by Lynda Renham
‘Yes I am,’ she said, folding her arms across her chest. ‘Can I help you?’
He cocked his head towards her Range Rover.
‘That’s leaking oil,’ he said.
She followed his gaze to a large black puddle.
‘Damn,’ she muttered. Why hadn’t she noticed that?
She wasn’t what Sam had been expecting. She was younger than he thought she would be. Middle forties he guessed, and she wasn’t bad looking either.
‘You’ll have to move your car,’ she said dismissively. ‘I’ll need to call the AA.’
Their house was big like he imagined, and she spoke in velvet tones, exactly as he thought she would. She needed bringing down a peg or two. How dare she insult his mother?
‘I’m not moving it until you and I have had words,’ he said brusquely.
‘Excuse me?’ she said, taken aback.
‘I’ve come to talk to you about my mum,’ he said, sliding his hands into his jeans pocket.
Moira found him disconcerting in more ways than one. There was something about his manner and way of speaking that unsettled her. He had a confident way about him that Harry lacked and an air of certainty. He wasn’t afraid of anyone, she felt sure of that.
‘I don’t believe I know your mother,’ she said turning back to the house.
His hand touched her arm and it tingled all the way to her fingers.
‘I’m still talking to you,’ he said evenly.
Her legs trembled under his touch.
‘I’m Sam Foster. Rosie Foster is my mum.’
‘Oh,’ she said, letting out a little gasp.
‘Is that all you can say?’
Moira brushed the hair back from her face. She could smell the soap he’d used. It had a warm musky fragrance.
‘I …’ she began.
‘You called her a gold-digger, said she was after your father-in-law’s money.’
‘Well … I …’
‘That’s a lie,’ he said leaning closer to her. Moira grasped the car door handle.
‘Wasn’t it?’ he insisted.
Moira’s phone trilled, and she recognised the ring tone. It was Holly’s school.
‘My daughter’s school,’ she said, pulling the phone from her bag.
‘Mrs Bolton?’ said the headteacher.
Moira’s stomach did a little somersault.
‘Could you collect Holly? She fainted. She seems fine now, but I think it best if she goes home. There’s a lot of flu going around this time of year.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Moira flustered. ‘I’ll need to get a cab. My car has broken down. I’ll be there as soon as possible.’
‘I’m sorry I have to go,’ said Moira turning to the front door.
‘I’ll give you a lift,’ said Sam.
‘What?’ said Moira surprised.
Sam couldn’t for the life of him think what made him offer. Moira looked at him and for the first time since he climbed from the Mini, their eyes met. She had heavy-lidded hazel eyes, he saw now. Her lashes were dark and long. She fiddled with her hair for a moment.
‘My car not good enough for you?’ he said harshly.
‘No, it’s just I don’t know you.’
He shrugged.
‘Your choice, after all you can afford the cab. I’ll be back though. We still haven’t talked about my mum.’
He turned and strode to the Mini.
‘Okay, thank you, a lift would be great,’ she said.
She waited for him to open the passenger door, but he strode round to the driver’s side and got in.
The passenger door was stiff, and she had to tug at it to get it to open.
‘You’ll have to direct me,’ he said starting the engine. ‘It’s a bit noisy. I’ve got to change the exhaust.’
The car roared down the road and Moira fidgeted in the seat. The car was very small compared to hers and no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t stop her knee from brushing his. The car smelt of his musky soap. It was clean inside. She was expecting a mess. She glanced down at his hands as they changed gears. They were very hairy, hairier than Harry hands.
‘Which way at the roundabout?’ he asked.
‘The first exit,’ she replied.
She hoped Holly wasn’t coming down with something. Not this close to Christmas.
‘My mum isn’t a gold-digger,’ he said.
‘It’s just … my father-in-law is very vulnerable and I …’
‘Want his money,’ he said sharply.
Moira gasped.
‘That’s not quite true …’
‘Mum said Alf told her you’re into the God stuff.’
‘The God stuff?’ she repeated.
