What?
Katie put on her ‘explaining’ voice. ‘Mum’s getting on, as you know and with the children being so active, we thought perhaps you might like to come along every weekday from three until six. We give Mum a bit of money—’
They did?
‘… so we were thinking we could do the same for you.’
A strange lightheadedness overtook Sue. They’d been paying Katie’s mum for her afternoons with the children? Sue had been doing this for three years. Longer, actually. Ever since that lovely Swedish girl they’d had had run off with a young lad from the nearby BP garage.
‘How much?’ Sue heard herself ask, a little pleased to see Katie look appalled. ‘How much do you pay your mother?’
‘A hundred pounds a week. It’s the going rate,’ she hastily added.
‘Other than free,’ Sue said, wondering where this rather bolshy woman living inside of her had come from. Had she been there all along? Or had circumstances brought her to Sue like a tiny, lippy, post-trauma fairy godmother.
‘Free? Well. Oh dear, Suey!’ Katie’s laugh was more high pitched than normal. It was strangely satisfying. ‘Suey, we thought you enjoyed your time with the little ones so much we didn’t think you wanted paying. Not with you and Gaz not having any of your own. We thought you thought it was a privilege. Having so much time with your niece and nephew.’
She had. For a bit.
‘Paying you would’ve felt … well …’ Katie looked up to her artful display of glass Kilner jars decorously filled with pulses and grains Sue didn’t even begin to know the names of. ‘Oh, Sue, darling. Paying you would’ve felt gauche. Given the circumstances. Now, though …’
Her insides churned with indignation. Katie and Dean’s children were little terrors! Bi-weekly (thrice if you counted Sunday lunch) reminders that she would never have little ones of her own to marvel at. To spoil. To teach proper manners to.
The indignation turned to that fearsome rage she’d felt at Gazza’s wake. The money she would give to be able to whip an invoice out of her pocket and present it to her sister-in-law demanding back pay for the last three years … Everything she had. Which, at last count, was zero. ‘Of course, Katie. They’re a delight.’
‘Good! Well. A hundred pounds can go quite far these days so long as you’re careful.’
A hundred? Wait. Wasn’t Katie’s mother getting that for three afternoons?
‘Would you like a day or two to think about it?’ Katie stood up, conversation clearly over. ‘Let your manager or whoever at the call centre know you’ll be needing to be on those split shifts or the very early morning shifts from now on?’
Sue blinked at her. What?
If Gary had been there, she would’ve been resisting the urge to throw him a look. He would’ve laughed and told Katie Sue would be doing no such thing, she’d be carrying on as normal – in fact, minus the childcare, because they were quite happy as they were thank you very much.
‘Suey,’ Katie was chock full of compassionate looks today. ‘I know it’s tough, but Dean and I did a bit of maths last night on your behalf and it does look like you’re going to need all of the hours you can get. Of course we’d love to offer you more, but—’
Sue stopped her, her lightheadedness shifting to nausea. She had to get out before she crumbled into a weeping pile of disbelief right here on Katie’s freshly sanded and polished oak floor. Could her family not have waited a few days for this? A week maybe, before ripping off the plaster and giving her a new course to ‘relay her tracks?’ She knew they’d never approved of Gary, but this was a dose of disrespect she didn’t need.
A coolness she’d never felt before came over her. ‘Yes, Katie. I think I would like a few days to think it over. I’ll let you know which direction I’m planning on taking … now that I’m relaying my tracks.’
When she walked out the door and sat down in her car without so much as inhaling or exhaling, Sue realised with a startling clarity that, for the first time since she’d met Gary all of those years ago, she was well and truly alone in the world.
Chapter Six
Incident No – 38928901
Time of Call: 08:43
Call Handler: SUE YOUNG
Call Handler: You’re through to the NHS 111 service, my name’s Sue and I’m a health advisor. Are you calling about yourself or someone else?
Caller: Someone else. Oh, god. Ugh. Hang on. [Vomiting sounds] Sorry. A little bit me, too. [Coughing] No, it’s cool, Angie. I’ve got your hair. Hi. Hi, I’m back.
Call Handler: Hello? Can you tell me your name and the name of the person you’re calling about please?
Caller: Hello. Yeah, sorry. I’m Jools and the one I’m also calling about is my flatmate, Angie. She’s right unwell. Not from booze or anything. I think we might have food poisoning but we didn’t know if we needed an ambulance.
Call Handler: Have you tried contacting your local GP?
Caller: They’re closed for some mad reason. Anyway, Angie’s only just moved in so she’s not registered and I don’t like my GP. He’s dead judgey. [Retching noise] Sorry. Sorry. I made a welcome supper last night as a thank you. Some dodgy prawn thing I’ll never make again. But I owed her. I were running right low on cash and she got me out of a tight one. Boyfriend just upped and moved out without paying the rent, didn’t he? Oh, wait. Hang on. No, no, Ange – why don’t you sit on the toilet and I’ll get the bin? Hey. Hi. I’m back, so … it’s coming out both ends now. Should I be bringing her to hospital or anything?
Call Handler:
