Erin Kaye - Second Time Around

After they’d had something to eat together, Matt went out. She was disappointed, but having the house all to herself was the next best thing.

Now was the perfect opportunity to raid the cupboards for food – she squirrelled two tins of tuna, a tinned steak pie and a can of corned beef in her bag, along with shampoo and soap from a supply she found under the stairs. She’d take more food on Sunday night before she left. Mum’d never notice – she stockpiled food like there was a war on. She tipped her laundry on the floor of the narrow utility room and rummaged in the under-sink cupboard for washing powder but the box, when she found it, was empty. She gave the pile of laundry a desultory kick and decided to deal with it later.

Upstairs Lucy unpacked her few belongings and put on flannel pyjamas and stood for a moment staring at her long reflection in the mirror on her bedroom wall. Pale grey eyes, as dull and lifeless as a winter sky, stared back at her. Her thin, mousey hair did nothing to enhance her long face – nor disguise her sallow skin and the red-raw spots clustered like barnacles around the corners of her mouth. She turned away – no wonder people disliked her. She was grotesque. She would never have a boyfriend. She would never marry or have children. She would be alone all her life.

A little sob escaped her and Lucy straightened up and pulled herself together. Marriage and family life wasn’t for everyone, she told herself sternly. She would just have to find something useful to do with her life. She had few natural talents, but an empathy with animals was one of them. How she wished that, like Matt, she’d been brave enough to follow her heart, instead of trying to please. Because a degree in Applied Mathematics and Physics, assuming she managed to graduate, was hardly going to lead her to her ideal job, was it? And yet, she could not give it up. Not now, not when the expectation of so many weighed so heavily on her shoulders – Mum, Dad, Grandad, Maggie, even Matt.

She tugged on a fleece dressing gown and slipped her feet into an old pair of slippers. Her life was a mess but tonight she would not think about it. Tonight she would try and relax. And she would not even turn on the computer because last night she’d lost seventy quid on Celebration Bingo. Her heartbeat quickened and her stomach made a little nauseous somersault at the thought. She mustn’t get carried away like that again. Only she so loved the tacky, garish websites; the guaranteed million-pound jackpots; the nervous anticipation; and the adrenaline rush when she won. Oh, there was nothing like it. And she knew, she just knew, that if she could find the money to keep on playing, then one day – not tomorrow or the day after maybe, but one day soon – she would win millions and her life would be utterly transformed.

She took a deep breath and calmed herself. Now and again she needed to prove to herself that she was the one in control.

Downstairs, she sat on the sofa in front of the TV, ruffled the fur between Muffin’s ears, and told herself it wasn’t all bad. At the end of the month her allowance would arrive in her bank account, and she would be able to breathe again. Meantime, she would be strict with herself – absolutely no online gambling.

Jennifer sat in the passenger seat in the car on the way home feeling decidedly downbeat. And she’d no reason to; she’d had a great day out with her best friend and Matt had a proper job at last.

‘What did you think of Ben Crawford?’ said Donna, suddenly. ‘Wasn’t he cute?’

‘Was he? I hadn’t noticed.’

‘He was a bit young, though,’ mused Donna, as if Jennifer hadn’t spoken.

Jennifer blushed and stared out the window. She hadn’t thought him that much younger than her. Maybe ten years. Was that too much of an age difference? But what did it matter? Nothing was going to happen between them. He wasn’t the least bit interested in her and he had a beautiful girlfriend.

The car came off a roundabout and started the gentle downhill approach to Ballyfergus. In the failing light, the countryside was a patchwork of dark shades of green, interspersed with the lights of the many farmsteads that dotted the rolling hills.

And yet in spite of the calming beauty all around, her heart was not at peace. She was troubled with recollections of the way Rebecca had kissed Ben – so boldly and right in the middle of the busy restaurant. He had looked a little embarrassed, certainly, but what man could say no to a girl like that? He couldn’t wait to drag her off to the bar so they could spend time together, alone.

What was this unfamiliar emotion that troubled her so, that felt like anger but wasn’t? She placed a hand on her neck, recognising it at last for jealousy. She was jealous of Rebecca. It was a ludicrous notion – that she should be jealous of a girl she didn’t even know because of a man she’d only just met. But it was there nonetheless, nestled in her chest, hard and mean like a stone.

He was the first man in a long time to arouse her interest. She recalled with pleasure the way her heartbeat had quickened under his gaze. She’d thought she’d sensed some sort of primitive attraction between them, but now she wasn’t so certain. Had she imagined it all? And even if there was some sort of connection between them, it clearly wasn’t enough to compete with gorgeous young women half her age. And what hurt most was the knowledge that, though she was in good shape, she was past her prime. If she wanted a partner in life, it was no good looking at younger men. She had to set her sights a little lower and the age limit a little higher. And though she hated the idea of a computer dating site, perhaps Donna was right. At her age, she thought despondently, she had to be realistic.

It was almost dark by the time Donna dropped her home. She walked wearily down the side of the house and entered by the utility room, not bothering to switch on the light. She closed the door, took a step forwards in the dim light and the toe of her foot connected with something soft on the floor. She stumbled, caught her ankle on the corner of a cupboard door and almost fell.

‘Ouch!’ she cried out in pain, dropped her bags on the floor and grabbed on to the worksurface. Tutting crossly, she flicked on the light. A pile of laundry, Lucy’s things, lay in an untidy heap on the floor and the cupboard door hung open. She could see now that she had ripped her tights and grazed her skin.

‘Is that you, Mum?’ called Lucy, as she came and stood in the doorway. She was wearing a pair of pyjamas and a horrible, old, grey dressing gown that used to belong to David. ‘Are you all right?’

Unable to stop herself, Jennifer said irritably, ‘No, I’m not. I nearly took my foot off on that door. Did you leave it open? And what’s this dirty laundry doing all over the floor?’

‘I couldn’t find any washing powder,’ said Lucy defensively. Muffin, who took an age to get anywhere these days, appeared loyally by Lucy’s feet, his head cocked to one side.

Jennifer let out a loud sigh. It wasn’t fair of her to take her bad temper out on Lucy. She gathered up her handbag and shopping bags. ‘I’m sorry, Lucy. It’s lovely to see you. Did you have a good week?’

‘Yeah. Great.’

‘Well, come here and let me give you a hug,’ smiled Jennifer, picking her way over the laundry to Lucy. Even in three-inch heels, Jennifer was still some inches shorter than her daughter. She put her arms around her and immediately felt her stiffen. She released her and swallowed the hurt, remembering a time, once, when Lucy could not get enough of her mother’s hugs. Where had that loving child gone? And what was wrong with her face? ‘Those spots around your mouth look sore, pet.’