Getting a Life (New City Series Book 1)

by Simpson, Stefanie

  At eleven, Alice made it upstairs, and took in the room. “Well, you’ve made this lovely.”

  Rebecca smiled. She’d found new pillows and duvet, and a pale yellow and grey paisley set of sheets. The thin grey carpet was a rough, and she found a rolled up Chinese style rug, pale pinks and greens. She rearranged the dressing table, chest of draws, and wardrobe, to make to the room feel bigger. She had found a cream bedroom chair, and parked it by the French window. The room looked dated, but tonal and clean. She really liked it.

  “Can I ask you a question Alice?”

  “Anything.”

  “Why don’t you use this room?”

  “Ah, well, it’s too bright in the morning, even with the blinds and curtains. I wake at the first hint of light. Artie and me always preferred the front bedroom, it was warmer in winter too. The girls shared this room when they came to stay.” She explained when she saw Rebecca’s questioning brow. “Artie had a cousin, awful woman. Her daughter Maddie is just as bad. On husband number three now. Each one has a little more money, a slightly better pedigree. When Maddie was little, she and her best friend Vicky would come and stay for a few weeks for the summer. Arthur always got on with them well, and they were inseparable. I always worried he was lonely as a child, and it was nice to have house full, even if the girls were, well, spoilt.”

  They had a light lunch and Alice sat in the kitchen watching Rebecca empty out all the cupboards. She washed the nets, cleaned the windows and tiles, and between them, they threw out a black bag full of out of date food. Alice decided on things she no longer wanted, chipped cups, mismatched odds and ends of dinner services, long unused.

  The kitchen was in utter disarray, with Alice in the front room napping while Rebecca scrubbed years of crap from the cupboards, it was starting to look brand new. She was on a little stepladder cleaning the plinth on the wall cupboards, belting out an approximation of a song on the radio, dancing as much as she dared on a ladder.

  The music was so loud that she didn’t hear the door go, or hear it close.

  Arthur pulled a face at the music in his mother’s house. He ignored his mother asleep in the front room, and turned to the kitchen.

  He saw boxes, and bags, and piles of stuff everywhere, but none of that registered. The woman dancing on the ladder took all of his attention. Her figure, skin, what little she wore, and her shimmying made him swallow. He had an urge to pick her up off that ladder and twirl her round.

  He didn’t know how long he stood there, but when she turned, the delightful fantasy running through his head vanished as she screamed.

  Rebecca saw a man standing watching her in the doorway, in her horror she screamed, not a high-pitched wail, but a deep guttural one, full of abject terror. She crumpled in on herself as adrenaline flooded her body, her legs gave way, and she sat on the ladder. Her hands clutched at her chest and her eyes filled with tears. She took several deep breaths and only looked up as Alice appeared behind Arthur.

  He approached and watched her tense even more, and he turned the radio off. Mother and son stared at her. Arthur took a step to her, he only meant to reassure her, but she convulsed backwards and slammed her head on the edge of the cupboard.

  “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  Rebecca held the back of her head as she grimaced, and waited for him to back away. “It’s fine.”

  “You shouldn’t have the music so loud.”

  She gave him a foul look. “Apologies Mr Hulston.” She climbed down and turned, her head was bleeding, a trickle of blood made its way down the back of her neck.

  “You’re bleeding.”

  Rebecca touched the back of her head again, she looked at the blood on her hand, unmoved. She probed the wound, only a small cut.

  “I’ve had worse, head wounds always bleed a lot.”

  Arthur frowned. “You should get it looked at.”

  Rebecca blinked a few times and paid attention to her vision. “I don’t have concussion.”

  “How would you know?”

  “My vision is focused, I’m not tired or nauseous, and I don’t have a headache.”

  She patted the back of her head with wet kitchen roll and found it had stopped bleeding. She wiped the blood off her neck.

  “See. Fine.” She got back up the ladder and finished the plinth.

  Alice looked at her son. “I only popped in to bring dinner, by way of an apology. Seems I was timely, you won’t be done for a while.”

