Chapter 19
Alison and her parents had been browsing the shelves of the local discount supermarket in Millensea for over forty minutes, and Alison was beginning to wonder if they’d ever get out of there.
She wasn’t keen on this shop. It felt cold and impersonal to her, and she missed the warmth and familiarity of Maister’s.
There was a branch of her favourite store further up the coast, but Mam and Dad had turned white when she’d suggested going there instead, declaring that they wouldn’t pay those sorts of prices if their lives depended on it, and did Alison think they were made of money?
Instead, they trawled the shelves of ShopSmart, her parents arguing between themselves about whether they really needed more tins of baked beans when they already had eight of them in the cupboards at home, before loading their trolley with another four because you never really knew when you might need them.
Mam spent ages rummaging through the reduced-to-clear sections, swooping on anything with a yellow sticker despite the wilting salads and sorry-looking vegetables that looked far from tempting, because she said that every penny counted, and had Alison forgotten they were pensioners?
Yeah, with Dad’s private pension from the civil service, she thought wryly.
As they pushed the trolley towards the chiller section Mam told Alison that she must have more money than sense.
‘You’d better watch and learn because you’ll be a pensioner yourself soon,’ she said darkly. ‘Then you’ll realise how careful you have to be.’
She nodded knowingly at her before adding a packet of deluxe sausage rolls and a luxury-brand cheesecake, the price of which made even Alison’s eyes water, because ‘Ooh, they do look tasty!’
Dad had a strop because Mam put granary bread in the trolley and he hated ‘All them bits that stick between me teeth’, so she took it out and put it back on the shelf, only to sneak it back in again when he wandered off to inspect the ice cream.
Somehow, instead of ice cream, he came back with a jar of crunchy peanut butter which, for some reason Alison couldn’t fathom, he was adamant didn’t get stuck in his teeth at all.
As they stood by the freezer arguing because Mam wanted to buy some chicken pies and Dad said he’d rather get a takeaway pie from the pub, because Seb’s lad Sam had told him he could, Alison leaned on the trolley and wondered how many times she’d listened to conversations like this.
Their shopping trips had been the stuff of nightmares, and she’d done everything she could to get out of going with them when she was a kid.
Saturdays. That had been ‘big shop’ day for them and just about everyone they knew.
Dad had got paid weekly in those days, and in cash, too.
He’d handed over the housekeeping to Mam and kept hardly anything for himself because, as he pointed out, what did he need money for? Mam took care of everything.
She smiled to herself, remembering those fabulous Thursday evenings when Dad came home with his wages, and fish and chips from Millensea for tea, and a bag of sweets each as a payday treat.
No late-night shopping in those days. No big supermarket close by either, come to that. And as for Sundays…
‘You look happy.’
She blinked and looked up, shocked to see Mac standing in front of the trolley, a basket hooked over one arm. He was the last person she’d expected to find in a supermarket – especially ShopSmart.
‘I zoned out,’ she admitted without thinking, then nodded towards her parents, realising too late that they’d stopped arguing and were now watching her and Mac with undisguised interest. ‘I was just remembering going shopping with these two when I was a kid. They were a bloody nuisance then, too.’
‘Of all the cheek,’ Mam said indignantly. She gave Mac one of her best smiles. ‘It’s lovely to see you again after all this time, Ian. How are you?’
‘Mac,’ he said immediately. ‘My name’s Mac now, Mrs Wainwright.’
‘Oh, of course. Alison did mention. I was sorry to hear about your mum, love. Such a shame.’
Mac smiled. ‘Thank you.’
‘Alison was telling us all about the animals at Watersmeet,’ she continued, blithely ignoring her daughter’s glare.
‘They sound wonderful. I’ve always wanted to see them myself but when I visited your mother she was too ill to worry about all that really, and before then I never went round.
Sheila didn’t really invite people in, did she? She kept herself to herself.’
‘She was a right funny onion,’ Dad said with a grunt.
Alison felt her face burning with embarrassment, but Mac just laughed.
‘She wasn’t one for people,’ he agreed. ‘She much preferred animals.’
