| |
––––––––
‘SARA, QUICKLY, GET downstairs,’ Michelle shouted, opening the blinds. ‘Toby’s halfway across the cul-de-sac again.’
‘Well, can’t you get him, Mam? I’m busy.’
‘This is why I said no damned pets –’ Michelle flung open the front door and ran outside in her slippers. ‘Got more important things to do than chase around after a bloody tortoise.’
‘Quick, he’s getting away...’ the postman said, appearing around the corner of Derek’s house.
Michelle picked up Toby by his shell, his short, stumpy legs continuing to make a walking motion in the air. ‘He’s a crafty little thing,’ she said, accepting a bunch of letters from the postman with her free hand.
When she got back inside, Sara was applying lip gloss in front of the mirror above the fireplace. ‘Just leave him in here, I’ll sort him out when we get back.’
‘No way. He’s a filthy animal. Here...’ Michelle thrust the creature towards Sara.
‘Aw, Tobykins, take no notice of nasty Nana.’ She kissed his face. ‘Come on, you can play in my room. I’ll leave the telly on for you.’
‘Eugh, germs... That carpet was expensive. And switch off the telly. It’s a fire hazard.’ Michelle shoved the only two letters that weren’t junk mail into her bag. She would read them at Judy’s if there was time before they set off.
***
IT WAS BEDLAM AT JUDY’S house. Shoes and sandals were strewn all over the conservatory. Gemma’s open case looked like it had been ransacked.
‘Sara,’ said Judy, ‘would you please help Gemma sort out her clod-hopper shoes?’
‘It’s not my fault,’ shouted Gemma. ‘It’s the fashion.’
Michelle followed Judy into the kitchen to make coffee. She placed a box of Danish pastries on the worktop.
‘Great, you got them.’ Judy opened the box to inspect its contents. ‘That girl’s got me demented. Didn’t think to weigh her case until half an hour ago,’ she said, plugging in the kettle.
Michelle reached into the cupboard for plates. ‘It’ll be those platform wedges again,’ she laughed.
Sara and Gemma ate their pastries in the conservatory, while Judy and Michelle took theirs into the lounge. Tickets, passports and other important documents were neatly laid out in a semi-circle on the carpet. Judy sat down in the middle and began to check everything was in order. Michelle pulled out the letters from her handbag, one of which was for Sara. When she took it through to the conservatory, both girls sat up straight.
‘What are you two up to?’ Michelle scrutinised each of them for signs of misdemeanour.
‘Nothing for you to worry about,’ said Sara. ‘We’re just trying to get the shoes into the case.’
There now seemed to be even more chaos than when they’d arrived.
Back in the lounge, Michelle looked at her envelope and sighed. ‘It’s from Spain.’
‘I thought you’d sorted it all out with the documents you sent them,’ said Judy.
‘Hmm, me too.’ Michelle read the letter slowly so as not to make any mistakes with the translation. She closed her eyes and sighed again, this time in relief. ‘Thank goodness. It’s from the Spanish bank – they’ve accepted I wasn’t a guarantor for that loan. They accept it was fraud on his part.’ She shook her head.
‘Fantastic. But...?’
‘Why did I react the way I did? I let him put me through hell – again.’
‘You didn’t know what he was up to. You couldn’t have stopped him.’
‘No, but I went straight into panic mode. I let him really scare me.’
Judy gave a little laugh. ‘I think you were quite brave – you stood up to the little toad in Spain. I wish I’d seen that.’
‘Yeah, I did, didn’t I?’ Michelle smiled. Despite the havoc he’d caused, seeing him in Malaga had made her realise that he could no longer treat her the way he once did. She was no longer a young girl in a foreign country.
‘And you turned your dad down over the will.’
‘Thanks for that.’ Michelle might still feel scared inside when she had to face up to her father, but she wasn’t the helpless child she’d been when he’d left.
A shriek sounded from the conservatory. Sara shot through to the lounge. ‘I got the job,’ she screamed. ‘I’m a proper physiotherapist. Yee-hah!’
‘God help the patients,’ laughed Gemma, as they all jumped up and rushed over to Sara.
‘Oh, my little girl’s a physiotherapist.’ Michelle choked back a sob and scooped her up in a hug. She’d somehow kept her safe from the worst of life’s perils. No drugs, unwanted pregnancies, abuse. Sara didn’t need to rely on anyone. She had a career. She’d always be able to look after herself. Michelle wept openly. Sara was grown up and she was safe.
‘All right, Mam. Calm down.’
