MARA
After a cup of tea, and a few minutes lost in Review, left over from the Saturday paper, I opened my laptop. I rarely used it, especially during the week. I felt like I got plenty of screen time during the day, thank you very much. But I really should check my bank account to make sure everything was ticking over as it should. While Ed had been around I’d forgotten to look as often as I usually do, letting it lapse for at least two weeks, which was most unlike me. I pride myself on keeping everything very neat and tidy in that department, always putting a little aside for emergencies. I was most definitely not interested in living in a reactionary fashion when it came to money.
So when I saw that my bank balance was in the red I gave a yelp of surprise. George looked at me, confused. He didn’t normally hear me yelping, in surprise or otherwise. I scrolled down the history and frowned, then stood up and fetched the calendar from the kitchen wall, placing a finger on the last three Thursdays one at a time, and searching for the corresponding date. The twenty-fifth – nothing. The eighteenth – nothing. The eleventh – nothing.
Nothing! For three bloody weeks!
My mind clattered through the past few weeks, totting up everything Sam had spent money on that wasn’t her bloody rent. Toiletries and make-up for that bloody party. And the dress. And the nights out. God, she was so selfish. So completely and utterly self-absorbed. I logged out and shut the laptop, then went to the toilet (comprehensively scrubbed with disinfectant the day before – and not by Sam either), seething as I peed my tea away and wondering how much longer I could put up with it. How long could I continue living with this child before I’d have to take action?