Riding Solo

by Woods, Karen

  Marcy saw red mist, her face dropped; her dad was such a hypocrite. “A desperate woman dad, that’s who, you left me too are you forgetting that? No dad, you’re both to blame!” She took a few seconds to digest his words and for the first time in weeks she realised that he was right, she was alone. She had nobody - Marcy had no brothers or sisters to grieve with or to comfort her, she’d have to face this on her own. Steve said he would stay for the funeral, but after that he made it quite clear that he would be leaving her again, so much for his support. The facts were there for her to see, as plain as daylight. She would have to go back to her mother’s four-bedroom house alone and sit there staring at the four walls like her mother had done in the past.

  The cars pulled up at the cemetery and Jackie’s two sisters were stood there waiting for them. Steve kept a low profile and tried to sneak from the car without any commotion. That was never going to happen; the two women were waiting to pounce on him. Joan and Lisa made a beeline for Steve straight away; he was getting a mouthful from them no matter what. “How can you show your face around here? You hypocrite, you’re the reason my sister is dead. Fuck off home where you belong, you’re not wanted here.”

  Marcy ran in front of her father trying to protect him. He was like a lamb to the slaughter. Joan was ready to pummel her fist deep into his face; you could see it in her eyes. “Just turn it in the pair of you,” Marcy screamed. “This is a funeral, my mother’s funeral. Can you all just show some respect.”

  Joan, Jackie’s elder sister grabbed hold of Lisa’s hand. “Come on, leave him, he’ll keep for another day.” The sisters trudged their way to the graveside and stood at the front. They kept growling back at Steve. Marcy and her father followed them.

  Around twenty people stood around Jackie Morgan’s graveside when she was laid to rest. Marcy was trying to hold her tears back but in her heart she knew she would never get over her mother’s death. Jackie was right, she had shown them, she’d shown them all, and her blood was on Marcy’s hands. A mound of earth sat at the side of the grave and the mourners each took it in turns to sprinkle a handful of the brown soil onto the light oak coffin. The two sisters started singing and everyone joined in who knew the words. This was Jackie’s favourite song a Petula Clarke track called, “This is my song.” Steve knew the song well; it was one that he’d bought for his wife when they were courting. He kept his mouth shut though; he didn’t think it would have gone down well him singing at his ex-wife’s funeral, he was probably right.

  A few days later Marcy sat in her mother’s house alone. The clock on the wall ticked away and echoed throughout the house. Switching the TV on she tried to occupy her mind, her head was spinning and she couldn’t concentrate. Her mother’s death had taken its toll on her and her heart was shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. Her eyes scanning the front room - Marcy took in a deep breath, she held her hand around her neck and she felt like she was suffocating, she was having a panic attack. Photographs were scattered on the dining table at the side of her and old records were piled high near the stereo system. The house hadn’t been touched since her mother’s death everything just remained the same as Jackie had left it.

  A mobile phone started to ring; looking at the screen Marcy closed her eyes and answered it, she wasn’t in the mood to chat. “Hiya Louise, yeah I’m fine, just a bit tired that’s all.” You could see by her face that she wanted the phone call to end and her constant yawning let the caller know she was bored. “Okay, see you soon. I just want to be on my own at the moment. I’ll be fine, you know me I always come bouncing back.” The phone call ended and Marcy placed the phone on the side. Slowly she walked into the hallway. The stairs felt eerie and something about them scared her. With each step she took she gripped the banister tightly, her knuckles were turning white. Stood at the top of the stairs she froze. Jackie’s bedroom door was there staring at her. It seemed to be dragging her towards it. Marcy chewed on the skin at the corner of her fingernail. Her chest was rising as her hand pushed the door slowly open.

