Life Isn't All Ha Ha Hee Hee by Meera Syal

Author:Meera Syal [Meera Syal]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Transworld
Published: 2007-07-05T04:00:00+00:00

Spring

5

SPRING BUSTLED IN late to London, full of excuses and panting slightly, tweaking tightly furled leaves and reluctant bulbs in its wake, gently shoving fronds and blades through paving stones and crumbling brick, shooing away sulky clouds and frost-breathy wind until finally, a shaky sun wobbled into view, anxious to make up for its long hibernation.

Mostly, it was business as usual. The traffic still slithered its way in choky snakes through small gaps, the shops replaced their Winter Sale signs with Spring Offers placards, and the pelicans still breakfasted on pigeons in Green Park. Diligent housewives, for whom the term was not yet an insult or an anachronism, dusted, polished and scrubbed, or instructed their Filipino maids to do so. Debris and detritus were discarded with gusto, as attics, cellars and outhouses were ransacked and cleared to let in the new air. Crocuses nodded their leonine heads from flower beds and pots, approving the bulging bin liners being carried from front porch to hatchbacks, bound for charities or city dumps. One woman’s cast-off became another woman’s posh party frock, one person’s hand-me-down another’s perfect fit.

Which is why Martin moved out as soon as his window boxes turned green, taking only his computer and cookbooks, and moved in with Stella, a nurse from Finchley with South Italian blood. She was exotic enough for him to feel fascinated, and he had already decided that Italy was as far east as he would now venture in his search for love. Tania found his note three days later when she returned from a shoot. He left no forwarding address, so she too requisitioned an army of black bags and sent the rest of their relationship to the Mencap shop.

The gently warming earth and unseasonably flirtatious winds persuaded Sunita to peel off a few layers of winter woollies, amazed to discover that her body had been changing without her knowledge or permission. The blouses and jackets she had worn this time last year no longer fitted. The pouches and strained seams which she must have filled once now hung off her limply, like a former wrinkled skin. Against her face, the colours seemed faded and old. When she spotted flashes of unexpected colour amongst the weeds and junk in her garden, a red tulip winking at her through the rim of a rusty can, she dashed to her wardrobe. She opened it and faced an expanse of beige and grey, a veritable accountants’ tea party of elasticated waistbands and sensible shoes. She flung the whole lot into her recycling tub, threw the children into a double buggy, checked the expiry date on her credit card and took the first available tube to town.

Chila knew that winter was finally over when she woke up and was not sick. The metallic fur on her tongue had disappeared, the ache in her breasts had abated, the dizziness that accompanied every sudden move had stopped. She sat up gingerly, sniffing the change around her, seeing it in the quality

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