Cleo glanced at the clock; she’d always liked it as the hands were shaped like cutlery. She had ten minutes before her mum got in from work; normally she’d have set off for the café by now to avoid her return. The microwave trilled and she took out the flimsy tray, its sides bending slightly at her touch. The pain from the heat was delayed, and she enjoyed the sensation of the burning plastic on her fingertips. Peeling back the cellophane, she opened the back door of the house with one hand and poured the macaroni down the drain, being careful not to spill any of the lumpy sauce onto the spotless patio. She left the empty container on the work surface and grabbed her bag from the floor.
“Hello, anybody home? Tricia messed up the appointment book so I’m a little early.” Cleo turned her back to the door as her mum entered. “Cleo, why must you insist on wearing those awful boots? They look so crude next to your little legs. Oh, while I remember, I noticed that the dress I bought you for Christmas got muddled up with the things for the charity bag, so I put it back in your wardrobe, I can’t wait to see you all dressed up for Gabrielle’s party. When did Mr Bennett say it was again?”
“It was last Friday” Cleo said.
“Oh, well it’s a shame I didn’t get to take any photographs of you. By the way, I’m having dinner with a client tonight, so you can sort yourself out can’t you? Your dad won’t be home until gone nine and then I thought tomorrow we could all…”
“I’ve already eaten.” She moved so her mum could see the empty packaging.
Keeping her eyes on her boots, Cleo walked into the hallway, her footsteps echoing on the wooden floor. She unlatched the door, relishing her mother’s voice gradually disappearing behind her as the door shut.
She arrived at the café at just gone ten past three, so the surge of people on their way home from school and work were yet to arrive. There was a young man she hadn’t seen before sat at her usual table. She considered leaving altogether, as it was a place she had specifically chosen so as to remain inconspicuous. With a sense of bravery, she opted for one in the opposite corner, next to the fire exit, which meant her face was visible from the serving counter. Fishing her purse out of her bag she went up to order, feeling conscious that she wouldn’t be able to hide her expressions while she drank. A black coffee was already there waiting. She felt taken aback at this assertion, and plucked up the courage to retaliate.
No comments:
Post a Comment