Losing You (8 page)

Picturing the scene, Emma found herself wishing she’d thought of doing something like this when she’d had the money, even if on a smaller scale. Alas, she was in no position to do it now. ‘So how long has it been happening?’ she asked.

‘About a year, I suppose. Sometimes they don’t come for ages, then just when you think it’s all over you get a great flurry of them turning up. The Lidl over by my auntie’s
had six of them in the week before Christmas, so you can imagine what a fantastic present that must have been for the lucky ones. I just wish someone would drop in and pay my bill is all I can say, but I don’t suppose us what works here are going to get a look-in. Right, looks like we’re done, so unless the angel comes back that’ll be fifty-eight thirty-three, please.’

Relieved that she’d managed to keep the bill below sixty after shelling out ninety-two pounds for Lauren’s car, Emma handed the money over and after taking her change and receipt wheeled her trolley out to the car park. It was already pitch dark outside, and so cold that the rain started to freeze in tiny icicles on the fur around her hood. How lucky she was to have her own transport, because she’d caught the bus to the garage earlier without checking first if the car was ready. If it hadn’t been she’d be in the queue now with at least a dozen others, having to heft her shopping home on a Green Line.

Sorry that she didn’t have the courage to offer someone a lift, she continued on to Lauren’s Peugeot, loaded in her bags, and was just returning her trolley when she spotted Mrs Dempster amongst those in the pensioners’ transport queue. Not allowing herself a moment’s hesitation, she quickly went up to her, saying, ‘Hello, do you remember me? I live on the same street as you, at number forty.’

‘Of course I do, dear,’ the old lady smiled, her words coming out of her blue lips in ragged puffs of white air. ‘Emma isn’t it, and your lovely daughter, Lauren.’

‘That’s right. Can I give you a lift? I’m going straight home.’

‘Oh my goodness me, this is my lucky day,’ Mrs Dempster chuckled delightedly. ‘If you’re sure it’s no trouble ...’

‘Absolutely not. It would be my pleasure. Here, let me take your bags.’

A few minutes later, bundled into the front of the small car with the heater going full pelt and the wipers slicing back and forth, Emma steered them out into the traffic where nothing was going anywhere fast. ‘I’m afraid we’ve hit the rush hour,’ she commented with a sigh.

‘Oh well, I don’t suppose there’s any avoiding it. I hope you’re not in a hurry.’

‘No no, not at all, it’ll just be nice to get home and into the warm.’

‘Oh, that it will. I nearly never left the house today it was so bitter out, but I’m glad I did now, because if I hadn’t the angels would have missed me. Did you see what happened?’

‘It was lovely,’ Emma smiled.

Mrs D was beaming. ‘There’s a thing, isn’t it?’ she sighed happily. ‘I don’t never win nothing, me, and then suddenly this woman comes out of the blue, and I’m being chosen to have everything in my trolley paid for. I hardly knew what to say. That’s like giving me
seventy quid
. Can you imagine having that much you can just hand it over to a stranger? I can’t wait to tell our Alan, he’ll be tickled to death, he will.’

‘Alan’s your son?’

‘That’s right. He lives up Gloucester way, but he knows about these angels, because he was reading it in the paper when he came down with his family at Christmas. He reckoned it could be a sort of marketing thing that some rich person’s going to end up making a fortune out of, and I suppose he could be right, but you could hardly begrudge them that if they’re being so generous with everyone, could you?’

‘I suppose not,’ Emma agreed. ‘I’d love to know who’s behind it, wouldn’t you?’

‘Oh yes, especially after today, just so’s I could say thank you. Actually, I’ve already decided what I’m going to do with my little windfall. In fact, it couldn’t have come at a better time, because our Amy – that’s my youngest granddaughter – is going to be twenty-one in March. I can get her something a bit special now. She’ll like that. We should all have something special when we turn twenty-one, don’t you think?’

Resisting the urge to squeeze this dear old lady’s hand, Emma found herself thinking of her mother and how she’d probably do the same, and put Lauren and Harry’s two children at the top of her list of beneficiaries should she happen to enjoy an unexpected bonus. Phyllis was
definitely a lot better in a grandmother’s role than she’d ever been as a mother.

‘I can’t help wondering how random these selections really are,’ Emma said to Polly on the phone later. ‘Do you reckon whoever’s behind it is in touch with social services, or Age Concern, or someone who can point them in the right direction?’

