year at the University of Manchester, but I’ve always lived here otherwise. I rented for a while, but then managed to buy a starter home in the new bit of the Bankside estate.’ And it represented security, at least for so long as she could afford the mortgage.
‘What did you do at uni?’ Joe picked up his mug of latte.
‘A foundation year in performing arts. I would’ve specialised in dance with some singing if I’d stayed, so I could do musical theatre.’ She paused. ‘My parents split up and it was hard for Dad to keep me at uni so I opted to become independent. It’s difficult enough to make a living in the performing arts with a degree so, without one, I didn’t even try. Far too perilous financially! I did lots of teaching assistant stuff, and am dram and open mic in my free time, and then I got this job. I love it so much that I’m just happy I got here, whatever my route. For a long time I regretted not getting the chance to finish uni, but I’m lucky that the qualifications for this role are more about enthusiasm and ability than a degree.’
Joe looked as if he were paying close attention, his brown-eyed gaze steady through his glasses, a perplexed frown puckering the skin at the bridge of his nose.
‘What about you?’ she asked politely, keen to change the subject from the various messes she’d made of her life.
He dropped his eyes to his lunch. ‘I lived in Surrey and London for a lot of the time.’
‘Which part of London?’
‘Various. Camden for the last few years.’ He put a forkful of pasta in his mouth.
She watched him eat it, noticing the firm line of his jaw. ‘Isn’t London crucifyingly expensive?’
He shrugged. ‘If you can shoehorn enough people into one house the rent becomes manageable between you.’ He loaded his fork again. ‘Tell me about the theatre where you’ll put on the Christmas show.’
Georgine was happy to talk about Acting Instrumental and everything attached to it. ‘The Raised Curtain? It’s part of the Sir John Browne Academy, but it’s put to a lot of community use outside school hours. We’re lucky that they let us hire it the week before Christmas. It’s unusual for a student run to last for six shows but we’re ambitious here.’ She went on, Joe asking an occasional question. He was so relaxed and normal now, Georgine felt as if she must have been towing a cardboard cut out of him around this morning. Who would have thought that in a few short hours they’d be well on the way to establishing a rapport?
Georgine ran home that evening, her backpack bumping in rhythm with her stride and the winter chill nipping at her ears. A hot shower was her first priority. She’d just finished getting dried and dressed when her doorbell rang.
She paused.
When the bell rang again she crept to the head of the stairs, heart jumping. A silhouette at the glass wrapped its arms around itself and hopped from foot to foot. Georgine waited. The silhouette was unmistakably female and none of the collection agents who’d harassed her to date had been, but was this some new gambit to see if she’d be less cautious with one of her own sex?
The silhouette raised her arm, the fist appearing hazily against the glass as she knocked. ‘Georgine! Are you there? Georgine!’
Georgine let out her breath with a whoosh, almost laughing at hearing the impatient tones of her sister, Blair. ‘I’m coming!’ After hurrying down to the hall, she fumbled with the lock and chain and threw open the door.
‘Brrrrr!’ Hunching theatrically, Blair scurried in. ‘It’s like a fridge out there!’ She paused to give Georgine a big chilly hug. ‘Lovely to see you, sis! What are your plans tonight? I’m hoping you don’t have any and we can order a pizza or something. Isn’t your heating on?’ She paused at the thermostat on the hall wall to turn it up.
Georgine, following, turned the thermostat down again. It gave a disappointed click. ‘No money for takeaway.’ She made a mental inventory of the contents of her kitchen. ‘I could make pasta with cheese sauce and a few bits of veg, if you’re not feeling ultra-fussy.’
‘Hmm.’ Blair had reached the kitchen and was already filling the kettle. She turned and gave Georgine one of her beautiful smiles. She took after their dad’s mum, Patty France – pronounced ‘Paddy’ by the American side of the family. Both possessed the same high-wattage smile that made others feel almost lucky to be smiled upon, and melting brown eyes to keep the world under their spell. Patty’s hair had long since turned white, but had once been brown and curly like Blair’s. ‘Got any wine?’ Leaving the kettle to boil, Blair opened the fridge and inspected its contents. Or lack of.
Slowly, she closed the door and turned around to gently run her hands up and down Georgine’s arm, her expression dismayed. ‘You’re not still broke?’
Georgine made a face. ‘I’d be OK if Aidan hadn’t left me in the poo. I get paid on Thursday so I’ll be able to stock up then.’
Blair switched the kettle off. ‘Pop your coat on. Let’s nip to Booze & News for a bottle of wine. My treat,’ she added, picking up her bag.
‘Are you sure? Melanie’s prices are a lot steeper than a supermarket.’ As Blair merely rolled her eyes in reply, Georgine fetched her coat from its usual home on the newel post and zipped it up as they stepped out under the street lights. Top Farm Road was edged by the parked cars of villagers home from work.
‘So you still haven’t paid off the mess sodding Aidan left behind?’ Blair slipped her hands into the pockets of her coat, a colourfully embroidered Joe Brown number. Temperatures had plummeted in Cambridgeshire the moment the calendar flipped to November.
For Blair, Georgine usually made light of her problems, financial or otherwise. Neither of them had ended up with the life they’d expected and the knowledge that Georgine had played a part in their change of fortunes lay between them like a dozing dragon, liable to breathe fire when disturbed.
But fatigue swept over her. She was tired from running to and from work, tired of hiding from creditors she hadn’t wronged, tired of an empty fridge two days before payday. And tired of pretending everything was fine.
‘I’ve made inroads into the outstanding utility bills. The utility companies are only too used to this carry on and they’re letting me catch up the arrears over time,’ she admitted wearily, making for the turn onto Great Park Road and the footpath to Ladies Lane. ‘But now I’m being hunted by debt collectors.’ The final sentence was out before she could run the words through her inner censor. Realising from Blair’s stunned stare how dramatic she sounded, she tried to soften it by adding a laugh.
But the laugh wavered.
By sheer will she forced the tears to the back of her eyes, her throat tightening until it hurt, her fists clenching in her pockets. As the ground was firm and frosty she chose the route over the playing fields instead of turning the corner onto Main Road. There was enough light from surrounding houses to light their way. ‘I try,’ she croaked. ‘I really try not to let the financial situation get to me, but anything to do with debt makes me panic. I relive that implacable lack of sympathy and it makes me feel alone and frightened.’
‘Oh, Georgine!’ Blair gasped, tugging on Georgine’s arm to
