fingers and embedded itself in the cloth around the ice
pack. Pam leaned forward. “You said Alysha had me, Ursula. But you’ve always
had me too. I’ll be there for you as long as I have breath in my body. It was
the last promise I made to Karen before she passed and I mean to keep it.” I
heard the catch in her voice. “I’ve done a poor job so far though. She’d be
really mad at me. I let your father dispose of you like a possession and I
regret that. I wish you’d be honest about why you sold the house and car and at
least let me help you.”
I shook
my head. “It’s sorted,” I replied, hoping it would be. If not, I’d got the name
of the magazine journalist and I’d drag my husband’s name through the mud. I
knew the journo wouldn’t pay me but I’d make sure the Saints went down like a
lead balloon. There would be nothing left of Saint Peter’s memory by the time
I’d finished.
Trouble
is, I suspected the only person who’d end up hurting was me.
Chapter 11
Aunty Pam fed me, loved me and cosseted me until
Sunday evening when my uncle drove me home to my flat. He stopped on the street
outside and waited as I opened the passenger door. “Hey, Ula,” he said, his
tone serious. “Why don’t you move in with us? There’s room and Pamela would
love it.”
I nodded
and smiled, picking at the pretty blouse she’d lent me after my shower. “I
know, Uncle Larry. She’s said it once a week since I sold Pete’s house. I just
need to find my own way at the moment.”
“Well,
the offer’s there,” he said with a wink. “And it won’t be going away so we’ll
keep asking yer.”
“Thanks,
Uncle Larry.” I waved as he drove along the road and wondered if he’d still
want me to live with them when he found out I’d blackmailed my mother-in-law
and slept with the referee who gave my dead husband his last red card. The
notion made me bite down hard on my sore lip, but as my sanity hung in the
balance, I made time to see the funny side.
The air
inside my apartment felt stale and I walked around opening windows. My spare
keys sat on the kitchen counter and I fingered them, wondering if Teina would
ever dare come back after my ugly meltdown. I knew I wouldn’t. There were no
signs of his sandwich making and I figured at least he was house trained. The
flat exemplified my empty life and I contemplated moving nearer the beach. I
missed my marital home in Devonport and wished I’d been able to hold onto it.
Walking and running along the beach helped with my fitness and the sea offered
a kind of calm not available elsewhere. I stared at the neutral paint in the
lounge and imagined renting the sanitised box until I reached retirement. The
shiver which worked its way along my spine caused a physical ache and I gave
myself a mental and physical shake, focussing on Aunty Pamela’s wise words. I
recited them to myself as I loaded my washing machine and tidied around,
readying myself for school tomorrow. “Work with what today brings you, instead
of craving what tomorrow might have up its sleeve.” So typical of Aunty Pam’s
brand of advice, it brought me comfort as evening slipped into night and I
crawled into bed.
My last
glance in the bathroom mirror didn’t bode well and I doubted makeup could cover
the swollen hand mark on my cheek, the cut under my eye or the bruise along my
jawbone. I dragged out a tube of foundation and practiced dabbing it over the
marks. “Reasonable,” I sighed to my reflection, regretting my foolhardiness as
I faced the painful prospect of washing it off.
Sleep
came late and only after I laid on my back with an education policy manual
raised at arm’s length. It was boring enough to tire me out but after dropping
it on my face twice, I admitted defeat and fell asleep by myself.
It felt
as though five minutes after closing my eyes, the deafening blurt of the alarm
clock rocked my world and jabbed me from sleep like a jousting knight with a
sharpened prong. I groaned
pack. Pam leaned forward. “You said Alysha had me, Ursula. But you’ve always
had me too. I’ll be there for you as long as I have breath in my body. It was
the last promise I made to Karen before she passed and I mean to keep it.” I
heard the catch in her voice. “I’ve done a poor job so far though. She’d be
really mad at me. I let your father dispose of you like a possession and I
regret that. I wish you’d be honest about why you sold the house and car and at
least let me help you.”
I shook
my head. “It’s sorted,” I replied, hoping it would be. If not, I’d got the name
of the magazine journalist and I’d drag my husband’s name through the mud. I
knew the journo wouldn’t pay me but I’d make sure the Saints went down like a
lead balloon. There would be nothing left of Saint Peter’s memory by the time
I’d finished.
Trouble
is, I suspected the only person who’d end up hurting was me.
Chapter 11
Aunty Pam fed me, loved me and cosseted me until
Sunday evening when my uncle drove me home to my flat. He stopped on the street
outside and waited as I opened the passenger door. “Hey, Ula,” he said, his
tone serious. “Why don’t you move in with us? There’s room and Pamela would
love it.”
I nodded
and smiled, picking at the pretty blouse she’d lent me after my shower. “I
know, Uncle Larry. She’s said it once a week since I sold Pete’s house. I just
need to find my own way at the moment.”
“Well,
the offer’s there,” he said with a wink. “And it won’t be going away so we’ll
keep asking yer.”
“Thanks,
Uncle Larry.” I waved as he drove along the road and wondered if he’d still
want me to live with them when he found out I’d blackmailed my mother-in-law
and slept with the referee who gave my dead husband his last red card. The
notion made me bite down hard on my sore lip, but as my sanity hung in the
balance, I made time to see the funny side.
The air
inside my apartment felt stale and I walked around opening windows. My spare
keys sat on the kitchen counter and I fingered them, wondering if Teina would
ever dare come back after my ugly meltdown. I knew I wouldn’t. There were no
signs of his sandwich making and I figured at least he was house trained. The
flat exemplified my empty life and I contemplated moving nearer the beach. I
missed my marital home in Devonport and wished I’d been able to hold onto it.
Walking and running along the beach helped with my fitness and the sea offered
a kind of calm not available elsewhere. I stared at the neutral paint in the
lounge and imagined renting the sanitised box until I reached retirement. The
shiver which worked its way along my spine caused a physical ache and I gave
myself a mental and physical shake, focussing on Aunty Pamela’s wise words. I
recited them to myself as I loaded my washing machine and tidied around,
readying myself for school tomorrow. “Work with what today brings you, instead
of craving what tomorrow might have up its sleeve.” So typical of Aunty Pam’s
brand of advice, it brought me comfort as evening slipped into night and I
crawled into bed.
My last
glance in the bathroom mirror didn’t bode well and I doubted makeup could cover
the swollen hand mark on my cheek, the cut under my eye or the bruise along my
jawbone. I dragged out a tube of foundation and practiced dabbing it over the
marks. “Reasonable,” I sighed to my reflection, regretting my foolhardiness as
I faced the painful prospect of washing it off.
Sleep
came late and only after I laid on my back with an education policy manual
raised at arm’s length. It was boring enough to tire me out but after dropping
it on my face twice, I admitted defeat and fell asleep by myself.
It felt
as though five minutes after closing my eyes, the deafening blurt of the alarm
clock rocked my world and jabbed me from sleep like a jousting knight with a
sharpened prong. I groaned
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