Beth paused for a millisecond before answering. ‘Done,’ she replied. ‘When can I start?’ Fortunately she had inherited her father’s Scottish Presbyterian work ethic, which meant she wasn’t too proud to roll up her sleeves and get on with whatever needed to be done. Especially if it meant keeping a roof over her head. Mind you, she reminded herself with a sigh, it wasn’t her own roof she was paying for. It was someone else’s. She was just a tenant.
Was it really this time last year that she had her own flat and mortgage with a walk-in tiled shower that she could linger in as long as she wanted? The wistful moments of remembering those mornings, where she sang in the shower as she lathered up her expensive gels and shampoos, were becoming less frequent. There was no point in looking back. It was too painful. She had spent months going round in the same cycle of thoughts ofif onlyandmaybe if.Beth knew she had to focus on the here and now, and what she was going to do next to escape this trappedexistence. She felt her phone buzz in her pocket and pulled it out. A message from her dad.
Hi dear, how are you? Haven’t heard from you in a while. Hope all is okay. Love Dad x
Guilt washed over her and she held back the tears that these past few days seemed to be constantly on the verge of running down her cheeks. She’d intended to visit her dad over the summer but had put it off.Again. She knew she’d been evasive — not just with her dad but with her friends too. For as long as she could remember, Beth had always used her job as a high-flying journalist as an excuse for her missing out on family and social gatherings. She’d continued to do so even though things had changed quite radically over the past twelve months. That was putting it mildly. Her life had been completely upended, and she knew her dad would be horrified when he realised just how bad things had become. He would insist on helping her out in any way that he could, but she wanted to cling on to her last shreds of self-worth. She could hardly go scuttling back home at her age. She was forty-six, for goodness’ sake. Anyway, her dad was now living in a retirement flat in a development just outside Glasgow. It wasn’t exactly the type of place she could seek refuge in. She shuddered as she thought of the word “home” and what it actually meant. She was still having her mail redirected from her old flat — she couldn’t quite bring herself to let go of it completely, even though she had sold it and it belonged to someone else. It was a home she had been so proud to call her own. The top-floor duplex conversion in Greenwich, an area she had always loved, was bright and welcoming and had two double bedrooms, with a beautiful large bathroom, a power shower and a roll-top bath. The open-plan kitchen and reception room had lovely views over the gardens, and she even had her own private patio area at the rear of the building, where she enjoyed pottering around and tending to her plants. Now, the closest shegot to gardening was by walking through Greenwich Park, which she tried to do regularly to get her fix of nature.
For the past few months, Beth had been clinging to this existence by the tips of her chewed and chipped fingernails. Her younger self would be horrified by the state of them. But she’d given up her regular manicures quite some time ago, along with all the other luxuries she used to take for granted. She had tried to keep moving forward bit by bit with life, but this morning, as she walked into the café and hung up her coat in the small cloakroom through the back, she realised that she wasn’t moving anywhere — certainly not in the direction she wanted to go.
‘Morning love. You okay?’ Frankie grinned at her.
She forced a smile. ‘Yeah, fine.’ At which point several customers arrived at once, so Beth had to focus on steaming milk, grinding coffee beans and telling people to “enjoy their day”.
Chapter Two
Later that night, as Beth plodded back to her rented room, having served what felt like at least one million customers and listened to people share their varied stories, she realised just how on edge she was. Her stomach churned with nerves, or perhaps anticipation, she thought wryly, that something would change for the better. As she slotted her keys in the front door and pushed it open, she was startled to find her flatmate Lara hovering around the hallway waiting for her.
‘Hi there.’ Beth wondered why the woman who did her best to avoid her at all times was now lingering by the door in a slightly weird manner. ‘How’s things?’
‘All good thanks, all good.’ She was dressed head to toe in cerise Lycra, and she put her hands on her hips and stared at Beth. ‘I need to tell you something.’
‘Sounds ominous.’ Beth suspected she was going to tell her that she was heading to a Zumba class. But her comment landed like a lead balloon.
‘I’ve got a new job in Dublin and I’ll be moving out soon and you could take over the lease for the flat? What do you think? Will you let me know? Do you want to do that?’
Beth felt breathless on her behalf. She was worried that Lara had imparted all of that information in one go without pausing to inhale. As she processed the information dump — which totalled more than Lara had said to her in the last ten months since she had moved in to the flat — she started to feel the familiar ache of loss in her chest. Lara blinked back at her and clicked her tongue, tapping her foot noisily on the ground as she waited for a response. ‘What do you want to do?’
‘Oh, okay . . . erm, well, I wasn’t expecting you to say that. But congratulations on your new job.’
Lara stared blankly at her. ‘What do you think then? Shall I tell the landlord you’ll take over the rent for the whole flat. Does that work, yeah?’
Beth’s heart was now racing.Stop talking, she wanted to yell. ‘No,’ she shouted. ‘Please don’t do that.’I can’t afford a penny more, she wanted to scream.
