by Julie Croft
attitude that I can’t even look at you. Now, go and do as you’re told for once before I kick your backside.” She turned and knelt to continue to try and save her carpet.
It took two strops and three demands for Mark to finish the job in the kitchen to Jackie’s liking, but he finally got there. When he went to his room to pack, Jackie waited for ten minutes before storming upstairs, where she found him draped across his bed talking to Teesha on his mobile. She ripped it out of his hand and put it in her pocket, then she threw a few things in a rucksack and dragged him downstairs by the hood of his jacket, turning a deaf ear to his whinges. She then threw him and the rucksack in the car and drove to Grandma Walker’s.
When they arrived at Grandma Walker’s house, they were greeted by her with a very gruff welcome.
“What are you two doing here?” Grandma Walker demanded.
Jackie tried to smile, but it was tough on the cheek muscles. To say she and Bob’s mother didn’t get along would be the understatement of the past two and a half decades, as his mother rarely passed up an opportunity to accuse Jackie of entrapment, although where she got that conclusion from was anybody’s guess, as Chloe had been born eleven months after the wedding. “I’m here to drop off your grandson for a few days.” She replied, and shoved Mark into the hallway.
As Jackie walked back to her car, Grandma Walker shouted after her. “I can’t take care of him! I’ve got nowhere to put him up.”
Jackie turned round and shouted back, loudly, so the neighbours would hear. “Your son can’t take care of him, either! He’s gone to live in Ibiza with a woman twenty years younger who’s pregnant with his child!” she unlocked the car and opened the door. “Have him up at eight o’clock Monday morning as I’m coming to pick him up!” she got in her car and revved off.
Jackie got back home and as she walked in the door, her ears immediately began to hum due to the silence in the house; no rap bellowing from upstairs, and she couldn’t work out if she missed it or enjoyed the silence. The smell of hash was still hanging in the air, so she went to the living room and threw open the bay windows. The icy breeze hit her in the face and she shivered, but she took a deep breath and filled her lungs with the chilly air. Her eyes began to water, and she didn’t know if it was the cold or emotion. She backed away and turned to survey the room and take note of the damage to take her mind off things for a bit.
The beech wood coffee table had four glass-ring marks on it, but she reckoned that she could find a wood polish that would cover them over. The patch on the carpet by the fireplace was drying out quite well and didn’t look like it would show too badly. Thank goodness the three piece suite was beige leather and the ash and sticky finger marks would sponge off. The whole house needed a proper revision, but she’d do that tomorrow morning in daylight. The clock on the mantelpiece said twenty-five to eleven; time for bed, she concluded, and tomorrow would be another day.
On second thought, she concluded that tomorrow is always another bloody day and that was one of the dumbest sayings ever.
After shutting the bay window and locking the front door, Jackie checked the back door was also locked and tried not to get frazzled over the state of the conservatory when she went in to secure the windows. She then went upstairs to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, thinking about how the words of a song were more appropriate than that dumb saying; ‘what a difference a day makes, twenty-four little hours’ etcetera was certainly more relevant.
Although she was exhausted from all the emotions of the weekend, she had a feeling she’d never sleep. Bob was, surprisingly, not on her mind; she was doing a good job of convincing herself that her husband had been taken over by a body-snatcher and was lost forever. Staring blankly into the mirror, she then smiled as she remembered all the things she’d done with Ahmed; experiences she’d never had in all her life. He was a wonderful man with a great, big heart, but practically no experience in being a father. It was obvious that he spoilt Chantal and Faruk something terrible, and it was also obvious that it hadn’t done them any good. Everything appeared to bore them and she felt sad that people so young couldn’t find any thrill in life. On the other hand, Mark hadn’t had the merest taste of what they had, but he too was still bored with everything. If he had no ambition it was because she and Bob had been too lenient with him, she was convinced of that. Chloe had shown more intelligence from a very early age and they’d encouraged her more than Mark, perhaps shown more enthusiasm about her achievements as, to be honest, she’d actually had achievements where Mark hadn’t. Things had to change, as Mark was heading down a sorry path if he didn’t snap himself into action, and as it didn’t look like that was about to happen she was going to do the snapping herself.
