Free Uphill All the Way by Sue Moorcroft Page B

perfectly pleasant market town in an OK part of the country. The town centre had grown up in the era of dark red Victorian buildings with moulded brickwork and steep roofs, and what of that had been retained intact was still worth a second look. It wasn't beautiful, it wasn't ugly; it definitely had style.
    Unfortunately, in the 70s it had been acceptable to demolish three streets of Victorian architecture and replace them with an enormous block of brown brick and dirty glass. The Norbury Centre, a development Judith had never cared for. It looked like something a five-year-old might make from Lego if Lego made only mud-brown bricks and long, narrow wired-glass windows. But now that the council had paved Market Square and the pedestrian arcade, installing olde worlde black lampposts that were handy for hanging baskets of vermilion petunias, the blemish of The Norbury was less conspicuous.
    England, on the whole, she found a bit moist, but there were lovely days, too, with sunshine that caressed. In Malta in the height of the summer the sunshine felt like being hit with a sheet of hot metal.
    But it was odd and uncomfortable living with her sister and brother-in-law who, she sometimes suspected, only made the effort to converse when there was a witness. She spent most evenings reading in her room, which at least gave them their privacy to ignore each other.
    In the O'Malley marriage it seemed rigor mortis had set in.
    At the end of every day Frankie climbed out of the van with Francis O'Malley Construction on the side. Molly prepared a meal for him to come home to, a proper, cooked, two-course dinner from fresh ingredients. Then Frankie retired behind the paper and Molly sat before the television, watching without any change of expression soaps, dramas, reality shows and comedies. How on earth did she share a bed with someone she never spoke to?
    Judith got out of the house as much as she could. She visited a hairdresser for fresh highlights - Sparkling Embers, long overdue - and to have her unbearable shagginess cut back into a new low-maintenance feathered style onto her shoulders. She liked it. It swished when she turned. She bought a small car, two years old and bruise-purple, she visited her mother in the care home, twice, taking her out in her new car to a coffee shop with yellow café lace and green gingham curtains.
    'You're too thin by half,' declared Wilma Morgan, struggling out of the car and patting her pearly grey perm. 'I can't bear coffee in these places, it's nothing but froth and look at the price of the scones and you only get a dab of jam with them. I wish I knew what really made you come home. You never really confide , Judith. Is everything all right with Richard and family? Isn't it about time Richard retired? He might be my baby brother but he's knocking on.' She smiled as Judith offered her arm, her jowls lifting and becoming part of her cheeks. 'I wish you'd brought my wheelchair.'
    'You said you wanted to walk.'
    'Don't take any notice of me. I can't walk.'
    'Piggy back?' Judith turned, and crouched invitingly.
    Wilma's chuckle was more of a wheeze. 'Serve you right if I hopped on.'
    Judith saw Kieran several times a week, always Bethan by his side. She went to the pub with them - not The Punch, a bit too trendy these days. Just somewhere ordinary and multigenerational like The Prince or The Holly Tree. She asked Bethan's age when Bethan asked for a vodka shot, which made Kieran glare.
    'Seventeen.' Bethan pulled at the fronds of two-tone hair around her face.
    Judith glanced at Kieran. 'And you're twenty-two.'
    'I know that.' He pulled his bottle of strong lager towards him. 'There's no law against it, is there? You don't seem to worry about age gaps in your own relationships.'
    She stared down into her cold white wine, and suddenly didn't want it. Put it back on the table.
    'Sorry,' he mumbled.
    'It's OK. Age gaps are all a question of perspective and...' She fumbled for a word. ' - wisdom.'
    He