The Impulse Purchase, page 13
She was right though, because Jen knew him better than anyone in the world. As much as he adored his pigs, deep down he craved companionship. But he was not going on a dating app for any money, no matter how much she tried to persuade him it was what everyone did. Russell might be adept at assessing the road ahead and putting his foot down to overtake a speeding criminal, but when it came to affairs of the heart, he was deadly cautious. He wasn’t going to take a risk on a random smiling face on his phone screen. No way.
18
Chaos. It was always chaos, no matter how hard she tried to organise it. No matter how hard she tried not to shout. They were only kids, and it was hard for them too, so she tried not to raise her voice, but it was impossible to get them out of the door otherwise. If they missed the bus to Honisham, they would be at home all day, and that wasn’t good – for lots of reasons but mostly because Chloe was desperately trying not to attract attention. She didn’t want anyone sniffing around.
Of course, they were old enough now to go to the bus stop themselves, but she didn’t trust either of them. Especially not Otis. He was starting to get a look in his eye she didn’t like. And whatever Otis did, Pearl would follow. If he didn’t get on the bus, she wouldn’t either. So Chloe had to march them there and see them on. She actually had to wait until the bus had left because if she didn’t, they would hop off as soon as her back was turned.
She had to get up at six thirty to make sure everything was sorted. If they weren’t out of the house by twenty past seven, it was all over. She packed up their bags, made sure their homework books had been signed, did their lunches (peanut butter sandwiches, carrot sticks, a Penguin), quadruple-checked for any letters heralding a trip or bloody World Book Day. There was always something missing at the last minute, no matter how organised she was. Shoes, usually. She tried to get them into the habit of taking them off when they came home and leaving them by the door, ready to put on as they left, but somehow they forgot and one always got kicked under the settee or left behind the bathroom door.
There was a blood-curdling shriek from upstairs. Chloe felt her heart turn over. She ran to the stairs and looked up to see Pearl holding up a perspex cage.
‘It’s Beyoncé. She’s just lying there. I think she’s dead.’
The bloody hamster. Chloe raced up the stairs. Maybe it would be a good thing if it was dead? Traumatic, but at least that would be the end of the constant anxiety over Beyoncé’s health. She peered into the cage at the small lump of ginger fur.
‘No, she’s breathing, look. She’s probably tired.’
‘She’s ill. We need to take her to the vet.’ Pearl’s voice was shrill.
‘I’ll keep an eye on her. If she’s not better by lunchtime, I’ll take her. I promise.’
She wouldn’t, of course. A trip to the vet was prohibitively expensive. It would be cheaper to replace the hamster with a new one.
‘I want to take her to school.’
Ah. So that was the game-plan. Pearl had a beseeching expression on her face that Chloe knew only too well.
‘It would be way too noisy for her. And what if she escaped? What if someone let her out?’
Pearl looked at her, weighing up whether she was being fobbed off.
‘Come on,’ said Chloe. ‘Put her back on your dressing table. We’re going to miss the bus.’
Please don’t have a meltdown, she begged.
Pearl hovered for a moment, looking at the hamster, then decided that co-operation was the best tactic for now and went to put the cage back in her bedroom. Chloe breathed a sigh of relief and ran back downstairs. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that Otis was still in front of the telly in his pants.
‘Otis! We’re leaving in two minutes. Do you want to go to school in your crackers?’
His eyes didn’t leave the screen. He had headphones on, so he couldn’t hear her. She grabbed the remote and pressed off. That soon got his attention. His head swivelled round and he glared at her.
‘Get dressed!’ She knew he could hear her now. ‘We’re leaving in two.’
She held up two fingers to emphasise her point.
He gave a world-weary sigh and stumped over to the settee where she had laid his clothes half an hour ago. She knew she shouldn’t run around after them quite so much, that they should be able to look after themselves, but it made her life easier if she made their lives easier. The important thing was to keep life as normal as possible for them. They were the priority.
