Single Mother Page 2

  ‘I… I don’t understand. Is everything OK?’

  ‘No, Melanie. No, it’s not,’ Josette says, suddenly standing and striding over to the huge window facing out over the lawns and the ancient cedar tree. She turns abruptly – a tall, slim silhouette against the sunlight streaming in. ‘Bob’s son says a large amount of cash has gone missing from his father’s room.’

  ‘What?’ Mel says, twisting round. She grips the arms of the leather chair. ‘That’s terrible. But… but residents don’t keep money in their rooms. Do they?’ Mel knows that cash is discouraged, that any extras residents may wish to purchase are handled by an in-house card system and added to the bill. The Cedars has its own little shop, selling books, magazines, a few luxuries. Plus there’s a hair salon on site.

  Josette pulls a face, tightening the already tight skin on her forehead and cheekbones.

  ‘Apparently, Bob’s son had left him three hundred pounds in cash for emergencies. It was in a jacket pocket in his wardrobe. Not within our guidelines, of course, but we can’t prevent such instances. But what we can prevent is theft. When Bob’s son visited on Sunday, he went to check the cash and it was gone. He categorically states it was there two days before, on the Friday.’

  ‘That’s terrible,’ Mel says. ‘Maybe Bob hid it elsewhere and forgot.’ She doubts that’s true. Bob’s mind is sound, even if his body isn’t quite as robust these days.

  ‘His son turned the room upside down. No cash.’ Josette strides back over to her desk, towering above Mel in her patent black heels. She perches on the corner of the desk, arms folded across her white blouse. ‘Do you know anything about this, Melanie?’

  ‘Me?’ she replies, instantly feeling her cheeks redden. She can’t help it. ‘No, no, of course not.’ She swallows. ‘I’d never—’

  ‘Money’s tight as a single mother, am I correct?’ Josette says, staring down at her. Her dark eyes bore out from beneath her straight-cut fringe.

  ‘Well, yes, but I don’t see—’

  ‘So if you were, say, helping Bob to get dressed and the cash fell out of his pocket or, indeed, you discovered it in there, it’s also correct to assume it would be very tempting for you to slip it into your own pocket. Yes?’

  ‘No!’ Mel says as firmly as she can without making matters worse. She absolutely won’t be accused of something she didn’t do. ‘Of course I didn’t take Bob’s cash. I’m not a thief, Josette. Surely you know that? I’m a good employee, and—’

  ‘Were you caring for Bob on Saturday, Melanie?’

  ‘He was on my list, yes,’ Mel replies, willing the burn in her cheeks to subside. She pushes back her shoulders and holds her head up. She won’t be bullied into admitting to something she didn’t do. She’d be fired for sure, and there’s no way she can afford to lose her job. ‘I was working alongside Clara. She’ll vouch for me.’

  ‘Were you ever alone with Bob in his room?’

  ‘I really don’t see why—’

  ‘Just answer, please, then we can wrap this up so I can report to the family. Naturally, they’re very distressed.’

  Mel sits there, her mind melting into a mix of not understanding any of this to actually wondering if she may have somehow, inadvertently or accidentally, gathered up Bob’s cash by mistake. And she’s also conscious that she’s going to be late picking Kate up from after-school club.

  ‘I… I was alone with Bob for some of the time, I guess, yes,’ she replies quietly, thinking back, her eyes narrowing as she tries to remember. ‘But that’s not unusual. Clara may have been called to help with someone else, or maybe went to fetch something. You know how busy it can get.’

  Josette remains perfectly still, her arms clamped across her chest, her long legs stretched out in front of her as she sits on the edge of the desk.

  ‘I took him for a walk. The weather was nice and he likes the fresh air.’

  ‘Which meant putting a jacket on, I’m assuming? It’s only April, after all.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I helped him into a jacket. And he wore his tweed cap. But honestly, I don’t recall seeing any cash. And if I had, I’d have mentioned to Bob about keeping it safe and reported it to the duty manager.’

  ‘What colour was the coat?’

  It’s as if Josette isn’t hearing her – hearing only what she wants to hear to dig herself and her care home out of an awkward situation. If she gets fired, Mel knows Josette will have her replaced within a matter of hours through the agency. She’s expendable.

