“Well, it was disgusting. I’m sorry, I had no idea a cow’s tongue is about a foot long and covered with slime. It slobbered halfway up my arm.” Claire shuddered at the memory of feeding the giant black and white beasts in the barn.
“I can’t believe you did it. I won’t go near them. Sheep, yes, they’re gentle. Even the goats are okay, if they don’t head-butt you. But those cows! Yuck.” Ruth giggled.
Claire blushed hotter as her sister and niece revelled in her discomfort. After a moment, she joined in. “I got my own back, anyway.”
“Yes!” Sky said, snorting with laughter, “You wiped your hands all over me.”
Ruth turned to raise an eyebrow at her sister, her smile slipping.
“Only her hands, and we washed them straight away.” Taking a seat at the table, Claire poured cereal into a bowl. “You’re both up bright and early for a bank holiday.”
“School hours become a habit,” Ruth shrugged. “Besides, I feel great today. You must have tired Sky out, yesterday, as she slept right through.” She shone a grateful glance at her sister.
“Glad to help.”
There was silence, as the three of them concentrated on their food. Claire was relieved to see Sky and Ruth both eating well. It was gratifying to see that her presence had a positive effect. The see-saw of indecision in her mind swung back down to staying put in the UK. Her job was to help her sister get better, not gad about on beaches and in rain forests.
“Where to next then, Claire?” Ruth looked up with genuine curiosity. Claire realised it was the first time her sister had shown any interest in her career.
“I don’t know. There are still loads of hostels in Wales I haven’t covered. Plus, of course the whole of the South of England, and a bunch I need to pick up that weren’t open when I was up north.” She said the last phrase in her best impression of a northern accent, and Ruth giggled again.
“It must be fun, seeing the country, getting to meet new people. I love the blog. You should write a book.”
With a stab of guilt, Claire thought about the job offer. She wondered if she should tell Ruth, ask her advice. It was so nice having a normal conversation with her, though, she was reluctant to spoil it. Ruth’s reactions could be unpredictable, particularly where opportunity and money were concerned.
“Maybe I will. Write a book. Lots of the people who follow the book are authors, with self-published books to promote. It seems quite easy, although I don’t know who would buy it, when all my adventures are there on the blog for free.”
Ruth sat forward, her hands clasped loosely round a glass of juice. “I’d buy it. There must be stuff you don’t put on the blog. Things that the YHA wouldn’t approve of?”
Claire thought about the unnamed Scotsman. Josh. The wedding show-down. Yes, there was plenty of drama. Perhaps that would be a better option than running halfway round the world. She could head down to Cornwall instead, and lose herself in words.
"I'll bear it in mind. Thanks, sis."
***
ELEVEN
“Are you coming to the May Day Fete at my school, Auntie Claire?”
Claire looked up from her coffee cup and gazed at Sky until her words penetrated the sleepy fog in her mind. After two nights of little or no sleep, all she wanted to do was go back to bed.
“Yes, do come, Claire. You can write about it on the blog. It’ll be fun. There’s an obstacle course for the children and craft and stuff.”
Sounds like torture, Claire thought. Out loud she said, “Sure, honey. What time?” Her sister’s words registered, and she added, “I don’t have to do the obstacle race, do I?”
Ruth and Sky laughed and shook their heads, the likeness between them emphasised by their matching smiles.
“No, it’s just for the little ones. Your role will be cheering from the side-lines. Although, having read about your space-hopper race, I would have thought you’d romp through an obstacle course.”
“Blimey, sis, you really have read all my blog, haven’t you?”
Ruth flushed. “I told you, it’s my only escape. I follow a few others, too. People further afield. There’s one woman who is travelling across America, hitch-hiking and staying on people’s sofas. I’m glad you’re not doing that, it would terrify me.”
She patted Claire’s hand, then rose from the table.
“Come on Sky, let’s let Auntie Claire have a moment’s peace while we get dressed. We don’t have to leave for half an hour.”