‘Is that how God people carry on, accusing others of being gold-diggers?’
‘You need to take the next right.’
His hand brushed her thigh as he changed gears and she moved it slightly.
‘I’m sorry perhaps I spoke out of turn about your mum.’
‘There’s no perhaps about it.’
‘That’s the school.’ Moira pointed.
‘I’ll get Holly,’ she said as they pulled into the car park.
Sam watched her walk to the school entrance. She had a nice bum, he thought. She’s up her own arse alright, Mum was right about that, but Sam could see another side to her. She’s too clammed up, that’s Moira’s problem. Still, that was her old man’s problem not his. He’d said his piece. That’s what he came to do.
Chapter Forty-Two
Rosie
‘Crikey,’ says Doris. ‘This is lovely. I never imagined it would look like this.’
‘It’s nice and modern,’ says Shirl.
‘Better than Tradmore Estate,’ agrees Doris.
‘I know,’ I say.
I’m like the cat that got the cream.
‘Are you using your bingo money for this, then?’ asks Doris.
I shake my head.
‘Just for the deposit as I want to save the rest.’
‘For Paris,’ says Shirl.
‘Maybe next year,’ I say.
Doris opens the cupboard doors.
‘It’s quiet here isn’t it? Not a bit like your place in Tradmore.’
‘Matt Fisher doesn’t know you’re moving, does he?’ asks Shirl.
‘Of course he does. Rosie sent him one of those ‘here’s my new address cards’. What do you think Shirl?’ snaps Doris.
‘Blimey, I only asked.’
‘And we’re not to go telling anyone her new address either.’
‘I won’t tell anyone,’ says Shirl. ‘When do you move in?’
‘At the weekend, Sam and Michael are helping me.’
‘We’ll pop over with some bubbly,’ says Doris.
‘It’s all happened for you since your Frank walked into that pizza van,’ says Shirl.
Doris makes a loud tutting noise.
‘Honestly Shirl, the things that come out of your mouth. You’ll be accusing her of having him knocked off next.’
‘What would be the point of that?’ asked Shirl. ‘Frank never had anything worth knocking him off for.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ says Doris. ‘He spent enough on that …’
Shirl nudges Doris in the ribs.
‘What was that Doris?’ I ask.
Doris blushes.
‘I heard at the Co-op that Frank had rented a little place for that brassy bit of his, furnished it and everything.’
‘When did you hear that?’ I say. ‘You never told me.’
‘The neighbours,’ warns Shirl, ‘you don’t want them thinking that riff-raff are moving in.’
‘I’m telling you now. I only heard yesterday,’ explains Doris.
‘Well, it’s a shit hole he rented,’ I say scathingly. ‘I went there.’
‘You did?’ says Doris surprised.
‘Frank bought her an engagement ring.’
‘You what?’ gasps Shirl.
‘I t
ook it off her and sold it.’
Doris’s eyes widen.
‘Well done,’ says Shirl.
‘What a pig,’ says Doris, finally.
‘Best not to talk about him,’ says Shirl.
‘I’ve got better things to talk about,’ I say.
I collected Frank’s ashes. I didn’t flush them down the loo like I threatened I would. Instead they are sitting on the loo windowsill. Best place for them if you ask me. I’ve got the week planned. Today I’m going Christmas shopping with Doris and Shirl. I’m going to get something special for our Sam and Michael because they deserve it. There’s a computer game that Michael has been on about so I’m buying him that and I’ve decided to get our Sam a Fitbit. He’s always running or down the gym. He’ll like one of those. I’m going to have them to my new place for Christmas dinner too. I’ve got time to get it looking Christmassy.
‘Right,’ says Doris, ‘Let’s do some shopping. That will cheer us all up.’
I lock the front door and look admiring at the outside of my new home.
‘Let’s go,’ says Shirl. ‘I’ve got tons to get. You can look at your house as much as you like once you move in.’
