‘You’re going to what?’ Hearing her own voice Violetta sounded as shocked as Candy looked nervous.
‘We want to buy a barge and go travelling.’
‘On a fucking barge! Are you mad? Where the hell are you going to go in it? Up and down the canal. Oh, I know, you could sail into the sunset on the River Bollin.’ Violetta’s sarcasm soon dried on her tongue when she spotted that Candy looked crestfallen and watery-eyed too, her voice trembling as she spoke.
‘We’ve been thinking about it for ages now. Pipe dreams at first, to get us through the dreary days of lockdown but now Dermot has his redundancy money and seeing as you and I are stuck for new premises, this could be our now or never moment.
‘You know I want to try for a baby and some time out, like a gap year from everything, might be just what me and Dermot need. It’s been crap, you know that, Vi, and after all the lockdowns I’m tired and don’t think I’ve got the energy to start all over again in a new place. I’m sorry but that’s how I feel.’
Seeing Candy slump into the chair as she flicked away a tear brought Violetta to her senses, realising her oldest friend was reaching out and that she’d have been worrying about this conversation for days, probably weeks. And Candy was right. It had been a tough time but they’d scraped through and who was Violetta to stand in the way of her friend’s mad dreams?
Going over to where she sat, Violetta knelt and grabbed Candy’s hands. ‘It’s okay, mate, I get it and it’s fine. You’ve always had my back and now it’s time I had yours so if you want to bugger off on a barge, go for it. I want you to be happy, even if you are a complete lunatic.’
They had hugged and had a bit of a sob but the deal was done. They’d soon be closing the doors on the shop and Captain Candy Pugwash was off on her travels which left Violetta high and dry. No job, no cover story.
Appleton Farm, Cheshire. Present day
The turning to Appleton was up ahead. It was always the same when she went home, that feeling of peace as soon as she saw the sign, then the house set in the centre of the field, like a beacon. The big square windows were eyes, watching out for the family and the door in the centre offered safe haven. All you had to do was open it, go inside and there she would be. Their mum.
The many hours of pacing the carpet meant that Violetta had rehearsed most of what she was going to say when she saw her. She’d start by explaining about the bakery and how money would be a bit tight for a while, until she found a new job and the compensation money came in for the shop. Then she’d ask if there was a chance Rosina could find her some hours at the garden centre in the new year, anything would do. The thought of being back there, near her sister almost lifted Violetta’s spirits as much as knowing that her mum wouldn’t mind if she and Darcy came back home for a bit. If she could rent out her house it’d pay the mortgage and give her breathing space and at the same time, Darcy would love living at her grandma’s. It was the perfect solution.
But it was the things that she couldn’t mention that made her feel heartsick and the tears well in her eyes because as much as she wanted to get it all in the open, absolutely everything, no holds barred, she didn’t have the bottle. It was the worst dilemma she’d ever been in. To expose a cheat she had to expose her own secret life. And now that cheat had a hold on her, or maybe it was a stalemate because he certainly wouldn’t want everyone knowing what he got up to in his spare time. Either way she hated being compromised and that skin-crawling sensation of not being in control, ironic really under the circumstances, was never ever going to happen again.
Violetta had made up her mind and her days as Dina were over. She would email Jenny and ask her if she wanted her equipment back and if she declined it was all going down to the tip when they emptied the shop. And that would be it.
What happened in that hotel room had made her realise how easy it was for someone to blackmail her, threaten to tell her family, her child and all the parents at school what she did for a living. And even though for the most part she actually enjoyed what she did and wasn’t ashamed at all, that didn’t mean that the people she loved wouldn’t be. Gossip was a pernicious thing, infecting the innocent and no way would she allow that to happen.
For now she was safe because the cheat would keep his counsel. She would have to learn to live with the guilt of what she knew and not die inside every time he looked at her. Most of all she hoped he would keep his promise not to look elsewhere for his thrills. What a position to be in, having to trust someone like that, who was so adept at putting on a face for the world, fooling everyone.
Finally, she had to make sure that nothing ruined The Big Christmas Weekend for their mum. It was doable but just in case, she decided to have a word with the big man upstairs. It’d been a while since she’d been in touch but he’d come through for her once before and performed a festive miracle so it was worth a try.
Pulling into the drive, Violetta turned off the engine and took a furtive look around and up at the windows. Nobody there. Then taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and clasped her hands tightly on her lap and for the first time in twenty-one years, began to pray.
