Free Living in the Shadows by Judith Barrow Page A

though she was ashamed. Even so, she was relieved when her father spoke.
    ‘I’ve had enough of this.’ He swept his hair over his head with his fingers, went into the hall and took his overcoat and trilby off the stand. ‘I’m going for a pint. Coming, son?’
    ‘Yeah, the air in here suddenly feels all queer. ’ Jack sniggered as he followed his father.
    ‘You little shit,’ Jackie hissed. That was it; she knew he wouldn’t be able to resist telling her parents. She would have to do it now. At least there was only her mother to face first.
    She went into the kitchen. ‘You go and sit down, Mum, I’ll finish making the tea.’ Anything to make this easier, Jackie thought.
    Jackie slowly stirred two sugars into her mother’s tea and put the spoon into the sink, thinking about how to approach the subject of her and Nicki. She picked up the spoon and rinsed it under the tap, dried it, put it into the cutlery drawer. Everything had its place in the kitchen. Except for a tray of scones covered by a tea towel, there was nothing on the worktops, no clutter anywhere. Her mother had always been house-proud; Jackie couldn’t remember her without either a duster or a dishcloth in her hand or her apron pocket. She even had a saying about it: something about ‘work in the morning, play in the afternoon.’ Not that Jackie could remember much playing here, only at Linda’s house.
    She stared out of the window; the sun was still quite high, the trees at the end of the garden barely shifted in the wind. Yellow and orange marigolds edged the flowerbeds at either side of the path; behind them white and soft orange dahlias were staked and fastened upright. Jackie sighed; even the bloody flowers had to measure up to her mother’s idea of order and neatness. ‘Everything in its place and a place for everything’; the words were suddenly there in her mind, another of her mother’s sayings. Where would she fit in after this? With her mother’s narrow outlook on life how the hell would she ever accept the way she and Nicki were living?
    Jackie knew she was putting off going back into the living room. Coward, she thought, bloody coward. Standing upright she pulled her shoulders back and picked up the tea. The cups rattled in their saucers.
    Jean had taken up her knitting again. ‘Thanks,’ she said when Jackie pulled out one of the nest of tables and put both teas on it. ‘I made some scones, if you want one?’
    ‘No, I’m okay, thanks, Mum.’ Jackie knelt on the floor by her mother’s chair.
    ‘Not like you to turn down a scone, Jacqueline.’ Jean put her knitting down. ‘Not like you, at all. Aren’t you feeling well?’
    ‘I’m fine.’ Where to start? Jackie took the cup of the saucer and held it to her lips. Her hand was shaking.
    ‘Something on your mind, then? I can always tell. Come on, what is it? What is it?’
    For a moment Jackie thought of telling her mother about Victoria running away. The predictions of the trouble that her cousin would get herself into would occupy her mother for days.
    Coward, she berated herself. Coward. ‘It’s about me and Nicki—’
    ‘Nice girl,’ Jean interrupted and took up her knitting again. ‘Do you know, love, I think I’ll have a scone, if you don’t mind buttering one for me?’
    Jackie clenched her jaw. ‘Just the one?’
    ‘Oh, yes, got to watch my waistline.’ Jean patted her ample midriff.
    In the kitchen Jackie took one of the scones off the baking tray and quickly cut and buttered it. Usually she couldn’t resist the smell of fresh baking but today it turned her stomach.
    ‘Here.’ She handed the plate to her mother. Taking in a deep breath, she started again. ‘It’s about me and Nicki—’
    ‘You haven’t fallen out, have you?’ The words were muffled as Jean chewed on the scone. ‘She’s been such a good friend to you. I hope you haven’t fallen out?’
    ‘That’s just it, Mum,’ Jackie blurted, ‘she is a good friend… In fact,