We’re getting the underground to Oxford Street. It was Doris’s idea. It’s been years since I’ve been up West and I’m looking forward to seeing the Christmas lights. I wonder what Archie is doing over Christmas. I suppose he’ll still go to Paris. It was stupid of me to have thought I could have gone with him. I’m getting ideas above my station since winning that money at the bingo. I expect he’s forgotten all about me. Becky said he has a new cleaner now named Margaret. I wonder if she likes reading.
‘Crabbers asked about you,’ says Shirl as we get on the train.
‘He’s alright is Crabbers,’ says Doris. ‘You could do a lot worse. Get in with him and you’ll get all your bed linen dead cheap. It’ll be nice to have new stuff for your place won’t it?’
‘I’m not going out with Crabbers just to get bed linen and towels,’ I say sharply.
Honestly what do they think I’m like?
‘I don’t mean a romance, you silly mare,’ laughs Doris. ‘Just a friend, you know; someone to go out with. Life can be lonely on your own.’
She’s quite right. Life is lonely on your own. I can’t spend every night at our Sam’s. Still I figure once I get into my new place, I’ll have so much to do there won’t be time to be lonely.
‘I’m not lonely,’ I lie.
‘Women do a lot worse to get bed linen,’ says Shirl.
‘She’s not interested in Crabbers,’ says Doris.
‘I’m not interested in men, period,’ I say. ‘And I don’t need bed linen.’
‘Right, so let’s shut up about men then,’ Doris sighs. ‘I’d much rather chat about Christmas. Where are we going first?’
Chapter Forty-Three
Sam and Moira
Holly was as white as a sheet. She looked small and vulnerable sitting behind the headteacher’s huge desk.
‘Are you alright, love?’ Moira asked, feeling Holly’s forehead.
‘I’m okay, Mum. Don’t fuss,’ said Holly, pulling her head away.
‘Oh good, you’re here,’ said the headteacher coming into the room. ‘I hope you didn’t mind us phoning you. She’d be far better at home. It’s probably the flu. We’ve got a lot of pupils off with it.’
‘It’s the time of year,’ said Moira smiling.
‘I’m feeling a bit better,’ said Holly with a weak smile.
‘Let’s get you home,’ said Moira helping Holly on with her coat.
‘I’m alright. I don’t need help,’ said Holly irritably.
Moira forced a smile for the headteacher and followed Holly outside.
‘It’s cold,’ said Moira. ‘Where’s your scarf?’
‘I don’t know. Don’t nag me,’ retorted Holly looking around for the Range Rover.
‘Where’s the car?’ she asked, clutching her stomach. ‘I feel sick.’
Moira pointed to Sam’s Mini. Sam was lounging against it, tapping into his phone. Moira wondered what he did for a job, if he had a job, of course. Most likely he lived off benefits. That’s typical, she thought, anger building within her. How dare he come to her house demanding all sorts when he was most likely living off her and Harry’s taxes? What a nerve.
‘The car wouldn’t start, so I got a lift,’ she said pointing to Sam’s Mini.
‘Who’s he?’ asked Holly suspiciously.
‘Oh, he’s just someone I know.’
‘From counselling?’
‘Yes, kind of,’ lied Moira.
‘I feel sick,’ groaned Holly again.
Moira hoped she wouldn’t throw up in Sam Foster’s car. That was all she needed. Sam lifted his head at the sound of them approaching.
‘Holly feels sick,’ said Moira bluntly.
If she warned him, then he couldn’t very well say anything if Holly threw up in his car.
‘There’s a carrier bag in the back,’ said Sam casually. ‘She can throw up into that.’
Holly fell into onto the back seat and closed her eyes. Moira debated where she should sit and finally decided to get into the passenger seat. Sam drove them home in silence. Moira tried to think of something to say but nothing would come to her. Sam pulled up outside the house and Holly who thankfully hadn’t thrown up, climbed out wearily.
‘Here’s the key,’ said Moira handing it to her.
She turned to Sam.
‘Thank you very much for the lift.’