***
THE AIRPORT WAS BUZZING.
‘This is great.’ Sara took a slurp from her glass.
‘Careful, you’re spilling it. Bloody hell, Sara, Prosecco – airport prices.’ Michelle carefully sipped from her own glass.
‘You can’t pick on me any longer. I’m a proper physiotherapist,’ Sara said, grinning.
‘They’re complete scam merchants in this place,’ said Judy.
‘Do you mean the price of the drinks?’ said Michelle.
‘That as well... The bloody excess luggage charges. My case was definitely not over the weight limit at home. Their scales are wrong. What can you do though when there’s a queue tutting on behind you?’
Gemma smirked at Sara. ‘Tastes good with a bacon sandwich.’
‘By the way, we really appreciate the lift,’ said Judy. ‘I didn’t want to leave my car at the airport this time.’
‘You’re welcome. Scary though, I’m not used to driving a bigger car. I’ll leave the keys on the hook when I pick up your post.’
‘I hope we aren’t making a big mistake,’ said Judy.
‘We aren’t, Mam, it’ll be great,’ said Gemma. ‘I might take Emilio up on the job.’
Judy frowned. ‘Let’s go for the holiday and see what happens. He might just have been saying it. It’s easy to make promises if you think something won’t actually happen.’
‘I bet he’s over the moon you’re going,’ said Michelle. ‘You are coming home though, aren’t you? I’m not going to get a text from Malaga with a new address?’
‘Of course we’re coming back,’ said Judy.
There was something about Judy’s tone and the way she was avoiding eye contact that made Michelle doubt her.
‘I’ve got the business and everything to sort out,’ she continued. ‘We just need to get away for a while. It’ll do Gemma good too, take her mind off things. Not many people are fortunate to have the money to do this.
Gemma gently touched Judy’s arm. ‘I’m fine, Mam. I’ve still got you.’
Michelle smiled, her eyes brimming with tears again. ‘Drink up. That’s your flight being called.’
Judy looked at Michelle. ‘You’re such a wuss these days. Every time I see you, you’re blubbering about something.’
Michelle laughed. ‘I know. It’s great.’
Sara linked Michelle, as they watched Judy and Gemma bustle off through to Passport Control.
‘I haven’t seen either of them so happy for ages,’ said Michelle.
‘Do you really think they’ll come home?’
‘Maybe not. But I don’t think they realise yet.’ Michelle sniffled. ‘Look on the bright side, free holidays.’
‘Can we go up onto the roof to watch the planes take off? Like when I was little?’
Michelle smiled. Sara had never even realised that watching the planes taking off was to make up for the holidays she couldn’t afford.
‘Okay. Anyway, I need an hour per unit for the alcohol to clear from my system so that I can drive.’
‘You only had half a glass...’
‘Just to be on the safe side.’
***
IT WAS CHILLY UP ON the roof terrace. Sara popped inside for coffees, with Michelle’s purse, while Michelle watched lines of ant-like travellers heading to and from their planes. There was one, a tiny light aircraft sitting on the far side of the airfield, that reminded her of a family trip to the airport when she was eleven. Her dad was still at home. Gary could only have been about three years old at the time. They’d gone up in the plane as a special treat. In fact, that had been a year for treats.
Her father had finally allowed her mother to return to nursing – only two nights a week – she had responsibilities at home. Her salary was going to pay for the family holiday to Spain in the summer. She remembered how they’d all peered out of the plane’s little round windows at the shrinking world beneath them. Gary cried because he wasn’t allowed to open the window to pick up one of the ‘toy’ cars. Her phone pinged. Dan.
Hi Michelle, I have some news. I’ve left Penny. x
Michelle’s body went numb as she read his words – the words she’d once desperately longed to hear.
I’m shocked, was all she could think to reply.
She really did it this time. The baby isn’t mine.
Michelle wondered if Dan realised he was reminding her that he’d had sex with Penny, even though Penny didn’t really want him. And now, she asked herself, did he expect her to welcome him back? She laughed until her stomach hurt.
It was too much to accept this time. I moved out a few weeks ago and Tamara is completely supportive. I’ve rented an apartment for the minute, until I can organise something more permanent.
Though he hadn’t left it the three months he’d once planned before contacting her, it looked as if he’d come out of it all with his reputation intact. If he was to ‘start’ dating Michelle now, it wouldn’t reflect too badly on him.
