Authors: Liann Snow
So I must admit I do end up spending quite a lot of time and energy trying not to think about the whereabouts and goings on of daughter Carol, as well as a few other quite different, difficult things that do get rather nastily on my nerves from time to time.
I don't suppose, on the other hand, things like that bother Don in the slightest.
Oh! I don't know why I bought these silly things now! He'll only make fun of me! The cake is bad enough, but the lingerie, he might not take it in the spirit that it's meant...And the card, well, they didn't have a very big selection, did they? Of cards, I mean. I should have gone somewhere else though, really. I wanted something really old-fashioned and sloppy. I thought that would be easy to get but all they had were stupid joke ones, like this one, which isn't even funny. I wish I could change it really, but it's too late now, bloody shops are shut.
Anyway if he doesn't like it, more fool him, he ought to like it. Anyway, I've written on it now, so that's that! Anyway, it's the thought that counts. And anyway, he won't have got me anything at all, so he should be grateful for all the trouble I've gone to.
Oh. I wish he would like it, especially the underwear. I'm not too old for it, am I? Anyway I'm getting cold now. Better take it off and get my nightie on. Might even have a hot water bottle tonight, I think it's getting chilly again.
Sunday, February 13
"Carol, is there anything special you want from the shop? Any special veggie stuff?"
"You going to Tesco's?"
"Of course. Who else will go if I don't? Hurry up! I can't stand here forever. It's cold in this hall. Why don't you come down and talk to me?"
"Mum, I'm doing my
homework
."
"All right. Do you need anything special?"
"No!"
"Remember you said that, when you can't find anything in the fridge."
Doing her homework? That's a new one. Oh well, leave her to it. Might even be true, you never know with Carol. Better get going; it's not far off closing time, it's not open a full day on Sundays.
~ ~ ~
It's a godsend to be able to shop on Sundays if you work all or most of the week like I do. I don't suppose it suits the staff though, not all of them anyway. Some of them look really fed up. Wonder if they get a choice. Hope they get more choice than I do, working all day Saturday without overtime. I used to have to do the weekly shop on my day off, but that made me feel like I never had a proper break. By Thursday, I must admit, the last thing I felt like doing was looking at the inside of a shop, unless it was a swanky fashion shop up West and I had a bit of spare money in my purse. (A rare enough event, that's for sure.) Now, where's that list I wrote?
Oh my God, there she is again right by the check out! I can't believe it, she's everywhere I look now! Heaven's, she's got a huge bottle of champagne in her basket, sticking out in all its glory! Haven't had any of that since Carol was born.
No! I can't let her go like this, I've got to get after her. (But I haven't got my shopping yet.) Whoops, she's leaving already. That was quick! Through the automatic doors she goes. Damn the shopping! I've got to go too. (Don't ask me why!) Got to keep her in sight, see where she goes. It's alright, they'll see I'm not carrying anything.
Now where's she going? I hope it's not far, I've got to get back before the shop shuts. Still, at least she's not heading for the bus stop. Wouldn't know where I was going then and anyway, might be a bit difficult keeping an eye on her in a bus queue without being spotted. I'm not sure she saw me yesterday in the shop though, and even if she did she might not recognise me and even if she did recognise me so what? I can go out in my own neighbourhood can't I? No call to accuse me of following anyone... Still, best keep a low profile, as they say.
Doesn't look back does she? So self-confident, striding along with a spring in her step. Swinging her carrier bag as if it contained nothing at all instead of a big heavy bottle of champers and whatever else goodies she bought.
Whoops! She's turning off here, nearly missed it, a short, pretty road of only about a dozen houses on each side. Not far at all. No wonder she's always popping up. What fun, we're neighbours. Oh, there she goes, key in the lock, nudging the door open, and now she's inside.
And I'm outside.
~ ~ ~
Well, bit of an anticlimax that! After all that following and spying and snooping; ending up here again back in Tesco's getting the shopping in just like it's an ordinary Sunday instead of being the day I had an adventure, as well as being the day before the supposedly most romantic day of the year.
Must admit, I feel quite a bit let down, though I don't know what else exactly I expected. It wasn't as if she was likely to turn around, greet me joyfully like a long-lost lover, and drag me in for a cup of tea or a fizzing glass of bubbly, was it?
What to do now, though, to stave off the twinges of disappointment that, I must admit, I'm already starting to feel? I'll have to do something to cheer myself up, Don will be back soon and he won't want to see a gloomy face.
I know, I'll get her a card too! Look! They've got loads of different cards here. I didn't even know they sold them. I could even get a different one for Don, but then again, why should my absent husband always benefit from my generosity? No, someone else can for a change. Ah, look, she can have this nice soppy romantic one. I'm sure she'd appreciate this more than Don would appreciate any card I bothered to get him, even if I stood here for an hour trying to choose the perfect one.
Anyway, it'll be anonymous and that's much more like what is supposed to happen on Valentine's Day. Anonymous cards dropping onto doormats, declaring unrequited love from a mystery admirer, are much more in the spirit of the thing.
It's too late to send it now, but I can take it round later when it's dark, and put it in her letterbox. I'll have to be really quiet so she doesn't hear me. And if she does hear me and comes to the door, I'll just have to run like hell, which I'm sure I still can do even if I am nearly thirty-seven and too old for that sort of thing, or this sort of thing for that matter. Still, she's as old as I am, at least, and she bought champagne and a soppy Valentine cake so it can't be that out of order. Though of course, she didn't buy any of it for me.
But anyway, it's just a bit of fun. Nobody will see me, and no one will ever know and it won't matter. It'll just be my secret; a very nice secret too, to remember from time to time, and no harm will have been done to anyone.
