alone.
*
I used to listen to music. All kinds of music. I wasn’t an expert or a connoisseur, anything that moved me or made me happy was fair game which meant my collection of CDs was more diverse than Bill’s. He was into metal and said I was a musical snob because of the few jazz and classical CDs that had jostled for space on our shelves. Shelves I’d put up.
Now I stood miserably eyeing my collection of CDs piled up uselessly in a corner and wished I’d invested in an Ipod. For Bill’s fancy sound system that he’d been so proud of had been demolished, like everything else.
This wasn’t the way I’d imagined half-term. Sorting out insurance claims and trying to make our home habitable again. I hoped the kids hadn’t been too traumatised by it, but then children surprise you at times, their resilience. I’d have to try and make light of it, set up a few diversions.
One of those diversions had already fallen into my lap. Alice was on her way. Millie and Tom loved their flaky Aunt Alice, and this would be the first time in years that she’d be staying in the house with them. I’d already knocked my bedroom into some kind of post-burglary shape for my friend to use. I could put the blow-up mattress in the front room every night for myself. Not that I’d be doing much sleeping anyway.
“Can we go to the beach?”
My daughter’s arrival pulled my thoughts back to more mundane things like breakfast. Her face glowed with excitement, not a hint of the fear that had haunted it last night. Resilient, like I said.
“It’ll be freezing,” I said, not keen on the idea of going out in public with some maniac still on the loose, targeting my family. Even though we now had our very own one-man protection unit from the local police force on the case. How would I explain that to the kids?
“Laura’s mum said half-term’s going to be lovely and warm. She says Cornwall gets fifteen hundred hours of sunshine a year and we’re going to have some of it this week. She’s printed off something from Google.”
Millie’s expression said Laura’s mother was nothing short of a genius. I felt like I’d lost some kind of race.
“Ah.” All right take me out and shoot me! It’s all I could come up with . But then I’m not perfect – like Laura’s mother.
“And there’s this special beach club down in The Porth for the whole of half-term. Laura’s going. Her mum thinks it’s a good idea.”
Well hoo-bloody-ray for Laura’s mum. It wouldn’t be hard to hate the woman. And maybe she could afford such fripperies, but I was having trouble finding money for the phone bill right now.
“Won’t the places in a holiday club already be booked?” I asked, searching for some foolproof excuse.
Millie gave me one of those looks. Like she could see what I was trying to do. “Duh! It’s not like it’s Disney or anything, is it?”
I winced. And wondered if I’d ever be forgiven for that. They’d been promised Disney World (a few years back when their dad was still here and we could afford it, but he’d been far too occupied to follow through. I guess I knew why now).
“What about your brother?” I asked, grabbing hold of a passing anorexic straw. I didn’t want any more financial embarrassments.
“I should think they take boys as well” she said in a resigned voice, older than her years. “But he can’t hang with us. He’ll have to make his own friends.”
It didn’t sound promising. Still, I suppose I could try a cheque. It would be a close run thing, but it was almost the end of the month and my wages would be going into the bank soon.
“So, can I phone Laura, then?”
“We’ll see how your brother feels first. He’s part of this family as well.”
Millie’s face screwed up with effort and you could imagine the neurons firing up in her brain. “Mu . . . um?”
“What?”
“There’s all kinds of families, right?”
“Sure . . .”
“What does dysfunctional mean?”
God, as
*
I used to listen to music. All kinds of music. I wasn’t an expert or a connoisseur, anything that moved me or made me happy was fair game which meant my collection of CDs was more diverse than Bill’s. He was into metal and said I was a musical snob because of the few jazz and classical CDs that had jostled for space on our shelves. Shelves I’d put up.
Now I stood miserably eyeing my collection of CDs piled up uselessly in a corner and wished I’d invested in an Ipod. For Bill’s fancy sound system that he’d been so proud of had been demolished, like everything else.
This wasn’t the way I’d imagined half-term. Sorting out insurance claims and trying to make our home habitable again. I hoped the kids hadn’t been too traumatised by it, but then children surprise you at times, their resilience. I’d have to try and make light of it, set up a few diversions.
One of those diversions had already fallen into my lap. Alice was on her way. Millie and Tom loved their flaky Aunt Alice, and this would be the first time in years that she’d be staying in the house with them. I’d already knocked my bedroom into some kind of post-burglary shape for my friend to use. I could put the blow-up mattress in the front room every night for myself. Not that I’d be doing much sleeping anyway.
“Can we go to the beach?”
My daughter’s arrival pulled my thoughts back to more mundane things like breakfast. Her face glowed with excitement, not a hint of the fear that had haunted it last night. Resilient, like I said.
“It’ll be freezing,” I said, not keen on the idea of going out in public with some maniac still on the loose, targeting my family. Even though we now had our very own one-man protection unit from the local police force on the case. How would I explain that to the kids?
“Laura’s mum said half-term’s going to be lovely and warm. She says Cornwall gets fifteen hundred hours of sunshine a year and we’re going to have some of it this week. She’s printed off something from Google.”
Millie’s expression said Laura’s mother was nothing short of a genius. I felt like I’d lost some kind of race.
“Ah.” All right take me out and shoot me! It’s all I could come up with . But then I’m not perfect – like Laura’s mother.
“And there’s this special beach club down in The Porth for the whole of half-term. Laura’s going. Her mum thinks it’s a good idea.”
Well hoo-bloody-ray for Laura’s mum. It wouldn’t be hard to hate the woman. And maybe she could afford such fripperies, but I was having trouble finding money for the phone bill right now.
“Won’t the places in a holiday club already be booked?” I asked, searching for some foolproof excuse.
Millie gave me one of those looks. Like she could see what I was trying to do. “Duh! It’s not like it’s Disney or anything, is it?”
I winced. And wondered if I’d ever be forgiven for that. They’d been promised Disney World (a few years back when their dad was still here and we could afford it, but he’d been far too occupied to follow through. I guess I knew why now).
“What about your brother?” I asked, grabbing hold of a passing anorexic straw. I didn’t want any more financial embarrassments.
“I should think they take boys as well” she said in a resigned voice, older than her years. “But he can’t hang with us. He’ll have to make his own friends.”
It didn’t sound promising. Still, I suppose I could try a cheque. It would be a close run thing, but it was almost the end of the month and my wages would be going into the bank soon.
“So, can I phone Laura, then?”
“We’ll see how your brother feels first. He’s part of this family as well.”
Millie’s face screwed up with effort and you could imagine the neurons firing up in her brain. “Mu . . . um?”
“What?”
“There’s all kinds of families, right?”
“Sure . . .”
“What does dysfunctional mean?”
God, as
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