Ginny
Waking up with a spring in her step on a Monday was never on Ginny’s to-do list, but ever since taking home a gorgeous, muscular man Saturday night she was smiling before she’d even opened her eyes. Goodness, had she really done that? What would her friends say? She knew perfectly well what they would say, and it would come with a few wagging fingers.
Ginny sat at her kitchen table, sipping tea, wondering if she felt liberated or just plain old stupid. Was thirty-four too young to have a midlife crisis? What possessed her? She hadn’t had that much to drink. She really needed to stop going over it. All day Sunday had been bad enough. There was no point carrying it over into a new week.
A slow smile crept over her face as the memory of the stranger loving her for a couple of hours warmed her. How had she felt so safe with him? And why did it feel like she’d kissed him before? Everything about her encounter with him was odd, even the moment they’d stood side by side at the sink to wash their faces so they could see each other without the zombie make-up before heading to bed.
She glanced out the window to check the weather. A coat was needed. The memory of him wasn’t about to keep her warm during a cold day.
Was it possible he was drinking his morning cuppa thinking about her? Probably not. She was sure that was the last she’d seen of him.
It didn’t matter. Ginny wasn’t about to cry over a one-night stand, especially as she’d helped orchestrate the thing. She had to laugh at her madness. At least she hadn’t done the walk of shame, and neither had he, seeing how she’d waved himoff while still dark out, neither of them swapping numbers or agreeing to see each other again, both seeming happy to have just had their shared moment.
Ginny whistled a merry tune as she sorted her bag. There was no way her mum was going to get her down. None of Birdy’s negativity worked yesterday. Maybe it was banished forever. Perhaps now Ginny Dean was invincible.
Her grin stayed with her on the drive along the country lanes leading to her mother’s house. The sun was rising, the birds waking, and all was bright and cheery in the world, or at least in her own little one.
It was quiet along her mum’s street, and part of her wanted to turn around and drive off. If there was one person who had the ability to drain her of all energy in two seconds flat, it was her mother. Did she want to risk being taken down? Could her mum destroy her good mood today?
Lucky was mooching around by the wheelie bin. Skinny little thing looked hungry and tired.
‘Oh, you’re back again. Did Mary give you back?’ Ginny sighed, getting out the jeep. ‘Come on. Let’s get you fed.’ Scooping up the scruffy kitten, she whipped out her key and unlocked the door.
Suzanne wasn’t about, so she quietly made her way into the kitchen to put the kettle on and see what was available for Lucky.
‘You’ll have to make do with some cooked chicken for now.’ Ginny shook her head in disbelief at the lack of cat food as she got on with shredding chicken into a bowl. If her mum had made arrangements with Mary to keep the cat, she could have at least bought some food.
It was decided. Little Lucky would have to be returned again. That was a conversation she dreaded.
A thumping sound came from the ceiling, and Ginny visualized her mum’s walking stick slamming into the beige carpet of the bedroom directly above her.
She fed Lucky, then quickly made the tea and headed upstairs. ‘Coming, Mum,’ she called, wanting her mum to know it was her and not some burglar helping themselves to the antique brass lamp.
‘Where’s Suzanne?’ asked Birdy.
‘Running late, I guess.’ Ginny placed a mug of tea on the oak bedside cabinet. ‘Drink that, then I’ll help you into the bathroom.’
‘Too late. I needed the loo ages ago and couldn’t hold myself any longer.’
‘Oh, Mum. Don’t worry, I’ll get you cleaned up.’
Birdy scoffed. ‘Like you care.’
‘Of course I care.’ Ginny went to grab the top end of the quilt, but her mum slapped her hand away. ‘Don’t touch me.’
‘You can’t stay like that.’
‘I’ll wait for Suzanne.’
Ginny knew to pick her battles, so she nodded and slipped out the room to call her mum’s carer to see how long she would be.
‘I can’t reach my tea, Gin,’ called Birdy.
There was no answer on the phone, so Ginny went back into the bedroom to help her mum.
‘I’m going to send another email today about getting you into a home. You need round-the-clock care now, Mum.’
‘Why do you always want to send me away, Ginny? What have I ever done to you?’
