She hangs up her coat and bag in the room at the back and turns on the heater. It’s freezing here. She can’t wait until the spring. The constant grey clouds and drizzle make her feel down. She prefers the cold winter days when the skies are blue and there is frost on the ground to this incessant rain.
The doorbell tinkles and she hears Daisy’s voice echoing through the empty shop. ‘So sorry I’m late. Overslept and missed the bus.’ She strides in, slipping off her coat and bag simultaneously, chatting all the while about a date she had last night that went much better than she’d thought it would, and how he’d ended up staying over and she’d had to sneak him into her room so that her mother wouldn’t see. Kathryn wonders if Daisy brought him back here last night, which would explain the wine glasses. She’d have a word with her about it. She can’t bring all and sundry to the gallery after hours.
As she watches the twenty-one-year-old making coffee while keeping up her monologue, not caring in the least that Kathryn hasn’t spoken a word, she envies the younger girl’s youth and confidence. It’s really true what they say – youth is wasted on the young. Daisy is a curvy girl with big boobs and a tummy to match but that doesn’t stop her wearing tight plunging tops or jeans so skinny you can see every ripple and roll of fat. At forty-eight Kathryn could do with some of Daisy’s confidence. Daisy is pretty with that cherub face and full mouth, chocolate-brown eyes and caramel hair, and is popular with the customers. But Kathryn often leaves the gallery at the end of the day with a niggling headache from having to listen to Daisy’s constant stream of chat for hours on end.
Still, the girl is harmless enough and it’s marginally better than being stuck here by herself all day.
Kathryn walks into the main gallery carrying the too-strong coffee that Daisy has made and settles herself behind the till. Daisy is still talking but Kathryn has zoned her out. She takes a long sip. That’s better. She needs the caffeine today. She feels utterly exhausted. She spent half the night awake worrying about Jacob. He’ll be sixteen next month, and will be sitting his GCSEs in the spring yet he refuses to do any work. All he’s interested in is that blasted PlayStation, but that’s preferable to how he was acting last year, so she doesn’t feel she can complain too much. It would help if Ed wasn’t so bloody ineffectual. Jacob refuses to listen when his father tries to lay down the law. It’s too little too late. Still, she reminds herself, it’s better than Jacob roaming the streets with his old mates from the estate. He’s promised not to get involved with them again and she hopes he’s keeping his word, but every time she gets home she has the same nagging worry that he might not be there. That he might have relapsed.
Kathryn’s shoulders sag under the weight of her anxiety. She wishes she had someone to talk to. Really talk to. Elspeth had insisted on sending both her grandsons to a private school and paying for it, much to Ed’s disapproval. Kathryn had got to know a few of the other mums, but since the boys went up to the seniors they’ve caught the bus home so even those friendships have fizzled out. And she can’t talk to her mother about any of it. Elspeth already thinks her grandsons are wayward and undisciplined. She’ll only judge and make Kathryn feel like a bad mother.
Daisy, oblivious to Kathryn’s mounting irritation, hovers by the till, still droning on about this new boyfriend.
‘Daisy,’ Kathryn snaps, when she can’t bear it any longer. ‘It’s great that you’ve met someone but can you please remember to open up at nine if I ask you to?’
Hurt flickers on the girl’s heavily made-up face. ‘Sure. Of course. I’m really sorry. It was a one-off.’
‘Good. And please can I remind you not to use the premises after hours to entertain your boyfriends. This isn’t a knocking shop.’
An uncomfortable silence falls between them, and after a few minutes of Daisy slurping her coffee, she moves away to the other side of the shop. Kathryn sits where she is for a while, feeling mildly guilty for snapping at the girl, and remembers the paperwork that needs sorting. Daisy turns on the radio and jigs about to some pop song that Kathryn doesn’t recognize as she bubble-wraps a painting that the buyers are due to collect today.
Kathryn stands up. She needs to get out of here. ‘I’m going to check in with the other stores,’ she calls. Daisy nods but doesn’t say anything. Kathryn doesn’t bother with her coat or bag, mainly because she doesn’t want to have to walk past Daisy to get them. She’s not in the mood for small-talk. The arcade is covered anyway.