Part 13 (2/2)

'Don't forget to call me when you get to Kathleen's,' Anne reminded her as she was leaving.

Anne watched her walk away, and as Lucy turned the corner, she looked back and waved.

'I'll call you. Stop worrying,' Lucy told her.

Another wave, a smile, and in no time at all Lucy was on the bus, heading for Kathleen's street.

She would have chatted to the conductor had it been the lovely Johnny, but it was a sour-faced female, who spoke not a word to Lucy except: 'Make sure you shove that case right under the steps. We don't want folks falling over it, do we?'

Lucy did as she was told, though as there was just the conductress, herself and the driver on the bus, she wondered who the 'folks' were that might be 'falling over it'.

Kathleen was just ironing the last garment in the weekly pile when she heard the tapping on the front door.

'Hold on!' Hastily replacing the iron, she switched it off at the wall. 'I'm on my way!'

As she hurried down the hallway, she muttered under her breath, 'Who the devil can this be? I'm not expecting anybody.'

On inching open the door, she was amazed to see Lucy standing there, suitcase in hand.

'Lucy!' She flung the door open wide. 'Come in. Good grief!' She remarked on her suitcase. 'So where are you off to?'

Lucy felt embarra.s.sed. 'I was hoping I could take you up on your offer of help, and stay with you for a couple of days. If not, it doesn't matter. I'm sorry, Kathleen, I didn't mean to impose myself on you.' Now that she was actually here, Lucy felt embarra.s.sed.

'Hey!' Kathleen ushered her in. 'What the devil d'you mean by that? Impose yourself, indeed! We'll have no more of that silly talk, thank you very much! I'm absolutely thrilled that you took me up on the offer.'

She planted a kiss on Lucy's cheek. 'So now, Lucy girl, it's just you and me. I've got a bottle of cheap plonk somewhere, and we can finish it together, while catching up on the latest gossip. What d'you think to that, eh?'

Lucy hugged her. 'Thank you, Kathleen. You really are a friend.'

'You can bet on that, Lucy girl!'

Ignoring Lucy's protests, Kathleen collected the suitcase and shot up the stairs with it. 'Come on then! You can use the posh bedroom. It's been newly painted, oh, and I've made some new stripy curtains ... not because I wanted to but because the old ones were hanging in rags.'

As always, Lucy felt warm and comfortable in Kathleen's presence. 'Don't make a fuss over me,' she said. But the truth was, she enjoyed being pampered. It was a new experience for her. Normally, it was she doing the pampering, for her children, her husband, even her sister, and her greatest pleasure had been pampering her beloved parents.

'Hey!' Kathleen wagged a finger. 'You're my best friend and my welcome guest. So don't tell me not to ”make a fuss”!'

Aside from all the light-hearted jos.h.i.+ng, though, Kathleen was concerned.

She could see that Lucy was unhappy ... that she might even have been crying. Also, judging by the weight of the suitcase, she suspected Lucy's luggage catered for more than just a couple of days. This was all right by her Lucy was a dear friend, and she was welcome to stay here for as long as she needed.

Lucy loved what Kathleen had done to the spare room. 'It's so pretty!' She ran her hand down the new curtains. 'I didn't realise you could make curtains.'

Kathleen laughed. 'I've never done it before, but I was determined to have a go. I bought the material and stretched it out on the floor, then I laid the old curtains over the top, and cut out the size.' She grimaced. 'The hard bit was the sewing.'

Bringing Lucy's notice to the crooked hem around one of the curtains, she told her, 'That was the first curtain ... a bit of a mess.' She then pointed to the second curtain, where the hem was tight and straight. 'By the time I got to this side, I had just about got the hang of it.'

Lucy was impressed. 'You've not done so bad, Kathleen. If you hadn't shown me the crooked hem I would never have noticed.'

Kathleen was pleased at the compliment. 'Right then! You unpack, and I'll find that bottle of plonk.' She gestured to the far wardrobe. 'That's yours. The other one is filled with rubbish that I still haven't got round to sorting out.'

