Chapter Fifty-Three
A few short months ago, Alison had been in the habit of waking early. Often, she’d come to with a gasp, the adrenaline already jumping in her veins and her heart banging. All fright and no flight, she had coped with the panic-like rush by keeping still until it passed.
These days, she’d started waking early again, but it felt different: there was a sharpness to her thoughts, as if each idea was shot through with something pure. Now, the adrenaline was on her side.
She used the time to lie in her childhood bed and go over the list of things she wanted to do. It wasn’t the sort of list she could write down and pin to her dad’s fridge, more one that existed in her head.
At the top were:
Find job, but something interesting
Make Will feel safe/loved and stick to his routine
Spend more time with Dad
Already, she realised that she’d have to be flexible about aim number one because the job market was dire, especially for part-time work.
Jacob said she should get in touch with the PR company, but although it had been fun – and Alison loved promoting power tools as much as the next woman – she knew she wanted to do something more meaningful.
She realised she couldn’t be too choosy, though.
Every day she checked the websites and unless you were able to lay roof tiles, administer anaesthetics or flip burgers, it was slim pickings.
The only remotely suitable job was as a door-to-door market researcher.
But the thought of standing on doorsteps and asking people endless questions about their broadband provider or favourite dishwasher tablets made her heart sink.
Plus for that position, she needed her own car.
Which brought her to the thorny issue of aim four:
Sort car/money/access with Roy
Since Jacob’s Mini had been torched, aim four had slid right down to the bottom of her list. But today she saw with fresh clarity that ignoring the Roy issue was holding her back from ticking anything off her list. He was like a bindweed that had crept into every part of her life and until she wrenched that weed out by its roots, there was no chance of her flourishing, let alone getting to the last item on her list. Which was:
Spend more time with Jacob
After dropping Will at nursery, Alison kept walking until she found herself at the oily forecourt of the Pinlow brothers’ repair garage.
When she smelled the engine grease and heard the blare of rock music, she almost lost her nerve and then she thought of Will, her gentle, kind boy, and she took a deep breath.
In her mind, she’d imagined Roy might be lying under a car on a creeper trolley with his legs sticking out, which would give her a handy advantage as she stood over him and said her piece.
But instead she came face to face with him as he emerged from the garage toilet (a grim cubicle she’d resorted to once, when pregnant and desperate).
He was wiping his hands on his overalls and she wondered if that meant he’d washed them or that he hadn’t.
For a fleeting moment, Roy looked alarmed.
‘Alison,’ he said stupidly. Then, ‘Has something happened to Will?’
‘No, he’s fine,’ she said quickly. ‘But I thought it was time for us to talk.’
Roy gave a dismissive snort. ‘Babe, I’m at work. If you’ve come to apologise, you know when I finish.’
It was then she realised Roy would never understand or admit to what he’d done and the best she could hope for was civility. She felt her heart speed up and her mouth grew dry. She had to be strong.
‘I need my car back, Roy. And if you want to see Will that’s fine, but we’ll need to agree a regular time and place.’
Roy was making a show of laughing and shaking his head. ‘You are a piece of work, Alison, you know that?’ He walked towards her and instinctively she stepped back because she could tell the switch was about to flip.
But then the atmosphere changed. Someone snapped off the radio and suddenly Roy had lost his macho soundtrack. It was Roy’s older brother, Grant, and she wondered how long he’d been listening.
He nodded at Alison. ‘You and Will doing alright?’
‘He’s fine. We’re both fine.’
Grant kept his eyes on Alison as he spoke very calmly to his brother. ‘Roy, give her the car keys.’
‘But I need it. It’s mine now.’
‘Give them to her.’
To reach into his jeans pocket, Roy had to peel down the top half of his overalls and as he stood there with his sleeves turned inside-out and hanging down from his waist, Alison saw him for what he was: a big toddler who was prone to tantrums. Dangerous ones that she’d been right to be scared of, but tantrums nonetheless.
‘I can help with any visits with the little ’un if you like,’ Grant said. ‘Be a bit of a go-between.’
‘Thanks,’ she said. Her eyes flicked back to Roy and only just in time because she saw a glint in the air as he pitched the key fob towards her. She caught it, one-handed.
‘I’ll be in touch,’ she said and walked as calmly as she could towards her little red car.
Once she was behind the wheel, the familiarity somehow gave her the last bit of courage she needed.
She wound down the windows because the inside of her car reeked of sweat and old beer and she was already looking forward to getting it cleaned.
Alison Blake put her foot on the accelerator and didn’t look back.