Free Somebody to Love: Sigh With Contentment, Scream With Frustration. At Time You Will Weep. by Sheryl Browne Page B

and then kissing her tenderly, reassuringly on the forehead, before dashing off to go back on duty? ‘I thought you had to go,’ she said, her gaze fixed stonily on his.
    ‘I do,’ Jeremy said, chuckling away, apparently still amused by his wit. ‘Here you go.’ He reached for his wallet and extracted his conscience money. ‘I’m sure Matt would prefer not to have his dad tagging along while he shops for his cool trainers in reality, don’t you?’
    ‘I don’t know. Why don’t you try asking him?’
    Jeremy’s brow creased. The Twiglet’s face remained bland, but she did at least try. ‘Do you want to pop in and have a word, darling?’ she suggested. ‘I mean you are here, after all. I’m sure my groom will be able to get Black Rum boxed and ready for the orf.’
    ‘Don’t bother yourself. Matt’s about to leave anyway.’ Donna offered him a get-out, knowing Jeremy looking for reasons to leave as soon as he’d walked in would only make matters worse. ‘I’ll pass him your regards along with the money though.’
    She held out her hand.
    ‘Yes, do that.’ Jeremy passed over the cash with that awkward little smile of his that said he knew damn well what he was doing.
    ‘Thank you,’ Donna said icily, making sure to stand tall. ‘Goodbye, Jeremy. Leticia.’ She nodded at Leticia, glad the woman had at least acknowledged that Jeremy had a son.
    ****
    Donna had always thought living in a cul-de-sac was akin to living in a goldfish bowl. Her life was a soap opera on free-view to the world. She’d noticed a distinct twitching of curtains opposite as Jeremy drove off. She couldn’t fail to notice the knowing looks and gossip on doorsteps, which stopped abruptly whenever single parent Donna walked by.
    It was as if they were waiting for her to trip up, which inevitably she did, spectacularly rolling from disaster to disaster. Or, in this case, one disastrous relationship to another, which it was bound to be if she fell into one with Mark.
    Was she really proposing to go down that road again? Get intimate enough with a man for him to turn around and say, I know you, Donna?
    She would see Mark tonight, she decided, sifting through her melted CDs for something to do until she could get her emotions back under control. She wanted to, and not out of any sense of obligation because he’d been so caring. But she would have to spell out to him that no complications meant just that, for now.
    Donna sniffled, set the CDs aside, and then got busy sweeping at shards of glass and globules of blackened gunk that had landed on the drive along with the car deposited there by the breakdown man.
    ‘Mum!’ Matt poked his head back around the front door. ‘There’s some bloke on the phone.’
    ‘Oh, right,’ Donna said casually, dusting herself off, despite the fact that Mark couldn’t actually see her.
    ‘I’ve washed my combats,’ Matt announced proudly, as Donna walked back to the house.
    ‘My God, you don’t mean you’ve discovered the kitchen?’ She blinked, astonished, sure her son must be gripped by some strange malady. ‘What did you do? Use satnav?’
    ‘Nah. Just shouted choccy drops and followed Sadie,’ Matt quipped. ‘So, how do I get them dry?’
    ‘You put them in the oven, Matt, obviously.’ Donna rolled her eyes, but smiled nevertheless. She was glad he seemed to be bouncing back, though she couldn’t help thinking it was a bit of a front.
    ‘Good idea.’ Matt headed back inside.
    ‘Switch it to high heat, for forty minutes,’ Donna called after him, aware that these were his cool trousers, in which he hoped to impress his “crush” tonight. Matt was making an effort to help out, bless his socks, but the tumble dryer, she suspected, might be a kitchen implement too complicated. ‘Oh, and Matt…’
    ‘Huh?’ Matt turned back.
    ‘I’m sorry about your dad.’
    He smiled wanly. ‘Not half as sorry as I am.’
    ****
    Mark selected Donna’s number and switched to hands-free.