By some miracle the three of them made it out of the house without any more drama or shouting. She herded them along the pavement and out of the crescent, then along the lane. The sun was warm, and she thought what a shame it was they had to go to school, how much nicer it would have been to walk down to the river and muck about.
She heard a car approaching from round the bend.
‘Get in, kids.’
The lane was narrowest here, just before it met the main road, and she flattened the three of them against the hedge to let it pass. She recognised the car as soon as it rounded the corner. The dark green Defender, with Rushbrook Safari Lodges emblazoned on its side. Her heart sank as she saw the driver. Dash Culbone. There would only be one reason for him to drive up this road. He wound his window down, and she held up two fingers just as she had done to Otis.
‘I’ll be two minutes. Can you wait?’
He nodded, and gave her a sympathetic smile. ‘You’re OK. Don’t rush.’
Two minutes. Why was it her life always seemed to be measured in two minutes? Why didn’t she ever have any longer?
Her heart was pounding as she hurried Otis and Pearl onto the main road and along to the bus stop, praying it would be on time. The pressure felt relentless. You got over one crisis and another lurched along. She wasn’t sure how much longer she was going to be able to keep it up.
‘She’s going to be all right, isn’t she?’ Pearl was looking up at her, her eyes rounder than ever. For a moment, Chloe wondered if she meant Mum, then realised she was talking about Beyoncé.
‘Of course,’ she said, smoothing down the little girl’s hair, wishing she’d had a chance to do a proper French plait instead of a rushed ponytail. Maybe they’d do one tonight. And here was the bus. It rumbled to a stop, the doors wheezing as they opened.
‘Have a good day,’ she said to them both, but they were up the steps without a backward glance. She didn’t wait for the bus to leave before she retraced her steps, running as fast as she could back to the house. Number five was almost in the middle of Kerslake Crescent, half a dozen pairs of semi-detached council houses in yellowing pebble-dash that backed onto open fields, with woodland and the river beyond. They’d landed with their bums in the honey, getting this house. Mum had found it by some miracle – there wasn’t much to rent in this part of Somerset, as anything nice went as a holiday cottage, but number five needed money spending on it that the landlord didn’t have so there they were, quite happy to have a kitchen with the doors falling off in return for fields on the doorstep.
She saw that Dash was there, parked up on the other side of the road by the old phone box. She was grateful for his discretion. She didn’t want anyone knowing anything. She felt sweat trickle under her arm pits from the stress and the exertion. It was going to be a hot day.
‘Hey.’ Dash had wound the window down and was leaning his elbow on the door jamb. He had a baseball cap on over his dark curls, and a polo shirt with the RSF logo embroidered on it.
‘I’m really sorry,’ gasped Chloe. ‘Mum’s not very well today.’
Dash sighed. ‘We’ve got five lodges that need turning around. I’m relying on her.’
‘It’s OK. I can do it. No problem.’
Dash frowned. ‘What about school?’
‘I’m on study leave. For exams.’ GCSEs were proving to be a godsend. She didn’t have to come up with endless excuses.
‘Shouldn’t you be revising, in that case?’
‘I can catch up later.’
‘I don’t want to get you into trouble.’
‘I won’t get into trouble.’ The trouble would be if they didn’t get this money in. There was precisely fourteen pounds left in the kitty. Enough for maybe three days’ food.
‘Is your mum OK?’ Dash was looking up at Nicole’s window. The curtains were still drawn.
She wished she could trust him. Dash was kind, for a posh bloke. He paid good wages and looked after his staff. For a moment she was tempted to confide in him. Tell him what her life was really like and what she had to put up with. Tell him how tired she was. How sick she felt every morning.
‘It’s one of her migraines again. I gave her some tablets first thing. She should be OK by tomorrow with a bit of luck.’
He looked at her thoughtfully. Chloe gulped, nervous he was about to probe further, but he seemed to swallow her story and smiled, nodding his head at the passenger seat.
‘Hop in, then. I’ll give you a lift.’
