She has overfilled her mug. Liquid is now dribbling off the worktop, down the cupboard door, and merrily dripping on the floor. Christie wipes up the mess, sips the top of the tea, even though it’s too hot, and carries it over to the window to look out over the sea. Gorgeous sunshine today. She might take the twins and Finn out for a walk in a bit. Blow away this bloody headache, which has nagged her all day.
Dan and Ben are playing an elaborate game under the table known only to themselves. She shouts an ‘Oi!’ when it threatens to become murderous. She looks around the kitchen. The place is a bit of a mess.
She’s a bit of a mess.
She’ll have to get her act together later – Emma’s two youngest are coming over tonight. It’s payback time on the babysitting front. She doesn’t really mind – a night in bingeing an entire drama series on Netflix will do her good. She likes the 355foreign ones with the subtitles which make her feel worldly and clever. She doesn’t like the ones with weekly episodes as she can never keep the plot in her head.
She smiles to herself. A good session in the bar the other night – a bit of flirting and a lot of drink. So what? She’s thriving! Even though she sees Sam every day she feels free.
At odd times it hits her again – Sam, the rows, the whole Hannah saga, but she refuses to go down that route again. She likes the feeling of calm when she’s not having to think about where her husband might be and what he might be getting up to; not having to listen to people telling her what he’s getting up to. She likes going to sleep without wanting to punch someone very hard.
Now people are talking about her rather than Sam – dancing with the hot builder at the Halloween party, singing along with Kate Bush, The Prodigy. Top night.
If Hannah had been there she’d have been all over the builders like a rash. She’d have been attracting all the attention as usual, with her mad dancing and that annoying laugh. It makes a change for Christie to be centre stage.
But as soon as she thinks of Hannah, the rage is instant. She sees herself punching the barmaid, smashing a glass in her face.
She’s glad the bitch is dead.
The tea is still too hot. Christie burns her lip.