  ‘Green?’ Mel says.

  ‘Are you asking me or telling me?’

  Mel takes a breath, glancing away briefly, forcing herself to keep calm. ‘It was green. A dark green corduroy coat with a brown collar. I remember commenting on how smart it was.’

  Josette says nothing for a beat, just stares at her, as if she’s waiting for more to come out. But Mel doesn’t have anything else to say. She just wants to go and fetch Kate, imagining her standing alone outside the school gates. She can’t help the brief glance at her watch.

  ‘Do you have somewhere better to be, Melanie?’

  ‘No, sorry. It’s just my daughter… I have to fetch her and—’

  ‘What’s in there?’ Josette says, lightly kicking the carrier bag on the floor with her court shoe.

  ‘Just something I picked up for Kate. A pair of trainers,’ Mel replies, looking down at the supermarket bag.

  The tightening of Josette’s jaw, the narrowing of her eyes, doesn’t go unnoticed by Mel. And neither does the thumping in her own heart. She doesn’t deserve this grilling.

  Josette sits down behind her desk again, resting her elbows on the polished wood, her fingers steepled together in front of her face. ‘You can go now,’ she says, turning to answer her phone, ignoring Mel completely as she gathers her belongings, says goodbye and leaves.

  Three

  ‘What a nightmare,’ Mel mutters under her breath as she slams the car door, throwing her bags onto the passenger seat. How, after nearly three years of loyal service, could Josette possibly think that she would steal money from a resident? From anyone?

  Quickly, she lifts up her T-shirt to examine her scalded skin. Sure enough, there’s a red patch about the size of her palm just to the left of her navel. She blows on it, desperate to get home for some ice.

  Mel shakes with anger as she drives away, trying to calm herself before picking up Kate. As soon as she’d left Josette’s office, she’d messaged her daughter to say she was on her way. But Kate hadn’t replied yet.

  ‘Come on, come on,’ she says impatiently at the lights. Every set seems to be changing to red as she approaches the junction. Finally, after taking a couple of shortcuts, she pulls up outside Portman High, scanning the street where Kate usually waits.

  There’s no sign of her.

  It’s only her second term – such a huge contrast to the primary school she loved – and she’s not made any friends yet. In fact, she knows the opposite to be true. ‘Kate, Kate, where are you?’ she whispers, calling Kate’s phone. It rings out, going to voicemail.

  ‘Dammit,’ she says, her heart rate rising. She dials again, just as she spots someone – a thin and stooped female figure – coming round the corner from the street just beyond the school. She squints, praying the figure resolves into Kate as she gets closer. At the same time, an old, rusty red van pulls slowly out of the turning, cruising alongside the person, and only when the figure flicks a quick wave at the van does it speed off. The light flares off the windscreen as it passes so Mel doesn’t see the driver.

  She gets out of the car, leaning against the open door, relief flooding through her. ‘Oh, Kate, thank God. I was worried about you. You normally wait for me along here.’

  ‘Hi, Mum,’ she calls out more cheerily than expected, raising her arm. ‘Sorry!’ She picks up her pace into a run, her bag bouncing against her side as she approaches. She opens the car door, breathless. ‘I… I just went to see if you’d parked round the corner,’ she says, pre-
empting Mel’s next question.

  ‘You know I always meet you here.’ She pauses, watching as Kate does up her seat belt and dumps her school bag at her feet. ‘Who was that?’ Mel asks, glancing down the road in the direction the van had sped off.

  ‘Who was what?’ Kate replies, glancing at her phone, her shoulders drawn up to her ears. ‘Sorry I missed your call, Mum. My… my phone was still on silent from classes.’

  ‘Who was the person in the van you were waving at just now?’

  ‘Van? I didn’t see any van,’ Kate says. ‘What’s for tea? I’m starving.’

  After having to park the car several streets away – not unusual in their part of town – Mel unlocks the outside door of their flat, noticing that more of the faded blue paint has peeled off and flaked onto the pavement. She glances through the window of the fish and chip bar to the right, above which their tiny place is located. Tony is in there with a couple of his young staff, shaking the fryer baskets as they prepare for the evening shift. He looks up, giving Mel a wave before wiping his hands down his apron. She waves back, smiling, dreading having to ask him for a rent extension.