  Arthur found three plates, and dished up the fish and chips. Rebecca was obliged to join them.

  She washed the plates when they were done. “What do I owe you?”

  “Nothing.” He attempted a smile.

  “Mr Hulston, you all but accused me of being a con artist and a thief yesterday. I’m not entirely sure what made you do a one eighty on your opinion of me, but I will not have it that I can be accused of taking things from others. How much was the fish supper?”

  “Five pounds.” He spoke absently.

  “Fine.” She went upstairs and ferreted out a fiver while her hands shook. She held it out to him, and he reluctantly took it.

  She made sure Alice was settled in the front room, where Arthur joined them. Before he said anything, she went back to finish the kitchen, door shut, radio down low. She hummed not sang.

  An hour later, he couldn’t sit with his mother anymore.

  He knocked the door. She didn’t turn.

  “Yes Mr Hulston?”

  “My name is Arthur.”

  “I know that. Does your mother need anything?”

  “No. I just wanted to say goodnight.” She stopped arranging the sparkling glassware.

  She stomped down the ladder, and her voice was low when she spoke. She had a line of grease on her face, and dust in her hair. He really looked at her, and realised how utterly lovely and adorable she was.

  “Let me be very clear Mr Hulston. I don’t like you, I’m not going to pretend to like you. But your mother is lovely, and I like her very much. Not you. I shall be civil, but I think formal is best. That way you can keep an impartial opinion on any potentially criminal behaviour. Goodnight Mr Hulston.”

  She went back to her task, and he didn’t say anything else.

  He felt terrible about his behaviour, he never treated people like that, and he wondered why he had. Guilt, he felt guilty for not being the son his mother needed. He could change that, he could help more, and Rebecca would warm to him. Might take a while, but she would.

  She must have thought he was horrible, he wasn’t, just stressed, and tired with a weight of responsibility. And lonely, he was very lonely. He thought of Rebecca, and her body in those shorts. He smiled.

  Three. A really long path

  It was ten when Rebecca woke up. She stretched, all her body ached, and the back of her head was still sore. She took a long shower, as she was so tired by the time she’d finished last night that she had only managed a quick wash.

  When she sat in the kitchen, she admired her work.

  “It looks like new my dear.”

  Rebecca beamed. “It does. Today, the hall and stairs. But, I need to go to the job centre this morning, now I have an address.”

  In fact, with an address, she could sign up to all the recruitment and temp agencies in the city. Which she did. Unfortunately, she needed internet, and Alice didn’t have it. She bought another phone, a smart one with high data usage.

  She came back with some groceries and unpacked them, still in her smart trousers and shirt.

  It was already after two, and the day had gotten away from her. She made a nice chicken dinner, and afterwards they sat in the front room listening to the radio. Alice still managed, albeit slowly, to knit, despite her hands. She showed Rebecca the basics, and before long, she was knitting a ‘scarf’ if that was what you could call it. Maybe a blanket.

  Two days later, the was lounge finished, carpets cleaned, paperwork organised, clothes sorted, and in the dini
ng room were boxes for charity, and bags for chucking.

  She had combed through and cooed over Alice’s books and they decided on Pride and Prejudice to read. A casserole was simmering low in the kitchen, and they were settled in the lounge.

  Rebecca’s heart sank when the door opened and Arthur came in. She had to admit she had thought about him, but attractive men fed into her fantasies, having little to do with who they were. Still, she blushed a little when he came in.

  “Arthur dear, what a pleasant surprise, what are you doing here?”

  “Your shopping.” He held up the carrier bags.

  “Ah, thank you.” He put down the bags, and Rebecca took them into the kitchen while he fetched the rest.

  “You’re welcome mother. Dinner smells good.”

  “Rebecca is a wonderful cook, she’s fattening me up. Is there enough for three?”

  Arthur didn’t miss the look on Rebecca’s face as she finished putting the shopping away. “Yes, of course.” She set only two places at the table and picked up her own bowl when she dished up, and made to go.

