Getting a Life (New City Series Book 4)

by Stefanie Simpson

  “Do you drive?” Arthur glanced at her.

  “Never learnt, never needed to. Besides, I couldn’t afford a car when I was seventeen, but I have a plan. I’m going to buy a bicycle.”

  “You can’t bike it.” He frowned.

  “Of course I can. John from IT does it. There’s a bike lane on the ring road. Then I turn off, and it’s straight to Nattleton. Easy. It’ll take about twenty minutes. Better than an hour and a half. Home to cook the dinner.” She faced the traffic again.

  “What time do you leave in the morning?”

  “Ah, well, I can get the circular, but it only takes twenty minutes to get to the central train station as it only goes in one direction. That’s why it takes so long the one way and not the other. Not so bad in the morning.”

  Arthur pursed his lips for a second. “You know, as I come straight from work on Tuesdays and Fridays for dinner, I can pick you up.”

  “There’s no need to trouble yourself.”

  “It’s no trouble, you’re virtually next door as far as work goes, and we’re going in the same direction. It would make mum happy.”

  It would be easier, and it was nice to drive with him. “Okay. Thank you.”

  They listened to the radio in silence as they moved out of the traffic and made their way home. Alice looked delighted as they arrived home together.

  After a month at her new job, with her second-hand bike, lifts home, and regular pattern of normalcy, Rebecca relaxed. It was as though she’d been waiting for everything to fall apart for ages. To be found out.

  Found out as what, she didn’t know, but she felt like a fraud and didn’t belong.

  Curled up on Saturday morning reading ‘Pride and Prejudice’ aloud – they hadn’t got very far as yet despite reading it for more than a month – with Alice knitting away, the phone rang.

  Alice looked over at Rebecca and put on her fake enthused voice, making Rebecca smile.

  “Who was that?”

  “Arthur. He wants to come for dinner tonight.”

  Rebecca was quietly pleased, although he only pitied her and was far too good for her, she liked him. It was hard not to. He was right to have been suspicious of her to protect his mother, and he was a good person – a little cold – but underneath, he was very kind. The time they spent together always caused her belly to flip, and moments when they sat in the car with the sound of the radio between them were precious. The smell of him filled the car, and she breathed it in. She liked his nice suits, and his voice, a deep, velvety one that she wanted to listen to day and night.

  She kept it secret. Kept her distance. Their journeys home were quiet. She didn’t eat with them, but she’d cook and disappear. She’d watch the chat between mother and son as they sat in the kitchen with her while she prepared the food, not joining in.

  “Any special occasion?”

  “Well, it’s my birthday. I don’t like to make a fuss. He knows it, so he springs plans last minute on me.”

  “Alice, why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Don’t fret,” she smiled, “I’d rather not remember it anyway at my age. I’ll be eighty, dear.” She made a horrified face.

  “You don’t look a day over fifty-nine.” Rebecca grinned as Alice tutted but laughed. “Should I fetch something special in?”

  “Oh well, my dear,” she looked pitying, “he’s bringing a lady friend.”

  Rebecca was careful; her face neutral and voice calm. “Well, well, good for him.” She smiled. “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll eat upstairs.”

  “No you won’t, it’s my birthday, and I want you to eat with us, god knows Victoria is hard work.”

  “Victoria?”

  “Maddie’s friend, I told you about her. Art and Vicky were always on and off again. I thought they were off for good, but apparently not.”

  “I get the feeling that you don’t like her.”

  “She is a vain, selfish, mean, greedy social climber, like Maddie.”

  “Tell me what you really think.”

  Alice laughed. “Two generations past, they were all working class, but you’d think by their behaviour that they had money for generations. My husband, Artie, was never like that, I mean he had aspirations, but not like them. Vicky was the same, and her family were worse if anything. Her mother never liked me. Victoria broke his heart years ago. They were engaged, but she wanted more than he had at the time. He was getting his business going, there were many sacrifices he made, and she wouldn’t compromise. She married someone else, her then boss and they divorced a year later.

