Day or night, he went out whenever and wherever he chose, and he came back at whatever time suited him. In between, there were few hugs and gentle words for Lucy, and what there were, were merely part and parcel of having s.e.x. Otherwise, she rarely received a hug or a cuddle from him, except on the few occasions she made the first move.

Outside of the rare snippets of closeness, it seemed as though she was merely part of the furniture. And sadly, over time, she had come to accept her place.

Martin was outgoing, with a strong circle of friends. Being enthusiastic partic.i.p.ants in the darts team, and the football club, they regularly gathered in the pub, to swap stories and enjoy an hour or so together.

In contrast, Lucy hardly ever went out and had no real friends apart from Kathleen. Rarely did she buy herself a pretty dress, and even when she did treat herself to something attractive, she had nowhere to wear it. She did not see the point of spending money on frivolous pretties when it was needed elsewhere.

Consequently, over the years, she gently settled into the mother and housekeeper mantle. Like Martin, she worked long and hard to earn a wage, which went on the house and family.

Work, worry, and family duties. In a nutsh.e.l.l, that was her entire life.

Beginning to feel sorry for herself, she quickly counted her blessings. She had brought two beautiful children into the world, and alongside Martin, she had made a home for their family.

These good, positive things were now sadly overshadowed by the crippling knowledge that her husband preferred to sleep with his sister-in-law, rather than with his own wife.

That shocking discovery had cut so deep that it had taken away her confidence, her life as she knew it, and whatever small future she might have expected.

There seemed little left for her now.

However hard she tried to be positive, she now felt alone, afraid and abandoned.

CHAPTER NINE.

THE EVENING WAS already dark when Lucy closed the door on the house where she had been content for many years.

She glanced nervously down the street, wondering if Martin might come home, having reflected on his position and wanting to talk things through, but there was no sign of him, and in her bruised heart she was glad of that.

She lingered on the step for a sorry moment, remembering the years she had spent in this little house; quiet, uneventful years, where life had gently ticked away without even a noticeable ripple.

Before regrets overwhelmed her, she hurried down the path and onto the street, where she hastened her steps.

Sneaking many a backward glance as she hurried away, she felt a great wrench on realising how very young she had been when she and Martin had moved into that darling little house. It had been her home for more than twenty years, and regardless of recent events, it would always hold a fond place in her heart.

As she hurried along, her mind was alive with all manner of questions. Would Martin miss her? And what about her darling parents what would they have said about the situation she now found herself in?

Oh, how she missed them both! How desperately she needed just to see their homely faces again, to wrap her arms about their old shoulders and tell them how very much she loved them.

When the searing emotions overwhelmed her, it all became too much. Leaning against an alley wall, she dropped the suitcase to the ground, and holding her hands to her face, she cried like she had never cried before; like her heart was breaking. Like there was nothing left in this whole wide world that could ever make her happy again.

She sobbed until there were no more tears, aware there was no hope, and no one who would understand how lost she felt in that desolate moment.

'What are you doing, Lucy?' she asked herself quietly. 'Where are you going?'

She had no answers; only questions. And a crippling sense of unbearable loneliness.

A short time later, as she continued her way down the street to her daughter's house, Lucy paused to gather her thoughts. She reminded herself not to say anything to Anne or Sam about Martin and Paula. Instead, she would merely say that Kathleen had asked her to stay with her for a few days, and that she had accepted her gracious offer.

Minutes later, she was knocking on her daughter's door.

Anne was pleased but surprised to see her mother standing there. 'Mum! What's wrong?' She noticed the suitcase. 'What are you doing? Have you and Dad had a falling-out?' In the hallway she noticed Lucy's tear-stained face. 'You've been crying! Mum, what's going on?'

'I'm fine,' Lucy a.s.sured her. 'Stop worrying. I've just come round to tell you that I'm staying with Kathleen for a day or two ... just to get out of the house. And you're right, I have been crying. I can't seem to accept that Mum and Dad are gone. It was all too soon, too unexpected. But I'll be fine, sweetheart.' Lucy forced a smile. 'I'm a tough old bird!'

'Come on, Mum.' After standing the suitcase by the wall, Anne led the way into the kitchen. 'I'll put the kettle on.'

When the tea was made and the two of them were sitting in the front room, Anne remarked gently, 'You are not a "tough old bird". You're gentle and kind, and I would have had you here for as long as you want. So, why didn't you come to me?'

'Well, because there was no need. I'm coping all right. In fact, it was not me who asked Kathleen, it was her who asked me,' which was indeed true, as Lucy recalled. 'I told her I needed to be with my family at a time like this, but she said she knew me enough to realise that I was putting on a brave face, after losing your grandma and granddad. She said she understood how hard it was to lose a parent, and that she was fortunate enough to still have her father, while I had lost both of mine.' Lucy gave a sad little chuckle. 'I think she just wanted to mother me, that's all.'

'Well, I agree with her. You do put on a brave face. I mean, even I can't get to grips with losing both my grandparents in such a short time, so Lord only knows how you're dealing with it. Kathleen is right to ask you to stay with her. At the very least, it will give you a nice change of scene for a time.'