‘Absolutely no idea,’ Polly replied, ‘except if you go back over the list of winners I don’t think you’ll find everyone is really hard up or about to be thrown out on the streets. There was one woman a few months ago who turned out to be the managing director of a garden centre. To her credit, she doubled the amount she’d saved on her grocery bill and donated something like two hundred quids’ worth of plants and stuff to a local care home. Which just goes to show, what goes around, comes around. At least some of the time. Oh, hang on, that must be the five fifty easyJet from Geneva going over.’

Grimacing and laughing, Emma said, ‘And Billy Fudge, who happens to be on board, is going to be late for the award ceremony he’s attending on behalf of his wife who’s raised thousands for a cancer charity, but whose terminal illness has kept her at home.’

‘Blimey, I didn’t realise the poor woman’s condition had got that serious,’ Polly quipped. ‘Should we drive out to the airport to pick him up?’

‘No, because then we’d have to collect the Willoughby family, who are returning nine days earlier than expected from their ten-day ski trip, because their house has burned down.’

‘Oh God, does anyone on this plane have a happy story?’

‘Luckily, there’s Fabien, who has just landed the lead role in a feature film all being shot in Bath.’

‘Much better. And speaking of jobs, how did things go today?’

Giving in to the urge to refill her wine glass, even though she’d had a large one already, Emma said, ‘Great interviews at two agencies, so now I wait to see what they can set up. Actually, one of them suggested I go on a catering course, which was extremely helpful.’

‘What a cheek. Had she bothered to acquaint herself with your history?’

‘God knows, but maybe what she was saying was that it would help to have some official qualifications. How are things your end?’

‘Well, not too bad. In fact, I might have had a visit from an angel myself today. Not at the supermarket, but here, at home – and he didn’t drop in, he was at the end of the phone. He’s quite a new client actually, his little boy, Taylor, joined us back in October. I’ve never actually met Daddy because it’s always Granny who brings Taylor in, but I know he’s some kind of businessman with a company based in the centre of Bristol.’

‘What about Mummy?’

‘All I can tell you is that Taylor’s daddy – Alistair Wood’s his name – is listed as a single parent, so whether Mummy died or ran off into the blue beyond I’ve no idea. Anyway, I got this call around lunchtime today from said Mr Wood saying how sorry he was to hear that the nursery has bumped up against some difficulties and perhaps we could meet to discuss them?’

Emma was blinking. ‘So is he offering to help in some way?’

‘I’m not sure. I know I should have asked, but I was so taken aback that I didn’t think to ask anything until after he’d rung off.’

‘When are you seeing him?’

‘He’s coming here at seven o’clock next Tuesday. Oh, hang on, Melissa’s shouting something ... She wants to know where to get hold of Lauren tonight. Apparently she’s not answering her mobile.’

‘She’s rehearsing with Donna,’ Emma told her, ‘so I expect they’ve got their phones turned off.’

After relaying the answer Polly returned to the line with, ‘Is she coming home this weekend?’

‘As far as I know I’m picking her up from the train on Saturday morning.’

‘OK, I’ll pass it on when we’ve finished. They’re probably trying to sort out what party, or wine bar, or nightclub they’re going to. So, where were we?’

‘Mr Wood.’

‘That’s right, but actually, moving on from there, something ...’ she paused as another plane roared over Emma’s back garden, ‘something occurred to me this morning that might be of some interest to you.’

‘Go on,’ Emma prompted, emptying half a carton of tomato soup into a pan to start heating it up.

‘Well, a couple of years back there was this series of articles in the local paper about the lives of ordinary Bristolians. It was a young girl who wrote them, I forget her name, but they were really good, kind of relevant and funny, even tragic sometimes. Something happened to her, I can’t remember what it was now, but she ended up moving away. Anyway, the point is, she was going round interviewing people at a time when things weren’t nearly as dire as they are now and there were still stories to be told. So think how many must be out there now.’

‘So what are you suggesting, that I go round knocking on people’s doors asking if they’ll tell me their saddest stories?’

‘Not exactly, or not at first, anyway. What I’m saying is why don’t you get hold of someone at one of the local papers or magazines and offer to write a similar series, on spec, but if they run them they have to pay.’

Emma was cautiously liking the sound of this. ‘I’d have to go in with a sample story,’ she pointed out, ‘or how will they know I can write? How do
I
know, when I’ve hardly done any since I left uni, or not of the creative or journalistic variety.’

‘I have every confidence in you, and even though I say it myself, I think I could be a pretty interesting start. If I tell you the story of what happened to Jack, and how I got myself back together, only to be floored again by this recession ... Well, I can think of worse options to get going on.’