  “Of course, Art’s a success now. Well known, celebrated for it. So, here she is.” Alice’s disdain was palpable.

  “Well, I’ll go into town. Pick a few things up.”

  Rebecca thought over what Alice said, the words sticking in her stomach, and rode her bike into the city centre. After she bought a new outfit and a gift, she fretted in the supermarket aisles about what to cook. She even bought some nice wine, or so she hoped.

  Preparing and cooking all afternoon with Alice at the table with the paper, peeling as needed, Rebecca finally baked a birthday cake and banished Alice when she decorated it.

  She got ready and put on her new dress. It was a silky wrap around in army green. She got it on sale, and though it wasn’t designer, it looked nice.

  Rebecca bought Alice a new set of knitting patterns, and needles, along with a magnifying glass, as hers had broken.

  Arthur and Victoria arrived at six. She was perfection. There was a reason some people were entitled and did well. She was it. Tall, unnaturally pale and slender, and impossibly beautiful. She had long, dark hair and large green eyes. She wore and black and white dress, expensive and elegant, and suddenly Rebecca was thirteen again, frumpy, poor, and clueless.

  Victoria held onto Arthur’s arm and didn’t shake Rebecca’s hand when she cautiously offered it. Victoria looked her up and down instead, and merely queried her brows.

  Rebecca withdrew back into the kitchen. Arthur followed with Victoria behind him.

  She picked up the wine Rebecca had bought.

  “Oh dear, what’s this?” She laughed. “It’s a good thing you bought some decent stuff.”

  Arthur smiled at Victoria as she winked, as if her jest wasn’t an insult. She had a confidence and charm that hid her unpleasantness. Rebecca tilted her head at the pair. Arthur never smiled at her like that.

  Arthur chatted with Victoria as he uncorked the wine. Without a word to her, they went into the dining room. Rebecca held herself very still, and with a slow breath, carried on.

  Rebecca served the starter of seared scallops with a spinach and mushroom sauce. It was as posh as she got.

  “Are you eating with us?” Victoria frowned up at Rebecca, who hovered as she was about to sit. Arthur frowned too.

  Rebecca blinked. “Oh, um, I’ll eat in the kitchen then.” She picked up her plate and went to leave.

  “She’ll eat with me because she’s my lodger and friend.” Alice’s voice had a hard edge.

  “You shouldn’t get too close to the staff.”

  “Alice, I don’t want to cause any discomfort, I don’t mind.” Rebecca forced out the words.

  “I do. You’re not staff.”

  Rebecca flopped down at Alice’s tone, and tension sat around that table like a fifth person. They ate in stilted silence, and as soon as everyone finished, she made herself scarce. In the kitchen, she tidied up and watched the lamb cooking, gulping the wine that she bought. It wasn’t that bad, not that she knew much about wine.

  “Do you need a hand?” Arthur’s steady voice made the hairs on her arms stand up.

  “No, thank you.” Rebecca busied herself and took the plates out of the warmer drawer.

  “You’ve gone to a lot of trouble.”

  “Yes.”

  “And expense.”

  “I know.”

  He sighed. “It’s not fair, I shou
ld have taken mum out.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “Let me help.”

  Rebecca tensed, pressing her lips together, and took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

  Arthur carved the meat, Rebecca served, and then they carried everything through. Victoria was talking in a high careless tone, and Alice twitched an unamused smile while catching Rebecca’s glance over her glasses.

  Victoria directed herself at Rebecca. “What brought you to Chadford?”

  “Seemed like a good choice at the time.”

  “No, I meant why did you leave… where are you from, I can’t place your accent?”

  Rebecca swallowed her food and sipped her wine, trying to think how to answer.

  Alice stepped in. “Leave the girl alone.”

  “I’m just making conversation, taking an interest, what’s wrong with that?”