Lucy merely nodded, ashamed that she had lied to her own daughter, instead of confessing that she was throwing herself on Kathleen in order to escape from the dreadful situation Martin and Paula had created.

Anne, though, was still chatting. 'I think it's exactly what you need, Mum to be with a friend, someone to talk to. Especially with Dad working day and night like he does, and when he's not working, he's out with his mates. I'm glad you're getting away for a time. Trust me, Mum, it's just what you need, and Kathleen is such a good friend. But what did Dad have to say?'

Lucy smiled. 'Much like you just said,' she replied wisely, before changing the subject. 'Is Sam here?'

'No, he went out not long ago to meet up with his mates. He might stay over with one of them. Apparently they're hoping to go to college together.'

'Why didn't he give me a call?'

'Oh, but he did, Mum. He rang the house but there was no answer. I expect you were already on your way here. But where was Dad?'

'Oh, he popped round Paula's.' Which was not a lie.

'Hmm!' Anne groaned. 'What's happened now? Her boiler blown up, has it? Honestly, Mum, she always wants something done for nothing. And Dad never complains.'

'Oh, your dad doesn't mind going round there. He's only too glad to help, and besides, who else has she got?' Even now, Lucy found herself offering a way out for Martin and Paula, in order not to make Anne suspicious.

'Well, yeah. I suppose you're right.'

Lucy deliberately avoided the subject, and the two of them chatted about this and that and nothing in particular. Then Lucy said she had best get off. 'There's a bus from the bottom of the street in about ten minutes. If I hurry, I should be in time.'

Anne was concerned. 'I don't like you wandering about in the dark. It's a pity Les isn't back yet. He could have taken you over to Kathleen's.'

'Stop nagging. I'll be absolutely fine! Look, I'll ring you when I get there. How's that?'

'OK ... but don't forget, will you? I could walk to the bus stop with you, but Luke's asleep upstairs.'

'Is it all right if I peep in at him before I go?'

'Go on then, but try not to wake him. It took me ages to get him off.'

While Anne cleared the cups away, Lucy crept upstairs and took a peek at her grandson. 'Sleep tight, little fella.' She leaned over to plant a gentle kiss on his forehead. 'Your nanna loves you so very much.'

Taking his tiny hand in her fingertips, she gazed down on him a moment before reluctantly turning away to hurry downstairs.

'Don't forget to call me when you get to Kathleen's,' Anne reminded her as she was leaving.

Anne watched her walk away, and as Lucy turned the corner, she looked back and waved.

'I'll call you. Stop worrying,' Lucy told her.

Another wave, a smile, and in no time at all Lucy was on the bus, heading for Kathleen's street.

She would have chatted to the conductor had it been the lovely Johnny, but it was a sour-faced female, who spoke not a word to Lucy except: 'Make sure you shove that case right under the steps. We don't want folks falling over it, do we?'

Lucy did as she was told, though as there was just the conductress, herself and the driver on the bus, she wondered who the 'folks' were that might be 'falling over it'.

Kathleen was just ironing the last garment in the weekly pile when she heard the tapping on the front door.

'Hold on!' Hastily replacing the iron, she switched it off at the wall. 'I'm on my way!'

As she hurried down the hallway, she muttered under her breath, 'Who the devil can this be? I'm not expecting anybody.'

On inching open the door, she was amazed to see Lucy standing there, suitcase in hand.

'Lucy!' She flung the door open wide. 'Come in. Good grief!' She remarked on her suitcase. 'So where are you off to?'

Lucy felt embarra.s.sed. 'I was hoping I could take you up on your offer of help, and stay with you for a couple of days. If not, it doesn't matter. I'm sorry, Kathleen, I didn't mean to impose myself on you.' Now that she was actually here, Lucy felt embarra.s.sed.

'Hey!' Kathleen ushered her in. 'What the devil d'you mean by that? Impose yourself, indeed! We'll have no more of that silly talk, thank you very much! I'm absolutely thrilled that you took me up on the offer.'

She planted a kiss on Lucy's cheek. 'So now, Lucy girl, it's just you and me. I've got a bottle of cheap plonk somewhere, and we can finish it together, while catching up on the latest gossip. What d'you think to that, eh?'

Lucy hugged her. 'Thank you, Kathleen. You really are a friend.'

'You can bet on that, Lucy girl!'

Ignoring Lucy's protests, Kathleen collected the suitcase and shot up the stairs with it. 'Come on then! You can use the posh bedroom. It's been newly painted, oh, and I've made some new stripy curtains ... not because I wanted to but because the old ones were hanging in rags.'

As always, Lucy felt warm and comfortable in Kathleen's presence. 'Don't make a fuss over me,' she said. But the truth was, she enjoyed being pampered. It was a new experience for her. Normally, it was she doing the pampering, for her children, her husband, even her sister, and her greatest pleasure had been pampering her beloved parents.

'Hey!' Kathleen wagged a finger. 'You're my best friend and my welcome guest. So don't tell me not to "make a fuss"!'