‘Oh yes, and she had a heart of gold where they were concerned,’ Mam agreed hastily, after shooting her husband a look that should have floored him but seemed to have no effect on him whatsoever.
‘She used to mix with people,’ he said, ‘until your dad left.’
There was a silence and for a moment Alison held her breath, not sure what to do or say to rescue the situation her tactless father had plunged them into.
‘So can we order one of them pies from the pub?’ he asked plaintively, apparently forgetting all about Mac and refocusing on his belly.
Mam glared at him. ‘No! You can get a pack of four for a quarter of the price of one from the pub! Stop moaning or I won’t get you any pies at all this week.’
Alison sighed and turned back to Mac. ‘See what I mean? That’s why I zoned out.’
He nodded solemnly. ‘I understand.’
She couldn’t resist a peek into his basket. Three ready meals and a multipack of crisps. Healthy.
As if reading her mind, he shuffled awkwardly. ‘I know, it’s terrible, isn’t it? I need to get my act together, but like I said, I’m the world’s worst cook.’
Alison gritted her teeth as her dad laughed and said, ‘You haven’t tasted our Alison’s cooking.’
‘Thanks for that, Dad.’
Mac winked at her, which made her heart flutter in a very weird way. ‘I did try to make sure the ready meals were healthy ones but it’s not easy, is it? Maybe I should add some salad or veggies to make it a bit better,’ he mused, not sounding too keen.
‘There are some proper bargains in the reduced-to-clear section,’ Mam said helpfully.
‘I thought you were busy arguing about pies,’ Alison reminded her.
‘Oh, we’re done with that. I’ve got these, look.’ She held up a box of ShopSmart bargain minced beef pies and Alison mentally shuddered when she noticed the price of them. What sort of meat would be in those?
‘You ought to join forces with our Alison,’ Mam continued, giving her daughter a sympathetic look. ‘She’s trying to eat more healthily, aren’t you, love? She’s just been told she’s a diabetic, Mac,’ she added, mouthing the word diabetic as if it was some shameful secret.
Alison could have throttled her, because, truthfully, she felt as if it was. ‘I’m sure Mac couldn’t care less about all that,’ she said. ‘I’m only just diabetic,’ she added defensively. ‘It hardly counts at all.’
‘Best to nip it in the bud now, though. It’s all the junk you eat,’ Dad said, dropping a four-cheese pizza and a box of chocolate profiteroles into the trolley. ‘Alison, where would we find the curry powder?’
‘How should I know?’ Alison demanded. ‘I don’t shop here usually,’ she told Mac hastily. ‘I tend to shop at Maister’s.’
‘And spend twice as much as you need to for the privilege,’ Mam pointed out. She nudged Dad. ‘The curry powder will be in the world foods section. What do you need curry powder for anyway?’
‘I fancy a curry,’ he said forlornly.
She rolled her eyes. ‘Then you get a jar of curry sauce! If you think I’m faffing about making a curry from scratch, and me with a broken arm… Honestly! Alison, mind the trolley, will you? I’m just going to take your father to the sauce aisle. Won’t be long.’
Alison leaned heavily on the trolley handle and let out a long sigh of relief.
‘Are they always like that?’ Mac asked, his eyes twinkling.
‘Always. They’re a pain in the sodding arse.’
‘What happened to your mum’s arm?’ he asked, switching the basket to his other hand.
‘She had a fall,’ Alison said soberly. ‘Broke her arm but not her spirit, as you can tell. She took it all in her stride, like she always does.’ She smiled fondly at the thought of her mother’s determination to look upon it as a learning curve.
‘She’s been practising writing with her left hand and now she says she’s better at that than she is with her right hand, so she’s going to use it all the time now, even when the plaster’s off. ’
‘Great attitude!’ Mac said admiringly.
‘Yeah…’ Alison couldn’t deny it. Her mam was something else. Would Jenna ever say the same about her, she wondered. Somehow, she couldn’t imagine it.
A kind of grief overwhelmed her as she thought about the days when she and her daughter had been so close: when Jenna had cuddled up on her lap while Alison read her stories; when she’d held on to the trolley handle as they’d wandered round the supermarket together; when she’d sat Jenna on the draining board and soothed her as she gently bathed her knees because her little girl had fallen off the swing and now they were all scraped and bleeding.