  There it was, right in front of her eyes, the bed where her mother had ended her life. Joan and Lisa must have tried to straighten the room up because there were no tablets on the bed anymore and the room looked cleaner than it had in a long time. The room still smelt of death. Marcy’s nostrils widened as she inhaled the last bit of her mother’s fragrance left in the room, she could still smell her. Gripping the pink fluffy robe from the dressing table she wrapped it around her body tightly and sniffed hard at the collar. This was her mother’s favourite housecoat. Marcy had bought it for her at Christmas and Jackie never had it off her back, it was her comfort blanket, or that’s what she told her anyway. Tying it tightly around her waist and making a large knot at the front of it she lay on the bed. Eyes staring at the ceiling she spoke to herself. “Why, mother? Why this? Things would have got better; you just needed time to heal.” There it was, the emotion she’d stored for days. Marcy’s shoulders were shaking rapidly as she hid her face away under the pillow. “I’m sorry mother, I should never have left you alone when you was like that. I’m so sorry.”

  Marcy Jordan sobbed her heart out for two full weeks in her mother’s house. She stopped answering her phone calls and had no contact what so ever with the outside world, except for some random cat that had turned up from nowhere looking for a friend. Marcy let the feline into the house and named it Spice. It was ginger and looked like it was on the verge of starvation, just like she was. Marcy was living off soup and whatever there was left in the cupboards. She hadn’t eaten a proper meal in ages, she had no appetite. For hours on end Marcy would have the cat sat on her lap. She loved stroking its flea- bitten body, it gave her comfort. Marcy decided there and then that she would never turn anyone or anything in need of help away, again in her life. She was going to help as many people as she could. From this day forward her life had changed.

  Marcy set off to meet her friend Louise at a coffee shop. Louise was a doctor at the local surgery. She’d been a doctor there for over a year and she loved her job, or so she said. Marcy Jordan was thinking about training to become a doctor too, but her mind was all over the place at the moment and she couldn’t concentrate anymore. Her career was on hold.

  Louise had long honey blonde hair, completely the opposite of Marcy’s long dark raven hair. Her skin was pale and she had several freckles sprinkled across her cheeks. The girls had known each other ever since university and they had kept in contact over the months that had passed. Marcy stood waiting outside Costa coffee on the shopping fort in Cheetham Hill. She kept lifting her sleeve up, checking her wristwatch, she looked anxious. Louise was twenty minutes late. The shopping centre was busy and through the crowd of people walking towards her she could see her friend looking frantic heading towards her. “Oh, I’m so sorry I’m late. I got stuck at the surgery again with paperwork.” The two friends hugged and entered the coffee shop. “I’ll get the drinks, you get us a table,” Louise said. “Get those two seats over there in the corner,” she giggled as she flicked her hair across her shoulder. Marcy could see another couple getting ready to make a move on the seats and hurried towards them before they got chance. Once she was sat down she winked at Louise and smirked, their seats were secure

  Louise plonked the drinks down on the table and sat down. She studied Marcy’s face and knew the time that had passed had been hard for her. Taking her hand in hers she stroked it slowly. “How are you love? It’s been ages since we’ve had a catch up? I’m so sorry to hear about your mother, it’s so sad.”

  Marcy choked up and tried to be strong. “I’ve been okay Louise. Well, a bit down and tearful as you can see, but I’m used to it now. I suppose I will get better in time won’t I?” Louise took a sip from her hot Latte.

  “Why don’t you start looking for a job to try and help take your mind from it all? You have all the qualifications you need to get where you want to.”

  Marcy tapped her fingers on the table and smirked. “I know I do, b
ut I’m not sure what I want to do yet. I’m just waiting for that road to Damascus moment to lead the way.”

  Louise chuckled and searched in her bag. “Here, take a look at the job vacancies in the medical world. I’m sure you will find something in this that suits you.” Marcy took it from her and shoved it into her handbag. If the truth was known, she was sick of ill people and wanted to stay clear of them for as long as she could. Her mood was low enough without them adding to it. Louise looked excited and chuckled. “Is there any news on a man in your life yet then?”