Going out the door, she told Lucy with a wink, 'You might find a few manly things dotted about. They belonged to the last boyfriend. He was a real loser, I can tell you! Vain and pretty, he spent all his spare time building his body and looking in the mirror. Muscle-bound with no brains, that was him! He was good in bed, but he couldn't hold a decent conversation. After a couple of weeks he really got on my nerves, so I chucked him out.'

She went away muttering, leaving Lucy trying not to laugh.

A minute later Kathleen was shouting up the stairs, 'Get a move on, Lucy! I've got the wine and gla.s.ses at the ready. All I need is a friend to share it with.'

'I won't be long!' Lucy promised.

Throwing open the suitcase, she stole a quiet moment to look at what she had packed. Not much to show for a woman of forty, is it? she thought.

There were two dresses, one black with white spots, and sleeves that were too long, which Lucy always wore rolled up. The other dress was plain blue. Also a dark skirt and a pink blouse.

There were five pairs of knickers, nothing fancy or frilly; just sensible, white, ordinary knickers. They're not likely to set a man's pa.s.sion on fire, that's for sure! she thought, which brought Paula to mind. I dare say my cheating sister would never be seen dead in anything so plain.

She laid all her garments out on the bed: the dresses, the knickers, and her nightwear: two ankle-length nighties, and a pair of baggy, pink-striped pyjamas.

At this point she sat on the edge of the bed, her gaze fixed on the tired old garments. She tried to see herself through Martin's eyes, and what she saw was a dowdy woman, old before her time. Who could blame him for turning to Paula? Paula was bright, and pretty, and unlike Lucy, not afraid of anything.

Going across to the dressing table, she examined her reflection in the mirror, and what looked back at her was a face that was tired and weary; that told its own sorry story. A face that convinced Lucy that no man would ever look at her twice.

But with that sobering thought came another, slightly more pleasant, one. 'The stranger at the bus shelter noticed me,' she recalled. 'I must have made some kind of impression because the second time he saw me, it was like he could hardly keep his eyes off me.' She smiled at the memory.

Somewhat rea.s.sured, she threw off her coat and cast a critical gaze over her figure. She thought it was more the figure of a woman nearing fifty instead of someone of forty. There was no definite waist, no curves to speak of, and nothing to please the eye. Instead, the oblong shape went straight down, from shoulder to b.u.t.tocks, with barely a curve between.

Feeling dejected, Lucy turned away to sit on the edge of the bed. What happened to you, Lucy girl? she asked herself. Where did that young, bright-eyed girl go? Didn't she capture the best-looking boy, despite her shyness?

She cast her mind back to the day she and Martin got married. Even with a baby-b.u.mp starting to show, she did look pretty that day. Everyone said so ... even Martin.

Thinking back, remembering how it had been, she began to regret so much of her life. 'Paula was right,' she whispered. 'I am old before my time! But then I've had to be. At just sixteen, I had a baby and a husband, and family responsibilities.'

'But why did you let yourself go?' she continued to chastise herself. 'Look at yourself in the mirror, Lucy. What you see there is what Martin sees every time he looks at you.'

She drew little comfort from that thought. 'You really are a sorry-looking article. You don't know how to dress, or how to make up your face, your hair is always the same: lank and dull, just like you. It's no wonder your husband turned to Paula! It's no wonder he wants to be rid of you! Can you blame him? What man would willingly be lumbered with a plain old sop like you?'

Raising her hands to her face, she wiped away the inevitable tears. 'Feeling sorry for yourself won't change anything either.'

A wave of anger swept through her. 'It's your own fault! Somewhere along the way, you failed to be a proper wife to Martin, and now you've got what you deserve!'

The shame of losing Martin to her sister was all-consuming.

While she took stock of herself, Lucy had no idea that Kathleen was at the top of the stairs, from where she heard Lucy's every word.

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