He pauses, and his face reminds me of a Transformer as the different muscles pull together almost mechanically to arrange some kind of pained expression. ‘’Fraid not. They don’t seem to be able to find anything to match my skills. Twenty years I worked as an engineer and I’m not going to throw away that kind of experience sweeping school corridors or stacking shelves. No offence.’
I’m far from offended, but I’m very close to cross. ‘Well, maybe you’ll have to.’ I maintain an even tone. ‘You’re spending more than you have coming in and it’s a vicious cycle. Jim said he’d offered you a few shifts so you might have to take him up on it, or I can see if there’s anything going at my place if you like?’
‘Cath, look, I’m waiting for the right job.’ There’s agitation in his tone. ‘If I take up a few shifts with Jim, my JSA will stop and I’ll be worse off.’
‘You can work at my place while you’re waiting for the right job. You could work full-time there.’
‘Oh yeah.’ He lets out a dry, humourless laugh. ‘And get stuck there like you did because there’s no time to look for anything better once you’ve been suckered in. What is it you’ve been there now? Eighteen years?’
His words sting and I glare at him. It’s true. I was bright at school, did well in most of my GCSEs and even got my A levels in English Literature, history and media, but after falling pregnant I needed money for the bills and the shift patterns worked well for me with a baby. ‘I think you’ve had too much to drink,’ I say eventually, standing up to leave.
‘Aren’t you drinking your plonk?’ he says, oblivious to how he’s made me feel.
‘You have it, it’s warm anyway,’ I say before storming out of my own kitchen. Hot tears well in my eyes. Not through sadness, but through embarrassment. Embarrassment that he feels he’s better than me despite spending the last half a year in a parasitic state. Embarrassment for thinking he’d be pleased for me when I showed him what I had in the envelope. And embarrassment for not standing up for myself.
I hate how he makes me feel as if he thinks everything I’ve done is insignificant – but I’ve raised a child, I’ve always paid my way, and I’ve saved him from the streets. I may not have an engineering degree, but I like to think that being a good person counts for something. I know it’s his circumstances making him so bitter, but it’s still hard to take. He’s a good person underneath and I’m sure he’ll find himself again.
I just don’t want to be in the crossfire.
It’s time for him to leave.
‘Look!’ Kaitlynn squeals, waggling her newly taloned hands in front of my face as I walk into the staff room the next day.
‘Oh, very nice,’ I say politely, acknowledging her luminous pink, sparkly-tipped nails.
‘Well, I had to treat myself with the annual bonus money, didn’t I? It was a whopper this year! Can you believe how much we got?’ Her voice is so high it penetrates my eardrums like a laser. ‘And I have a date on Saturday with this total ten I met on Tinder,’ she gushes.
A total ten? Kaitlynn is about ten years younger than me, but somehow latched on to me when she first started at the supermarket, and we had developed a close working friendship ever since. Every so often, her reality-TV-inspired vernacular stumps me, and this is one of those times. The confusion must have manifested on my face.
‘A total ten, as in a ten out of ten. A hottie, Cath. F-I-T.’ She giggles.
‘That’s great, Kaitlynn.’ I smile. In a way, she is probably closer in age and generation to my son, but since he communicates mostly through Morse grunts, I’ve learned nothing about popular culture through him. ‘But …’ I pause.
‘But what?’ She pounces on me as if I’ve said something wrong.
‘I was just about to ask why he’s on a dating website if he’s so good-looking. Surely he has women falling at his feet wherever he goes? Especially if he has a nice personality, which he should have if you’re going to date him.’
Kaitlynn laughs and gives a simple, ‘Oh, Cath.’
‘What? I’m not so out of touch, you know. Good looks and a nice personality are relationship fundamentals – they don’t go out of fashion.’
‘Tinder is just a bit of fun, and not many people hang around long enough to find out the personality part.’ She winks and pulls out her phone. ‘Firstly, it’s not a website, it’s an app. Secondly, you can find all the hotties nearby within seconds, and you don’t have to leave your house. Watch.’ She starts flipping through pictures of men, muttering about who is ‘fit’ and who isn’t. It’s a bit like the Argos catalogue of blokes. Suddenly, she gasps. ‘Cath, you should totally try it.’
I couldn’t imagine what my tired old face would look like amidst the beautiful, taut-skinned twenty-year-olds. I’d be some kind of booby prize or worse. A dare. ‘Oh no, no, no. That ship has sailed.’
‘Of course it hasn’t. You’re never too old for a bit of male company, if you know what I mean.’ I wince because I do, of course, know what she means. ‘What are you spending your bonus on? You got more than me, Miss Employee of the Year! Splash out, lady, you’re loaded,’ she gushes. I feel heat flush my cheeks. Employee of the year is quite a big deal and whilst I’m not struggling to cope with the pay-out, I am with the recognition. ‘We could get you some highlights and a few new tops: one for a selfie, one for a date, and you’d be good to go.’
‘I’m not interested. I’m more than happy to watch a Noughties romcom with a glass of wine. At least that way, I always get the perfect guy.’ I grin because I’m right and have never been disappointed.
‘Fine. You stick to your old movies but don’t come crying to me when you realise Matthew McConaughey isn’t all that.’ She folds her arms and looks disappointed. ‘What are you planning on doing with your bonus then? Not giving it to that son of yours or helping Gary out even more, are you?’ She spits out the word ‘Gary’ like an unwanted lemon pip.
Kaitlynn hates that Gary can’t stand on his own two feet at ‘his age’. She sadly lost her mother to the big ‘C’ a few years ago, which is partly what brought us together since that’s what I lost my mum to and it all happened at a similar time. From what I can gather, they were incredibly close, and the fact Kieran isn’t on the phone to me once a day and round visiting every Sunday really irritates her. I’ve tried explaining it’s a son vs. daughter thing, but she doesn’t buy it.
I shake my head. ‘I haven’t decided yet.’
‘Well, make sure you spend it on yourself,’ she warns.
Later on, during a checkout lull, I tell Kaitlynn all about the tragic letters I’d found in the loft. The thought of my great-grandfather saying goodbye to his wife and child for what turned out to be the last time, and my grandma never fulfilling his wishes all weigh heavily on my mind.
‘That is so sad!’ says Kaitlynn when I tell her how my gran never fulfilled my great-grandfather’s