13
Rosina
Gawsworth, Cheshire
Present day.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d rung in sick, and never over the busy Christmas period or worse, a Friday when the wages went out. There was no way she could face work, never mind hold it together for everyone in the office or, if they were short-handed, out front. Not a chance would she be able to fake a smile for the customers because she couldn’t even do that for her own family, which was why she was hiding under her duvet, suffering from a pretend stomach bug. It was a sure-fire way to keep all of them at bay and Lou had been totally convinced when he came downstairs that morning to find her looking like death.
All night she’d been up, trawling the internet, looking for a solution, reading comments in forums and hoping the answer would lie in the responses posted by desperate people like herself, kidders kidding kidders, addicts soothing guilty consciences in order to salve their own. And Rosina knew that had she been able to get even ten pounds’ worth of credit on any of the gambling sites, she’d have convinced herself that this was the lucky bet, this was the one that would solve all of her problems. That’s how it had all started, after her gran died.
It wasn’t an excuse, Rosina knew that, but her bereavement, the pain and loss was unbearable and she needed a distraction. She could even remember her first game. It was a Tuesday afternoon, her day off. The house was too quiet and normally she’d have been with her gran, doing a bit of shopping, lunch in the café at M&S, then home to watch a black-and-white film until the kids got in from school. Then she would drive her home after dinner. It was their thing, their day and Rosina ached for it. Tuesdays with Sylvia, just like the book about Morrie.
She’d been poring over photos on her phone and came across one of her and her gran both waving bingo cards. Granny Sylvia loved bingo and insisted they all played at Christmas where Max was the caller and everyone else dabbed their cards. She provided all the prizes too, from Poundland, another of her favourite haunts. Rosina had read somewhere that when someone dies you should look for signs, messages they send that sometimes you miss if you’re not paying attention or as in her case, consumed by grief. It was while she sniffed and wiped her eyes that Rosina wondered if the photo was a sign from Sylvia and she was waving a bingo card in her face trying to tell her to bloody cheer up and stop snivelling, and have a bit of fun.
Tapping her phone screen, Rosina searched for online bingo sites and chose the one that she’d seen advertised on telly. It was so easy to open an account and she even got her first ten pounds free. Before she knew it, the twins bounded through the door, starving and wanting their after-school snack which curtailed the session in which she’d won sixty pounds. As she made sandwiches and half-listened to the twins chatter about what they did in science, all Rosina could think about was how time had flown while she was playing bingo and that she hadn’t felt sad once. She also couldn’t wait for everyone to go to bed so she could have another go.
The ease of online gambling opened up a new world for Rosina. She loved it and looked forward to any spare moment where she could play bingo or the slot machines. That was another of her gran’s quirks, feeding the machines in the pub or arcade with spare coins and then clapping with glee at the rattle and clatter as her win dropped into the dispenser.
From the comfort of her sofa, a glass of wine by her side or in her office, with a cup of coffee and slice of cake from the café, Rosina saw her secret pastime as a treat, an escape, a bit of fun to break the monotony of life. It was also a tenuous link to her gran. She imagined her being thrilled when Rosina won, and telling her ‘never mind’ when – more often than not – she lost. It didn’t matter at first, because there was always the chance to recoup your losses and she would simply dip into the housekeeping, and then their savings account. She was the one that took care of their finances. After all, that’s what she did at work so Lou was more than happy for his wife to sort out all that boring stuff. The problem was that now and then he would check the balance if he went to the cash bank which is why Rosina decided to get another credit card in her name only.
The weird thing was that while she could remember her very first game of online bingo, she couldn’t actually pinpoint when it all started getting out of control. Not just the losses, the craving, the inability to not think about her next bet, the lure of her phone that was full of online sites. She paid off one credit card with another, a sigh of relief and the problem was sorted. Five cards later she was in a fix because it was only the middle of the month and she had to make a hefty payment to the bank, who kept sending messages and trying to ring. That’s why she stole the money. Her self-defence was that she’d been in a flap which then addled her brain and made her do something stupid, a spur-of-the-moment act. ‘Borrowing’ from the safe at work.
After stuffing the envelope into her bag on the Monday morning she watched every minute of the clock until she could nip to the bank on her lunch break. Once she’d deposited the cash using the fancy machine in the corner, perfect for avoiding eye contact with a cashier who would be able to see how red her account was, Rosina allowed relief to wash through her veins. It only took a few minutes to transfer the money and get the credit card company off her back. It took the same amount of time to have a cheeky whirl of the slot machines before she went back to work.
