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

Even Angela knew when to let things go. She sniffed. ‘He’s got an in-grown toenail.’

‘Ouch.’

‘You’d think he’d broken his leg the way he goes on about it.’

‘Everyone needs a hobby.’

Angela smiled. ‘So are you looking forward to this course?’

Fran gave her mother an incredulous look. ‘What do you think?’

‘I think you should go with an open mind.’

‘Says the woman who makes her mind up about people within seven seconds of meeting them,’ snorted Fran.

‘Except you’re not like me, are you? You’re younger and receptive to new ideas.’

Fran sighed. ‘I’m going tonight but if it’s all hygge and hot air, I won’t be going again.’

Her mother fixed her with a look. ‘Let’s hope it brings you something unexpected, shall we?’

Fran knocked her wine glass against her mother’s. ‘To eternal happiness.’

Fran glanced at her watch. Five to seven. She wondered what her friend Nat was up to. She had a feeling that Wednesday might be Dan’s night to have Woody so there was a chance that her friend was home alone, with a tempting bottle of wine in the fridge…

‘I’m not sure whether to go in either,’ said a voice behind her.

Fran turned. The woman was younger than her. Fran was terrible at guessing ages but she estimated her to be mid-twenties. She had dark brown hair, which was scraped up into a loose bun and an air of nervousness, which Fran put down to the prospect of baring her soul in front of a group of strangers. She understood completely and flashed a sympathetic smile.

‘I like your jacket,’ said the woman.

‘Thanks. My son says I’m too old for a leather jacket, which is exactly why I wear it,’ she smirked. ‘And while we’re on the subject, I like your scarf.’

‘Thanks.’ The woman grinned. ‘I’m Heather by the way.’

‘Fran,’ she said. ‘So now that we’re officially best mates, shall we forget this and naff off to the Goldfinch Tavern?’ She thumbed towards the direction of the local pub.

Heather laughed. ‘Could do.’

Fran dismissed the idea with a flick of her hand. ‘I’m just messing with you. My mother’s babysitting and if I don’t go home with the secrets to a happy life imprinted on my brain, she’ll never speak to me or help with the kids again.’

‘Shall we then?’ asked Heather.

‘After you,’ said Fran, gesturing towards the door. ‘But please be warned that I am using you as a human shield.’

Heather laughed as they walked inside.

The Happiness List

WEEK 1: Introduction

WEEK 2: Mindfulness

WEEK 3: Exercise

WEEK 4: Laughter

WEEKS 5 & 6: Keep Learning

WEEK 7: The World Outside Ourselves

WEEK 8: Resilience

WEEK 9: Contentment

WEEK 10: Review

Fran picked up the handout from one of the chairs and wondered if she could slip out now. She could probably just Google these and work it out for herself at home without the fuss of having to come along every week. She had a mindfulness colouring book somewhere, although Charlie had stolen her colouring pencils. In fact, she probably had a book covering most of these subjects. Fran bought a lot of books. It had always been her natural antidote to any life problem that arose. She loved that sense of hope when she came home with a shiny new book. Surely this would be the one to give her the answer to everything from how to tame your toddler to communicating with your monosyllabic teenager? She bought dozens of books after Andy died and friends and relatives had given her dozens more. Alas, she rarely found the time to actually read them beyond skimming the first few chapters. Now they sat abandoned and unread on her bookshelves – an archive of her failed attempts to get her life in order.

Fran sat down. The chairs had been set up in a semicircle. She nodded to Jim the postman and a couple of other people who were already seated. She identified the course leader in seconds – a tall man with George Clooney hair and an air of self-assurance and experience – he would definitely be one to encourage ‘show and tell’. The very thought made her shudder with dread.

‘He looks friendly enough,’ whispered Heather, taking her place next to Fran and nodding towards George Clooney. ‘Although of course he may have two horns underneath that magnificent hair.’ Fran laughed. ‘Do you know Pamela? And this is Georg,’ added Heather, gesturing to her left.

‘Hello.’ Georg wore a blank expression.

In complete contrast, Pamela looked as if she might burst with delight. ‘Hello! It’s lovely to meet you. Now forgive me but I feel as we’ve met before. Did you used to come to the toddler group?’

Fran nodded. ‘Yep, although that was a while back now. My oldest is at secondary and my youngest is in year five.’

Pamela shook her head in disbelief. ‘Time flies and I’ve got a brain like a sieve. What was your name, lovey?’

‘It’s Fran,’ she replied, holding her breath, ready for the moment of dreadful recognition.

It was as if a cloud descended over Pamela. She patted Fran’s arm. ‘Of course, Fran. How could I forget? I’m so sorry. How are you?’

Heather frowned with confusion.

‘My husband died a couple of years ago,’ explained Fran. That’s my cover blown then.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Heather. ‘That’s terrible.’

Fran nodded because that was all you could do. It was terrible – everyone’s worst fear. Over the past couple of years, she had become practised at dealing with the way people reacted when she told them – the fear in their eyes as they desperately scanned their brains for the right thing to say. It was down to her to console their shock and reassure them that they didn’t need to be sorry – it was really shit but it wasn’t their fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. And that was the worst thing of all.

‘Heather’s mum and dad passed away a few years ago,’ said Pamela brightly. Fran shot a surprised glance at Heather and realized that she was trying to swallow down her mirth at this inappropriately cheerful remark.

‘Best friends for life then,’ said Fran with a wink. Heather chuckled.

They sat up straighter in their chairs as George Clooney clapped his hands together and called them to attention.