Читать книгу While You Were Dreaming - Lola Jaye - Страница 11

The sun was shining over the inhabitants of Dog Kennel Hill Estate and for a moment, Michael let the warmth of it spread across his face, cheering him momentarily before he realized how heavy-headed he felt due to yet another broken night of sleep.

In the past, Michael had found a strange type of reassurance in knowing how his day would start, proceed, and end, and he’d no reason to believe today would be any different (unless of course he saw the girl on the bus again). Basically his working day would be as follows; arrive at the building with just over eight minutes to spare, pass the elderly security guard, catch the lift to the second floor, ignore the receptionist’s plastic smile, and be at his desk on time and ready to be part of the (at times mundane) working day. For the most part, he would do as he was told and give the minimum standard of service. This wasn’t to say he was a bad worker–more average. Working to rule and not going beyond any calls of duty. If a problem arose, he’d deal with it efficiently and with a smile, pretending the sales figures in front of him were the most important thing in his life. At one o’clock sharp, he could be found eating lunch in one of the overpriced cafes across the road. He’d perhaps buy a tabloid if he’d finished with the Metro on the way in and then get annoyed at the story of yet another overpaid ‘celebrity’ flaunting their wealth. The remainder of work time was spent clock-watching, working and peeking a look at holiday websites. Back home at his flat, after he had picked up a takeaway, he would doze in front of the television, remote control in hand, knowing he wouldn’t be getting a good night’s sleep that night’s whilst trying not to worry about it.

The one saving grace in his life seemed to be his sister Charlotte and her two kids, but at times even she would make him feel on a downer. Of course it wasn’t her fault. It was just that when he saw how hard she struggled to bring up two kids on her own, it irked him massively that he couldn’t put his hand in his pocket and really help her out. Bung her some cash to pay the latest set of bills or give her a few hundred pounds to go away with the kids for a break. He was a totally useless brother and seeing Charlotte and the kids just seemed to amplify his inadequacies. However, he’d promised to fix the light switch in George’s bedroom and he was sure he could do that much.

‘Glad you came over; the kids miss you!’ his sister said warmly as soon as he entered the house.

‘How are the little ankle-biters anyway?’

‘My beloved children are great. Actually George has been playing up lately and I kind of hoped…’

Michael hated it when Charlotte expected him to act as disciplinarian to her four-year-old son George.

‘What’s the matter?’ he asked, hoping it didn’t sound too much like a whine.

‘The matter is, when he’s with his father, he’s as good as gold. But when he gets back home to me, he’s a complete sod.’

‘I’ll have a word with him.’ Or perhaps just buy him a packet of chocolate buttons, Michael said to himself. He didn’t want to ‘discipline’ the little man any more than he desired a teeth extraction. What the kid really needed was his dad around–even Michael could see that or even just a male to look up to…Once things got better for Michael, he’d take George every other weekend and they could have a boy’s night in, hitch up a tent in front of the telly and pretend to hunt dinosaurs. But for now, he never wanted George setting foot in his dingy flat in Dog Kennel Hill. He’d have to wait until he bought a house. Perhaps one with a garden and they could go camping for real. He couldn’t wait for that!

For the time being, Michael did manage to mumble a few things to George that sounded mildly stern, confining him to his room as punishment, satisfied with his work until he remembered that said room contained a box full of toys and possibly a bag of Haribos.

Uncle duty done, Michael headed back to Charlotte and Serena in the lounge.

‘Did you sort him out?’

‘Yes, I did,’ he replied, sitting on the sofa and absently sorting through the pile of magazines on the side table. Charlotte was forever reading self-help books, magazines, basic tosh.

‘So, you’ve finished with Jen then?’

‘Yes,’ he replied, as his eyes glanced over a couple of psychology magazines.

‘So, you’re a commitment-phobe?’

‘No, Charl.’ Michael picked up a day-old newspaper from the sideboard, revealing a stack of papers and leaflets beneath it including some money-off coupons for Tesco and an Argos catalogue followed.

‘You were together with Jen all that time and I didn’t even meet her! Oh I take that back–I saw her in the supermarket once!’

‘It wasn’t anything personal,’ he insisted, to no avail. He knew Charlotte had already made up her mind. He was used to Charlotte analysing him every time he came to visit.

‘Mumma!’ wailed fourteen-month-old Serena again and again, repeating it in blocks of ten, effectively drowning out Charlotte’s voice.

‘Yes, I know it’s your new word, but I’m trying to speak to your uncle!’ laughed Charlotte. ‘I can’t believe she now calls me Mumma instead of just Dadda. Result!’

‘It is,’ said Michael, genuinely touched by his niece.

‘And you, my love, have a stinky nappy,’ she said, lifting Serena’s bottom in the air and sniffing it. Charlotte headed out of the room, her daughter tucked under her arm.

The silence did not last long. ‘Hello, Uncle Mike, Mummy says I can come back,’ said George, walking in, looking remarkably composed after his ‘telling off’. ‘You dropped this,’ he added as he bent to pick up a small card.

‘Must have slipped out from one of the magazines. Your mum has loads of them.’

‘She said when Dr Phil comes back on, she won’t read lots. What’s Dr Phil?’

Michael shrugged as he took the card from George.

‘Your sister’s asleep in her cot, so keep the noise down,’ said Charlotte when she returned. ‘Knocked out by her own pong, that one. Now where were we?’

Michael was busy studying the orange card–for Kidzline, a children’s charity–and felt a pang of familiarity as he flipped over the card and studied the caption: ‘Only a phonecall away’.