  ‘Can we, Mum, please?’ Kate says, noticing Tony has spotted them. Mel knows Kate will be salivating from the smell of fish and chips just as much as she is. It’s an easy option and would make Kate’s evening perfect, especially with what she’s about to give her.

  ‘We’ll see. Let’s get in first, OK?’ Which really means ‘let me see how much I can wring out of my overdraft’. Mel wants nothing more than for Kate to chill out in front of the TV, watching her favourite show with a hot, steaming parcel of fish and chips on her knees.

  She lets Kate inside the narrow entrance hall first, locking the door behind them after they’re inside. She stops still as her eyes grow accustomed to the darkness, with Kate running up the stairs two at a time.

  ‘Odd,’ she whispers to herself, shaking her head and picking up a couple of letters from the mat. She swears she just got a whiff of cigarette smoke – not fresh, but rather the stale smell of it on someone’s clothes left lingering in the air. Maybe it followed us in from outside, someone in the street with a cigarette, she thinks, shrugging as she heads up, the carrier bag still in her hand and as yet unnoticed by Kate. She flicks the light on after she lets them both inside the inner flat door, putting Kate’s shoes on the rack after she kicks them off, heading straight for her bedroom.

  ‘Oh, great,’ Mel says, rolling her eyes when she sees the two black bin bags of recycling. She could ask Kate to take them down, she supposes, bribe her with the promise of a fish supper, but she’ll need to look in her purse first. The electricity will need topping up in a few days and she has to get more petrol before the end of the week. Until payday, every penny counts. Mel kicks one of the bin bags in frustration, wishing she could afford more things for Kate.

  If it bloody well wasn’t for… she thinks angrily, before stopping herself, determined not to fixate on him. I’m better than that, she tells herself, sighing as she sees that the bin bag now has a split down one side.

  ‘Fancy a cuppa, Kate?’ she calls out, taking her purse from her bag. ‘Fifteen pounds twenty-seven,’ she whispers, knowing that’s easily enough for a portion of cod and chips – twice over if she were to treat herself too. But equally, she knows that there’s some food in the cupboard that she was planning on using tonight – a tin of tuna, some canned tomatoes and some pasta. She should probably use that up.

  Before she can call out to Kate again, Mel’s phone pings an alert.

  I’ll be with you in five xx

  Mel smiles, feeling a rush of warmth spread through her. Thank God for Michael. Her oldest friend and the person who gave her the strength to finally take a stand against Billy, the courage to leave. And Kate adores him, sees him as an uncle. A father, even. Her Saturdays wouldn’t be the same if she wasn’t able to hang out at For the Record, Michael’s music shop, listening to her favourite bands, helping out with stock and dealing with customers. Mel knows he’s been through hard times himself – right back from when they first met in the children’s home – and together, somehow, they’ve always got through.

  She goes to Kate’s bedroom door, stopping outside. She hears her daughter talking in a low voice. Odd, she thinks. She rarely talks on the phone, preferring to message. She shrugs, hoping that she’s finally made a friend at school. ‘I’m just taking the recycling out, love. Then I’ve got a surprise for you.’

  She waits, listens. Nothing. So she goes back to the kitchen and grabs the bin bags, struggling to hold them together as she heads down the stairs.

  Four

  ‘Micky!’ Mel squeals in a silly voice as the stairwell is suddenly flooded with light. Michael is standing in the doorway, silhouetted, as though her guardian angel has arrived. ‘You’re certainly a sight for sore eyes,’ she adds, struggling down the stairs with the bulging refuse sacks, treading carefully. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d had an accident on them.

  ‘I come bearing gifts,’ he says, smiling up at her, his long, wiry arms holding up two plastic bags. Mel sees the flash of his insanely white teeth, the sparkle in his azure eyes. He cocks his head to one side and gives her a wink.

  ‘Let me just get this lot outside to the bins,’ she says, coming down. ‘Oh… bloody hell…!’ she calls out as her foot misses the step. She stumbles, grabbing the banister rail while, at the same time, dropping one of the bin bags – the one with the split in it. It tumbles down the remaining stairs, its contents spilling out along the way until the whole thing breaks open as it lands at Michael’s feet. Bottles and cartons, cardboard packets and junk mail are strewn across the entrance hall floor.

