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SHE LOOKED DOWN AT her pink woolly tights. How odd, thought Michelle. She had no recollection of putting them on that morning, or why – these were winter tights, and it was red hot today. They were like a pair she had when she was a child.
Hang on... Why were her legs so thin? Oh, dear God, where the hell were the rest of her clothes? She was dressed in only a little white vest. No, she was also wearing her clumpy nurse’s shoes. Oh no, she was out in public. She tried in vain to stretch the vest into a dress, her heart banging against her tiny ribcage as she pulled at the hem.
‘For goodness sake, go and join in with the others. They’re all having fun.’ Her mother nudged her arm and laughed. ‘Oh, look at that, the little calf can do a handstand.’
Michelle peered down into the arena, just in time to see a red sunhat being hoofed across the ring. She could hear jingling coming from the seat on the other side of her mother. Her father was there. He was holding her mother’s hand. Wow, they were back together – when did that happen? What about Tom? Her mother looked so happy. It was like a dream come true. Kind of. She pulled at the hem of the vest, but it sprang back up. Where were her clothes?
She pushed back as far as possible into her seat. I’m scared, she silently screamed. ‘No, thank you, I’ll just watch,’ she said aloud.
Her father sighed and shook his head. ‘Some children would give their eye teeth to come away on a holiday like this.’
Childish giggling drifted up from the group of teenagers two rows in front. They were all in posh togs... Togs? Apparently so. The group turned around as one. Michelle was horrified to be met with the smirking teenage faces of Dan, Penny, some other beautiful girl and... Victor Morgan? They were all laughing and pointing at her vest. The pretty diamante hair grip in Penny’s shiny blonde hair dazzled in the sun. Victor Morgan peered at Michelle over the rims of his Ray-Bans and made a ‘pfff’ sound. A rusty, misshapen old clip dropped out of Michelle’s hair and jabbed her leg through her tights. She pulled at the hem of her vest again and tried to hide behind her... bucket and spade?
Their sniggering echoed around the room as Michelle came to, hyperventilating and drenched in sweat. The sneering faces faded. Relief washed over her, followed by sorrow, as she recalled her mother’s happy face, as yet unaffected by betrayal and devastation.
She rubbed her eyes and dragged herself off for a shower, wondering what had brought on the dream, but thankful it was over.
***
BY LUNCHTIME MICHELLE had shaken off her early morning sadness and replaced it with Great North Run stress. She’d have to hurry up and get her running kit, if she was to wear in new trainers before the big day. She nipped out to the sport’s shop on the main street opposite Cherry Park.
Her mobile pinged. It was Sara, asking her to buy a card and a small gift for Riya’s ninth birthday. It had to be sent off by the following day if the message in the card was to be translated in time. And Michelle would need to check the website for dimensions, explained Sara, as it all had to fit inside a certain sized envelope.
I bloody-well knew this would happen. Michelle checked her watch. There wouldn’t be enough time to buy her sports gear. She sighed and turned back up the street towards the card shop – then stopped in her tracks. This is why people treat you like shit. She tapped out a text to Sara.
Sorry, no. The deal was, I paid for the sponsorship, but you were her sponsor. You took on that responsibility. A child is for life.
She felt mean, but Sara needed to do this herself. Michelle would always wish she’d provided a better and happier childhood for her daughter, but she had to stop trying to compensate for the childhood she did give her. It was for Sara’s benefit as well as her own.
‘Afternoon, Michelle. Hope he appreciates it.’
Michelle turned and gasped. Victor Morgan, in sunglasses, was standing grinning at her.
‘I beg your pardon?’ She pulled at the bottom of her jacket.
Victor glanced from the window to Michelle. ‘Your partner.’
She looked beyond her own reflection to the display. Red and black provocative underwear adorned the mannequins, one of which was holding a whip. Invisible scratchy pink wool prickled her legs. She could see a teenaged Victor laughing at her over his Ray-Bans – and she wasn’t having it. ‘I don’t know what you’re insinuating, Mr Morgan, but I think this is bordering on harassment.’
His mouth fell open. ‘It was a joke. I was trying to be friendly.’
‘I suppose it was also a joke to overburden Phil and me with excess work? And I bet you loved packing me off on that useless course.’ There was no way she was letting him intimidate her any longer. Who did he think he was anyway – with his stupid good looks and expensive clothes...? Jumped up squirt.
‘Actually, no. My reasoning was purely professional. And if I recall, I received some unwarranted abuse in the process.’
With crushing humiliation, Michelle recalled her ‘arsehole’ email.
‘And I could have had you dismissed for that.’
‘Yes, erm sorry. It wasn’t meant for you. And I was feeling unwell that day.’
‘And I wouldn’t be surprised if you were behind the Peppa Pig incident.’
Oh crap. ‘No –’
Victor nodded in satisfaction. ‘You’ve gone bright red. I damn-well knew it. What the hell is your problem with me?’
‘You almost knocked me down in your car, and you didn’t care.’
He looked at her, befuddled. ‘Really? Are you sure?’
‘Yes. Driving your stupid Jag, in your nerdy shiny shoes.’ She surreptitiously glanced down at her legs, half expecting to see pink woolly tights.
Victor turned his feet in, as if trying to make them smaller. ‘I’m sorry, I mustn’t have seen you. You should have said something to me.’
Perspiration pricked her brow. Why hadn’t she spoken to him about it, like a normal adult would have done? The heel of her boot spontaneously skidded to the side and she let out an ungainly ‘Yeargh’, as she flung her arms back and dropped her handbag. When she bent over to pick it up, a bead of foundation-infused sweat ran into her eye. It stung like mad. Her eye started watering profusely.
Victor whipped out a cotton handkerchief from his pocket. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.’
What was it with these men and their old-fashioned hankies? She took it from him and dabbed her eyes. It smelled like Victor looked – sporty Chanel. It irked her that he thought she was crying, but she decided it was better to play along and get the hell away. ‘Thank you.’ She turned to leave.
‘I was trying to save your jobs.’
She paused and shot him a look of irritation. ‘No you weren’t.’
He explained that his remit had been to see if the Trust could get rid of the sleep department. A private company had apparently put in a bid to run a sleep service from the hospital, at a reduced cost. ‘The extra work was simply a way to increase revenue and prove the current service to be a lucrative one for the hospital.’
Michelle felt incredibly stupid, and childish. ‘Oh,’ she said looking down at her feet.
‘My aunt and I appreciated the way you treated her. She’s now on medication for her heart. A private company can’t offer the holistic care a nurse or doctor can. But you have to bring in the money these days. Anyway, their bid has been rejected – for now.’
She looked up to thank him, but he’d already set off along the street.
