My short story collection, Fragments of Darkness, Echoes of Light, comes out next month (it’s up for pre-order right now), and in the run-up to the release I’m sending out a few stories as tasters. Here’s the second.
Where Does The Time Go?
Angela turned the key in her hand. She was tempted to start the engine and heat the car, but that would waste fuel. And it was bad for the environment too. Besides, Becca would be warm from all that exercise.
Had her daughter taken a coat? Angela was sure she’d reminded Becca, but the girl had a stubborn streak. Arguing only made things worse.
A car swung in behind her, lights shining off the wet tarmac. Angela remembered reading up on the new all-weather tennis courts, worried they’d be slippery — she didn’t want her little girl injuring herself. And now, she couldn’t recall if the courts were better or worse in the rain.
Another thing she couldn’t remember. It happened too often now. She’d catch herself rechecking the stove was turned off, or rising in the middle of the night to check the front door was locked.
At least she was checking rather than assuming. At least she still thought about safety. That was the important thing, with a young child to care for. Not that Becca was young now. Not yet a woman, but it wouldn’t be long before they were considering college.
The car behind found a space, and the driver killed the engine. A man got out. He looked like an older Steve, with his hair grown out, and the start of a paunch. He passed her car, and Angela flashed him a smile. He didn’t see. He headed through to the courts.
Maybe his daughter was new to the club. Becca might have mentioned a new girl, but it was so hard to keep up. There were times when Angela mentioned a name only to have her daughter roll her eyes, say she hadn’t seen them since junior school.
Time moved so fast. Yet some things remained the same. Angela loved her daughter, and her husband. Even though he constantly complained about his job. He’d talked of leaving before Becca was born, but it hadn’t happened yet.
She thought of the man from the car. He’d worn a suit under his raincoat. The last time she’d seen Steve in a suit had been on their wedding day.
Angela sniffed — must be coming down with a cold. The windows were steaming up, and that always made her nervous. She didn’t like feeling trapped.
She opened the door and followed the man. Becca would moan, of course — wasn’t she old enough to meet her mum back at the car? — but it was a mother’s prerogative to fuss over her child.
The rain soaked her hair, and she brushed it to one side. There was a bandage on her hand. It brought back vague memories of an accident while cooking, an image of a knife and too much blood. There had been tears, and crying, and a rush to the hospital. Then there were the stares, all the accusatory glances, as if they thought she wasn’t fit to be…to be cooking by herself.
But it was only an accident. Everyone made mistakes, right?
The other parents huddled outside the floodlit courts, a few hiding under umbrellas. The girls congregated around their coach. He high-fived them all as they headed to the gate.
Angela thought she’d made another mistake. These girls seemed older than Becca. But they wore those smart club tops, and Becca always looked more grown-up when she wasn’t in those baggy jumpers. Besides, girls grew up suddenly, didn’t they?
The man from the car greeted one of the girls with a hug. The girl was familiar, so probably a friend of Becca’s. Her hair was plaited, and Angela remembered struggling to style her daughter’s hair like that, with Becca squirming so much the result looked like she’d been pulled through a hedge backwards. The girl with the man — her plait was tight and straight, even after the tennis session.
Then again, little girls all grew up.
And Angela felt the urge to know who this one was.
She stepped forward. The girl turned. She frowned.
“Mum?”
And of course it was Becca. Angela had known that, deep down.
“Hey, sweetie. Good session?” She held out a hand, purposely avoided looking at the man. At the predator. The important thing was to get her little girl away from him.
But the man stepped forward, between Angela and her daughter. “You shouldn’t be here.” His jaw was firm. He spoke slowly and calmly.
“What? I’m picking up my little girl…”
He shook his head. “No. You agreed.”
His eyes were like Steve’s, and his voice was similar too. Even though he sounded angry, there was…something else in his tone.
Becca stepped next to him. “Talk to Natalie”, she said. “We’ll…sort something out.” The girl turned to the man. “Right, Dad?”
He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. Natalie. I’ll give her a call.”
The woman’s name conjured up images of a friendly smile and a name-badge, cups of tea, pills in little plastic compartments, filling out forms on the kitchen table.
“But you can’t be here, Angie,” he said. “You need to stick to the agreement.”
He took Becca’s arm and guided her away. Neither looked back as they disappeared into the car park.
She didn’t feel the rain, or the chill. Her legs took her back to her car and the key materialised in her hand. Condensation blurred as car lights shone in. She wiped a sleeve across the side-window, clearing the condensation.
The lights grew, then faded. The car passed her. Becca looked in, her window down, and mouthed three words.
Then the car was gone, red lights fading into the distance.
Something salty touched Angela’s top lip. She sniffed.
“I love you too,” she said, then gripped the wheel as she waited for the tears to stop.
If you enjoyed this tale, there are 99 more in Fragments of Darkness…, out 14th April but available to pre-order now. Check it out at books2read.com/FoDEoL.
TW Iain 