forgot to set the alarm clock for six. Thanks to you, I’m in a rush now.’
‘I can’t remember you asking me to set the alarm earlier, and anyway, if you were that worried about being late, why didn’t you set it yourself?’
‘Because you always set the alarm. I thought I could rely on you, but obviously I was wrong!’
‘I’m sorry, Martin. I had a lot on my mind.’
Martin glanced at the tasty breakfast. ‘Good food wasted!’ he grumbled. ‘Hard-earned money down the drain, and all because you don’t listen!’
‘Look!’ Lucy hurried to the kitchen cabinet. ‘I’ve got fresh cheese and chutney. I’ll make you some sandwiches. It’ll only take a minute.’
Throwing on his jacket, Martin was impatient. ‘I already told you, I have to get going! I’ve got three big jobs in progress, and an old biddy nagging me to fit a door at the top of her landing. I can’t believe you didn’t remember to wake me.’
Lucy knew for sure he had not asked her to wake him, or said that he wouldn’t have time for breakfast, but she decided not to argue.
She walked to the door with him. ‘It’s such a shame, Martin …’
‘What is?’ Pulling on his boots, he quickly laced them up.
‘Well, when you set up on your own you promised we’d be able to spend more time together … maybe even go out a couple of nights a week, but these past three months we’ve been out together just once. If you ask me, it’s worse than when you were working for the building firm.’
‘Is that so? Well, nobody’s “asking you”, so give it a rest, will you?’ He hurried to the door. ‘Look! I’m sorry if there was a misunderstanding last night … about the alarm clock and that, but I haven’t got time to argue. I’ll see you after work.’ And before she could reply, he was down the path and away, without even a backward glance.
‘You’ve got it wrong, Martin,’ she muttered. ‘I wasn’t arguing. I was just saying, things don’t seem to have worked out the way we thought they might.’
When Martin climbed into his old van, she gave a little wave, but he didn’t see it. He was already roaring down the street.
Disappointed, Lucy watched him until he disappeared from sight.
After lingering at the door for a moment, she then retreated into the house, and closed the door behind her.
Martin drove just a few streets away, then turned into a narrow alleyway. After inching his way along, he carefully parked the van into a deep curve on the bend. He took a moment to satisfy himself that there was no one about, before clambering out and running across the alley and into the back garden of one of the terraced houses.
From the back bedroom window, a woman watched him approach. She smiled. ‘Naughty man!’ she murmured lovingly.
Finding the back door open, Martin slithered inside, then turned the key in the lock.
Before he could even look round, she was all over him. ‘You’re late!’ she whispered in his ear. ‘I’ve been waiting ages for you.’
She opened her flimsy dressing gown to reveal a slim naked body, and when he reached out for her, she laughed and broke away to run up the stairs.
Martin kicked off his boots and went after her. All thoughts of Lucy had long since vanished from his mind.
‘Look, he’s there again. Disgraceful, that’s what it is!’
Mary and Peter Taylor, retired from work these many months, lived in one of the adjoining houses. Having spotted Martin creeping in and out of next door, Mary was now on a mission to keep an eye out for all the unsavoury developments.
Peter, too, peeked out the window. ‘Hmm! No wonder her husband cleared off after he caught her in bed with an ex-boyfriend.’ Although he would never admit it, Peter was the teeniest bit jealous. ‘Some folks never learn. Here she is, at it again with another man, and without an ounce of shame between ’em!’
For weeks now, the old couple had regularly seen Martin hide his car and sneak into Paula’s house.
‘They should be tarred and feathered!’ Mary was up in arms. ‘I’ve a good mind to tell Lucy Lovejoy what’s going on right under her nose. How could they?’
‘You mustn’t get involved, Mary,’ Peter quietly warned her. ‘It’s not our business. I’m sure you would not want to be responsible for breaking up Lucy’s marriage, rickety though it might be. Besides, her sister will probably get fed up before long, and move on to some other gullible bloke.’
Reluctantly, Mary had to agree. ‘All right then. But Lucy Lovejoy is such a likeable, honest person, and she really doesn’t deserve this.’
‘I know, but it’s not our place to interfere, and if we did, then the two of us would be the baddies, caught up in the middle. But don’t you worry, the truth will out. It always does, one way or another.’
Glancing at the clock again, Lucy quickly finished her cup of tea and began clearing the table. ‘I’ll be late for work myself if I’m not careful, and that will never do.’ She prided herself on being a good timekeeper at the factory.
She put a flat tin dish over the top of the plate of eggs and bacon, then after turning the grill on low, she slid the plate underneath. That should keep it good and hot. Martin was right: good food should not be wasted, and anyway, Sam would appreciate a hot breakfast before he left.
Lucy glanced at the wall clock. It was high time he was up and ready.
A moment later she was at the foot of the stairs, calling up to her son. When after two calls there was no answer, she raised her voice. ‘Sam, are you still in bed? It’s gone seven. Hurry up or you’ll be late.’
She was about to go up and wake him when his tired, lazy voice called back, ‘OK, stop yelling! I’ll be down in a minute!’
Satisfied, Lucy resumed her clearing away, but it wasn’t long before she was interrupted.
‘Mum!’ Sam yelled down the stairway. ‘I can’t find any clean socks!’
‘Look in the top drawer of your cupboard!’ Lucy called back. When there came no reply, she was satisfied that he must have found them. Of course there were clean socks. When had there ever not been? Surely he didn’t actually need his clothes laying out ready for him the night before?
A few minutes later, Sam sloped into the kitchen, his shoulders drooping and his eyes still sleepy. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any breakfast, is there?’ Dropping his tall, gawky figure into the nearest chair, he glanced at the clock. ‘Oh, Mum! You should have called me earlier.’
‘Well, you’ve