Claire sat in the silent kitchen with emotions roiling in her stomach. Even though she’d opted not to take up Roger’s offer, the idea wouldn’t leave her alone. Deciding she needed to focus on the next leg of her UK journey, Claire pulled the iPad out of her bag and loaded the YHA website.
“Come on, Sky, throw your heart over it, you can do it.” Ruth’s voice carried on the wind, along with those of the other cheering parents.
Claire looked across at her and was pleased to see the colour flooding her sister’s cheek. It was good for her to be outside in the fresh air. Although it wasn’t warm, the sun was shining and there was little wind.
The May Day celebration was being held in a school playing field surrounded by a stone wall and cherry trees, coming into their pink blossom. It was a picturesque English scene, and Claire was surprised at how comforting it was. She realised she had been unconsciously comparing it to how she imagined New Zealand might look.
Stop it! Leave it be, brain, for goodness sake. I am not going.
Sky ran over and wrapped herself round Claire’s knees. “Did you see, Auntie Claire, did you see? I came second!”
Claire forced herself back to the present. Dropping to her haunches, she wrapped her arms around Sky and gave the girl a quick hug.
“Eugh, you’re all sweaty, Sky!” She laughed, to take the sting from her words.
“I’m hot, too. Can I have an ice cream, Claire, pleeeaassee?” She opened her eyes wide and hopped up and down.
“If your Mummy says you may, yes.”
Ruth nodded, and Claire led Sky towards the ice cream van parked in the corner. Sky’s hand in warm hers.
I’ll call Roger tomorrow. Tell him thanks, but no thanks.
With a sigh, Claire joined the queue for ice cream.
***
TWELVE
“Do you have to go? It feels like you just got here.”
Claire looked askance at Ruth, wondering if she was joking. The week with her sister and niece felt like a month. The weekend had been okay. She’d taken Sky to a museum and then the cinema and was surprised at how much fun it had been. But the four days of school – getting Sky up and dressed in the morning, making it to the school gates on time, and then remembering to collect her six hours later – had been more challenging than any week back in the office.
Even though she hadn’t had to travel and change accommodation every day, she found she had less time to write her blog. Between taking care of Ruth - ensuring that she ate and dressed - cleaning the kitchen and helping Sky with her homework, the day was chock-full of tasks that numbed her brain and left her exhausted. Instead of writing her blog in the evening, she fell asleep on the sofa with one of Ruth’s awful reality shows blaring in the background.
“Sorry, sis, Carl was quite clear he would only let me have a week.”
Ruth’s face fell, and Claire felt the guilt pierce through her exhaustion.
“It’s been great, having you here. Mum helps, but it’s not the same. I feel bad that she’s spending so much time away from Dad. It’s been nice, knowing you have no-where else to be.”
The words hit Claire like a slap. Her first thought was, how dare she? I have a life. Then honesty forced its way through the lie. No I don’t. My best friend hasn’t contacted me in a week, since I wrecked her wedding and possibly her career. Michael, thankfully, has got the hint and the only other person I consider to be a friend lives 10,000 miles away.
Dragging her thoughts back to the present, Claire inhaled;
the scent of coffee and daffodils awakening her senses.
“What you need is a child-minder. To take Sky to school and collect her, and have her in the holidays.”
“Yes, and a bloody lottery win to pay for it.” Ruth stopped abruptly, before continuing in a softer voice. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bite your head off. I would love a child-minder but I just can’t afford it. I’m only getting statutory sick leave and, even assuming I get back to work anytime soon, my wages barely cover the bills.”
Not for the first time, Claire thought it appalling that Ruth’s salary as a teacher was less than one of the marketing execs that used to work for her. Before she’d spent any amount of time with her niece, she’d thought it fair: how hard could it be minding children for a few hours a day and getting long holidays?
