The Glassblower's Daughter by Frances Clarke

Author:Frances Clarke
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, childhood, fairy tales, daughter, sister, abuse, theatre, nottingham, edinburgh, searching, playwright, glassblower, hans andersen, riverside
Publisher: Frances Clarke

“Are you coming to the battered wives disco? Come on,” said Gordon, one day. “You don’t have to be one!” He smiled, pleased with his joke.

“Give me some posters to put up but I won’t go,” she said.

“Why?”

“I don’t know anyone else going; I’d feel stupid by myself.”

“Tim and Nicki are going, myself and Trish; you know us.”

Then Tim told her that Nicki wasn’t going because Friday was parents’ evening at her school. Greta began to plan what to wear. If Nicki wasn’t there the chances were good to very good that Tim would come back to her place after. On the night she took special care, blending blusher below her cheekbones and applying mascara. A squirt of Charlie and she was ready. The disco was at the Unitarian Chapel Hall down Alfreton Road. The first thing Greta saw was Tim - with Nicki. Greta went to the freezing ladies loo, balanced her bag on the washbasin and took out her cosmetic face wipes. Staring into a flecked mirror, she ritually removed the ignominious make-up with a Quickie. The striplight magnified her bitterness. Why don’t I say something? The cologne scent and coolness of the circle of moist fabric mocked her. He’ll go on doing this to me because I act as if I’m happy with the way it is. Can’t he see I’m pretending? She peeled off another one. A Quickie. That’s what she had been hoping to have with Tim. And it rhymed with Nicki. Greta took a deep breath.

Trish, it transpired, had not been able to come after all, so Gordon asked Greta to dance. The hall remained chilly and the air became a sour fug of cigarette smoke and beer fumes. Their dances were constantly interrupted by people who engaged Gordon in procedural discussions about SWP tactics on various issues. Standing by Gordon while he talked politics was unbearably boring. In the background Tim smooched with Nicki, as though asleep on his feet.

“Eleven-thirty, I’d better go,” she said, as the lights came up.

“Me too,” said Gordon, “thanks for coming.” She looked at him. He rubbed his eyes, reaching under his spectacles, which wobbled awry. He gave them a shove into place on his nose. His hair was brown and curled thickly.

“You’re tired,” she said. Poor hard-working Gordon. The oatmeal polo-neck sweater he wore accentuated the pallor of his face in the fluorescent lighting,

“I’m shattered,” he answered, and then smiled, “fancy a coffee? I could do with a comfy armchair. Come back to our place, it isn’t far.”

“Trish will be cheesed off.”

“She won’t,” assured Gordon, “would that worry you?”

“Yes, I hate the thought of keeping someone up.”

“No danger of keeping Trish up,” he said, “when Trish is ready for bed she goes to bed. Come on, I won’t talk about politics!”

As they stepped into the freezing night, Greta glanced back, hoping to give Tim a wave goodbye. Tim stood alone, outlined in the artificial brightness, staring after them. He didn’t return her wave but called: “See you Gordon,” and Gordon gave him a friendly thumbs up.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.