**FIVE FACES OF TOMORROW**
«Well, I suppose our children will look after us in our old agethats why we had them, after all. But you, Mary, really do have a problem,» Nettie said with a mocking yet sympathetic tone as she topped up Marys glass of white wine.
Five women lounged in beanbag chairs beneath umbrellas at a beachside bar in Brighton. The evening air carried the scent of salt, pine, and a touch of melancholy.
When her friends had invited Mary to join them at the seaside retreat, she hadnt known what to expect. In her mind, «seaside retreat» conjured images of faded Victorian sanatoriumsstiff-backed chairs, medicinal baths, and dull routines. Perhaps, if she was lucky, a bit of harmless flirtation at lifes sunset.
But this was differenta modern hotel, gourmet meals, spa treatments, and walks through forests blanketed in emerald moss, where the whisper of pines and the dance of sunlight through the leaves made hours slip away.
The sea, though shallow and cold, was still a joy. Stretching in either direction from the beach were nudist zoneswomen to the left, men to the right.
The womens side had amused them all. «Well, were not so bad for our age!»
The mens side, thoughthat had been a different story.
«Oh, look at that one! Less to boast about than my grandson!» Lily cackled.
«And that short felloweverythings gone into hiding!» Tanya chimed in.
«Thanks, ladies!» called a voice from nearby.
The women burst into laughter, hurrying away with flushed cheeks. Theyd forgotten that Brighton wasnt quite abroad.
After dinner, no one wanted to leavethe treatments had left them oddly invigorated. The beach bar played soft music, the sun dipped into the sea, and conversation drifted, as it often did, toward lifes achesboth literal and figurative.
One complained of high blood pressure, another of a sore arm, the third of sleepless nights. Then came the deeper fearsaging, loneliness, children too busy with their own lives.
Mary tried to lighten the mood.
«Honestly, the worlds gone madwe might not even live long enough to worry about old age!»
But her friends were already deep in their storiessome grim, others hopeful.
Then Diana perked up.
«Remember when you lost me at the market two days ago? I met an old woman selling peculiar stones. Bought this crystal from her,» she said, pulling a green-blue polyhedron with a chipped tip from her cloth bag. «She said it shows the future.»
«Shows what?» Nettie squinted.
«The future, supposedly. Her English was patchy, but she said, ‘Five visions left.’ And there are five of us. Why not try?»
Amused but curious, they each touched the crystal.
**First vision: Nettie.**
By eighty, Nettie had been a widow for five years. She lived in a spacious London flat, still spirited, though her eyesight faltered.
Her daughter, a high-powered executive, was perpetually busytoo busy even for a family of her own. She cared for her mother out of duty, not warmth.
One day, Nettie climbed a chair to fetch an old vase from the cupboarda gift for her daughter. She fell. No broken bones, but bruises galore. Her daughter gasped and whisked her away «for a few days.»
White kitchen, white walls, white despair.
Once, Nettie spilled tomato juice.
«Mum! Why must you meddle?»
«Oh well,» Nettie tried to smile. «Now the décor has a pop of colour. It was like a hospital in here.»
The joke fell flat.
**Second vision: Diana.**
Diana had raised her son alone. Everything for him, everything because of him.
He grew into a talented programmerthen married a German woman, as if handing her all the love that once belonged to his mother.
His wife was steel-cold. The house, signed over «for tax reasons,» became hers.
Dianas heart fluttered, her breath grew thin. They tended to herbut with irritation.
«Mum, dont touch that! Mum, dont interfere!»
She hid in her room, wept silently at night, and smiled again by morning.
One day, she called Nettie.
«I cant take it anymore.»
«Pack your things. Move in with me. Well manage.»
And they did.
One saw poorly, the other walked slowbut together, they coped.
They laughed at their frailty.
«Honestly, youve swept all the dust into the corners again!»
«But the middles spotless!»
Evenings were for debatespolitics, the future, technology, happiness. They disagreed often, but it never mattered.
Then theyd turn on the telly: Nettie listened, Diana described.
«Sometimes I think its a mercy I cant see well,» Nettie mused. «The worlds grown ugly.»
«Nonsense,» Diana scoffed. «Were just relics. The world moves on.»
**Third vision: Lily.**
Lily had twin daughters. In her old age, one took her in, the other visited with grandchildren.
The house buzzed with laughter, smelled of popcorn and baby shampoo.
«Grandma, is it true you were born before the internet?» a curly-haired boy gasped. «Did you see mammoths?»
«Oh yes,» Lily chuckled. «And sabre-toothed tigers!»
The boy yelped and hid under the table.
Lily ruffled his hair, thinking, *Thisthis tiny, curly joyis happiness.*
**Fourth vision: Mary.**
Mary, a doctor, had spent most of her life alone. Two divorces, countless night shifts, hundreds of patients. She worked and saved, knowing she could rely on no one.
When her strength waned, she chose a retirement homemodern, cosy, with gardens and Wednesday dances.
And there, she bloomed.
Shopping trips, excursions, bingo, new friends.
At the dances, a charming neighbour with a walker once asked,
«May I be your cha-cha partner?»
Mary laughed. «Only if you keep up. Maybe we should start slower?»
**Fifth vision: Tanya.**
Tanya and her husband had always dreamed of a seaside home. They bought onein a distant Asian country.
Now, they lived in paradise: a local woman cooked, cleaned, helped.
Her husband had survived a stroke, but each evening, Tanya wheeled him to the shore.
They sat, watching the sun sink into the ocean, talkingor sitting in comfortable silence.
«Glad we made it in time,» he whispered.
«We did,» she replied.
When the visions faded, the women sat in silence.
The sky turned violet, waves murmured secrets at the shore.
«Well,» Tanya cleared her throat, «not so dreadful, was it?»
«Quite the opposite,» Diana smiled. «All rather human.»
«Even lovely,» Nettie added. «Just fewer bruises, please. More wine to that?»
They laughed.
The waiter brought another bottle. The crystal on the table caught the twilightdim but persistent. It hadnt cracked or dimmedonly grown clearer.
«Let it be so,» Mary said. «Each of us has our path, but on the wholenot bad.»
«Old age is still life,» Lily mused, pouring more wine. «Just a different time of day.»
They clinked glasses, and the sea sighed in agreement.