  “Aren’t you staying dear?”

  “You and Mr Hulston should spend some time together, good night.”

  Rebecca vanished and Arthur couldn’t help but be disappointed.

  “You like her.”

  “I hardly know her.”

  “Art.”

  He put down his spoon. “I wasn’t very nice to her, and it seems she has taken offence, one that I doubt I can undo. It’s a shame, I’m starting to feel like I misjudged her.”

  “You think?” his mother’s sharp tone and raised brow he knew well.

  “She can’t bear to be in the same room as me, there isn’t much I can do.”

  “Be careful with her, she’s been through a lot.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s not for me to say, but you should be guarded with her, things have been difficult in her life, and she is healing. Being here is good for her, just as it is good for me. My wanting a lodger is nothing to do with you, I don’t expect you to be here every day, to spend your evenings here. She needs family, I can give that to her. And really, she is a lovely girl.”

  “I have been remiss though, you are, apart from Maddie, my only family. And she hardly counts.”

  “Have you spoken to her recently?”

  “No.”

  “Hmm. Well, say what you like about Rebecca, she is a hard worker.”

  Arthur looked around the room. “I hadn’t realised how grubby it had become. Do you want anything redecorating?”

  “Good grief no, just a clean. You can take those boxes and bags when you can, if you don’t mind. Perhaps Friday?”

  “I’ll stop by.”

  Alice had a hard time reading, knitting was easier, she knew patterns by rote, but reading was a task, even the large print books were a strain.

  Rebecca had a soft expressive voice when she was not so self-aware. Every so often she would look up and watch Rebecca read, completely enraptured in the Bennet sisters.

  Arthur quietly opened the door on Friday, and the carelessness on Rebecca’s face vanished.

  “Are you staying Art?” his mother looked happy when he kissed her cheek.

  “Only if there is enough.” He looked at Rebecca.

  “Of course Mr Hulston.” It was beginning to annoy him. Mr Hulston.

  He noticed Rebecca plate a small dinner for herself and slink away with her plate, making sure that Alice didn’t see it.

  He stood next to her as Alice settled in the kitchen chair.

  “If there isn’t enough…”

  “It’s fine. If you plan on being here for meals, I’d like to know which days, so I could make other plans, or at least cook enough food.”

  He closed his eyes and sat down when she left.

  “Don’t push the girl.”

  “I’m not pushing.” He looked up at her incredulously. “No, get that idea out of your head.”

  “You need someone, and she is a lovely sweet girl.”

  He sighed, and Rebecca hung on the landing still holding her plate, stomach somewhere between her knees and feet, as she listened.

  “Who is she? You know nothing about her, who her family are, where she’s from. If I choose a partner in life, she needs to be able to host, to attend to the functions, be sociable…”

  “You want a hostess?”

  “Someone that can be a hostess, not someone who wears flip flops and dances on a ladder.”

  “Oh good grief Arthur, since when are you a snob, you’re starting to sound like your cousin. Rebecca’s fun. You need some fun.”

  Rebecca tiptoed upstairs and tried not to be hurt, he was right, she was nothing. It still stung. She was never liked, and it was all she really wanted, to be liked, and not be despised.

  She was starting to think she had made a terrible mistake.

  On Monday, Rebecca had a phone call on her old number, she had an interview for one of the jobs she had applied for before moving up. It was maternity cover, eight months, as an administrative clerk in a private healthcare head office.

  It was a start. She went to the interview Tuesday, and got the job. She was late home, missing the bus after the interview.

  Arthur was already there.

  She wore makeup, a tight blue pencil skirt, a white almost see through blouse, and heels. He swallowed, she looked prettier every time he saw her.

  “Oh my dear, I’ve been worried.”

  “Sorry, it’s a bit of a way, I missed the bus.”

  “How did it go?”

  “I got the job.” She gave a little smirk and did a dance as she kicked of her shoes and picked them up. She sighed.

