A Year of Second Chances Read online

  She’d also been right about her and Eric buying the house, for a start. It was a good-sized 1950s semi with half an acre of garden, just on the outskirts of Chesterbrook, not far from Winchester. It was a red-brick house, with a yellow-painted door. Dawn remembered when she first saw it – she’d hated the windows, but Joyce had told her how easy they were to clean, and she’d been right. Joyce was often, annoyingly, right.

  She sat at the kitchen table and stared at the website. She looked over her shoulder as if she was being watched. Images of Joyce infuriatingly came to mind. She did like Joyce, yes, she did; it was just that she was quite interfering and bossy. Joyce had a habit of making Dawn feel inadequate. She reminded Dawn of June Whitfield from that old TV show Terry and June with her flowery blouses, her obsession with a tidy house, bone china and clean windows. Her perfect hair and layers of make-up were also accompanied by a sharp tongue. Sniffing, Dawn clicked the mouse on the page.

  Good grief. I haven’t done any of these. I am so boring.

  She got up, grabbed a duster, and started to swipe purposefully at the skirting boards, thinking about the ‘hints’.

  …even if you don’t manage them all they might provide a bit of frisson in your life!

  1.Go out for dinner with no pants on.

  She suppressed a giggle as she rubbed at an unidentified pinkish splodge – probably jam – on the skirting board.

  2. Get your cleavage in order! Buy some ‘chicken fillets’ to fill your bra.

  (Must look those up.)

  3. Try out a vibrator!

  4. Have sex in the shower.

  5. Learn a new skill: computer programming, horse riding, cookery, Pilates; any new class at the gym or an adult education centre.

  6. Have sex in a swimming pool.

  (Really, thought Dawn, that’ll be a bit messy. What would Eric think?)

  And then, from out of nowhere, a whisper in her head said: who says it would be with your husband? She stood upright with the naughtiness of her own thought.

  Dawn sat back down at the computer and clicked on one of those little windows at the side of the website. Another blog. I did it! This time, the case study had wanted to spice things up and had gone out – aged sixty-four – and arranged a tattoo of a dolphin on her shoulder. The quote said it had given her ‘renewed vigour’.

  Dawn closed the laptop lid and pulled her shoulders back.

  She remembered when Eric had plied her with too much wine and suggested they watch porn. She’d been nervous at first – but then had rather got into it. (Although it was very funny, especially when the bloke on the TV had used a feather duster and she’d said to Eric that she was sure it was from Lakeland).

  Her birthday was approaching in eleven months – fifty. Where had the time gone? Dawn took off her purple striped apron – a free gift for hosting a Tupperware party – and started folding it carefully. She remembered when she’d first met Eric – he had been delivering holly to the florist’s shop where she worked; she couldn’t take her eyes off him: his rugged face – older, but so attractive – and so tall!

  After that they’d had such a lovely romance. He had been such a gentleman. Had he, though, swept her off her feet? He had sort of looked after her, taken care of everything for years. Goodness, how on earth could she be approaching fifty? She sighed.

  She wanted to be young again. Like that girl Charlie. Like Suzie. She knows how to live life. Dawn saw how men looked at her – she wasn’t blind. Suzie just had to shimmy her way to the front of the coffee queue at the gym, smile brightly and say she was running late. All the spinning blokes would immediately clear the way for her as if she was Meghan Markle in a see-through tracksuit. In fact, she did look a bit like Meghan, but Suzie always wore her trademark red lipstick. She was a vampy kind of Meghan; same long dark hair and perfect eyebrows.

  I’d love someone to find me attractive. She took two evening primrose tablets out of the cupboard and shut the door with a bang. Suzie had everything she wanted. Well, almost. Dawn knew that the one thing her dear, dear friend really did want was entirely out of her reach, no matter how much she wiggled her cute backside.

  She poured herself a glass of water and swallowed the pills. Surely it was time for something else beyond making shepherd’s pie and doing the school runs? Some changes? And maybe those changes should start with her marriage.

  4

  Charlie

  ‘For fuck’s sake, get your hands off me!’

  There are beads of sweat along the top of his lip and I can smell beer on his breath. I only opened the door a tiny bit and he barged right past me into the hallway.

  ‘You bloody told me you could pay me this week, you bitch!’

