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Authors: Rebecca Hillary
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about it, Mrs Cowling.” Carrie smiled at the old woman. “How much is the jackpot up to this week?”
“Just over two thousand, I think. Make a good Christmas for your boys, I’d say.”
“That it would, Mrs Cowling. Mind how you go.” Carrie watched as Tom opened the door and Mrs Cowling shuffled off out and up the street.
“I mean it, Carrie, you’re looking well. There’s almost a glow about you. You’re not pregnant are you?”
Carrie shook her head. It had been weeks since she and Simon had even spent a night in the same room, let alone the same bed, so it was nigh impossible for her to be pregnant. “It’s just the spirit of the season. Everybody has a glow about them at Christmas. It’s all that light reflected from all the tinsel that’s covering just about every surface.”
Tom laughed a deep belly laugh that made Carrie smile. She enjoyed working for Tom, even though it didn’t pay particularly well. She could work around the boys’ schedule and Tom was good looking in a paunchy sort of way, as well as being hilarious. If he only lost the extra weight he was carrying around his middle, Carrie would probably have him categorised as bed-worthy, but that was unlikely to change at Christmas, especially with all the mince pies he was sneaking when he thought she wasn’t looking.
Carrie’s shift ended far too soon, and she found herself rather disappointed that she had to go home. A quick tidy up and a casserole in the oven before picking up the boys from school, and then she would be able to enjoy a quiet evening with a good book and her thoughts. Despite the jackpot on offer at the bingo, home was where Carrie felt she should be, even if she was to be fantasising about being anywhere else in the world than her own private hell.
“Wow!”
“Aw, Carrie.” Simon’s face fell as Carrie walked through the door and saw what he had done. “Don’t tell me you don’t like it.”
She dropped the bag of groceries on the table in the kitchen and turned to face him with a mixture of joy, surprise and utter disappointment. “Simon, I love it, but we can’t afford to keep all these Christmas lights running. You know the boys will want them on all the time, and it’s just too expensive. You’ll have to take some of them down.”
“Carrie,” Simon slipped behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder as he spoke softly in her ear. “I have a plan that will make all your money worries disappear.”
“Last time you said that, you gambled two ton on a hundred-to-one shot at Epsom.”
“It came fifth didn’t it?”
“Yes, but the bookies were only paying out up to fourth.”
“That’s beside the point.” Simon breathed against her neck, and Carrie was pleasantly relieved to smell peppermint rather than his usual afternoon liquid diet of Special Brew. “We have two rooms that nobody’s using, so when I was getting the decorations out of the attic, I decided to tidy them out and clean them up a bit.”
Carrie sighed as she leaned back against him. “You want me to bring strangers into the house right before Christmas?”
“That’s the beauty of it. I know someone who’s looking for a room to rent for a couple of months, and we have a room to spare. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding somebody for the oater room. I bet Tom would even let you put an ad in the window for free if you ask him nicely.” There was a slight edge in his tone that suggested he might know that Carrie had a slight crush on her boss, but if he did then he wasn’t letting on. “So, what do you say? It’ll just take a couple of hundred to get some new wardrobes in.”
“Fine.” Carrie turned and let Simon enclose her in a warm hug. At least he was making an effort. “But if we all get murdered in our sleep by the lodger, I will kill you.”
Another long day of work at the corner store, another long day of daydreaming about a better life, and Carrie dove
“Just over two thousand, I think. Make a good Christmas for your boys, I’d say.”
“That it would, Mrs Cowling. Mind how you go.” Carrie watched as Tom opened the door and Mrs Cowling shuffled off out and up the street.
“I mean it, Carrie, you’re looking well. There’s almost a glow about you. You’re not pregnant are you?”
Carrie shook her head. It had been weeks since she and Simon had even spent a night in the same room, let alone the same bed, so it was nigh impossible for her to be pregnant. “It’s just the spirit of the season. Everybody has a glow about them at Christmas. It’s all that light reflected from all the tinsel that’s covering just about every surface.”
Tom laughed a deep belly laugh that made Carrie smile. She enjoyed working for Tom, even though it didn’t pay particularly well. She could work around the boys’ schedule and Tom was good looking in a paunchy sort of way, as well as being hilarious. If he only lost the extra weight he was carrying around his middle, Carrie would probably have him categorised as bed-worthy, but that was unlikely to change at Christmas, especially with all the mince pies he was sneaking when he thought she wasn’t looking.
Carrie’s shift ended far too soon, and she found herself rather disappointed that she had to go home. A quick tidy up and a casserole in the oven before picking up the boys from school, and then she would be able to enjoy a quiet evening with a good book and her thoughts. Despite the jackpot on offer at the bingo, home was where Carrie felt she should be, even if she was to be fantasising about being anywhere else in the world than her own private hell.
“Wow!”
“Aw, Carrie.” Simon’s face fell as Carrie walked through the door and saw what he had done. “Don’t tell me you don’t like it.”
She dropped the bag of groceries on the table in the kitchen and turned to face him with a mixture of joy, surprise and utter disappointment. “Simon, I love it, but we can’t afford to keep all these Christmas lights running. You know the boys will want them on all the time, and it’s just too expensive. You’ll have to take some of them down.”
“Carrie,” Simon slipped behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder as he spoke softly in her ear. “I have a plan that will make all your money worries disappear.”
“Last time you said that, you gambled two ton on a hundred-to-one shot at Epsom.”
“It came fifth didn’t it?”
“Yes, but the bookies were only paying out up to fourth.”
“That’s beside the point.” Simon breathed against her neck, and Carrie was pleasantly relieved to smell peppermint rather than his usual afternoon liquid diet of Special Brew. “We have two rooms that nobody’s using, so when I was getting the decorations out of the attic, I decided to tidy them out and clean them up a bit.”
Carrie sighed as she leaned back against him. “You want me to bring strangers into the house right before Christmas?”
“That’s the beauty of it. I know someone who’s looking for a room to rent for a couple of months, and we have a room to spare. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding somebody for the oater room. I bet Tom would even let you put an ad in the window for free if you ask him nicely.” There was a slight edge in his tone that suggested he might know that Carrie had a slight crush on her boss, but if he did then he wasn’t letting on. “So, what do you say? It’ll just take a couple of hundred to get some new wardrobes in.”
“Fine.” Carrie turned and let Simon enclose her in a warm hug. At least he was making an effort. “But if we all get murdered in our sleep by the lodger, I will kill you.”
Another long day of work at the corner store, another long day of daydreaming about a better life, and Carrie dove
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