Blood Loss by Kerena Swan (brene brown rising strong .txt) 📗

dietary requirements.’ Hah! That’ll give her something else to think about. I smile sweetly as she purses her lips then scribbles on a piece of paper.

‘And don’t forget about my peanut allergy.’ I touch my EpiPen in my pocket. It’s like my talisman and I take it everywhere with me. It saved my life once when I ate a friend’s home-made flapjack, not realising it contained nuts. ‘Are you coming to see Mum later?’ I ask. ‘Grace is there now but she has to go at two. I need to ride Merlin and I don’t like leaving Mum alone with the way she is at the moment.’

‘I can’t today. Ellis and I have an appointment to view a house. If we get it, we’ll be nearer to you and Mum. Look.’ She pulls a sheaf of house details from her bag and sifts through them until she finds a picture of a four-bedroomed Victorian semi here in Woburn Sands.

‘I thought you liked living in the centre of Milton Keynes. Didn’t you say when you bought the flat that it’s good to be in the heart of the place – to feel the buzz? Be with other like-minded professionals?’

Lucy knows I’m taunting her but she doesn’t react.

‘Woburn Sands is a better investment and we might need more space soon.’

‘Are you pregnant?’ Wow! I quite like the idea of being an auntie. I could show my niece or nephew that there’s more to life than getting a promotion, buying a bigger house and sorting out a pension. I could teach them all about the beauty in the world, how to respect animals and how to save the environment for future generations.

‘No, but we might try for a baby after the wedding.’

Typical Lucy – has to do everything in the right order. I put aside my little fantasy for the future and glance at the house details again. They’re so expensive. I pull another brochure from the pile.

‘Bloody hell, Lucy! £800,000? Surely you can’t afford that one?’

She snatches it from my hand and gathers up all the house details before shoving them back in her bag. ‘I can dream, can’t I?’ She glares at me.

I’ve had enough now. I look pointedly at the time on my phone. ‘What else do you need to talk about?’

‘You’ve only been here ten minutes and barely finished your smoothie. We’ve got a lot more to go through yet.’

I sigh dramatically and roll my eyes to wind her up. ‘Some of us have responsibilities, you know.’

‘Don’t lecture me on responsibilities. I’m not the one who bought a horse I couldn’t afford to keep.’

‘I meant Mum,’ I say quietly and she closes her mouth, silencing her next retort.

Three lists later, I have a ton of tasks to do and I feel overwhelmed. I wonder if Grace might help. She’s so obliging with everything else.

‘One last thing,’ Lucy says. ‘You’ll have to sort those out.’ She waves a dismissive hand at my dreadlocks. ‘Mum’s friends are all very staid and respectable.’

‘But this is who I am. If people don’t like it, they can look the other way. I’m not changing my hair.’ I grab a handful and admire the blue and green sequined ribbons running through it. It makes me feel like a mermaid, unique and beautiful. I look at Lucy with her boring haircut and neat clothes, and find it hard to believe we’re sisters.

‘You’ll be an embarrassment to me, and it will be disrespectful to Mum.’

‘I’m not changing my appearance to conform to your middle-class, patriarchal standards.’

‘Why do you have to rebel all the time? You’re twenty-four, for Christ’s sake, not fifteen,’ she hisses, then gets up. ‘You’re so selfish, Jenna. Think of others instead of yourself for a change.’ She snatches her bag from the chair and walks out of the café.

I sit open-mouthed and watch her go.

Chapter 9

The Previous February | Sarah

I’ve only been away for two years but I swear Milton Keynes is busier than it was the last time I was here. They’ve crammed more houses into what were once empty fields and that means more people and more cars. I am sure that there never used to be this many traffic lights. I thought the whole purpose of the grid system with a roundabout at each intersection was to keep traffic moving. Now, it seems, all the large roundabouts have numerous sets of lights around them. It’s taking me ages to get about.

I park next to the bottle bank and feel a strange pleasure in hearing the bottles smash into the bin. Mum’s kitchen immediately looked better without all the empties and I haven’t even started on the backlog of washing-up. I scoop the bundle of bedding from the boot of my car and deposit it into the clothes bank, wipe my hands down my jeans and drive off again. I feel lighter, unburdened, as though I’ve taken my first step to a new future. There’ll be no evidence left soon to link me to Robert.

My bloodied jeans and jumper are whirling around in Mum’s washing machine on a cold wash to loosen the stains. I’ll put them on a hot wash when I get back. She saw them through the small window and merely raised her eyebrows when she noticed the bloodstains on the jeans. She assumed they were from my nosebleed and I was happy to let her think that. If they don’t wash out I’ll chuck those garments in the bin.

Right. The library is next. I could have checked Mum’s television for the news but she’d ask why I was taking a sudden interest, and, if the incident were to be featured, I’d struggle not to react. No. The least she knows the better.

Parking is difficult near the central library and I have to walk some distance through the bitter wind. The old anorak I found in the hall cupboard isn’t as warm as my coat but that’s damp from being sponged down. My eyes water and I worry