  ‘Look, Paul,’ I say, searching around the room for my phone. Where is it? I need to call Tyler, to make up a reason for him not to come straight back. I don’t want him to see this – again – he’s seen enough of Paul and his merry band of ‘associates’ over the last few years. The cat screeches past us in the hall and Paul sticks his foot out to kick it.

  That’s it. I want him out of here. He is standing with his hands on his hips in front of me. I notice the mud on his shoes has left a mark in the hall. He is wearing an old leather jacket, soggy from the rain outside and torn at the sleeve. His paunch is visible under a mossy green T-shirt and his jeans are ripped at the knee like some teenager – what a joke, he must be nearly sixty.

  ‘Did you hear me?’

  I look up at him. My skin crawls as I study his beady brown eyes, boring into me. The rain is pelting down outside, I can hear it on the windows. It’s as if it’s trying to get into the house, the steady downpour against the glass panes. Drum, drum, drum.

  ‘I will get you the money, I promise. I’ve got a plan.’

  ‘What bloody plan?’ he sneers. The look of contempt he gives me makes me shudder. He lifts his hand and I duck and put my hands protectively above my head.

  He catches my wrist.

  ‘Ow!’

  ‘Look, Charlie, Gloria said you’d be good to pay me back – that was twenty-four months ago – I’ve been waiting a long time…’

  ‘Yes, and you keep racking on interest, you bastard! It’s hard enough for me to keep up with the payments with my part-time jobs.’ I twist my wrist around in his hand. He tightens his grip.

  ‘I don’t give a toss about your part-time jobs – you owe me.’

  As he grabs my shoulder with his other hand, I yank my wrist out of his grip.

  ‘Don’t touch me again!’ I scream. ‘I’m—’

  ‘What?’ he hisses. ‘Gonna call the police – ha! Let’s see what they think about that! I might just tell them when they get here you’re in arrears with your rent – don’t forget me and your landlord are quite pally… In fact—’ he winks at me ‘—I’ve thought of another way you could pay me back.’

  I stop dead. He reaches over and very slowly traces a line from my cheek, all the way down my throat and towards my breasts. I wince. Suddenly, Tyler opens the front door as Paul’s dirty fingers start to travel further down.

  Tyler moves forward and grabs Paul’s arm. ‘Not you again, you bastard, don’t touch my mum!’

  But Paul swivels quickly to face him and I can’t bear what might happen next. ‘Tyler!’ I shout. But just as I do, Paul lunges at Tyler and hits him across the jaw.

  That’s it. ‘Stop!’ I yell. ‘Both of you – I’m pregnant.’

  They both stare at me. I don’t know what makes me say it, but at least it stops Paul in his tracks.

  ‘You’re what, Mum?’ Tyler is staring straight at me, his hair dripping wet from the rain outside, his hand on his chin.

  ‘No, look, I’ll explain.’ I can’t go into it now. I can’t tell my son about the plans I’ve made – especially considering how he came into the world in the first place…

  I look at Paul. ‘I want you to leave. Now. Or I will call the police and show them my wrist, Tyler’s jaw. I think it’s called assault,’ I s
ay rubbing the red welt where he grabbed me earlier. I don’t really mean this, as the police are the last people I want round here… not with my plans, and especially as I just dodged a bullet with the shoplifting, but I hope it’s enough to throw Paul off the scent and get him out of here.

  Paul takes one look at me, glances round at Tyler and brushes past him. He stays standing rigidly on the spot on the doormat, making Paul’s exit hard. Paul yanks open the front door and slams it shut behind him.

  ‘Tyler, are you OK? I need to talk to you,’ I say, touching his sleeve. ‘I only said I’m pregnant to shut him up.’

  He scowls at me. ‘Odd thing to say, though.’

  ‘Yes, I know. But it worked. How’s your jaw?’

  ‘Yeah fine,’ he mumbles, barging past me and stomping up to his room.

  I lean against the wall, remembering that email, hoping my decision is the right one.

  5

  Dawn

  The children had both done their homework; the shirts were ironed. She was just checking a few emails. Briefly. No harm done. Spot of Facebook. Suddenly there was an advert bubble for ‘her’ website. It was amazing how her computer knew that she liked that website. She clicked on it for a quick look.

  Have sex in the shower.

  She gulped back some air. She reread her list of challenges.

