Single Mother

by Samantha Hayes

  ‘Hello, Uncle Micky,’ Kate says, flashing him a brief smile before helping herself to a humbug in a jar next to the old-fashioned till. She goes over to the listening booth, clamping a pair of headphones to her ears, tucking her hair out of the way.

  ‘Late night?’ Mel says, putting her bag behind the counter. She takes off her jacket, hanging it up.

  ‘Kevin came over.’ He gives a flick of his hand, glancing down at Mel’s T-shirt. ‘“Free Hugs”,’ he says, reading the slogan on it. ‘Go on then, I’ll take one of those.’

  Mel hugs him back. ‘Grindr Kevin?’

  Michael raises one eyebrow.

  ‘Which explains why I couldn’t reach you.’ Mel was still rattled from Billy’s calls.

  Michael pulls his phone from his pocket, rolling his eyes. ‘I forgot to switch it back on this morning,’ he says, waiting for it to power up. ‘What if I’ve missed a message from Kev since he left this morn…’

  He stops, noticing the concerned expression on Mel’s face.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he asks. ‘Do we need coffee?’

  Mel nods, beckoning him out the back into the tiny kitchen.

  Michael puts the machine on. ‘Spill. You look like you’ve seen someone come back from the dead.’

  ‘I… I might as well have done, Micky. I don’t even know where to start.’

  ‘The beginning?’

  ‘I lost my job.’

  ‘Wha-at?’

  ‘Bitch boss finally fired me. Technically, I’m suspended, but as good as fired. She found “stolen cash” in my locker.’ Mel makes quotation marks with her fingers.

  ‘Fucksake,’ Michael says.

  ‘Oh, and I’ve inherited a hotel and a shit ton of money.’

  ‘Wha-aat?’ Michael says again. ‘Was it that letter?’

  Mel nods. Even summing up yesterday in bullet points is draining her.

  ‘How… how much of a shit ton exactly?’ Michael’s tone is tentative, as if he hardly dare ask.

  ‘Nearly three hundred and eighty grand,’ Mel whispers. ‘Plus a hotel. I mean… a bloody hotel, Micky.’

  ‘Christ,’ Michael says, pushing his hands through his hair, his eyes wide. He leans back against the counter. ‘You look exhausted,’ he says, seeing the bruise-coloured circles under her eyes where, one time too many, he’s seen actual bruises.

  ‘I didn’t sleep a wink,’ Mel says, dragging her hands down her face. ‘But not for the reasons you think.’

  ‘Oh, darling,’ Michael says, gently taking her hands. He knows how sensitive she can be about touch. ‘What else has happened? It’s a truth universally acknowledged that a woman in possession of a large fortune doesn’t have an expression like yours written all over her face.’

  Mel sighs, taking a breath. ‘Billy’s out of prison.’

  Michael hands Mel a mug of coffee. ‘How do you know?’ he asks, keeping his voice low.

  ‘He called me.’ Mel shudders, hugging one arm around herself. ‘He must have got out early.’ She takes a sip of coffee. ‘I didn’t answer, of course.’

  ‘Did you block him?’

  She shakes her head. ‘If I do that, it’ll make him angry. More angry. Plus he’ll say I’m being obstructive when it comes to seeing Kate.’

  ‘He can go do one when it comes to access. You were a murder statistic waiting to happen, Mel.’

  Mel nods. A statistic who grassed.

  ‘The other thing, Micky… and I know you’ll think I’m crazy, but… but I think he’s been in my flat.’

  Wide-eyed, Michael listens as Mel explains about the weed smell.

  ‘And just before Billy called my phone, another phone rang in the flat. It wasn’t Kate’s, but the sound was coming from her bedroom. What if it was Billy’s phone? Maybe he came snooping and dropped it, and—’

  ‘Mel, my love. Stop.’ Michael places a hand on her shoulder. ‘If it’s true, that’s what contact centres and non-molestation orders are for, right? Let’s focus on the good stuff, for now, eh?’ He gives her a gentle hug. ‘Now, tell me everything the solicitor said and when you get to become Lady of the Manor?’

  ‘Dorset?’ Michael says after one of his regular customers leaves with an LP.