The sooner she went and turned around the lodges, the sooner she could get back. She had Beyoncé to deal with. Hopefully she wouldn’t cark it while she was out. Pearl would never forgive her. If Beyoncé died, she’d have to get the bus to the pet shop in Honisham and buy another hamster the same colour before Pearl got home. It was possible, but it would be so much easier if she just stayed alive . . .
She’d take Beyoncé with her. That way she could keep an eye on her and head into town straight from Rushbrook House if she needed to.
‘Can you hang on two minutes? There’s something I need.’
‘Sure.’ Dash seemed happy now he knew he had cover.
Chloe rushed into the house. Everything was quiet. She ran up the stairs to the kids’ bedroom. Any minute now Pearl would have to move into Chloe’s room. She was twelve, and Otis was fourteen – it wouldn’t be right for them to keep sharing. They both needed privacy. Mind you, they were lucky to have three bedrooms. Chloe had to keep reminding herself to be grateful.
She picked up the cage – Beyoncé was looking a bit brighter. How long did hamsters live? Not long, probably. Beyoncé had been one of her mother’s impulse purchases. On one of her good days. Nicole had totally ignored Chloe’s warnings that the hamster would be a responsibility the family couldn’t manage, given they couldn’t look after themselves most of the time. Who was going to clean it out and feed it? And what would happen when it died? Nicole had been swept away by the novelty and Pearl’s undying devotion to her once Beyoncé had been procured.
Chloe crept out of the bedroom. She hovered on the landing outside the closed door. She had to check. For all her mother’s shortcomings, she did still care about her.
The room was pitch black. It smelt stale, with an underlying sweetness that was Nicole’s trademark scent of alcohol and perfume. Chloe picked her way across the floor carefully, knowing it would be strewn with discarded clothes and shoes: a silk kimono; a pair of boots. At the bedside, she peered at the shape under the duvet.
‘Mum?’ A loud whisper should be enough to wake her but not cause alarm.
Nicole groaned. ‘Mmmm?’
‘I’m going to Rushbrook. To do the lodges. Dash is here.’
A pale arm stretched out as Nicole wiggled her fingers in a request for contact. Chloe took her hand and squeezed it, appreciating the squeeze her mum gave back. A squeeze of acknowledgement, appreciation and love. It was the most she could expect in her mum’s current state.
‘Do you want anything?’
‘Mm-mm.’
‘I’ll be back as quick as I can.’
‘OK.’ It was half croak, half whisper.
She might be up and about by the time Chloe got back. She might not. She might sleep through till the next day. Chloe didn’t know which was the best option.
There was no best option.
Outside she scrambled into the front seat of Dash’s car.
‘All good?’ asked Dash, putting the car into first gear and setting off.
‘Yep,’ said Chloe, setting the hamster cage on her lap. ‘I’ve got to bring Beyoncé with me, if that’s OK. She’s looking a bit peaky, so I need to keep an eye on her.’
One bright eye peered out from the depths of the shavings.
‘That’s a big responsibility,’ smiled Dash.
Chloe managed to smile back. Beyoncé a big responsibility? He had no idea.
‘I expect she’ll be fine. She’s probably had too many sunflower seeds. They always overfeed her.’
Maroon Five drifted out of the radio. The sun was shining and the air smelled sweet with apple blossom. She wished she could enjoy the drive, sing along, but there was a knot in her stomach. There always was.
19
Nicole could hear the Defender pull away down the road. She rolled onto her back with a groan. She’d done it again. She groped on the bedside table for some water to swallow down some painkillers. Chloe would have left her a glass before she went to bed. She would make it up to her. It was her prom soon. She’d make her the most wonderful outfit – create something amazing. Nicole was a genius with a pair of scissors and a boxful of sequins and feathers. She was very, very good at silly things that made people happy. Like building a papier maché castle for Beyoncé to scamper about in. Or making a Game of Thrones cake for Otis. Things that made people gasp with admiration, but weren’t actually useful. Or profitable.
The only other thing she was good at was getting drunk. She could win Olympic Gold for it these days. She wished, more than anything, she could stop. Wished that she didn’t have to wake filled with self-loathing and panic, and stumble through the day avoiding mirrors and bright light and other people.
