The queue was long and messy; the man behind the counter barely looked at the package. I declared a low value on the customs form so it would make it through unnoticed.
The train to Carlisle was half-empty. I slept in fits, elbows tucked, exhaustion taking over. When I woke I was almost smiling: dull tiles of northern stations, colder air, anonymity. I changed my jacket in the loo at the station, folding the old one and leaving it in a bin. Small changes add up.
Carlisle was quiet, cheaper, mercilessly ordinary. I rented a room above a laundrette where the landlord took cash and didn’t care about ID if the money was right. The room smelled faintly of detergent and history—exactly the kind of place nobody in Laurent’s circles would think to look.
I picked up a free pay-as-you-go SIM card, but I didn’t activate it. Not yet. I’d watch and wait.
I slept for the first time in weeks without waking to the sound of his messages or his footsteps in the hallway—the ones I’d learned to listen for when I was permitted to sleep in the spare room.
I woke knowing it wasn’t over. He would rage, he would search, he would spend money. But I also knew this: if he wanted what he thought he wanted, he’d have to look away from his mirror and into the real world. And I would be somewhere he’d never expect.
I rubbed my flat belly.
The last thing I ever expected was to become a single mother.
Maybe it ran in the genes.
But I sure as fuck wouldn’t hand my child over to the system.
Fuck you, Mother.
?? ?? ??
The room had a small kitchenette and a bathroom. It was all I needed for now. I’d sorted out my new abode, but now I needed employment.
I scoured the area’s small businesses to see if anyone needed a new hire, and who’d pay cash in hand. Every day, I got knocked back. The other option was pubs, but I didn’t want that environment—I wouldn’t last if I punched a groping patron.
I tried another local newsagent’s, and the older lady behind the counter shook her head. I was heading for the door when someone called out to me.
“Wait!”
I glanced back to see a young Indian girl talking quickly to the older woman. She wasn’t staff—not with that tone. Definitely family. She began waving her hands around, her voice rising—definitely the lady’s daughter.
I waited while they finished their conversation, but I didn’t understand a single word of it.
“Look,” the girl said, turning to me. “I’m going to university soon. I help my parents out here because, well… most people we hired had a thieving habit.”
“Oh,” I said.
She tilted her head. “Are you in some kind of trouble? You seem… out of place here.”
I hesitated, glancing at her mum, who was still behind the counter. The girl was astute.
“I’ve left a bad situation,” I admitted.
She turned to her mother and rattled off something else. The older woman frowned, then sighed.
“Fine, fine,” she said, softening before she smiled at her daughter. “You can start at the weekend.”
The relief was so overwhelming that I began to tear up. It didn’t surprise me in the least that it was women giving me an opportunity. I wiped my cheeks with the back of my sleeve and introduced myself. Days of searching for a job had left me disheartened.
“My name’s Lucy,” I said, holding my hand out to the daughter.
“I’m Sana,” she said, smiling warmly.
I thanked them both before leaving. The area was rough, but the place still had heart. It wasn’t too different from the scheme I grew up in.
All I had to do was work hard and gain their trust for more shifts.