  Mel nods, watching as he puts the cash in the till. It’s been hard for him over the years, financially, and she knows he nearly lost the shop a few years back. But with hard work and determination, Michael took control of his gambling and cleared his debts. Like her, he’s a fighter. She couldn’t be more proud of him.

  ‘I know, right? If Billy is sniffing about, then maybe moving away is for the best. But I can’t stand the thought of not being near you. You’re my rock.’

  ‘Accept the hotel. Then sell it. Easy.’ The shop doorbell tinkles as another customer comes in.

  Kate glances up and takes off her headphones before going over to the customer to ask if he needs help.

  ‘I can’t,’ Mel replies in a low voice. ‘Apparently, there’s a condition that says I’m not allowed to. Plus I have to live in it, renovate it, run it as a hotel and let some woman I don’t know live there too.’

  Michael looks thoughtful for a moment. ‘What woman? And who is the inheritance from? You are certain it isn’t a scam after all, aren’t you?’

  ‘Trust me, it’s not a scam. I’ve got copies of the paperwork, various documents, checked out the place online, checked and double-checked the solicitor’s credentials. It’s all I did last night when I couldn’t reach you.’

  Mel feels a flutter in her stomach as she recalls the photos of Moreton Inn that she’d found online – the pretty stone building with its old paned windows, the slightly wonky chimneys and thatched roof overhanging the front façade like a too-long fringe. While the place looked a little run-down and unloved, it certainly oozed appeal and Mel couldn’t deny that, while she’d felt a little overwhelmed seeing it, she also felt excited by the prospect of owning such a place, even if it was in need of updating.

  But the online reviews had told another story – Could be so good but old-fashioned decor with rude bartender let the place down… Has potential but not until the owners stop fighting… Nice breakfast and comfy beds but a strange woman scared my daughter. Won’t stay again… The list went on, with the mainly one- and two-star reviews largely focusing on the poor service, the jaded owner and her rude partner. Mel wondered who they were and if they’d since moved on and, of course, if they were anything to do with the mystery inheritance.

  ‘And I have no idea who the woman living there is, or who this has all come from. I’m burning with curiosity but I was told they want to remain anonymous. The solicitor said that without the deceased’s name, it’ll be nigh on impossible to apply for a copy of the will.’

  ‘Do you think Billy has something to do with it?’ Michael exclaims, his eyebrows raised.

  ‘Dad?’ Kate is suddenly beside them, leaning on the counter as she takes another humbug. ‘Is he coming home properly now?’

  Mel scowls at Michael, wishing he’d kept his voice down. When Billy was sent to prison, Kate was too young to know the truth, so Mel had explained his absence by saying he’d gone away for work. She hated lying to her nearly nine-year-old daughter, the tales getting more and more tangled as time went on, but she’d had no choice. She didn’t want Kate tainted by her criminal father, even though she knew she missed him dreadfully.

  ‘But Dad told me he doesn’t have to go to work like normal dads,’ she’d once said. ‘So how can he have gone away for it?’

  Normal dads don’t make money from selling drugs and robbing petrol stations, Mel had thought but didn’t say.

  ‘I… I’ve not heard anything, love,’ Mel replies now to Kate, forcing a smile.

  ‘How about you re-shelve this vinyl for me?’ Michael asks, handing Kate a stack of records. ‘They’re from the jazz section.’

  Kate’s eyes narrow as she glances between Mel and Michael. ‘Sure,’ she says, taking them.

  While Kate is busy
, Mel beckons Michael into the kitchen again.

  ‘Did you hear what she said?’ Mel hisses urgently, grabbing Michael’s arm. ‘“Is he coming home properly now?” What does she mean properly?’

  Michael hesitates. ‘I wouldn’t read too much into it,’ he says.

  Mel chews on a fingernail, trying to stop her thoughts running away. ‘But you know as well as I do he always finds me, worms his way back in.’

  She shudders, still not able to understand how someone like her got caught up with someone like Billy. At the time, she’d been bored in life, drifting a bit, and Billy represented a change, the excitement she craved. But it wasn’t many months until his mask slipped and the man beneath emerged.

  ‘I feel like I’m going mad, Micky. I swear, Billy’s been inside my flat. And now he’s inside my head.’

  Mel stops when she sees Kate in the doorway, less than three feet away.

  ‘Mum?’ she says, tears collecting in her eyes. ‘There’s… there’s a man in the shop.’

