Читать книгу A &E Affairs - Lynne Marshall - Страница 12

ALISON had very few expectations as the real estate agent opened the front door and she stepped inside. There had been so many disappointments, so many letdowns, that, in the name of self-preservation, she kept her hopes determinedly down.

Even as they looked at the surprisingly spacious lounge, even that this apartment actually had a kitchen, though even the real estate agent managed a wry smile at the supposed glimpse of the bay. Nick could see it because he was a full foot taller, but apparently, there at the top right hand side of the kitchen window was her beloved beach.

‘There is a second bedroom.’ Alison peered into a cupboard. ‘Well,’ the real estate agent attempted, ‘it would make a nice nursery.’

‘Or study,’ Nick offered when Alison laughed, and then they moved along the hall.

‘This is the main bedroom.’

It was larger than expected too, and, really, all Alison’s wishes had been answered. The owners were off to London, the husband leaving the next day apparently, and the wife following in a month’s time. ‘Really, he’d like to know it was all taken care of before he leaves,’ the real estate agent explained. ‘They want a thirty-day settlement…’

And she listened to the wah-wah white noise as the agent did his spiel, but it wasn’t the large airy bedroom Alison could see but the suitcase beside the bed, and it truly dawned that if she bought this flat, she was, without doubt, saying goodbye to her dream of travelling, and even though she’d thought it through, even though she’d gone over it a hundred million times, when it came to it, she stalled at the final hurdle.

‘Can I have till the morning?’ Alison saw the agent’s eyebrows rise in surprise. For weeks he had seen her at open inspections at places far less nice than this and now he was almost handing her this opportunity on a plate and at the last minute the genuine buyer he’d ensured the vendors he had was faltering.

‘The vendors want to save on advertising, that’s why I agreed to bring you through, but the photographer is booked for midday and it will go on the market then, unless I hear otherwise.’

‘Sure,’ Alison said. ‘I’ll ring tomorrow.’

‘I’m impressed,’ Nick said as they walked down the street.

‘Why?’

‘I thought you’d snatch his hand off to get it—you certainly know how to play it cool.’

‘It’s not that,’ Alison started, and then halted herself. She was hardly going to tell a virtual stranger, albeit a very nice virtual stranger, her dilemma—and then, in that moment she realised the stark truth, it wasn’t even a dilemma. She really had no choice in the matter. ‘I just want to speak to Mum first.’

‘It’s a big decision,’ Nick said, and Alison stopped walking.

‘I turn off here.’ She gave him a nice smile. ‘Thanks for the coffee.’

‘Thanks for the company.’

It was a strange moment. The light-heartedness of earlier had gone—Alison heavy with indecision and Nick no doubt not understanding why.

‘I’ll see you at work tomorrow.’

She turned up the street and bizarrely felt like crying. She knew, was positive in fact, that he was watching her and that made her walk faster. She wanted to turn, wanted to run back to him, to go to a club or a bar, to ask him about his adventures, she wanted to sit and listen to music, to be late, to not go home. Instead she turned the key in the door.

‘Hi, Mum.’

‘I was just starting to get worried.’

‘It’s not even eight!’ Alison pointed out.

‘You said you were out for coffee,’ Rose said. ‘A quick phone call would have been nice…’

There was a retort on Alison’s tongue, an urge to yet again point out her age, another beginning to a row that had never taken place but one they were steadily building towards. Then Alison caught sight of her father and brother’s photo on the shrine that used to be a mantelpiece, and swallowed down her bitter response, knew this was the small price she paid for living, knew she would do her best to avoid arguing and knew for certain that she had to move out.

‘I went to look at that flat.’ She saw her mother’s rapid blink. ‘I think I’ve finally found one.’ She spoke quickly into the ensuing silence. ‘It’s a ten-minute walk away, it’s got everything—two bedrooms, even a little balcony…’ And she waited for her mother to fill in the gap, to point out that she could live here for nothing, that it was stupid, pointless, but for once Rose didn’t speak, and not for the first time Alison tried to be honest. ‘I don’t know if I should take it. I mean, I’ll have a mortgage, there’s no way I’d be able…’ She glanced up and saw Rose swallow. ‘You know I always wanted to travel…’

And Rose in that moment had a choice between the lesser of two evils. She must have, because for once she didn’t jump in with all the reasons Alison would be stupid to leave home; for the first time ever she bordered on enthusiastic about her daughter moving out.

‘It sounds a nice flat.’ There was a wobble to Rose’s voice. ‘Two bedrooms, you say?’

‘Well, only one that’s actually big enough for a bed, but the other could be a nice study.’

‘You’ll need a study if you do your trauma course.’

‘The thing is, Mum—’

‘I know you want to travel…’ Rose broke in. ‘I’ve been thinking. I’ve given it a lot of thought, actually. We deserve a treat.’ As Alison opened her mouth to protest, Rose overrode her. ‘I know you’ve always wanted to go to Bali. I wouldn’t mind seeing it too. My treat,’ she said loudly as Alison tried to interrupt.

And as she lay in her single bed later on, Alison tried not to cry. She felt horribly selfish actually, because in the space of a few hours she’d found a flat and been offered a fortnight’s trip to Bali. It was just.

The first year after the accident she’d taken her mum for weekends away, she and Paul had taken her for a holiday once too, with Alison sharing a room with her mum. Then last year they’d been to Queensland for a week—her mum saying all the time how much her father and brother would have liked it.

She ripped back the sheet, and almost ran to the window.

There were no bay views from her bedroom but there was the distant roar of the ocean as she pushed the window open and gulped in the cool night air. And there were the sounds of the bars and the backpackers and youth and fun, and she was tempted to run down in her nightdress, tempted to find what ever bar Nick was in, to rush up to him and kiss his face off, to take him by the hand and dance and dance, to come back at dawn without sending her mother a text.

To be free.