Valet by:
Mike Hickman
£14. A quick spruce and a brush up. Check everything’s ready for winter. “I’ll take one in red, if you have it.” They have it. The one line email had gone to the wrong account. “Just passing it on,” Linda had said. More words than usual. There’d also been the reminder about letting the electric company know about the joint account. £14. A special offer for the season. But you hadn’t even been that bothered with it – you’d been more annoyed that she’d send you something so unnecessary. Except – Sally had said something about the car. Her dad’s is a five door. And it beeps when reversing. And had DVD and wasn’t scuffed and scratched and otherwise falling apart. Sally had said that. And she’s five. So £14 didn’t seem like such a bad deal. A quick spruce and a brush up. For the winter. It was about time you did something about it. You’d seen no need to reply to Linda’s email. She just wanted it gone. It’s like that now. Neither would she say anything about being peeved with the bills, or that you’d neglected the timescale you’d agreed to that last meeting for getting everything transferred. For taking responsibility. It had only been three weeks then. Sally hadn’t yet seen the house, of course. Neither had you been allowed to meet her. It was still early days with Courtney, and you’d been told that her daughter would be staying out with her grandparents for a night until things were settled. So she knew nothing of the boxes and the damp and the spreading stain on the bedroom carpet from that first night you’d been alone. The one where you’d ended up in Accident and Emergency. You’ve had a clear-out since, so Sally wouldn’t call you “silly” when she did come round. When things had “moved on” enough for her to see where you live. “Oh, well, yeah, if you’ve got terms, then I’m interested in terms.” The besuited salesman opposite will no doubt be talking about you later. This’ll make his week, you think. It’ll certainly do something for his sales targets.