  ‘Christ, that was close,’ Mel says, her heart racing from the near fall. Her legs like jelly, she carefully comes down the rest of the stairs and drops to her knees to gather up the mess. But Michael has beaten her to it.

  ‘Stop,’ he says, holding up his palms to her. ‘You take these back up and leave this to me.’ He puts a hand on her arm, somehow sensing she’s not had the best day. He gives her the two bags he’s brought.

  ‘Is this what I think it is?’ she says, peering into one of them, breathing in deeply and closing her eyes for a moment. ‘It is, you bloody beautiful mind-reader,’ she adds with a laugh. Then she takes a look in the other bag. ‘Is it actually my birthday and I forgot?’ she says, standing up as she spots the beers and wine.

  Michael gives her another wink as he gathers up the mess. ‘Go on, hop to it then. I’ll be up before you know it.’

  Mel leans down and gives him a peck on his cheek, catching the scent of his sweet perfume, smiling inwardly as she remembers him once telling her that he’d not worn a man’s cologne in his entire life. And thankfully she can’t smell the cigarette smoke any more. ‘I’ll get some glasses,’ she says, knowing that Michael has keys to let himself back in. He insisted on a set just in case she ever needed help. If the worst ever happened.

  She runs back up the stairs, wondering what she did to deserve a friend like Michael. ‘Kate, get yourself out here, my love, and see what I’ve got. Uncle Micky has come a-calling.’

  Mel hears Kate’s bedroom door open. The mention of her favourite person in the whole world always gets her moving.

  ‘What is it, Mum?’ she says, appearing in the kitchen doorway, her eyes slightly bloodshot.

  Mel hesitates, studying her daughter. ‘Look what Micky brought us,’ she says, pulling one of the wrapped-up fish and chip parcels from the bag, feeling the warmth through the paper.

  ‘Yay,’ Kate says with a brief punch to the air and the glimmer of a smile – as enthusiastic as she gets about anything these days. Then she turns on her heels and goes back to her room.

  Sighing, Mel gets out a couple of glasses and the bottle opener, peeling the foil off the wine. She looks at the label, knowing Michael always chooses his wines carefully, even if it is just to accompany fish and chips. She cracks a smile as she recalls what he
once said: I choose my wines like I choose my men, he’d told her. Full-bodied and fruity. And always very expensive.

  Mel looks up. ‘Just in time,’ she says to Michael, pouring a glass of the white. ‘And thanks for taking the rubbish out.’

  ‘Most welcome,’ he says, slipping off his denim jacket. He drapes it over the back of one of two chairs at Mel’s small kitchen table. ‘I found this among the rubbish. I think you must have thrown it out by mistake. It looks important.’ He hands Mel an empty envelope along with some papers folded in half.

  ‘Oh that… no,’ she says, glancing up as she pours a second glass. ‘I went through all my mail earlier and chucked out the junk. I’m just left with the bills now,’ she says, ignoring the tight feeling in her chest as she eyes the stack of red reminders on the worktop. She’s determined to enjoy this evening.

  ‘But it’s from a solicitor, Mel. I think you need to see it.’

  Mel knows where Michael’s concern is coming from – three years ago, when she’d appeared in court as a witness for the prosecution. He’d supported her all the way, dealing with much of the barrister’s correspondence on her behalf. After everything that had gone on with Billy, she’d found it too overwhelming to sort out alone.

  Mel swaps Michael a glass for the letter and gives it a quick glance, remembering it from earlier. ‘No, it’s just some silly scam. Trying to get me to sign up to their wills service, by the looks of it. Making out I’ve got an inheritance or something, to get my attention. It’s the legal equivalent of “You’re a guaranteed winner”. Anyway, cheers!’ she says, holding up her glass.

  Michael chinks it with his, then holds his glass up to the light before swirling the liquid around several times. He takes a deep breath over the rim before taking a sip. ‘Perfect accompaniment to cod and chips,’ he says as Mel knocks back a much-needed large mouthful. Then his face, shadowed by the day’s stubble, breaks into a full-blown grin. ‘Katie-my-best-matey!’ he sings out, standing up as Kate comes back into the kitchen. ‘Get over here now!’