‘Mum, we’re going to be late!’ Chloe shrieked right next to me and I swear I felt the physical tear in my eardrum.
I stopped long enough to wipe the hair off my already sticky forehead. ‘No, we won’t. Old Lottie’s just being a little fussy today, that’s all.’ Come on, you old, useless bitch, get a move on, or I’ll tear every wire out of your twisted, useless metal carcass.
But when telepathic abuse didn’t work, I tried reasoning with her. Please, please, old Lottie, old girl? Have a heart. I’ve got fifty kilos of arancini to deliver all over the county before lunchtime! You’ve been a member of this family longer than my own children. Please help me out here? But the trollop wasn’t interested in the least.
God, what I wouldn’t have given for a leisurely cup of coffee and some buttered toast on a nice, unchipped plate and a quiet kitchen all to myself, with the kids upstairs or, better still, in a parallel universe. For at least thirty minutes. Just enough time for me to take a couple of deep breaths in absolute solitude. That would have been heaven.
But enough of dreaming. I had more impelling matters to tend to, like getting the day back onto the right foot. You know: Keep calm and carry on and all that. But I actually felt like bashing the car over the hood like John Cleese and screaming at the top of my lungs so they’d hear me all the way down the village. The image of me actually hitting this clunker with a branch made me giggle.
Ben leaned over the seat. ‘What’s so funny, Mummy?’
Chloe crossed her arms and gave me a filthy look as I tried the engine again and again and at every useless turn of the key, instead of breaking down into tears as would be expected, I cackled in delight as if I was insane. At this point I had to be. Or maybe it was just some twisted coping mechanism. Which frightened Chloe.
‘Can I please go get Jack?’ she begged.
Meaning our neighbour on our left, and our knight in shining armour. The one who had practically single-handedly made our farmhouse watertight years ago.
Even if we couldn’t see Jack’s farm because of a bend in the lane, it was comforting to know that he was always there to lend a hand.
‘Just one more try,’ I pleaded, more to the car than to Chloe, but she opened the car door and was off like a shot up to Jack’s farm before I could stop her.
‘Maybe it’s the carburettor,’ Ben suggested.
‘Well, it certainly sounds congested,’ I agreed. ‘Let’s just hope Jack’s still in.’
And in he was, because about three minutes later Chloe appeared, her lowered hood bouncing around her shoulders as she rounded the bend, followed by Jack – tall, capable and strong – rolling up his sleeves while pushing back his dark mop of curls. And I already felt better. If anyone could help, it was him.
‘Hey,’ he said as he rested his hand on the hood. ‘What’s wrong with her this time?’
‘I wish I knew. I’m so sorry, Jack!’ I called through the open window as I popped the bonnet. It was a ritual between us by now. We’d be late and he’d come to the rescue. Textbook Monday mornings.
‘No worries!’ he called, his dark eyes twinkling at me through the windshield just before he disappeared into the bowels of my Ka. Good lad. He knew when it was time to chat and when not to. Not that he was much of a talker, Jack.
‘Try now,’ Jack said, and I turned on the ignition. The engine gave a phlegm-y cough, a sputter and then roared into life like it was a fricking Ferrari. Go figure.
I stuck my head out the window to gawp at him as he closed the bonnet with a firm, satisfied shove. ‘What did you do this time?’ I asked in utter awe.
‘It was just a loose wire. Off you go.’
Ben stuck his head out the window behind me. ‘You’re a genius, Jack! Maybe you might want to take a look at our barking fridge while you’re at it?’ he asked as I blew him a kiss and manoeuvred out onto the road.
Jack’s eyebrows lifted. ‘Barking fridge?’
I laughed out the window as I turned the steering wheel. ‘Yeah, it’s our new thing. Don’t worry about it. Thanks, Jack. I’m making shepherd’s pie tonight, care to join?’
‘Sure,’ he said with a grin as he wiped his now sooty hands on a rag hanging from his back pocket. ‘Have a great day, guys.’
‘Bye, Jack!’ Chloe and Ben called in unison as I charged down the hill, less than fashionably late for our day.
At the gates of Northwood Academy, I pulled up alongside all kinds of sport and luxury cars, waved goodbye to my precious cargo, Ben blowing me fish-kisses and Chloe pretending not to know the crazy lady in the Ka flapping her arms like a headless chicken. That was my beloved brood, off to build their futures. And now to make my rounds of the restaurants, and then to the Hallowed Halls of Terror, i.e. the bank.
2
As Good As It Gets
‘I’m sorry, Mrs Jenkins. There’s absolutely nothing I can do for you,’ the bank manager said right off the bat, leaning back as if we were already done. Maybe he was, but I was only starting.
‘It’s Conte, actually. Not Jenkins.’
‘Well, I’m sorry, Ms Conte, but you are not eligible for another loan. With no substantial income and your present outgoings we cannot possibly lend you any more money than we already have…’
Was it me or was he actually enjoying this? Human Resources should stop recruiting from the deepest pits of sadistic bastards. So I was not eligible. He was saying no. And even if he was only doing his job, I resented him for his attitude. I resented his smile, his expensive suit, his shiny watch and