She hadn’t always been like this. Once she’d been able to leave it to Saturday nights, or holidays. But that was before the world had shown her up for what she was. A failure. How else had she ended up losing everything?
She had loved teaching English at Meadow Hall. The kids were bright, smart and funny and she’d pushed them, got excellent grades. But schools like Meadow Hall didn’t like scandal. And a teacher’s husband having an affair with another parent was beyond the pale. Even though it hadn’t been her fault when Rich went off with Elizabeth Spring – though obviously it had, for happy men didn’t stray, did they? – she had felt the disapproval, from both the staff and the other parents. In the end, she couldn’t cope with the humiliation, so she had resigned, thinking she could be a supply teacher while she found something else more permanent.
And then she’d lost her licence. She’d got into the habit of a couple of glasses of wine in the evening. And when Chloe had missed the bus home one evening and needed a lift, she hadn’t thought she was over the limit. She’d told herself she’d only had two glasses, not taking into account the glass she used was the size of a goldfish bowl, so she’d probably had the best part of half a bottle. So of course she’d failed the breath test when she was pulled over after pulling out a bit too sharply on a roundabout.
Thank goodness for this house which she’d found to rent. Space was a little tight but she had just been able to afford it, and Rushbrook seemed the perfect place to hide away and lick her wounds. She just wanted to hide away from the embarrassment of it all – no husband, no job and no driving licence – and the kids had been able to stay at the same school, thanks to the bus to Honisham. She’d got the job at the Safari Lodges, and although she had never imagined herself ending up as a cleaner, the surroundings were so glorious and Dash was such a wonderful combination of handsome and kind that it took the sting out of it.
It would be easier once she got her licence back, if she could afford a car, to get a better job. A librarian, perhaps? She’d thought about private tutoring, too. She knew her stuff, knew what the exam boards wanted, and Skype made it easier. Nicole resolved to check out the competition online later. It was too late for this year, as exams were nearly over. But she could start afresh in September. A new leaf, for autumn. Yes! Something like a plan was gradually starting to form in her head.
She had to pull herself together if she was going to survive. She didn’t have to live like this any longer, she told herself. Of course she didn’t. The trick, she knew only too well, was not to have the first drink, with its deliciously deceptive cloak of comfort, because that led to the second, and then the third, and it was the third that was the very devil himself and made you completely forget your resolutions.
Just. Don’t. Start.
She had seen the look on Chloe’s face last night. She’d had enough. Wonderful Chloe, who blamed herself for the drink-driving thing, for needing a lift that evening.
‘How can it possibly be your fault?’ Nicole had tried to reassure her over and over again.
‘If I hadn’t needed a lift,’ Chloe argued, ‘it would all be fine.’
It wouldn’t, though, because losing her licence was the tip of the iceberg. She should have stopped drinking there and then, but it was too easy to buy a couple of pretty bottles of pale pink rosé from the village shop. It looked so innocuous. And it was so easy to quaff the lot.
What she should do is ask Lorraine not to sell it to her. Sometimes she caught the shopkeeper’s eye and saw questions she didn’t want to answer. Lorraine could count. Lorraine knew how much she got through. She was reliant on the shop because she had promised herself not to add wine to the weekly supermarket delivery. Once it was there, in amongst the baked beans and Rice Krispies, there would be evidence.
Get it together, Nicole, she told herself. Get up, get showered, get dressed. Make dinner for your beautiful children. She needed them, for they were the only thing keeping her going. Her funny, nutty, gorgeous kids.
She pushed herself up and slid her long, pale legs out of bed. She picked up her kimono from the floor and wrapped it round her body. She’d lost more weight, she realised. She could almost wrap it round herself twice. The room shifted a little and she put a hand to the wall to steady herself. She couldn’t do this yet. She had all day to sort herself out before the kids got back. She’d go back to bed, just for a while. Sleep it off. If she got up at midday, she’d get it all done.
