Read Online Humber Boy B by Ruth Dugdall - Free Book Online

and burger but I’m determined to enjoy them. I sit on the sofa, the torn bag in my lap, first sucking the salt from the chips. I bite their crispy layer and tell myself they’re delicious while a part of me is wondering what the fuss is about. The burger isn’t thick, either, but a floppy slice of meat under an orange gummy slice of processed cheese. It tastes of nothing, sweet and salty, greasy, but no real food flavours as it hits my tongue in all the right spots. In twenty seconds the whole meal is gone and I still feel hungry but I have nothing in the kitchen. I crunch the bag into a ball, ready to toss, then reach into my jean pocket and look at how much money I have left. Thirty-two pounds and eighty pence. It sounds a lot, but in prison the wages were low and all there was to buy was shower gel and chocolate. I look around my new home and think of all the things I’d like to buy. Top of the list is a TV. Every day, after tea, we watched the telly in the association room and I miss this dip into life, the news, EastEnders, Coronation Street. I don’t know how much a TV would cost, but it must be more than what I’ve got. And anyway, my priority should be bowls and cutlery and proper food. If I’m going to make a life for myself, I need to stop eating like an animal. I put the rubbish in the kitchen bin and tell myself that, from now on, I only eat on a plate.

13
    The Day Of
    It was only when Roger Palmer led his daughter from the house to the car that he saw she was wearing a thin party dress, white and delicate, with sequins along the hem. He saw too how her flesh was pressing into the fabric, new breasts spilling out of the sides of the straps.
    “Go get changed, Cheryl. Now!” He was annoyed with her, embarrassing him like this. She had surely done it deliberately.
    “I like this dress.” She tugged it down so it sat better at the waist, but it was still hopelessly small for her and revealed too much thigh. He saw, as he’d seen a few times the last few months, that she was changing. No longer his little girl, but a teenager. Puberty had filled her out and she had started to adopt that stubborn expression, so very like her mother, that he had to fight the urge to shake her.
    “We’re going fishing, it’ll be muddy. Please go get changed.”
    “Alright! Why are you so narky?”
    Cheryl didn’t wait for his reply, turning quickly as if afraid of his response. He watched her walk back towards the house as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders, and felt a sting of guilt. This was her day off too, and his breakup with Jess wasn’t her fault. She wanted a step-mum as much as he wanted a wife, maybe more. To have another female around, someone to chat with about what was happening to her body, about boys. Someone she could talk to.
    “And bring a towel,” he called, as a peace offering.
    She turned, her face broken by a half-smile, not quite believing her luck.
    “We’re going swimming?”
    “We’re going to the river, so you can paddle. Now quick quick!”
    If Roger switched on the TV he’d no doubt see coverage of the rally, which would have reached Trafalgar Square by now. His teaching colleagues campaigning for a pay rise that he certainly wanted, and believed that all teachers deserved, but he wouldn’t be missed in the crowd. Was Jess missing him? She’d said she loved him, even last night, when she was breaking his heart.
    It hadn’t meant to be so serious. He was a middle-aged divorcee who knew his best years were behind him and Jess was a newly promoted bright young thing, still in her twenties despite having a ten-year-old son. A woman who’d made a mistake at seventeen and was making her life count for something, and she looked up to Roger. He had supervised her final placement when she was a trainee, interviewed her for the role of teacher after she qualified. He already admired her, but hadn’t acted on it until then. It wouldn’t have been appropriate.
    But she was