Lara took a step back, clearly startled by her tone.
Beth cleared her throat. ‘Sorry, you’ve caught me a bit off guard with this news. What I mean is no thanks. It is very kind of you to think of me, but if you are moving out then I will too.’
‘Righto,’ said Lara. ‘I will let them know. Iwashoping that you would want to stay on and get someone in.’ She paused in irritation. ‘I start my new job at the beginning of October. I was hoping not to have to pay next month, but I guess we have to give a full calendar month’s notice . . .’
Beth stared at a spot on the wall behind her, willing herself to say nothing.
‘I’ll tell him that we’ll both be out the end of October. Which technically means you get the place to yourself for a few weeks as I’ll be away at the end of this month. Is that okay?’ Lara clearly didn’t want to hear the answer, or whether it was okay or not, because she had already turned and disappeared into her room, closing the door firmly behind her.
That night, Beth sat on the narrow single bed in her cramped bedroom and let the tears fall. This was yet another challenge to deal with. She really didn’t think she had many tears left after this past shitshow of a year. In fact make it two years. But evidently, she did. All those boxes of guilt, embarrassment and shame she thought she’d managed to pack away started to spill open. As she stared at the mucky beige wall in front of her she thought about her dreams and hopes for her life. All those ambitions were now in huge dirty tatters.
Pulling out her phone, she knew she would have to look for somewhere else to stay in this city, which she had always loved but was now starting to feel like a lonely stranger in. Beth knew she was going to have to be brave and dig deepagainif she was to get through this. She had spent so much time grieving that she knew she needed to move on and make a change. She didn’t want her life to be defined by what had happened. Beth had lingered in the past too long. Yet she just didn’t know if she had the energy to do this moving malarkey all again.
Scanning quickly through her emails, in case someone had miraculously decided they needed her journalistic skills and wanted to pay her loads and offer her free accommodation, she saw the latest message from a job site she was signed up to. Hesitating and almost deleting it, she shrugged.Who knows, she thought, it might even cheer me up?Last week’s round up, with vacancies she was deemed to have suitable skills for, included being the night manager at a supermarket, retail assistant at a nationwide bakery, and chief electrician at the local university, as well as a lecturer in psychology. She had almost applied for that one for fun, citing her life experience, which had given her the perfect insight into the ways in which people behaved and misbehaved. As she quickly scanned the latest list of jobs, she did a double take when she saw an advert for the role of reporter onThe Arran News.
That was a blast from the past. Wow, if only she could go back in time, maybe she should have taken that job when she was first offered it back in her younger days, she thought wryly. Instead, ambitious and eager to make a name for herself, she had left Scotland to come to London, where she thought the streets would be paved with gold. And look how that had turned out. How she wished she could go back to that time of her life when things were simpler, when she was full of optimism and the anticipation of new adventures. She kept reading downthe list, which included openings as an art teacher, a property photographer and a marketing assistant. Her heart sank when she realised how little there was out there for her skillset, and how low the salaries were for one of the most expensive cities in the world. She found herself going back up the list, her finger hovering over the link for a few moments. Then she clicked on the reporter job, which took her to another page. She let out her breath as she started to read.
If you are looking for a job with a sea view then we need you. We are looking for an experienced and highly motivated reporter to join our team and serve the community on the Isle of Arran off the west coast of Scotland. This is a unique and brilliant opportunity for the right candidate to quickly obtain a working knowledge in a variety of areas important to the island community. The successful candidate must be capable of working on his or her own initiative to develop contacts, investigate stories and develop these through to publication. Experience in audio and video editing will also be an advantage.
I could do all of that, thought Beth.Couldn’t I? Maybe seeing this advert is a sign?Looking down at her coffee-stained T-shirt, and trousers that were smeared with food stains, she wrinkled her nose. She may have a stellar CV, and have worked all over the world, but it wasn’t exactly opening up doors for her here anymore. Especially when a new, younger and eager generation of journalists were waiting and ready to do it all for so much less than they were worth. In fact, it was Beth who was now serving this new generation in the café, as they lined thetables clicking away on their laptops, swallowing espresso after espresso.
Could she really go back in time and revisit the place she had loved so much as a student, when she spent summers working there in a hotel, and go back to basics with her career? Would they even want her? Or was she being delusional and looking back at that time through rose-tinted glasses? Probably, she thought, as that was a safe place and it reminded her of a time when she had hope. These days, hope was something she needed more than ever. She’d become cynical and weary over the years and her hope had started to fade. Giving herself a shake, before she could talk herself out of it and change her mind, she quickly wrote a covering letter and attached her CV. Then she pressed send.Nothing ventured, nothing gained, she told herself. If she was meant to get the job she would. But something radical was going to have to change for her, or she would end up living with her dad in his retirement village, or have to go back to sleeping on a friend’s sofa. She didn’t want to do either.
Chapter Three