  “Congratulations, isn’t that great Art?”

  Rebecca paled. “Sorry Mr Hulston, I didn’t see you.” She hadn’t even noticed his flash car on the drive, bloody black car in the dark.

  “Congratulations. Where’s the job?”

  “Stead Healthcare.”

  “That’s the other side of the city.”

  “It’s a job. Beggars cannot be choosers. What shall I do for dinner?”

  Alice frowned. “Oh, well, Arthur called and asked if I wanted a fish supper, he knows I like them. You weren’t here…”

  “Oh, that’s fine.” Rebecca gave a little smile and went into the kitchen.

  Arthur made her jump when he joined her in the kitchen.

  “For the love of Christ stop doing that.”

  “Sorry. I’ll buy a bell.” He smiled. It was a lovely sight.

  She didn’t laugh. “What now? You can’t think I’ve done anything wrong again?”

  “No, of course not.”

  She yawned as she stared into the fridge, but closed it. She opened a cupboard, hers, and pulled out some cereal.

  “That’s what you’re having for dinner?”

  “I’m tired, I don’t want to cook. What do you want?”

  “Mother wanted to know if you wanted a drink.” Rebecca nodded as she poured the milk.

  She strode into the lounge.

  “Amen Alice, I want a drink. Snowball?”

  Alice’s eyes crinkled, and Arthur was volunteered to mix. Alice made a little breathy ooh at the strength as she tasted it.

  They’d explored the drinks cabinet when Rebecca had done the living room, and she discovered it was Alice’s favourite.

  “So tell us about the job?”

  “Nice, people seem nice. It’s a bit simple, you know, a backwards step, but if they like me, or someone else leaves, they might want to keep me on. We’ll see. The only problem is the bus, but I’ll figure something out.”

  The bus wasn’t any easier, and as the nights drew in, and the weather became autumnal, Rebecca was travelling in the dark and miserable weather. Having to cook when she got home wasn’t a peach either.

  She got up early, with Alice, and would prepare any food for the evening. The bonus was the job was only four days a week, leaving her three da
ys with Alice.

  For the few weeks of living there, Rebecca had already become close to her, and hated leaving her. Yet, it was nice to be the old Rebecca, to wear her nicer clothes, to be professional, to use her skills and knowledge. She remembered how much she loved it.

  She’d been working for a week, and the weather was particularly bad. She stood under the large concrete portico and squinted, if she waited any longer, she’d miss the bus again, it would be nearly seven when she got home.

  A small black car pulled into the carpark, and rounded to the front. It was vintage, sleek, and expensive. A few of the people with her admired it. The window wound down and Arthur leant over, she wondered how many cars he had.

  “Do you want a lift?” he shouted through the rain, the wipers of his car squeaking in effort.

  “Why?”

  “What do you mean why? It’s pissing down, and mother worries, come on, it’ll spare you getting soaked.” She hesitated.

  Janet, in the same job as her, Bob from HR, and Mr Dephlee, an ancient and stern accountant all looked at her. She swallowed her embarrassment and ran over to the little car.

  Arthur threw open the door for her, and she struggled to get in it, it was so low down, and her pencil skirt didn’t allow for much in the way of movement.

  The car was warm, and Radio 4 was on. The car smelled of leather and Arthur.

  She felt uncomfortable and at home all at once.

  He smiled. “Right then.”

  “Thank you Mr Hulston.”

  “Will you not call me Arthur? I really don’t like you calling me Mr Hulston.”

  “As I’ve said…”

  “Mum thinks very highly of you, she really does. I know I misjudged you. I’d like to be at least friendly, for her.”

  He sounded gentle and genuine. She agreed.

  “So why does it take you so long to get home? I mean it only takes ten, fifteen minutes to drive.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I work and Berkley House.”

  “Really?”

  It was a new tower, all glass and steel, set in a square, restaurants and bars all around. Start of the regeneration. It was only up the road, she had gone to lunch with a couple of others there just yesterday.