**THE FIVE FACES OF TOMORROW**
“Well, at least our children will look after us in our old agethats why we had them, after all. But you, Maisie, youve got a real problem,” Natty remarked with a mix of mockery and sympathy, topping up her glass of white wine.
Five women lounged in beanbag chairs beneath parasols at a beachside bar in Bournemouth. The evening carried the scent of salt, pine, and a hint of melancholy.
When her friends had invited Maisie to join them at the seaside retreat, she hadnt known what to expect. In her mind, “retreat” conjured images of something from another erastiff routines, medicinal baths, and endless boredom. Perhaps, if she was lucky, a bit of harmless flirtation to pass the time.
But it turned out to be a modern hotel, with fine dining, spa treatments, and long walks through emerald-green woods where the only sounds were the whispering pines and the occasional rustle of sunlight through the leaves.
The sea, though shallow and chilly, was still a joy. Stretching in both directions from the beach were designated naturist areas: to the left, women; to the right, men.
The womens side amused them all. “Well, were not so bad ourselves, all things considered!”
But the mens side that was another matter.
“Good Lord, look at that fellowhis equipments smaller than my grandsons!” Lottie exclaimed.
“And that short oneseems his vanished altogether!” Tansy chimed in.
“Thanks for the review, ladies!” came an unexpected male voice.
The women burst into laughter and hurried away, hiding their faces. Theyd forgotten that Bournemouth wasnt quite as private as theyd thought.
After dinner, no one wanted to leavethe treatments had left them pleasantly invigorated. Music played softly at the bar, the sun dipped into the sea, and conversation drifted, as it often did, toward lifes inevitable aches and pains.
One complained of high blood pressure, another a stiff arm, a third of sleepless nights. Soon, the talk turned to old age, the fear of loneliness, and children too busy with their own lives.
Maisie tried to lighten the mood. “Who knows? The way the worlds going, we might not live long enough to worry about it.”
But the others were in full swingeach sharing either horrors or fragile hopes.
Then, suddenly, Diana perked up. “Remember when you lost me at the market the other day? I met an old woman selling peculiar stones. Bought this crystal from her.” She pulled a green-blue faceted gem from her cloth bag, its top slightly chipped. “She said it shows the future.”
“Does what?” Natty squinted.
“Shows the future, apparently. Her English wasnt the best, but she said, Five visions remain. And there are five of us. Why not try?”
They laughed but touched the crystal anyway.
**First vision: Natty.**
By eighty, Natty had been a widow for five years. She lived alone in her spacious flat, still sharp, though her eyesight was fading.
Her daughter, a high-powered executive, was always too busyshed never even found time to start a family. She cared for her mother out of duty, but warmth was scarce.
Once, Natty climbed a chair to fetch an old vase from the cupboard, wanting to give it to her daughter. She slipped. No broken bones, but bruises galore. Her daughter gasped and whisked her away “for a few days.”
White kitchen, white walls, white silence.
One day, Natty spilled tomato juice.
“Mum! Why must you meddle?”
“Well,” Natty forced a smile, “at least it adds some colour. Feels less like a hospital in here.”
The joke fell flat.
**Second vision: Diana.**
Diana had raised her son alone. Everything she did was for him.
He grew up to be a brilliant programmer, married a German woman, and poured all his love into herlove that once belonged to his mother.
His wife was cold as steel. The house, signed over “for tax reasons,” became her domain.
Diana moved slowly now, her heart unreliable, her breath uneven. They tended to her, but with thinly veiled irritation.
“Mum, dont touch that. Mum, dont interfere.”
She spent most days in her room, crying quietly at night, smiling again by morning.
One day, she called Natty.
“I cant take it anymore.”
“Then pack your things. Come live with me. Well manage.”
And they did.
One saw poorly, the other walked slowly, but together, they made do.
They laughed at their frailty.
“Honestly, youve swept all the dust into the corners again.”
“But the middles spotless!”
Evenings were for debatespolitics, technology, happiness. They disagreed often, but it never mattered.
Then theyd turn on the telly: Natty listened, Diana described.
“Sometimes I think its a blessing I cant see well,” Natty mused. “The worlds grown ugly.”
“Dont be silly,” Diana countered. “Were just relics. The world moves on.”
**Third vision: Lottie.**
Lottie had twin daughters. In her old age, one took her in; the other visited with grandchildren.
The house buzzed with laughter, the scent of popcorn and baby shampoo.
“Gran, is it true you were born before the internet?” a curly-haired boy gasped. “Did you see mammoths?”
“Oh yes,” Lottie chuckled. “And the tigers had sabre teeth!”
The child squealed and hid under the table.
Lottie ruffled his hair, thinking, *This is happinesstiny curls and all.*
**Fourth vision: Maisie.**
Maisie, 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 care homemodern, cheerful, with gardens and Wednesday dances.
And there, she blossomed.
Shopping trips, excursions, bingo, new friends.
At the dances, a dapper neighbour with a walker once asked,
“May I have this cha-cha?”
Maisie laughed. “Can you keep up? Maybe wed better start slow.”
**Fifth vision: Tansy.**
Tansy and her husband had always dreamed of a seaside home. They bought onein Thailand.
Now, they had a little paradise: a local woman cooked, cleaned, helped.
Her husband had suffered a stroke, but evenings, Tansy wheeled him onto the shore.
They sat, watching the sun sink into the ocean, talkingor content in silence.
“How glad I am we did this,” he whispered.
“So am I,” she replied.
When the visions faded, the women sat quietly.
The sky deepened to violet; the waves murmured secrets of their own.
“Well,” Tansy finally said, “not so terrible, is it?”
“Rather human, actually,” Diana smiled.
“And even beautiful,” Natty added. “Fewer bruises would be nice. More wine to that?”
They laughed.
The waiter brought another bottle. The crystal on the table caught the dying lightdim but persistent. It hadnt cracked or dimmed; it had only grown clearer.
“Let it be so,” Maisie said. “Each to her own path, but on the wholenot bad.”
“Old age is still life,” Lottie mused, filling her glass. “Just a different time of day.”
They clinked glasses, and the sea murmured its agreement.
