Hit and Run, Maria Frankland [books like harry potter txt] 📗

Jack for me. Mum won’t be here with a bit of luck, but Dad hopefully will be. I could ask Christina, or there’s always Sam’s mum, Lynne. She always seems desperate to help.

“There’s just one question I need to ask you.” She pauses. “Do you wish for us to undertake the embalming process with your husband?”

“Whatever. Do what you would normally do.” Right now, I don’t care what they do. They can bury him in a ditch for all I care. Not only was he most likely carrying on with Bryony, he was lying to me about his job. Not to mention embezzling and thieving money, including mine, by forging my signature. My head is throbbing.

“Right, I’ll be in touch if we need to know anything else, otherwise we will see you tomorrow. Oh, Mrs Matherson. Sorry, there is just one more thing.”

“What?” I realise that my voice is sharp, but I want her to get lost and leave me to work out what I am going to do next. I’ve got things to get my head around other than the funeral. I can hear Mum moving about. Great. That’s all I need.

“If you could bring an outfit for your husband. Something you’d like him to make his last journey in.”

What a cheery thought. A cloth sack, I think to myself. I’m so angry. But mostly, I’m panicking. Unless I can find out what Rob has done with all our money, I’ve got nothing left once I’ve covered this funeral. He has got no other family to take it on. His parents had him late in life and his mum died when he was in his twenties. At least his father got to meet Jack. Rob was bereft when he died. What am I thinking about all this for now? I haven’t even found out what the mortgage arrears are yet. God – we could end up homeless as well! There has to be a way out of all this. And an explanation for it.

“I’m sorry about last night, love.” Mum squeezes past me in the kitchen to pull a mug from the cupboard. “I don’t know what got into me.” I smell soap and shower gel on her. She certainly looks better than she did.

“Too much wine. That’s what got into you.” I try to smile, despite my misery. I can’t talk, some of the states I’ve got into over the years. Pot, kettle, and all that. “How are you feeling?”

“Rough. Look I am sorry.”

She must be. Mum never apologises. Twice in less than a minute is a record. “What are your plans now then?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Stay here for a few days. Help you out with Jack. Keep trying to talk Shane around…”

“What about Dad?” I’m not going to tell her he’s on his way.

“What about him?”

“Shane, or whatever his name is, is making a go of his marriage. You said so yourself. Don’t you think you should do the same?” I glance at the clock above the cooker. I don’t know how the morning has slipped away so fast.

“If I wanted a lecture, I would ask for one.” She fills a glass with water and takes what looks like paracetamol. She deserves every ounce of her hangover.

“Mum, I’m not lecturing you, but I’ve got enough problems of my own. I can’t cope with yours right now.”

“I get it. Your husband has died. I’ve got sympathy with you for that. But you’re young. You’ll get through it. You’ve got a beautiful home, an easy life, lots going for you. Look at me.” She tears off a piece of kitchen roll and blows her nose. “Life has passed me by.”

“You haven’t got a clue about my life Mum,” I begin, poised to blurt out everything, but I’m cut off by calls of Fiona echoing around the hallway.

“What’s he doing back here?” Mum hisses.

Dad strides into the kitchen. “I’ll leave you to it,” I say to them, much the same as I did twenty-four hours earlier. Only now, so much more has changed. Then, I thought I had enough money to get by with. I knew I would have to chase my thirty grand investment back, but I didn’t know that Rob had wiped everything else out and plunged us into debt. What the hell am I going to do? Who do I tell? Where do I go with this?

I fill a glass of water then walk past Dad, out of the kitchen, and towards the conservatory.

* * *

Everything seems to have gone quiet.

He’s been released.

Well his body has.

Chapter 23

I’m getting a migraine. I have been turning the money situation around in my head all day. I need more on this James Turner. I am going to speak to the police tomorrow. But tonight, it is more important that I attend the AA meeting. My sponsor rang me again to check I could make it.

Mum’s gone home, thankfully, and Dad’s staying, so that’s one less thing to stress about. She can mope to her heart’s content in the comfort of her own home. She can drink herself into a stupor for all I care. I swallow. Hard. I might not have a home soon. One neighbour from two doors down left a casserole on the doorstep for us tonight. It’s the sort of thing my Grandma would have done when she was still alive. Dad made me have some. I’m so glad he is back. And if he’s struggling with his marital situation, he isn’t letting on to me.

I need the AA meeting tonight. Without it, I may well have found a pub and got blitzed. I don’t know how much more I can cope with. I remember the words of my midwife when I was expecting Jack. Rob was working away, and I was lonely. Mum had been a right cow to me, telling me how I didn’t have the patience or the maturity to make a decent mother. I had broken