Jackie took in a deep breath and let it go slowly. She squeezed toothpaste onto her finger as she couldn’t be bothered to unpack her toothbrush, and as she rubbed it over her gums she wondered, yet again, how on earth she was going to cope, but then she told herself, yet again, that she’d coped practically single-handed all these years and it really wouldn’t be that different, the only exception being that Bob wouldn’t be coming home any more.
She rinsed her mouth and leaned forward on the sink. “You’ll get by, Jackie my girl.” She said to her reflection. “You always have and you always will, and you have to keep telling yourself that. But, you’re not going to sleep tonight without help.”
She yanked open the medicine cupboard and fished about until she found the Valium Bob’s mother had given him. It wasn’t out of date, so she popped two and went to bed.
Jill woke up and stretched. Her hand touched Terry’s cheek and he groaned softly before turning over and snuggling deeper under the duvet.
She went over the conversation she’d had with Penny the night before that had lasted for more than an hour. They hadn’t spoken since Penny had gone back to Boston after New Year, and Jill told her all what had happened, nasty bits included, at Catwalk, Jackie and Bob’s separation and how she and Terry had rekindled their marriage, which made Penny very happy.
“You and Dad have always been good together,” she said. “But work was the sore point between you, Mum. You’ve got to admit that.”
“Yeah,” Jill sighed. “But now I’m unemployed and taking on board the housewife thing and he rather likes it.”
“Don’t you like it?” Penny asked.
“Actually, I do, funnily enough.” Jill answered, surprising herself. “I don’t have to get up and dash around like a headless chicken and spend long days arse-licking the Hairy-it from dusk till dawn. I’m getting to grips with cooking more than fish fingers and I’ve even started pottery classes.”
“You’ve also got more time to work out at your leisure.” Penny added with a smidgen of irony.
“Right,” Jill had chuckled, aware that her daughter knew how obsessed she was about keeping fit. “Although there’s not much reason for it any more, as I’m not being scrutinised by models and clients alike, and I don’t really have to prise myself into pencil skirts, if I don’t want to.”
“Then don’t bother, or do it simply for you.” Penny had said with a philosophical tone. “Forget the figure for once. You’ve got so much more inside of you than you allow yourself to believe, Mum. Everybody who loves you knows that, and now you’ve got the time to think about that and prove it to yourself.”
Right.
Jill tucked her hands behind her head and stared at the ceiling while she planned out the day ahead. Actually, there was only one urgent chore that needed attending to, but it had to be well thought out. She lay there thinking for about ten minutes, then she slithered out of bed without waking Terry and tip-toed to the guest shower so as not to disturb him. She wasn’t being thoughtful as to his well-earned lie-in; she didn’t want him to put his oar in and try to stop her chore.
Showered and wrapped in a fluffy towelling dressing gown, Jill crept down stairs for her tea, toast and cigarette in the conservatory. After preparing breakfast, she grabbed her mobi
le phone and took it with her, and she searched for Richard’s number while she lit her cigarette.
Richard’s phone rang six times before he answered with an irritated, sleepy voice.
“It’s me.” Jill said simply, and she heard him grunt and the sound of rustling bedclothes as he clambered out of bed.
He took a while before answering her, and she supposed he’d left the bedroom so as not to disturb Kathy. She heard the dog bark an order and the sound of a door being opened, so she guessed that he’d gone to the kitchen.
“Are you calling from Ibiza?” he asked in a hushed tone. “I’ve spoken to Bob and he said it was all sorted. He sent me the papers by fax and I can assure you it is.”
“We came home yesterday,” Jill answered. “And we know it’s all sorted. Actually, I was calling to ask you to meet me this morning.”
She heard Richard sigh. “What do you want, Jill? I can’t do any more than I’ve done already.”
“I want to talk, that’s all.” Jill reassured him. “I want to talk without Jackie around.”
There was a long pause before he answered. “I don’t know what else I can tell you, Jill.”
“You can tell me the truth, Richard, and I promise I won’t tell Jackie.” She said evenly. “But I want to know what is really