Lucky
you, thought Marian, bitterly, and then felt ashamed. She would
have put up with the tidemarks for ever and never complained, if
only she could have kept Bill, never mind the hard work he made.
Shakily, she wrote the number on the back of an old bus ticket she
found in her bag and hurried out of the shop, forgetting to buy
the carton of milk that she needed.
Ringing people up had been much easier, with Bill to whisper advice
in the background. Doing it all by herself was a bit scary. The
number was a mobile. She talked as fast as she could, for fear of
the expense. He would come round and see her, the painter said,
as soon as he had a minute.
He must be busy, she thought. That was good, wasn’t it? People
wouldn’t employ him if he didn’t do a good job. But
maybe he wouldn’t be free to start for ages. She couldn’t
wait. It was something that had to be done, now, at once, like the
clearing, the washing, the cleaning.
He had a minute, unexpectedly, that very afternoon. Marian showed
him round the bungalow. There wasn’t much to show: just three
rooms, the bathroom and kitchen. He seemed very young, whistling
cheerfully with his hands stuck in the pockets of his jeans and
paint spatters over his boots. But most people did seem very young
these days, not only policemen.
|
‘Okay,’
he said. ‘Magnolia do you?’
‘With white gloss and ceilings? Yes, that will do nicely.
I just want it clean.’
‘Right, well, I’ll need fifty quid to buy paint. Cash,
they like at the warehouse.’
Marian looked at him doubtfully. “How much will it cost altogether?
And when could you start?”
He pursed his lips, as if calculating. ‘Oh, three hundred
quid, I should think, and I’ll be here next week. That’s
as well as the fifty.’
‘All right,’ she said. ‘Just a minute.’
Leaving him in the lounge, she hurried into the bedroom to unearth
five crumpled ten pound notes from under the corner of the carpet,
where they had always kept their emergency cash. When she got back,
he had her wedding photograph in his hand.
‘This your old man?’
‘Yes, that was my Bill. Married for over forty years.’
She held out the notes in a trembling hand. He put down the photo
and stuffed them into his jeans.
‘Right. See you Monday. Eight o’clock, sharp. Okay?’
It would have been fine, except that he didn’t come. All morning
Marian waited, unable to settle to her cleaning, and anxiously watched
her clock. When it finished striking twelve she tried the mobile
number, but it was switched off. She didn’t feel like eating,
but made herself a slice of toast. She kept trying the number, but
nothing happened. The whole day passed by, tick by tick, and then
it darkened. He wasn’t coming.
|