  Go out to dinner with no pants.

  ‘Darling? There you are!’

  Her eyes flew up over the top of the screen and she slammed it shut as if it was burning hot, just as Eric walked into the kitchen.

  ‘Hi, dear.’ She smiled up at her husband, watched him take off his waterproof jacket, wander back out to the hall to hang his coat up. She noticed he’d carefully taken his muddy boots off this time. Last time, they’d had an awful row about the dirt he’d brought in. Hormones? She shuddered. It’s a wonder he puts up with me. He planted a kiss on top of her head.

  ‘What were you looking at?’

  ‘Oh, nothing!’ she said too quickly. ‘Some Mumsnet thing. How was your day?’

  ‘The usual – massive laurel hedge to trim, took all day. The boys were great, especially when my back was playing up.’

  Eric’s back was always playing up. She didn’t blame him: at fifty-five, the life of a landscape gardener wasn’t always a picnic – especially as Eric was good at his job. Having his own company meant there were lots of word-of-mouth recommendations. He didn’t have a business partner and as a result was always terribly busy. Autumn was a particularly intense time for gardening: dividing herbaceous perennials, picking the raspberries and potatoes, cleaning out the greenhouses, covering crops with bird netting, planning spring bulbs. She looked over at him lifting the lid at the stove, stirring the supper, and felt a pang. What was it? Pity? God, no.

  ‘What’s in here, love? Smells great.’ He turned around to smile at her. Eric was a kind soul, so complimentary – it made all the drudgery at home worthwhile. He had always loved her cooking – even her dreadful baking.

  They were having Spanish chicken and chorizo with a warm baguette and green beans. She studied his chocolate brown faded corduroys, his checked shirt, the little curls of hair that touched his back collar and noticed how his profile had changed over the last few years. The outdoor work had taken its toll. He had a sort of lived-in face now. Nice, but crumpled, like a shirt you’ve worn to bed.

  Once, it had been such a handsome face – it was just that all the sunshine, wind and outdoor work had left its mark. The once dark, mahogany curls were nearly all grey, his broad shoulders slumped a bit these days as the pain in his lower back got to him.

  ‘All right?’ She came up behind him and squeezed him tightly.

  ‘That’s nice.’ He turned around and she rested her head on his chest, inhaled that familiar smell of the outside air mixed with his musty aftershave. He was still her wonderful husband of twenty-five years, the one she’d married at twenty-four – all those years ago… the one who had stolen her heart then. The one she couldn’t take her eyes off – back then, a man six years older than her had been very attractive. Now though, he was acting more like sixty-five than fifty-five. Tsk, tsk, Dawn.

  ‘Dad!’ Alice bounced in; her school socks slipping down by her ankles, her beautiful blonde hair tumbling down her back, held vaguely off her face by a sparkly pink hair band. Her eyes were like two shimmering sapphires. She was clutching her Barbie doll in her little paw.

  ‘Hey, my angel.’ Eric beamed and let go of Dawn. He bent down and scooped his seven-year-old up in his arms.

  ‘Daddy, we got to do lacrosse at school today – I really liked it!’

  ‘Did you now?’ He grinned at her and kissed her hair.

  ‘And who’s this?’ Eric gently held the doll in his hands, twisted it round and admired its tight blue skirt and frowned when he noticed its enormous bust. Alice appeared to have stuffed something greasy down the front of Barbie’s dress.

  ‘This is Princess Cleav-age! I heard Mummy use that word when she was on-the-line shopping! She was looking at chicken fillet things! Mummy was squishing her boobs together, weren’t you, Mummy? Looking down at them to see how big they were. Mummy says you stuff the chicken things in your bra! Chicken in your bra! That’s funny – I put some from dinner into my Barbie’s dress!’ Alice wriggled out of Eric’s grasp, clutching the double-D plastic figurine, and skipped out the room.

  OK, so maybe chicken fillets weren’t going to set the world on fire – but she was determined to shake up the status quo in some way.

  6

  Charlie

  We’re in Joe’s Diner, across the road from the dentist. It’s been a particularly hard shift. Derek, our boss, wanted a ‘proper clean’ as the inspectors are due in tomorrow. I’m not sure whether to tell my cleaning partner, Gloria, about my plan, about the email I sent this morning. I think she will be horrified.