Now she knew better. Not only was it exhausting and challenging managing one child, never mind thirty, she knew there was much more to it than that. Even now, signed off sick and undergoing chemo, Ruth still spent time compiling school reports and completing paperwork.
“Are they expensive, then? Child-minders?”
“Finding one that would pick Sky up from here and drop her back would be. Usually they have a dozen children under their care after school.”
The conversation drifted onto a new topic, but the thought stayed lodged in Claire’s mind. Maybe that’s what I can do to help, at least until Ruth’s better. If I’m going to carry on with Carl’s stupid challenge, money isn’t going to be an issue. She vowed to make some calls.
“Have you spoken to Mum?”
Ruth’s voice cut through Claire’s thoughts.
“Not since last weekend. I wonder if she had her date night with Dad?”
Ruth giggled and Claire joined in. The idea of their parents going on a date was both weird and a bit icky.
“I’ll pop over later - say goodbye - on my way to Oxford.”
“Is that your next stop?”
“Yes. I want to head south, but there’s no point driving straight to Cornwall. I’ve actually mapped out a route, for the first time. I’ll head down through the New Forest, Dorset and Devon. Hopefully I’ll get to Cornwall in time for some decent weather.”
Ruth’s face twisted, as if she wanted to say something nasty, about how lucky Claire was, but knew it would harm their new-found cordiality.
“Don’t be jealous,” Claire said, interpreting her gaze. “It’s not like I’m travelling round New Zealand. One hostel is pretty much like another, and it is really just a job. Besides, I’ll be finding new adventures for the blog. You can enjoy me chucking myself off high things, even if I don’t.” She shuddered, only partly an act.
“Oh, Claire. No one’s life is perfect, is it? I used to envy you, but it must be lonely on the road, having to move on every day. At least I have Sky to talk to and cuddle with.”
She reached over and wrapped her sister in a huge hug. Claire swallowed the lump in her throat and willed herself not to cry.
***
THIRTEEN
Claire walked up the path and felt a twinge of anxiety. The last time she had turned up unannounced she hadn’t received much of a welcome. Hopefully her week being helpful over at Ruth’s would ensure a cordial greeting.
The house lurked quietly on the subdued street. I guess six o’clock on a Sunday evening isn’t a noisy time in this kind of neighbourhood. Presumably the residents were all eating a Sunday roast or watching prime-time television in their sitting rooms.
The sound of the bell shattered the silence. Claire waited, listening for the familiar footsteps along the hall. Five seconds passed, ten. The wait made her ears ring and tightened a knot of tension in her stomach.
I’ll count to ten, then I’ll ring the bell again.
Images began to flash through Claire’s mind and she had to resist the impulse to let herself in, unsure whether she expected to find them murdered in their beds, or a note to confirm her father was having an affair, next to a bottle of pills and an empty liquor bottle.
Come on, Claire, you’ve been watching too many Sunday-night dramas yourself. This isn’t Midsomer or an episode of CSI.
Her hands trembled as she raised them to the bell a second time. As the sound cut through the still evening, Claire knew that no one was going to answer. With a rapidly increasing heart rate, she decided to call her mother’s mobile.
Maybe they’re at the pub, or a party. The words sounded false in her mind: her parents never went out. Not together, at any rate.
A sudden vision of her mother stalking her father, spying on him to discover his misdeeds, rose in her mind, only to be banished.
Claire found her phone and dialled the number. It also rang on, unanswered. Claire ended the call and was about to find her house key when her mobile flashed back into life. It was her mother’s number, returning her call. With numb hands she lifted the phone to her ear.
“Hello? Mum? Are you okay?”
“Claire, darling. Sorry I didn’t catch your call, I couldn’t reach the phone.” Her mother’s voice bubbled down the line, easing some of the worry but none of the puzzlement.
“Where are you?” The clear fact that her mother hadn’t been murdered or taken her own life, caused anger to rise, sharpening Claire’s voice.
