What We Did by Kent Christobel

Author:Kent, Christobel
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780751568776
Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group
Published: 2018-05-16T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Bridget was driving, hunched over the wheel. Up the hill towards the corner where she’d dropped Isabel: she could see the big trees, bare now. The street was mercifully empty.

Laura had stared at her: it had felt as though everyone in the shop was staring at her.

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ Bridget had said into the mobile, turning a little so they couldn’t see her face. Walking to the door, out into the street with all their eyes on her back. Once out there she said, ‘Stay right where you are.’

Looking up and down the narrow, cobbled lane. In the window opposite Justine was peering at her over her glittering display. Bridget found herself registering the detail of this street as if she’d never seen it before. How many people there were out shopping this lunchtime. The other shops: a shoe repair man, a shop that sold home stuff, mirrors and lamps and linen, a newsagent’s. She knew them all by sight, some for longer than others, the feeble independent retailers’ organisation that put on the Christmas lights and petitioned the council over business rates.

Through the glass Laura was still staring at her: Bridget waved cheerily. ‘Don’t, Carrie,’ she said. ‘Just, don’t. I’ll call you back.’ She hung up. When she walked back in the customer was at the desk: Bridget held out her hand for the card.

When the woman had gone – the husband took an age to get up off the sofa, folding his paper, tutting – Bridget made herself turn to Laura, smile.

‘How you feeling now?’ Solicitous. But Laura was bright-eyed; she liked work. Bridget turned away.

Before she had shifted two steps she could hear Laura on the phone to her husband, half listening to her droning on, Yes darling, no darling, comfortable, no, I’ll leave it in the oven for you. She went into the kitchen, to text Carrie. What the hell do you think you’re doing? Wait for me. Wait.

‘Who was that on the phone?’ said Laura when she emerged, looking across the counter at her mildly. On cue. ‘Do you need to get off again? It’s fine if you do.’

‘Family stuff,’ said Bridget, grimacing cheerfully. ‘You know the kind of thing,’ though she knew Laura was an only child, and probably didn’t. ‘My sister, a bit of a black sheep, you know. She’s—’ she improvised. ‘She’s gone off in search of an old girlfriend.’ Laura still nodding helpfully. ‘Trouble is she’s got tanked up first and—’

‘Oh, go on then,’ said Laura, flapping her hand complacently. And Bridget didn’t wait to be told a third time: she grabbed her coat and was off.

She’d dialled Carrie again as she headed up the alley: the phone rang and rang but Carrie wasn’t answering.

Finn’s school came into sight on the wide ring road. The lunch break seemed to be still on, a handful of lanky sixth formers were milling at the gates eating chips. She was almost past them on the other side of the road when she spotted Finn, talking to a girl, head down.

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