‘So can I,’ Emma agreed, starting to run with it. ‘I’ll need to think it over some more, but in principle it could be a great idea. I could do the interviews in between looking for a full-time job, and if I do manage to start work, I might even be able to carry them on in my spare time. Polly,
you’re amazing. I really think you might have come up with something here.’

‘Delighted to be of service. We can get together at the weekend to make a start, if you like.’

‘Absolutely. I might even splash out on a couple of steaks if you’d like to come for dinner.’

‘In that case, I’ll bring the wine. Or can we possibly stretch to dinner at the pub?’

Emma baulked. ‘I guess if it’s just the two of us ...’

‘The girls are bound to be going out,’ Polly reminded her, ‘though at some point I’ll have to get round to telling Melissa I won’t be able to go on funding her social life the way I used to – or her wardrobe.’

Already hearing the explosion, Emma said, teasingly, ‘Unless Mr Wood has a plan.’

‘Oh, don’t get my hopes up, please, but wouldn’t it be wonderful if he has?’

‘Fantastic, and I’m staying optimistic so you should too. Now, I have to go, I’m afraid. Someone’s been trying to get through for the past ten minutes so I ought to find out who it is.’

After clicking off and picking up again she barely had time to say hello before an irritable voice came down the line saying, ‘About time too, I’ve been trying to get hold of you for the past half an hour. Who the hell have you been talking to?’

Tempted to slam the phone straight back down again, Emma somehow managed to keep her tone smooth as she said, ‘Hello Will, what can I do for you?’

With a grunting sound as he tried to get past his umbrage he said, ‘Lauren tells me there was a problem with her car. It’s still under warranty, Emma, so why didn’t you take it into a Peugeot garage?’

‘As a matter of fact I did,’ Emma retorted through her teeth, ‘and it turned out that the fault wasn’t covered. Does that satisfy your query? Good, I’ll ring off now then and next time you call ...’

‘Just a minute, I haven’t finished yet. I don’t want my daughter thinking I’m landing you with bills that ought to be mine, so if you can let me know the cost of the repair ...’

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘I want to know.’

Remembering that she really did need the money, she was fleetingly tempted to double the amount. In the end she said, ‘It was just under a hundred quid.’

‘OK, I’ll send a cheque to cover it.’

Still wishing she could tell him where to stuff it, she said, ‘Do you have the address?’

‘As a matter of fact you haven’t seen fit to give it to me yet, so now might be a good time.’

‘I’ll text it,’ she told him and was about to ring off when he said, ‘So how are you settling in down ... What the hell is that?’

After waiting for the plane to go over she replied mildly, ‘The four ten from Corfu.’

There was a brief moment before he said, aghast, ‘You’re living on a flight path?’

‘We weren’t so far from one in Chiswick,’ she snapped irritably.

‘It was never anything like that.’

‘Well it is now. So, if you’ve finished I’d like to have my dinner ...’

‘Why are you always so tetchy?’

‘Oh, let me think about that.’

Sighing loudly, he said, ‘You know, bitterness isn’t attractive.’

Wanting to knife him, she said, ‘Nor are cheating, lying and stealing, but it doesn’t seem to have done you much harm, does it?’

‘Oh, for God’s sake, I can’t talk to you.’

‘You were never invited to,’ and before he could say any more she banged the phone down so hard that the back came off the handset and broke.

Damn you, Will Scott
, she seethed to herself as she picked up the pieces. She really, really didn’t need to be forking out for a new phone right now, much less did she need his preposterous, false-hearted attempts at cosy little chats. Why didn’t he get that she wanted no more to do with him? Which part of get lost, drop dead, disappear down a slimy plughole did he not understand?

Just thank God Lauren was getting older, thereby reducing the need for contact, or she might never be done with the thieving, sponging, double-crossing toad, and how much she loathed him. Had she really loved him once? How could that have happened? The truth was, she’d been so swept away by his charm and his looks and the way everything always seemed possible for him, that it had taken years for her to see how worthless and shallow he really was. OK, she was still being harsh, because they had been happy once, blissfully in fact, and if she dug through all the crap of the past few years she’d emerge into pastures full of wonderful memories, especially after Lauren had been born. And even today she was – albeit grudgingly – prepared to admit that he had some good qualities, though the only one she could think of right now was the generous allowance he paid Lauren each month which she, Emma, would never have been able to manage herself.