  “It’s fine.” Rebecca gave Alice a slight nod. “I can’t really talk about it, and it’s not really a topic of conversation for the dinner table.” Rebecca mirrored Victoria’s tone, and the woman’s face hardened a little, knowing full-well what Rebecca was doing.

  Rebecca cleared the table and tidied the kitchen as the others settled in the living room. Re-joining them, she brought in the cake.

  “Where did you buy that thing? You should get your money back.” Victoria laughed.

  “I made it.”

  “Oh bless, that’s sweet, isn’t that sweet, Arthur?”

  Rebecca forced back the tears in her eyes, unable to look at anyone as she cut it.

  Alice delighted over it, as did Arthur. Rebecca knew it was a good cake, but she felt less than worthless, and that feeling annoyed her. She had vowed not to be this weak again, but here she was. Collapsing in on herself like the soufflé that she tried to make once.

  Victoria gave Alice a plant, and Arthur gave her a nice shawl and a coat. Not that Alice went out much. Victoria smirked at Rebecca’s gift, but Alice loved it.

  Rebecca excused herself and went to clean the kitchen, taking the remnant of the cake. But she didn’t do anything, only leant against the sink trying to hold back.

  Victoria’s voice made her jump. “I know what you want.”

  “I doubt that very much.”

  “You won’t get him, he’d never go for someone like you. You might be able to pretend, but I can see through you.”

  Rebecca paled and stared. “Get him? Seriously? Why are you afraid of me?”

  “Afraid? No, just a friendly warning.”

  Rebecca huffed a small smile as she busied herself. Victoria was afraid and jealous of her. It was almost funny. She had seen things this woman couldn’t imagine. The things she’d dealt with would horrify her, yet Rebecca knew her type. Using people she deemed lesser to bolster her self-worth.

  “There’s nothing friendly about you. I have no pretensions, I’m not like you, and you can’t comprehend the first thing about me. But I know you. Spoilt, entitled, cruel. Alice is a good kind person, and I am her friend. I’m not the staff. Get your head ‘round that.” Rebecca made herself calm, and Victoria only smirked.

  “You’ll never get him.”

  “You don’t seem to understand; I don’t care. I don’t want him. I don’t even like him.”

  Rebecca filled the dishwasher and ignored the woman behind her. She and Arthur left not long after, and Alice came in.

  “I’m sorry I spoilt your birthday.”

  “You didn’t. Vicky did.”

  “She thinks I’m a threat. Me. Alice, don’t be offended, but Arthur and I only tolerate each other, he doesn’t like me, and I don’t like people that don’t like me.” Outright lie, she liked and respected Arthur. “So, she has her designer knickers in a twist over nothing.”

  “Arthur doesn’t dislike you.”

  Rebecca rolled her eyes dramatically.

  Four

  WRONG WAY

  For the next month, things went on as they were; Arthur picked her up twice a week, which became once when Victoria started joining them for dinner on Fridays, and then he didn’t pick her up at all. Whenever she saw Arthur, he was with Victoria.

  Rebecca missed their quiet journeys, but since Alice’s birthday, he’d been colder with her. She supposed she irritated him.

  Spring crept in, and Rebecca rode her bike to and from work. Her job was dull, but she liked it. Dull and steady was good. No drama. She loved Alice, her steadiness was a balm, but there was Arthur. Every time she thought of him, her heart was uneasy. She barely spoke and kept still.

  This was not what she came here for.

  Next time he came for dinner, she was doing something about it.

  On Friday night when they came, Rebecca was about to go and get ready.

  “Aren’t you cooking?” Victoria looked incredulous, and Rebecca laughed at her.

  “I told you once, I’m not a servant. I’m not obliged to cook you dinner and I’m not obliged to do anything for you. I’m going out.”

  Alice smirked, and Rebecca went up to get ready.

  She wore a short red dress, one she’d bought never thinking to wear it. Hair up, high heels, lipstick; she went all out.

  Arthur caught sight of her as they waited for the takeaway to arrive. “Where are you off to?”