  ‘Bloody cheek,’ says Gloria, taking a bite of her bacon sandwich. ‘Every time we clean it’s a “proper clean” – dunno what he was on about.’ She wipes some tomato sauce from her mouth.

  ‘I’m knackered.’ I yawn and try to cover my mouth. My feet ache, my legs ache, my arms ache and my wrist still hurts from Paul’s ‘visit’.

  ‘Oh well, there’s an extra tenner in it. We should be grateful, I suppose.’ She slips a pound coin onto the table to leave for a tip.

  ‘Tell me a bit more about what happened with that idiot, Paul. Wish I’d never introduced you two. I see him sometimes, round the estate, looking like he’s God’s gift – bloody shark. I heard that he’s been charging four-figure interest rates—’

  ‘Gloria, I had it coming.’

  She is appalled when I tell her the full story and I don’t even mention the exact interest rates Paul’s charging me – or how long I’m taking to pay him back.

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘Told a fib. I told them I was pregnant – it was all I could think of. That stopped him in his tracks.’

  Gloria stares at me.

  ‘Poor Tyler. He had to witness it. He was pretty brave – he turned around ready to hit Paul, to defend me and got whacked himself. Afterwards though, he stormed off upstairs – I could hear music in his room way past midnight.’

  ‘He’s a good boy, Charlie. I know he can give you a hard time, but it’s all in there. He loves his mum.’ She smiles at me. ‘He just won’t always show it – he is seventeen.’ She reaches out to put a hand on my shoulder and I wince. ‘Sorry, darlin’, did I hurt you?’ Gloria leans forward. ‘Charlie?’

  ‘It’s fine,’ I mumble, as a shooting pain travels across my left shoulder. I shrug. ‘It’s my fault, I’ve been putting Paul off. He suggested I… I…’

  Gloria looks up, brows knitted. ‘What?’

  I choose not to answer her last question and shiver remembering how Paul’s gold tooth had glinted when his finger made its way across my chest.

  With that my phone rings.

  ‘Got to take this!’ I stand up and put
on my coat, excitement rising when I see who’s calling.

  *

  It’s Saturday. I have a short shift at the dentist’s and then I’m off to use my free pass at the gym.

  ‘You look ridiculous!’ Tyler frowns at me from the sofa. ‘Where you going in all that gear?’ The theme tune of EastEnders fills the lounge. I don’t see the cat, trip over him and clutch the side of the table.

  ‘Damn!’

  ‘Mum! What are you doing? You are so clumsy!’ He laughs and presses the remote to pause the TV. (I must ask him to record that. Can’t miss an episode.)

  ‘Why aren’t you in your cleaning stuff?’ He looks me up and down again. ‘When are you back?’

  He pushes all my buttons sometimes… and yet… poor boy, I can’t just forget how it all happened, the heartache, and then…

  ‘Mum, I said when will you be back?’

  ‘I don’t know, hey, remember to record that episode for me…’ I ruffle his hair.

  ‘Gerrrof!’ He looks up at me. ‘We haven’t any food in the fridge, for God’s sake, Mum. You should be shopping, not swanning around in,’ he glances at me again, ‘tight leggings.’

  ‘Look, I was given this pass by Terry at the gym, as a thank you for all my hard work.’ Go on, Charlie, you deserve it, Employee of the Month! My boss Terry had beamed when he handed it over, so unlike Derek from the dentist’s, the bastard.

  ‘I’m doing my cleaning first, and then going to the gym. I won’t be long.’

  ‘All right. By the way, another bloke, one of Paul’s crew was round again – forgot to tell you earlier.’ His large brown eyes are fixed on me. ‘He shouted through the letter box that if we don’t have the money by next week he’s going to start taking the furniture ’n’ stuff.’

  I’m rooted to the spot. Not bloody again. Not for the first time did I wish I’d never gone into that pub that night, but Gloria had assured me he was OK, had persuaded me to come along to that stupid Elvis tribute night. Normally I avoid that pub – I know it’s trouble. Right on the edge of the estate, its paint peeling and dodgy dealings inside. But I’d been so fed up, so fucked off with my life that ‘one drink’ had suddenly turned into more, especially when Paul had started buying them when my money had run out. He’d leered over and winked at me. I should have run a mile then, but I didn’t; in fact, I’d smiled at him…