She blinked away tears as Mac gently asked, ‘Are you okay?’
‘I was just thinking back to when I was a mum,’ she admitted.
‘You still are a mum,’ he said, surprised, but she shook her head.
‘It doesn’t feel like that. Jenna and I – we’re not really speaking at the moment. Things are… difficult.’
He sighed. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Thanks.’ She wiped her cheek and straightened, embarrassed that she’d revealed the truth about her relationship with her daughter.
He’d only just found out she was a diabetic with a junk food habit, thanks to her parents!
‘Truth is, we’ve all been invited to my cousin’s for his daughter’s birthday party on the fourteenth of March – Jenna and the twins included – but I don’t know whether to tell them. ’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Why wouldn’t you?’
‘It could be awkward,’ she mumbled, not wanting to go into all the details about Joel and the horrible things that had been said about her.
‘Would you like to see Jenna?’ he asked. ‘And the twins?’
She hesitated. ‘It’s not as simple as that.’
‘Well, obviously I don’t know all the details, but it seems to me that if you’re standing in the middle of a supermarket in tears because you miss your family, and you have the perfect excuse to get in touch with them, then maybe it’s simpler than you realise. What’s the worst that could happen?’
He was right, she realised. Even if Jenna hung up on her, or said no, at least there’d be contact. At least she could say she’d tried. At least there was a chance…
She gave him a watery smile. ‘Thanks. I’ll call her when I get home.’
‘Make sure you do.’ He hitched up the basket. ‘Well, I’d better get on and finish my shopping. See you around, Alison. Good luck.’
‘Ian! I mean, Mac!’
Alison inwardly groaned as her parents hurried towards them, her dad carrying a jar of curry sauce and a packet of chicken breasts in his arms, her mam waving her plaster-encased arm in the air like a white flag.
‘I’m glad you haven’t gone yet, Mac,’ her mam said, rather breathlessly. ‘It occurred to me as we were looking at the chicken breasts and we realised it was much cheaper to buy the bigger pack—’
‘How is that possible?’ Alison asked doubtfully.
‘Well, better value then! Anyway, it occurred to us that there’s going to be far too much for two of us, so we wondered if you would like to come for tea at ours tomorrow? And you, Alison, naturally. I’d ask our Rosie but she’s working at the chippy tomorrow again, isn’t she?’
‘Yes, but I don’t think—’ Alison began, but her mam tutted impatiently.
‘Oh, I know. You’re diabetic. Don’t worry, we won’t give you any rice. I’ve got some lovely salad reduced to clear in the trolley, so you can have that with it.’
‘How delightful,’ Alison murmured. ‘Can’t wait.’
She tried to communicate with Mac by giving him a look of sympathy and mentally telling him that he really didn’t have to say yes, and no one would blame him in the slightest.
‘He probably takes after his mother,’ Dad said. ‘It’s all right, lad. Not everyone’s sociable, are they?’
Alison was pretty sure the horror she was feeling showed on her face, because Mac was clearly struggling not to laugh when he looked at her.
‘It’s really kind of you,’ he said at last. ‘I’d be delighted.’
‘Smashing!’ Mam beamed at him. ‘Shall we say five o’clock? We don’t like to eat too late, on account of Stan’s heartburn, especially if he’s insisting on having a curry for some reason.’
Mac nodded. ‘Five it is.’
‘Cherry, will we need some mushrooms?’ Dad asked suddenly.
His wife clapped her hand to her head and groaned. ‘We will! Come on, Stan. Back to the reduced-to-clear section.’
They hurried off and Alison shook her head. ‘They’re absolutely nuts, the pair of them.’
‘They’re lovely,’ Mac said softly. ‘You’re very lucky to have them.’ He reached out and touched her lightly on the arm. ‘Call your daughter, Alison. You have such a nice family. Don’t let it fall apart, whatever you do.’
She watched him walk away and bit her lip, thinking it over. Then she reached into her bag and pulled out her mobile phone.
It was time to talk to Jenna.