  “It’s a singles mixer.” She shrugged. She’d seen it advertised at the library as an antidote to the internet dating age. She really wasn’t looking to date, but it was an excuse to dress up and put herself in the world. Wasn’t that the point?

  “You’re looking to date?” He sounded astonished.

  She flushed, partly in humiliation and partly in anger. “I know that I’m nothing special, but I am still a person, and even people like me should at least try to find some happiness.” She left quickly not giving him time to respond, said goodbye and was out the door.

  Rebecca stood for two hours in the posh bar, not speaking to anyone, melting into a wall. A loser. Following week, she found a dance class.

  The group was cliquey and loud, and she stood to the side, uneasy in herself. She kept up as best she could and spied a poster for salsa dancing when she was packing up. That might be fun if she had a partner.

  Rebecca watched the others with longing and felt firmly on the outside. She slipped away and out into the crappy streets of a rough section in Chadford.

  “Hey.”

  Rebecca turned, and a young woman with a bob, zipping up her hoodie, grinned at her.

  “Want a lift?”

  “Thanks, but there’s no need.”

  “It’s shit around here, come on. I’m Amy.”

  “Rebecca.”

  “Enjoy it?”

  “It was fun.” Sort of, not that she could keep up.

  “But?”

  “I’m not sure it’s for me.”

  Amy chatted about the group, but Rebecca tuned it out.

  When Amy dropped her home, and she let herself in and leant against the door. Trying not to cry, all she really wanted was not to be alone anymore. She had Alice though.

  Rebecca didn’t go back to dance. She tried a film club instead.

  There was a restored old cinema that served coffee, had couches and two screens. Once a week they held a film club, showed a film and everyone went to the pub after to chat about it. There were only about twenty of them, all the films were before 1980, and she loved it. She never spoke much, but quietly took it all in.

  She was lonely but had something of a small life, and it was better than before.

  Arthur watched Rebecca, her quiet manner, and wondered about her. Vicky was a nightmare, always was, demanding and selfish, and Rebecca threatened her by merely existing.

  Vicky pushed him for more, but there was no going back for him, and then there was the quiet sweetness of his mother’s lodger.

  He dropped Vicky off one night, unable to get Rebecca out his head. He’d fished for information from his mother but unwilling to b
e too direct with Vicky there. He’d have to talk to her soon. Let her know he wasn’t interested. Week in and week out her goal became clear: him.

  Driving past the top of town, avoiding his usual route because of roadworks, he saw a familiar figure walking along the main road.

  He pulled over and beeped at her.

  She didn’t stop, and winding down the window, he called out, as her hair caught the light of a street lamp.

  “Rebecca!”

  She turned her head and smiled. Jogging over the road, she shoved her hands in her pockets and shivered.

  “Arthur, how are you?” Her eyes darted into the car, and he swore he saw relief that he was alone.

  “I’m well. I’ve not seen you for ages.”

  She smiled tightly. “No.”

  “Do you want a lift?”

  “No need.”

  “Come on, it’s freezing. Plus, walking home is a bit risky.”

  “I do it all the time. I don’t mind it.”

  Arthur gave her a glare, and she grinned.

  “Get in.”

  She did.

  “How’s work?”

  “Fine.” She shivered.

  Arthur turned up the heat. “Mum seems well.”

  “She is.”

  They ground to a halt in small talk, and it got awkward. Comparing her to Vicky and her incessant chatter, it was nice to be quiet, but he wanted to engage with her.

  “Rebecca, do you want lifts from work again?”

  She didn’t answer right away. “Oh. No, the weather isn’t as bad, and I’m getting fit from riding my bike. Thank you though.”

  “Mum says you’ve tried Salsa dancing?”

  She laughed. “No, I tried a modern class and mentioned salsa.”

  Arthur held his breath. “Really?” That was a shame, he let that thought go through his mind, and then focused.

  “It wasn’t for me. I have done salsa dancing in the past, but I never found a partner.”

  He tapped the steering wheel as a driver slowed before turning, and she shifted slightly to him.