‘Yeah sure,’ he said casually. ‘You should get that seen to.’
He pointed to the oil stain.
‘Yes, I will.’
‘Do you want me to have a quick look?’
‘You?’ she asked, surprised.
‘I am a mechanic,’ he said brushing past her.
She watched him disappear under the car. Minutes later he emerged.
‘The AA won’t be able to fix it. You’ll need to take it to the garage.’
‘Oh right.’
He nodded and climbed into the Mini. He gave a nod and then drove off. Moira watched the car disappear around the corner and then walked into the house. Holly had gone upstairs to her room.
‘Do you want a cup of tea?’ Moira called.
‘No, I’m going to have a sleep.’
Moira walked into the kitchen. She ought to phone the AA and get the car sorted but she couldn’t seem to get her thoughts clear. She never imagined Rosie having a son. He was certainly angry. She shook her head and made a pot of tea. She should forget about him. He won’t be back. Alf had a new cleaner now. It was all for the best, she felt sure of that. Cleaners shouldn’t be overfamiliar, everyone knew that.
She sat down at the kitchen table with her tea and pulled her mobile from her bag and phoned the AA. Of course they could fix it. What was he talking about?
*
Holly threw up again and then fell against the bathroom wall. This was bad. She knew that much. What was she going to do? There was no one she could talk to. She buried her head in her hands and cried. How would she ever tell her mum? She’d have a heart attack and then she’d go on about God, no doubt, and the shame and what the parish council would say. Like Holly cared about the parish council.
If only she would stop being sick. She could think more clearly if she wasn’t throwing up all the time. She heard her mum at the front door and wandered back to her room to look out of the window. It was an AA van. She wondered who the man was in the Mini. He seemed nice enough. She laid her head against the window pane and watched her mum talk to the mechanic.
*
‘I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do. I don’t carry the part you need on my van. It will need to go to the garage.’
Moira sighed. She should have phoned the garage first.
‘Is there nothing you can do?’
‘I would if I could,’ he smiled.
‘Can I drive it?’
He
grimaced.
‘You can but it wouldn’t be sensible. You’d flooded it, that’s why it wouldn’t start. You’ll have to keep topping up the oil. You’d be sensible to get it fixed as soon as you can.’
Damn it, she cursed.
The garage tried to be helpful, but they had no space until the end of the week and all their courtesy cars were out. She booked it in for the end of the week and then went upstairs to check on Holly. She was asleep on her bed. Moira closed the door quietly and went back downstairs to look for local car hire firms.
*
‘We’ve got nothing until next week.’
It was the same over and over again. What was wrong with these garages? Moira thought with a sigh. She drank the last of her cold coffee and was about to call up to Holly again when she walked into the kitchen.
‘I’m going to my friends.’
‘Dinner will be in a few hours.’
‘Okay,’ said Holly meekly.
She looked rough and Moira didn’t really think she should be going out.
‘It’s really cold out and you look terrible.’
‘I’m alright. The fresh air will do me good.’
Moira was too tired to argue.
‘I’ll make dinner for six.’
Holly nodded, grabbed her coat and was gone.
Moira scanned the garages on Google again. She bit her lip and then searched for Sam Foster, garage, Essex. She was surprised to get a result, but there it was in black and white, ‘Fosters Garage’ in Dagenham Heath. She stared at the name for a second and then made a note of the address. It wasn’t the best part of Essex but if he could fix her car … After all, that’s all that mattered. A busy person like her couldn’t be without a car too long. She grabbed the car keys and left the house. She couldn’t admit to herself that she wanted to see Sam Foster again.
Chapter Forty-Four
Rosie
I approach the flats cautiously. Coming home is beginning to resemble a horror movie for me. I’m scared shitless walking to the entrance and any relief I feel at not seeing Matt Fisher is replaced by another fear that he will be waiting outside my flat.
The kids from number eighty are sitting on the wall. I feel their negativity a hundred yards away.
‘Why aren’t you at school?’ I ask.
