Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 114058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
I had plenty to do to keep me busy around the house. I told Nanna I had a stomach bug and had called in sick.
“Take it easy then!” she’d said, then tutted when I’d got the ironing board out.
A baby. I was having a baby.
The thought seemed so daunting yet so surreal all in one. I couldn’t imagine being a new mum again. Couldn’t imagine running around after the girls with a little one in my arms.
I’d been so stupid, caught up in some silly fairy tale of me and Darren Trent. I should’ve learned my lesson the first time round.
I got a call from the garage number at lunchtime. I ignored it.
I got a call from a random local number I didn’t recognise, and I ignored that, too.
A voicemail played Darren’s voice, and it was so typically him that I put my phone on silent and chucked it in the kitchen drawer.
Call me, Jo, yeah? I just want to fucking talk to you.
I figured that was as good as it was going to get from him.
I’d have to get through this shit on my own.
In the short term I could survive on Pops’ money. So much for the experience of a lifetime. Paying the bills would have to be hedonistic enough for now. It would see me through for a while, and then maybe I could get another local job, just until the baby came, and then… then I could…
I didn’t fucking know what would happen after that.
I stared at myself in the mirror as I passed by with a load of washing and could’ve cried at the sad woman staring back at me. I looked washed out again, drained again, stressed again. I looked like a frump again.
I dropped the washing on the floor and reached for my foundation. I couldn’t let myself go, not now, not when I’d just learned to live again.
Things would be different this time, I’d make it so.
And in the meantime I’d just keep on keeping on.
Just like I’d always done before.
A string of voicemails went unanswered. Call me, Jo, please. Just fucking talk to me. Jo? Jo, just pick up the fucking phone please. This isn’t how it fucking seems.
I didn’t go round there again, not with the girls and Nanna home.
It tore me apart to pretend life was normal, to shake customers’ hands and show interest in their stupid fucking cars.
I didn’t see the girls. Didn’t dare interrupt their timetables, not this week.
It wouldn’t have been so fucking weird once upon a time, but now it was fucking torture.
I’d felt so close to having them back, so fucking close. But I’d blown it. I’d really fucking blown it.
All because I’d believed Lorraine’s fucking bullshit.
All because I hadn’t said what I really fucking meant. All because I hadn’t put myself out there.
All because I’m a fucking idiot.
Friday dragged like a sonofabitch. Buck slapped me on the back at close of play and I’d barely even noticed the day go by.
“You coming out tonight? Couple down the Drum?”
I’d been in the Drum last night until closing, stumbling across the street just to crash on the sofa until morning. What difference would a re-run make?
“Alright,” I said.
“Gonna get yourself a beard like mine if you don’t get a razor on it, Trent.”
I answered with a grunt and he sighed.
“I’ll see you down there,” I said.
I staggered back to my place at closing and crashed on the sofa for the second time running. I woke up the next day and couldn’t even be fucked to move. It wasn’t my weekend with the girls. Wasn’t my weekend to take them to the bonfire night celebration on the school playing field and buy them sparklers like I had the year before.
Wasn’t my weekend to be there.
I flicked through the channels and a rerun of Top Gear put a lump in my throat. I went into the girls’ room and made their beds, sat there for a while just thinking. Just fucking moping.
I tried Jodie’s number and it went straight to voicemail. I left another message.
Please, Jodie. I’m really fucking sorry.
She didn’t call back.
I forced myself to have a shave and a shower. Forced myself to chuck on some clean clothes and get out through the door.
I couldn’t face the bonfire celebrations – families everywhere I fucking looked – so I headed back into the Drum and propped myself at the bar.
Buck joined me at seven, the others arriving soon after. I was already well on my way.
“Christ, Trent, you been in here all fucking night or something?” Buck looked worried, like a soft fucking idiot. “Can’t you just go round and fucking see her?”
I shook my head. “Nah. She doesn’t want to see a cunt like me, mate.”
He slapped my shoulder. “Want me to have a word?”
I flashed him a glare. “What’s that supposed to fucking mean?”