  For a split second, Mel’s heart kicks up. Billy? But she knows that even after three years Kate would still recognise her own father.

  Michael ruffles Kate’s hair as he goes to help the customer. Mel knows business in the shop hasn’t been great lately and feels bad about piling all her troubles on him.

  Kate looks up at Mel, pulling her grey hoodie tightly around her. ‘You were talking about Dad again, weren’t you? What’s going on?’

  Mel feels as if ice is forming in her veins. ‘I… no…’

  ‘It’s the second time you’ve mentioned him today. You never talk about him normally. And I know you’ve been lying to me all this time.’

  Mel sees Kate’s cheeks tinge pink, the look of betrayal on her face.

  ‘Love…’ Mel sighs. ‘How about we get some of that frozen pizza you like for dinner tonight, and we can have a chat about it?’

  Kate hesitates, her eyes narrowing and flickering. ‘Frozen pizza? Is that what you think I like?’ she says quietly, shaking her head. ‘Well, I don’t like it, Mum. In fact, I hate it. The box would probably taste nicer—’

  ‘Kate—’

  ‘I only say I like it so you don’t feel bad because I know you can’t afford anything else. But if Dad hadn’t gone off, if you hadn’t been horrid to him, then he’d still be here. I know the truth now.’ Kate bows her head and covers her face. Her shoulders shake in time with her sobs.

  ‘Oh, my darling…’ Mel says, reaching out to her, drawing her in for a hug, breathing in the scent of her hair. ‘But… what… what do you mean, “I know the truth now”?’ she continues, her voice faltering.

  Kate pulls a balled-up tissue from her jeans pocket. She blows and wipes her nose. ‘Dad’s told me everything, Mum. The truth.’

  Mel can’t move, as if her heart has finally frozen over, watching numbly as Kate turns on her heels and runs back out to the shop. A moment later, she hears a tinkle as Kate opens the street door, and then a crash as she slams it behind her. That’s when Mel finally jolts herself into action and chases off after her daughter.

  Twelve

  ‘Belt on?’ Mel says, glancing across at Kate. Her daughter is staring out of the passenger window, her knees drawn up close to her chest because of all the belongings stuffed at her feet. ‘Let’s go then!’ Mel adds, hoping for some kind of reaction, response, even a protest from her daughter. But a brief nod is all she gets.

  Mel puts the car into gear and pulls away, concerned they won’t make it to the end of the street, it’s so heavily laden.

  ‘Amazing what you can fit in a Fiesta when you try,’ she says with a smile on her face. But inside, she’s nervous. They’ve had to leave many of their belongings behind – Michael kindly stepping in with an offer of storage in his garage. Once they’re settled, Mel will arrange for it to be collected. She still hasn’t got used to the feeling of soon being able to pay people to do things for her.

  Giving one last look up at the flat as she drives off – it has been their safe haven for several years now – she catches sight of Tony unlocking the fish bar. He gives them a wave, and Mel flicks one back. They’ve already said their proper goodbyes.

  ‘Right, road trip music. What do you think? Heart FM?’ Mel turns the radio on, glancing at the road ahead then back at the display as she tunes it. The CD player stopped working long ago.

  ‘Really, Mum?’ Kates says, glancing over at her, jabbing at the buttons and settling on Radio 1. Mel is simply relieved to have provoked a reaction, got her daughter to say something. She’s been quiet all morning and barely said a word last night.

  After a brief stop at the Shell garage on the edge of town – a full tank of petrol, a tyre check and drinks, chocolate and crisps bought for the journey – Mel drives off again, itching to get on the M5. It’s at that point she’ll feel as though they’re finally on their way to a new life. The last two weeks have been fraught with worry, anxiety. Terror, if she’s honest, though she’s tried to hold it together for Kate’s sake. With Billy sniffing about, the inheritance couldn’t have come at a better time, though she’s still mystified about where it’s come from. Things like this don’t happen to people like her.

  After Kate had run out of Michael’s record shop, Mel had chased after her, begging her to come back. Breathless, she had finally caught up with her and coaxed her back.

  That evening, Mel had dipped into the utilities fund to order them a couple of proper takeout pizzas with all the extras, promising to be honest with her daughter. They’d sat talking about everything from school to homework to boys and friends – plus those who weren’t friends – and finally the conversation turned to Billy.