Aside from all the light-hearted joshing, though, Kathleen was concerned.

She could see that Lucy was unhappy ... that she might even have been crying. Also, judging by the weight of the suitcase, she suspected Lucy's luggage catered for more than just a couple of days. This was all right by her Lucy was a dear friend, and she was welcome to stay here for as long as she needed.

Lucy loved what Kathleen had done to the spare room. 'It's so pretty!' She ran her hand down the new curtains. 'I didn't realise you could make curtains.'

Kathleen laughed. 'I've never done it before, but I was determined to have a go. I bought the material and stretched it out on the floor, then I laid the old curtains over the top, and cut out the size.' She grimaced. 'The hard bit was the sewing.'

Bringing Lucy's notice to the crooked hem around one of the curtains, she told her, 'That was the first curtain ... a bit of a mess.' She then pointed to the second curtain, where the hem was tight and straight. 'By the time I got to this side, I had just about got the hang of it.'

Lucy was impressed. 'You've not done so bad, Kathleen. If you hadn't shown me the crooked hem I would never have noticed.'

Kathleen was pleased at the compliment. 'Right then! You unpack, and I'll find that bottle of plonk.' She gestured to the far wardrobe. 'That's yours. The other one is filled with rubbish that I still haven't got round to sorting out.'

Going out the door, she told Lucy with a wink, 'You might find a few manly things dotted about. They belonged to the last boyfriend. He was a real loser, I can tell you! Vain and pretty, he spent all his spare time building his body and looking in the mirror. Muscle-bound with no brains, that was him! He was good in bed, but he couldn't hold a decent conversation. After a couple of weeks he really got on my nerves, so I chucked him out.'

She went away muttering, leaving Lucy trying not to laugh.

A minute later Kathleen was shouting up the stairs, 'Get a move on, Lucy! I've got the wine and gla.s.ses at the ready. All I need is a friend to share it with.'

'I won't be long!' Lucy promised.

Throwing open the suitcase, she stole a quiet moment to look at what she had packed. Not much to show for a woman of forty, is it? she thought.

There were two dresses, one black with white spots, and sleeves that were too long, which Lucy always wore rolled up. The other dress was plain blue. Also a dark skirt and a pink blouse.

There were five pairs of knickers, nothing fancy or frilly; just sensible, white, ordinary knickers. They're not likely to set a man's pa.s.sion on fire, that's for sure! she thought, which brought Paula to mind. I dare say my cheating sister would never be seen dead in anything so plain.

She laid all her garments out on the bed: the dresses, the knickers, and her nightwear: two ankle-length nighties, and a pair of baggy, pink-striped pyjamas.

At this point she sat on the edge of the bed, her gaze fixed on the tired old garments. She tried to see herself through Martin's eyes, and what she saw was a dowdy woman, old before her time. Who could blame him for turning to Paula? Paula was bright, and pretty, and unlike Lucy, not afraid of anything.

Going across to the dressing table, she examined her reflection in the mirror, and what looked back at her was a face that was tired and weary; that told its own sorry story. A face that convinced Lucy that no man would ever look at her twice.

But with that sobering thought came another, slightly more pleasant, one. 'The stranger at the bus shelter noticed me,' she recalled. 'I must have made some kind of impression because the second time he saw me, it was like he could hardly keep his eyes off me.' She smiled at the memory.

Somewhat rea.s.sured, she threw off her coat and cast a critical gaze over her figure. She thought it was more the figure of a woman nearing fifty instead of someone of forty. There was no definite waist, no curves to speak of, and nothing to please the eye. Instead, the oblong shape went straight down, from shoulder to b.u.t.tocks, with barely a curve between.

Feeling dejected, Lucy turned away to sit on the edge of the bed. What happened to you, Lucy girl? she asked herself. Where did that young, bright-eyed girl go? Didn't she capture the best-looking boy, despite her shyness?

She cast her mind back to the day she and Martin got married. Even with a baby-b.u.mp starting to show, she did look pretty that day. Everyone said so ... even Martin.

Thinking back, remembering how it had been, she began to regret so much of her life. 'Paula was right,' she whispered. 'I am old before my time! But then I've had to be. At just sixteen, I had a baby and a husband, and family responsibilities.'

'But why did you let yourself go?' she continued to chastise herself. 'Look at yourself in the mirror, Lucy. What you see there is what Martin sees every time he looks at you.'

She drew little comfort from that thought. 'You really are a sorry-looking article. You don't know how to dress, or how to make up your face, your hair is always the same: lank and dull, just like you. It's no wonder your husband turned to Paula! It's no wonder he wants to be rid of you! Can you blame him? What man would willingly be lumbered with a plain old sop like you?'

Raising her hands to her face, she wiped away the inevitable tears. 'Feeling sorry for yourself won't change anything either.'

A wave of anger swept through her. 'It's your own fault! Somewhere along the way, you failed to be a proper wife to Martin, and now you've got what you deserve!'

The shame of losing Martin to her sister was all-consuming.

While she took stock of herself, Lucy had no idea that Kathleen was at the top of the stairs, from where she heard Lucy's every word.