have to be downgraded to a cheaper pair, probably second-hand from Depop. He wasn’t going to like it, Angie was certain of that, in fact he would probably have a serious rant about it, until Grace took him aside to explain why he had to understand that things were different now.
Though their finances had held together for a while after Steve had gone, everything was collapsing so fast now that Angie couldn’t even see what might fall next.
They were going to lose the house at the end of the month.
It wasn’t until after she’d paid the bill that she realized with a pang of shame that she couldn’t possibly justify a bottle of wine for herself and Emma when she was depriving Grace and Zac of so much. So, wheeling her trolley from the checkout, she joined a queue at the information desk in the hope of receiving a cash credit for her crazy idea of a celebration. She eyed her trolley for more items she ought to put back, and realized she’d been rash, unthinking, acting as though the twenty-five quid she’d earned at the chippie was going to magically replace itself like some fairy-tale egg …
Deciding to ask for credit on her entire trolley so she could start again, she fought back a wave of misery and frustration and after inching forward a few feet she found herself tuning into a conversation behind her.
‘Oh, that’s really generous of you, that is. Really generous.’
Angie turned and saw an elderly lady watching an obviously well-off woman of around forty emptying a full bag of groceries into a foodbank box.
Since this was where the donations started Angie decided to take more notice of the generous woman, and came to the conclusion that not only was she a caring citizen, but she was really quite beautiful in a very classy way. Her hair was a mass of thick dark curls styled in a loose bob, her skin was creamy and shone with health, and the effortless elegance of her movements made Angie wonder if she was a dancer.
‘Look at all that,’ the older lady chuntered on admiringly. ‘You’re a very kind person is all I can say. Makes me wonder what this bloody country’s coming to that we have to do things like this. Shame on them is what I say. Bloody shame on them.’
The dark-haired woman’s eyes sparkled with humour but Angie couldn’t hear what she said, could only tell that she wasn’t trying to brush the old lady off.
‘There ain’t many would do what you just did,’ the old lady declared, picking up a large box of Kellogg’s cornflakes and looking as though she’d like to make off with it.
‘Well,’ the dark-haired woman replied, ‘if the day comes when I need this sort of help, perhaps someone will fill up the box for me.’
As Angie watched her walk away, upright and slender, the very epitome of someone who’d never need a food bank, she felt an odd sort of longing stirring inside her. She’d love to be that woman, or like her; or maybe she just wanted to know her. It was people like that who made the world feel like a good place to be, which was a very weird assessment of someone she’d only seen for a few minutes and would probably never see again.
Nevertheless, as though the woman had sprinkled some sort of hope over her, Angie turned her trolley to the door and headed out into the car park. She’d take this lot home, have her little celebration – or drown her sorrows – then she’d work things out.
As she approached her van a Mercedes saloon reversed out of the space next to it, and she didn’t feel surprised to see the dark-haired woman at the wheel. Their eyes didn’t meet, Angie was certain the woman hadn’t clocked her at all, nevertheless she continued to feel affected by her as she watched the car drive away. She wondered what life was like for her, and where she lived. What kind of job did she have, if she even had one? Her husband was probably loaded, judging by the car, and her kids, if she had any, were no doubt at private schools and completely brilliant at everything they did.
With a small, wry smile to herself Angie finished stacking her groceries into the van and got into the driver’s seat. If her work with people who’d hit hard times had taught her anything at all, it was never to assume something about a person based on the way things looked. Even rich people had bad experiences; they bled, they hurt, they lost their money and they even lost their homes. Some of them had sons who went off the rails, and husbands who died when their children were still small and before they’d taken out any life insurance.
No one was immune to the vagaries of fate, any more than they were incapable of making mistakes. Everyone, no matter who they were, or how dire their straits, had to find a way of dealing with the worst-case scenarios life threw at them. She wasn’t alone in that, plenty of people were struggling and many were in even worse situations than her. True, she couldn’t think of anyone right now, but she knew they existed, and she knew too that somehow she’d get herself and her children through these dark times. She was someone who coped, who rose to challenges and overcame them, and one way or another she was going to keep them together as a family with a roof over their heads and hope in their hearts.
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