She read the words over and over. He’d hung on, stayed and put up with an unhappy marriage for years, waiting, hoping for her to change. Now Penny had done something, one final act he just couldn’t get over – a step too far. So, he’d given up and left her. But Dan had desperately wanted her to change. He’d wanted to stay. He would have stayed if the baby had been his. Again.
Dan had finally left, like he said he would. But Michelle clearly wasn’t his first choice. Maybe no one would ever feel that strongly about her. But in that moment, she knew that she wouldn’t accept anything less.
You must be devastated. I hope Penny gets the help she needs. And I hope you find happiness too. So pleased you finally made the break, and with Tamara’s support. Good luck, Dan. Michelle. x
***
WALKING BACK THROUGH the airport, Sara and Michelle remained quiet.
‘Your eyes are really red and bloodshot,’ said Sara. ‘You look like the Devil.’
‘It was very windy up there. Can I have my purse back?’
‘Oh yes, I forgot.’ Sara passed it to her. ‘You gave me this with it.’ She handed her a contact card. ‘Who’s Victor?’
Michelle examined the card. Victor Morgan? ‘An idiot from work.’ She thought back to the last time she’d seen him. She blushed – the lingerie shop near Cherry Park. She’d been wearing the same jacket; he must have somehow slipped it into her pocket. Why? There was a message on the back.
Gone to work for Ferrari. They’ve got enough people to hold the wheels there. If you’re ever single, please call me. Vic x
‘The nerve of the man.’ Michelle smiled and carefully placed the card inside the little zipped pocket in the back of her purse.
A young woman caught her attention. She was struggling to push her luggage trolley with one skinny arm, while holding her baby in the other.
‘Let’s go and give that girl a hand,’ said Michelle. But before they reached her, a man in a smart suit spoke to the girl.
‘Come on, get out of the way.’
His wife was walking just behind him, pushing their trolley.
The young woman tried, unsuccessfully, to manoeuvre her trolley to one side. She looked flustered.
‘Stupid little idiot,’ he continued.
Michelle shot off, shouting, ‘Leave her alone, you bastard.’
Sara ran behind, grabbing at her mother’s jacket. ‘Mam, hang on. Don’t get arrested. You’ll lose your nursing registration.’
Michelle sped past the man and stopped in his path. Shocked, he took a step back. Her face was inches from his.
‘What the hell...?’ he said.
‘How dare you speak to that poor girl like that.’ Michelle’s whole body shook as fury raged through every vein. ‘For God’s sake, can’t you see that she’s struggling to transport luggage and a baby through a busy airport?’
Sara planted herself firmly at Michelle’s side. She looked more worried than angry, but she stood fast next to her mother, drew herself up to her full five-foot-three height and thrust her shoulders back.
Michelle leaned in further towards him. ‘Don’t you think she has enough to cope with, without being attacked by a fuckwit like you?’
The man’s flabby mouth dropped open, while his wife stood rooted to the spot and a crowd gathered. He edged away without saying anything and hurried off, leaving his wife behind. An airport porter rushed over to help the girl.
‘Thank you,’ she said to Michelle. She wiped her eyes with a tissue. ‘I didn’t realise how difficult it was going to be.’
The porter pushed the trolly and led the girl and her baby away.
‘Poor thing,’ said Michelle to Sara. ‘She can only be in her twenties. She’s got absolutely no idea of what might lie ahead.’
‘Probably just as well,’ said Sara.
As they ambled towards the exit, Michelle looked around the airport. It was a lot smaller than the massive London one she and Sara had landed in all those years ago. But even Heathrow seemed to have shrunk in her mind. She wasn’t scared. This was a new feeling. She liked it.
Sara linked Michelle and rested her head on her shoulder. She looked up and smiled. ‘Aw, Mam, you’ve got your strong T-shirt on today.’
The End
––––––––
A NOTE TO THE READER,
––––––––
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR reading Pictures in the Sky.
I really hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you did, I’d appreciate it if you could post a review in the store you purchased it from. Reviews are the most powerful tools in my arsenal when it comes to getting attention for my books. Much as I’d like to, I don’t have the financial muscle of a New York publisher. I can’t take-out full-page ads in the newspaper or put posters on the subway. (Not yet, anyway).
But I do have something much more powerful and effective than that, and it’s something that those publishers would kill to get their hands on – a committed and loyal bunch of readers.
Honest reviews of my books help bring them to the attention of other readers. If you’ve enjoyed this book, I would be very grateful if you could spend just five minutes leaving a review (it can be as short as you like).
*
BEST WISHES,
*
AMANDA