  ‘You mean he’s been in prison all this time?’ Kate had said, a huge piece of pepperoni pizza halfway to her mouth.

  Mel had nodded, explained everything. It was still a skeleton truth, but not based on lies any more. She’d painted a much softer portrait of the man than he deserved – a smudged charcoal rather than angrily sprayed graffiti – but it was better than carrying on the deceit.

  ‘Anyway, I already knew he’d been in prison,’ Kate had said, stuffing a huge bite of pizza in her mouth. ‘I just wanted you to admit it.’

  Mel’s eyes widened as she tried to hide her shock. She knew? She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know exactly how, right at that moment. There were other things she wanted to talk about.

  ‘How would you feel about getting away? Just me and you. A fresh start in a new place with no money worries.’

  Kate had stopped chewing, running a finger underneath her pizza slice to break a string of cheese.

  ‘In fact, the opposite of money worries,’ Mel continued. ‘Too much money to even know what to do with.’

  Kate had reached for the remote control, lowering the volume on the TV.

  ‘Like, getting the new PS5 for Christmas kind of no money worries?’ She eyed her mum disbelievingly.

  ‘Definitely the PS5 kind,’ Mel replied, feeling her insides loosen a little. She’d do whatever it took. ‘Look. This is where we’d be going.’

  After retelling the story about the mystery inheritance in a way Kate would understand, Mel had opened up her phone’s browser, flicking through a couple of pictures from the hotel’s website. ‘This is it. What do you think?’

  Kate had taken Mel’s phone then, zooming in on images of Moreton Inn – studying the cosy bar area, the large garden with its cluster of wooden tables and parasols, shots of the local beaches, the quaint village of Halebury with its pretty pastel houses and local bakery.

  Kate raised her eyebrows. ‘Oh my God, this looks so cool,’ she’d said, her eyes wide. ‘You mean, we get to live there? It’s huge! But what about Dad? Can he come too?’

  ‘How much longer?’ Kate says, sighing impatiently. ‘It’s taking for ever,’ she adds. Her legs squirm uncomfortably in the clutter around her feet – mostly items from her bedroom, hurriedly stuffed into carrier bags after Mel had made the snap decision to accep
t the inheritance, more out of urgency than considered choice. By that point, Mel didn’t care who had left it to her or why. Just that she had to take it. She needed to take it. If what she suspected was true, that Billy was on her tail, then they had to get out fast.

  ‘About an hour, maybe an hour and a half. Are there any crisps left?’ Mel replies.

  Kate twists round and grabs the food bag, opening two packets of cheese and onion and, for the next ten minutes or so, they sit in silence, crunching and listening to music that Kate knows all the words to and Mel hasn’t even heard of. She sits at a steady sixty miles an hour in the slow lane, shielding herself from the crazy drivers in flash BMWs and white vans speeding past in the fast lane while she stays in the wake of a truck.

  ‘“If you can’t see my mirrors, I can’t see you”,’ Mel reads from the sticker on the back as a black cloud of diesel exhaust bursts from the rear of the lorry.

  Reminds me of Billy, she thinks, gripping the wheel tightly. All smoke and mirrors.

  A flutter of excitement surges through Mel as finally, after three and a half hours behind the wheel, she spots the village sign – Halebury. She drops down into second gear as they enter, glancing across at Kate, who’s fast asleep, her head resting on a bunched-up sweatshirt against the window. Mel leans forward, her neck and shoulders stiff from driving, and peers around, soaking up their new home. She allows herself a smile as she takes in the pretty cottages, the narrow lanes and the steep hills. She winds down her window and breathes in deeply.

  ‘The sea,’ she whispers, catching the fresh, briny scent. The sound of seagulls squawking overhead makes her feel as though she’s on holiday, though she can’t deny that her stomach churns every few minutes as she thinks of what they’ve escaped. Please don’t let him find us, she silently prays. Please let this be a new start…

  Following her satnav’s directions, Mel indicates away from the village centre – complete with its memorial square, benches and pots of brightly coloured flowers – and heads up a hill. In her rear-view mirror, she catches sight of the sea – the deep-blue horizon beyond the rows of cottages – and can’t wait to get down to the beach with Kate to explore. But for now, finding out what awaits them at their new home is her priority.