“Away, darling. At a spa. I left you a message. Didn’t I? Well, I meant to. Your father has whisked me away for the weekend.” She giggled, and Claire heard voices murmuring on the other end of the line. Her mother giggled again, this time in a tone of voice that made Claire’s cheeks flush red hot.
“Mum! What are you doing? No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”
“Sorry. Your father’s trying to tempt me back to bed.”
“Eugh! I said I didn’t want to know! I take it you sorted out your differences then?”
“Yes. You were right, he wasn’t cheating on me. Fancy your Dad writing a book, at his time of life. I read it. It’s very good. Quite racy in places.” She gave a girlish titter that made Claire feel nauseous.
“I stopped by to see how you are. I’m standing on your doorstep.” Claire knew she was being churlish, but couldn’t help it. “I’m going to Oxford tonight.”
“Oh, are you, darling? How lovely. Did you have fun with Ruth? Thank you for helping out. I’m sure she’ll be fine until we get back tomorrow.”
Claire bit back the retort hovering on her lips. She knew her mother deserved a break, and was glad that she and her dad had sorted out their misunderstanding. Definitely time to look into hiring a child-minder for Ruth. Something tells me she might need one.
Unsure what else to say, and unwilling to continue the conversation, Claire wished her mother a happy holiday and hung up the phone.
Standing alone in front of the hushed house, she found herself drawn towards the door, keys in hand, an urge to let herself in and curl up in her old bed pulling at her like gravity. With a shake of the head, she turned away and strode back down the path to the car.
***
FOURTEEN
Claire pulled up outside the Oxford YHA, and knew she should have stayed in her own bed. The purpose-built yellow brick building loomed large and soulless against the night sky. A train thundered past and she guessed the station must be nearby.
At least I’m tired enough to sleep through anything.
She peered through the window, trying to locate the car park in the dark, headlights dazzling her tired eyes, before she realised there wasn’t one. Damn, I should have checked when I booked. Bouncing the Skoda up the kerb on a single-yellow, she put the hazard lights on and ran in to ask at reception.
“I’m booked in for the night, but I can’t see the car park. Is there anywhere to leave the car?” Claire panted out the words, barely registering the smart reception or the group of people waiting to check in.
“You have to use the park and ride, love. About a mile away. You’ll be lucky to get a bus at this time on a Sunday, though. Leave your bag, it won’t take too long to walk.”
The receptionist smiled, as if this were perfectly acceptable news for someone just arriving after a long drive.
Claire groaned, and headed back to the car for her rucksack. All she wanted, after two hours of negotiating winding roads and roundabouts and junctions, trusting fully in the satnav to bring her safely to her destination, was a cup of tea and a comfy chair.
Would have been nice if they’d mentioned something on the website.
She thought about walking the streets of Oxford on a Sunday night, never mind leaving her car in a park and ride to be vandalised. Sod that. Jaw set and brow furrowed, Claire climbed into the car and started scouring the local residential streets for a space that wasn’t permit only.
After quarter of an hour, the traffic gods smiled on her, and she found a space just large enough to squeeze the Skoda into. With a smile of satisfaction, Claire pulled her rucksack out and tried to remember the way back to the hostel.
Her tummy rumbled a reminder, as she finally found the building again and walked into reception. Now she was here, with a bar and restaurant tempting her, it felt like the right decision to have come. Had she been at her parents’ house, she would be eating beans on toast and listening to the silence of the unnaturally empty house creaking around her.
The noise coming from the bar promised a rowdy evening, and Claire made a mental note to take a book and headphones down to the bar.
***
FIFTEEN
Claire heard a familiar voice as she entered the bar, and her heart skipped more than a beat. Her eyes raked across the room, even as she knew it couldn't be him. Locating the source of the voice, Claire exhaled in relief and disappointment. Now she could see the speaker, she realised the voice didn't even sound like his. Similar, but with more inflection at the end of the sentences.
Two-Hundred Steps Home Volume Seven Page 3