CHAPTER 2
“Oh, good morning! We were…”

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

“Are you okay? Way you left, some of us were wondering if you’d be back”

“Well, I am. Or at least, most of me”

“Sorry?”

“Lost loads of weight, Lynn, and got a bit burnt round the edges. It was hot hot hot out there”

“You’ll have to bring your holiday pics in. And Mr Maynard’s just---hang on. Mr M? Got Mr Ellison on the line, asking for a chat, I’m guessing”

I caught a mumble, but not his words.

“Putting you through now, Ellie”

There were a few seconds of ‘wait’ music, and then a click.

“Terry Maynard. That you, Harry?”

“Morning, boss. How are things?”

“Fine, son. Just wondering why the call. Not being funny, but you didn’t exactly leave us with any idea of whether you’d be back. Can I assume that you’re checking if you still have a job?”

Shit. I was about to line up a bit of grovelling when he literally laughed out loud.

“Bloody silly question, if it was what you were asking. We’re coming up to the busiest time of the year, you know that, so having your size whatevers back under a desk is a no-brainer. You got a proposed day to come back?”

“You don’t have an issue with me cutting and running?”

“My door’s closed, Harry. Just me in here. Short answer to your question is an obvious one: get you back in, knowing what you’re doing, or try and find someone else to train up. Like I said, a no-brainer. Now, what is it you are so carefully not telling me? Knowing you, it won’t be anything illegal”

“No, of course not. I’d like to get back in on Monday, if that suits”

“Monday will be fine. So, he asks again, what is it--- Sod this. Are you and Mary in tonight?”

“Er, yeah”

“I’ll call round at about six, then, if that’s okay. Not being funny, but you do not sound as if everything’s fine”

“Just checking with my wife”

I muted the phone.

“Boss wants to come around at six. Says he’s concerned”

“You have a choice then, Ellie, but after yesterday, do you really?”

She was right, which of course left me with the obvious bloody question.

“I’ve just got the one dress, love, and it’s a bit lightweight, in both senses”

“You couldn’t just wear your old---- No. I thought not. What size is that?”

“Sixteen, I think”

“It’s actually a bit big for you, weight you’ve lost. I… just tell him yes, we’ll cope”

I unmuted the phone and confirmed the visit, then closed off the call.

“Ellie?”

“Yes?”

“Just one question: did you ever mess with my clothes?”

“Only in the sense of looking at them. Not my style, anyway. You wear trousers too much for my taste”

There was just a hint of another fit of tears, but she wrestled it back down with a visible effort.

“Then we have a look at some of mine. T shirt’s a T-shirt, but one of my skirts will fit. And leave your hair down. At least this avoids walking into work like you came off that plane. I think… Oh, you’ve got five days before work. Pass me my tablet”

She tapped in her password, then looked up at me once again.

“I am actually a sixteen, but one thing about sizes is that they get interpreted differently according to the retailer. I know how some of them work, so I only use those ones when I shop online. Everything else, I try on. Some of these shops do quick delivery”

She paused, clicking on a couple of sites, then spoke to me while still looking down at her screen.

“Ellie, I have no idea where we are going. I have no idea if I can really cope with it all. What I do know is that I like this house, and would love to see the mortgage payments continue, which means staying in work. And… And I loved a man enough to marry him, and I still do, but I am not sure if I can love this new woman the same way. So I need to just keep on keeping on for now, until I can see how things… how we cope. How I cope”

She settled herself against me so that I could see the website over her shoulder.

“First things first, no pencil skirts. They hobble you, and as you have no hips they’d look awful. You need some simple flat shoes as well, and… this site, the shoes are true to size. I don’t think black Oxford lace-ups work with a skirt”

We ordered a couple of plain skirts, two pairs of black flats, three blouses in cram, white and pale blue, as well as a pair of shift dresses.

“This time of year, you wear them with… right. One of these”

‘These’ were simple roll-neck jumpers. She added a pack of tights, and hit ‘buy now/next day delivery’.

For some reason, she then started to laugh.

“What’s funny?”

“I didn’t change the automatic fill for the card details. That’s come off my own card, not the joint one. And the delivery address is to Mrs Ellison, and…”

The laughter soon turned into sobbing, so I simply took her tablet from her hand and held her close, feeling like the most uncaring and selfish piece of shit on the planet.