  Marcy’s cheeks were beetroot; she hadn’t had a man in her bed for months and didn’t intend to in the near future, they were far too much trouble. She kept her eyes low as she answered her. “No love, to tell you the truth, I’m not interested at the moment, I couldn’t stand another broken heart, it would finish me off.” Marcy had had her own share of heartache in the past. One year ago she’d split up from her boyfriend of two years. The man she loved with all her heart just ended it, no warning, no nothing. He had just phoned her one day and told her it was over. If she was true to herself she’d never really got over him.

  Louise knew she shouldn’t have been talking about her patients but she couldn’t help herself. Making sure no one could hear her she whispered in a low voice. “There are so many people out there who come to me for help after a break up you know. It’s such a crying shame. This woman I’ve been treating is beyond any help. For months she’s been on nerve tablets, sleeping tablets but still, she looks like death warmed up. It’s heartbreaking to watch her. I wish I had a pill to cure heartache and my days as a doctor would be so much easier. I swear to you Marcy, the amount of people who are ill because of a broken heart is untrue.”

  There it was, right in front of Marcy’s eyes. The answer she’d been searching for. She rubbed her hands together with excitement. She was alive again, her cheeks regained some colour. “I could be a therapist for broken hearts.”

  Louise looked at her in more detail and held her head to the side. “Are you being serious or what, I was only saying…”

  Before she could finish Marcy jumped back into the conversation and cut her short. “No Louise, that’s it. My mind is made up. If I can help people who are going through the same thing that killed my mother, then my world would be so much better. Louise, you are truly my angel. I know it will take time to set up, but you could refer some of your clients to me couldn’t you?”

  Louise looked at her with a serious face. “It does seem like a great idea, but how would it work.”

  Marcy was speaking at speed and the dark cloud that had been hanging over her head seemed to disappear in an instant. “I would work with people with broken hearts. I have a psychology degree and I have done more counselling courses than anyone I know, so it should all work out fine.”

  Louise hugged her and wrapped her arms tightly around her body. “You’re right you know. And, like you said, I could have a word with the other practitioners and see if they can refer clients to you as well. This is such a great idea; I don’t know anybody else who’s doing it either.”

  Marcy took a deep breath and wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes. “I know more about heartache than anyone Louise. My mother went through it and suffered every day after my father left her. I’m going to plan this out and get back to you with some paperwork. Will you help me get it up and running?”

  Louise yelled at the top of her voice and the other customers looked at her as if she was potty. “Of course I will sweetheart, anything you need, just ask.” The two friends sat drinking their coffee and for the first time in ages Marcy was smiling. Her life was about to change in a big way.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Grace Willis watched her husband sleeping in the bed next to her. She studied every inch of his body. He thought she was asleep when he sneaked into the bed next to her in the early hours of the morning, but she wasn’t, she was wide awake like she’d been all the other nights he’d come home in the early hours.

  Grace knew her husband was having an affair, she had a gut feeling. Inhaling deeply she could smell the aroma of sweet fragrances all over his body. It wasn’t her perfume, it was his mistress’s. It stank of deceit. Grace was fifty and still classed herself as a good looking woman. She’d been with Martin ever since she was eighteen and loved him with all her heart. A match made in heaven people would say. Well, until now. Over the last few months her husband had changed towards her, he was distant and always seemed edgy. Even the way he dressed was different. He’d started wearing straight-leg jeans and tight fitted tops, he was forever examining himself in the mirror, and he loved his new image. Martin was always at the gym these days and he’d cut out all the crap from his diet. This wasn’t right; this man loved his grub and plenty of it. Martin told his wife he was just looking after himself, but she could smell a rat and she knew he was up to something. Grace and Martin had two children together but they’d left home now and they very rarely visited. The lads had their own lives to lead and both had families to look after. The birds were tweeting outside her window and Grace listened to them as if they were telling her that her husband was cheating. Today was the day it was all going to stop though; she was ready to confront him. As soon as Martin opened his eyes she was going to have it out with him once and for all. She’d had enough and wanted the truth. She sat waiting, chewing on her fingernails.