Now, I better get this shopping home, get back out again pretty sharpish, and nip over to her place and be back before Don gets home. If I don't I'm going to have a bit of a red face explaining what I've been up to. Or should I go straight there with the shopping as well and deliver the card and – oh, I can't. I haven't got a pen to write on it with.
Stick to my original plan then, just be as quick as I can.
~ ~ ~
Done! And no one heard me fiddling around at her letterbox. No need to run away after all. Oh, but the adrenaline was pumping; made me feel glad to be alive. I could have run a mile in a minute if necessary. As it was I carried out my plan to the letter and nothing at all went wrong. Wow! I can see the point of being an undercover agent now, always having a secret agenda and having to be daring and assess the odds and take the risk no matter what. I imagine a top class gambler might feel like this too, or a master criminal. Maybe I ought to give up shop work and get a job in the underworld. (I could be a daredevil getaway driver if only I could drive.)
But Don is here already. I thought he might be. Damn! (Never mind, I'll think of something, I'm a master of deception now!)
~ ~ ~
"Hallo, darling. I'm home."
"Where've you been? I'm starving!"
"Oh! I went up the launderette and, you'd never believe it, one of the machines went haywire with water and suds everywhere and the poor women there were going crazy like headless chickens. And everyone had to rally round – and I had to help them out with the mop and bucket and everything."
"I must say you live a life jam-packed with adventure, Faith."
"I thought you'd be impressed, Don. I won't ask why you couldn't find the wherewithal to put on a can of soup for yourself if you were so hungry. I'll just get the tea ready, shall I?"
"Get that old chip pan going my girl, that's the idea. I did think to get a few bits of frying steak out of the freezer."
"So you did. What would you like with that Don? Eggs or peas?"
"Whatever you feel like doing, Faith. I'm easy."
"Well I never knew that, Don, but I think we'll have both as a special treat."
"Special treat? What's the occasion, Faith? It's not your birthday is it?"
"Don't be silly Don, that's next month! Don't worry, I'll remind you nearer the time. You haven't remembered my birthday or our anniversary unaided since I don't know how long."
"How can I remember unaided if you always remind me?"
"I wouldn't like to take the chance."
"Well there you are then. But, I do know what the special occasion is. I just didn't know it was on the agenda for celebrating, it never was before."
"A change is as good as a rest Don. I'm breathing new life into our relationship. Blowing on the embers of our love."
"Is that a good idea, Faith? It could set the house alight."
"Very amusing. Here you are, pass me your plate. Careful, it's hot! All I mean, Don, is that I remembered Valentine's Day and decided to buy you a card and some other things to mark the day. I don't expect you to have remembered, so don't get in a panic!"
"What a surprising woman you are, Faith, even after all these years."
"That's the intention, Don. But the real surprises are yet to come."
"How intriguing. When?"
"Later. After you've helped me do the dishes."
"Sit down on the bed a minute, Don, and close your eyes."
"You haven't got a grudge against me, have you Faith?"
"Should I have?"
"I hope you're not going to do me an injury as soon as my eyes are shut. I saw something like that on TV."
"I'm trying to give you your Valentine treat but you're not cooperating. Shut your eyes for a minute! I'm just going to the bathroom. I'll be back before you know it."
"You could climb out the bathroom window, having set fire to some waste paper in the corner of the room and leave me to perish in the grisly inferno."
"We don't have waste paper in the bathroom, Don."
"Not usually."
"Have you been watching 'Murder, She Wrote' again? Now listen, Don, don't be silly. Relax for a minute, trust me, close your eyes and I'll be right back! Don't open them till I tell you!"
"I like a dominating woman."
"Now you tell me! Open your eyes, what do you think?"
"What an extraordinary outfit, Faith."
"Scanties for a special occasion Don. May I take that as a compliment?"
"You certainly may. Get yourself over here my girl!"
"Oh! A masterful man! At last!"
~ ~ ~
You don't have to do that, girl. I love you anyway."
"What a relief."
Monday, February 14
It is eight o'clock in the morning. It is Saint Valentine's Day. Less than a mile from Faith's and Don's terraced house, in a warm, shabby living room, a tall dark woman stands in front of a mirror. She is combing her hair, slowly. She is dressed for the cold weather in a long slate-blue overcoat with a turned-up black fake-fur collar; black trousers and a pair of long, shiny, black boots.
A stockier, fairer, older woman wearing denim jeans and a heavy brown jumper enters the room from the hall. She is carrying an envelope. She waves it excitedly.
"Eva! Look! I've got a card from a mystery admirer!"
"Is that what it says? Maybe it's from me!"
"Huh. You forgot. We've been through that."
"I had a lot on my mind. I told you, my mum and all."
"Could have got me one on the motorway!"
"Joan! Have you seen the kind of stuff they have in those shops? So corny! I'll get you something later. I'll bring something back."
"Okay. Doesn't matter. I'm not fussed. But look at this!"
"Now that is corny!"
"Nice. I think it's nice. Roses and hearts and red ribbons. I think it's romantic. Who d'you think sent it? Someone from the club, maybe?"
"Delivered it, you mean. Look at this envelope, no name even. Someone's spying on you. Some weirdo. Anyway, could be for me, not you. How about that?"
"Oh yes, Ms. Ego? How do you work that out? You're not blonde are you? Look at the envelope properly!"
"To a beautiful blonde dot dot dot. Oh I see, you're supposed to read on from there to the inside of the card, dot dot dot from a mystery admirer. It really does say that! A mystery admirer! I thought you were joking. You're not blonde though. I wouldn't call you blonde. Mouse, more like."