We got through the morning, somehow, as I busied myself in sorting laundry and disposing of the red dust that sat in odd corners of my luggage, until one o’clock, when there was a ding-dong from the doorbell. I opened the door without thinking to find a middle-aged man in a black jacket.

“Miss Ellison?”

“Er, yes”

“From Gatwick, love. Got a package for you; misdirected luggage? Big box; think it’s a bike”

“You’re a star! Hang on, and I’ll open the garage”

“No problem”

The box slid across the paving and into the left side of the garage, pushed by the courier, and I asked how much I owed him.

“Nothing, love. Airline’s paid, as they bloody well should. Stuff like this, it’s not like a suitcase, where the scanner might miss it, but out of gauge. It’s loaded, well, it’s EVERYTHINGED by hand. No excuse, I say. Have a good rest of the day, Miss”

I waved him off from our driveway, and turned to go back inside. As I did so, I caught two of our neighbours staring. Shit. I shut the door behind me before heading to our kitchen and the internal garage door; I needed to be sure the bike was intact.

“That your bike box, Ellie?”

“Yes, love. Just going to check it over. Oh: I got spotted by the Morans”

“Oh bugger. They say anything?”

“No. Far side of the junction; just stared”

“Your phone’s been making noises”

I changed plans, picking up my mobile from the coffee table. Two texts.

Good on you ellie! Sorts out my room if I visit pommyland. XX Carly

The other, of course, was from Jacky.

Flying home next week. Asshole’s trial. Your place got spare bed?

I knew what they were really saying, both of them, and it wasn’t ‘We’ll pop over and visit’ so much as ‘Don’t disappear’. I showed Mary the texts, and she nodded.

“Yes, you do need to keep in touch, after… They seem to talk sense. I looked at that picture of you three, that meal, again. That’s, well, they brought you home. Ellie?”

“Yes, love?”

“I don’t know if I’m going to lose you, but I think it’s thanks to those two I didn’t lose you fully. Go and sort your bike”

‘Go and let me cry in private’ was what I understood, so I did exactly that. I hung my tent out to air before I reassembled the Dawes, finding no damage, to my relief, and to my astonishment Mary was at the door tapping her watch.

“It’s five o’clock, Ellie. Time to get cleaned up and changed. Laid some stuff out to try on”

She shoved me into the bathroom to scrub my hands, and then called me into what had always been our bedroom, looking slightly uncomfortable as I pulled off my dress and pulled on one of my bras. Her suggested rig was one of those thin roll-neck jumpers she had shown me, in burgundy, plus a plain black A-line skirt. My carpet slippers were pretty neutral, so I stuck with them as Mary brushed my hair out.

“Done”

I looked in the mirror, and started to laugh.

“What’s funny?”

“Oh, just a couple of absurdities. That first meal, with Jacky and that family?”

“With the big furry thing in the ceiling?”

“Yes. It was the way Phil had called out ‘Hey, Blondie!’, and I look nothing like Debbie Harry. Oh, and his wife? She knows where we live, sort of”

“What do you mean?”

“That was the absurd thing that set me laughing. Val’s a fan of ‘Vicar of Dibley’, so knows the opening credits scene.

“The bit on the M40, before Lewknor?”

“Exactly. Then there was the bus from Esperance to Perth; the driver played what felt like every episode of an older show. If I say ‘I’m free!’, does that give you a clue?”

“Oh god! Grace Brothers and that? I always thought their theme tune was a rip-off”

“What of?”

“Pink Floyd. ‘Money’. Anyway, downstairs. I need a few minutes to settle myself”

We settled down to another cup of tea, looking at some of my photos once again as I talked through some of the route.

“Ellis?”

“Yes, love?”

“If… If we can make this work, can we go to some of those places? Together?”

The doorbell rang once again, and she pushed me back onto the settee.

“I’ll get it. Stay where you are”

I heard the door open, and her voice.

“Hello, Terry”

“Is he in, Mary?”

“In the front room. Just made a pot of tea, if you want”

“No thanks, I’m fine, and--- bloody hell”

That last was from the living room doorway.

“Hello, boss”