  Martin stirred in the bed; his golden body shimmered against the white cotton sheets. That was another thing that had changed about him, before he was as white as a sheet but now he was a regular on the sun beds. A bronzed God he called himself. His suntan was nearly black. Prodding her long fingernail into the small of his back, she called out his name. “Martin, are you awake yet? I need to speak to you.” Her husband groaned and hid his head under the duvet, she shook his body vigorously - she wanted answers. “Martin, wake up. This is important; I need to talk to you.”

  The man stretched his arms above his head and looped them over his pillow. “What’s up, bleeding hell what time is it anyway?”

  Grace looked straight into his eyes and spoke slowly. “It’s truth time, that’s what time it is.” Martin’s face dropped and he was fidgeting about in the bed, he couldn’t look her in the eyes. Searching for his cigarettes you could see he was nervous wreck, he was panicking.

  Grace waited until he was settled and coughed to clear her throat. “Right, don’t give me any bullshit. I want the truth. Are you sleeping with somebody else?” Martin nearly choked and his eyes were wide open. He was stuttering and the colour drained from his face. “Well,” she pressed for an answer.

  “No erm... Why do you even think that anyway?”

  Grace pummelled her clenched fist into his face and screamed at the top of her voice. “Don’t fucking lie to me Martin. You owe me the truth. I’m not imagining this you know.” Martin had his hands over his head trying to protect himself as he tried to make a run for it but Grace was behind him breathing down the back of his neck. “Come on then, who is she?” He turned to face her and she could see it was on the tip of his tongue to tell her the truth but he lost his nerve at the last minute and sank to the floor with his hands over his head protecting himself. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Grace. I love you, always have and always will.”

  She marched to his wardrobe and her head disappeared inside it. Pulling out a black shaving bag she unzipped it frantically. Rummaging inside it she pulled out a packet. “What the hell are these then?” Grace held out two silver packets of ribbed condoms. Martin’s face was white and he was speechless as he tried to scramble to his feet. The game was up and he knew he had to come clean. “It was just once love, I swear to you, I’ll stop.”

  Grace reached for her black high-heeled shoe and smashed it into his head. “You dirty cunt. I knew it. At first I thought it was me going daft, but no, I was right all along. You dirty no good bastard.”

  Martin was pleading with her, his world was falling apart. The affa
ir seemed a great thing to do at the time, but now it had all been uncovered, he realised just how much he really loved his wife. “I’m sorry Grace; it was just the lads at work egging me on to do it.”

  Grace stood with a look to kill on her face and before she knew it she’d lost all control and she was throwing things at him. “I want you out of this house. Go and have your tart, I hope you’re happy. Look at you, you worthless piece of shit. Did you think that I didn’t know?” she jerked her head back and spat at him. “The courses on the sun bed, the new gym pass. Come on, you dick-head, give me some credit at least.”

  “I’m sorry Grace, can’t we just sit down and talk about it for a bit. I made a mistake, that’s all, one lousy mistake. Is it worth throwing everything away for just for one slip-up?”

  “A slip-up” she bawled. “You call you sleeping with another woman a slip-up? Get a grip, you silly bastard. We’re done. I want you out of here. I never want to see you again. You could be dead for all I care.”

  Grace stormed out of the bedroom and ran into the bathroom. Slamming the door behind her she bolted it shut with shaking hands. Head dipped into the toilet she puked her guts up. Martin hammered on the bathroom door. “Please Grace, please, just let’s talk about it. I’m not going anywhere until I have spoken to you. Just come back out and we can sort it out.

  Grace paced the bathroom floor and her chest was rising with speed. “Bastard, how could he do this to me, to us, how could he do it?” she sobbed. Tears flooded from her eyes as she collapsed down behind the bathroom door, her knees were up to her chest and she was rocking to and fro.