ‘Three?’
Rose looked indignant at the insinuation that three positive words were going to be hard to find. I thought it was just Fleur trying to be funny and have a dig at the same time.
Beverly nodded. ‘Three.’
Fleur hesitated. ‘Can Dee go first?’
‘Can you, Dee?’ asked Beverly.
Rose sighed heavily, looked at her watch, crossed her arms and legs and the left foot began to twitch.
‘OK,’ I said, and looked at Rose. If I was to be honest, I’d say uptight, anal and patronizing for her, and self-obsessed, impatient and frivolous for Fleur, but I’d been in therapy and knew how to play the game. They get you to start positive then bring out the knives later. ‘OK. Rose. Hard-working. Conscientious. Focused.’
‘Conscientious and focused are almost the same, can you give us another word?’ asked Beverly.
I looked at Rose again. ‘Stylish. She always looks immaculate.’ Rose shifted in her seat but didn’t look displeased.
‘Good,’ said Beverly. ‘And for Fleur.’
‘Beautiful. Light-hearted. A free spirit,’ I said. Free spirit meaning she does exactly what she pleases, but Beverly wouldn’t know that and what I’d said seemed to have worked. The atmosphere had lightened a tad.
‘Fleur, your three words for Rose,’ said Beverly.
Fleur had a mischievous look. ‘Five foot three.’
I couldn’t help but laugh. Rose rolled her eyes again.
‘I get the feeling you’re not taking this seriously, Fleur?’
Fleur gave her a ‘duh’ look. Beverly gave it back to her just as she had returned Rose’s look earlier. ‘I am taking it seriously,’ said Fleur. ‘Doesn’t mean we can’t tease each other. That’s all it was.’ She shrugged, then turned back to Rose and appraised her. Rose looked bored and turned to look out of the window. ‘Capable, organized, efficient.’
Rose turned back. ‘That makes me sound like a bank clerk.’
Fleur raised an eyebrow as if to say, And your point is? ‘She’s a great mother too,’ she continued, ‘and highly intelligent.’ Rose visibly relaxed a little. She’d prided herself on her high IQ and top grades all through school and university. ‘Bossy as hell. Hah. There are another three good words for her.’
‘Positive Fleur, keep it positive for now,’ warned Beverly.
‘OK. Um … great cook. She does a mean Sunday lunch, or rather did. I haven’t been invited for over three years and, yes, I am doing fine thank you very much, thanks for asking.’
Typical of Fleur. Making up her own rules as usual, I thought as I counted her words to describe Rose. A lot more than three. I glanced at Beverly. I suppose she saw people like us every day in her line of work. I wondered if she ever got sick of it, listening to people moaning on and having a go at each other. Her expression gave nothing away.
‘OK, now Rose, three words for Dee.’
Rose glanced at me. ‘New Age hippie.’
‘Is that said in a positive way?’ Beverly asked.
‘And I am not a hippie,’ I objected.
‘You went to art college,’ said Fleur. ‘You drink herbal tea, wear Eastern-style clothes.’
This time it was my turn to roll my eyes. ‘That does not make me a hippie. And I rarely drink herbal tea these days – that was a phase, not that you’d know.’
‘Let Rose speak,’ said Beverly.
‘It wasn’t meant in a negative way,’ said Rose. ‘I meant she’s idealistic, romantic, child of God, you know, Woodstock and all that. Creative. Talented. There.’
‘And Fleur, what would you say about Dee?’ asked Beverly.
Fleur pouted. ‘Rose nicked my words. I was going to say creative, talented.’ I almost laughed again. Half a day in each other’s company and we’d reverted back to being nine-year-olds; Fleur sulking because someone had used something of hers. I remembered endless tantrums if anyone dared to touch anything that belonged to her, and God forbid if either of us ever tried to borrow any of her clothes.
‘I’m sure you can think of some others, Fleur.’
Fleur looked at me. ‘Er … happy. Yes, you’re a happy person Dee, sunny, or you were … Er …’
Yes, I was, I thought. I felt flattered she’d used the word happy to describe me, but also sad that I didn’t think it applied any more. I wondered if Beverly would ask us to use three words to describe ourselves. Mine for me would be: wrinkly, disappointed, broke.
Fleur looked over at Rose. ‘I know two good words for Dee. Animal-lover.’
Rose laughed but it came out as a snort. Beverly looked at her quizzically.
‘Family joke,’ said Rose. She looked annoyingly pleased.
‘Not a joke shared by me,’ I said. I knew they were referring to Max and Misty and probably saw me as a mad old cat lady.
‘OK, let’s stay focused,’ said Beverly. ‘Now we’re going to say what you don’t like. Dee. Why don’t you go first again, and remember to speak to them, not to me.’
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