Free Ghosts in the Morning by Will Thurmann

mouth.
    I didn’t open my eyes as the voice bit into me. ‘Now, the way I see it, skinny Andrea , is that you were up for it . I mean, sharing vodka like that, giving us the come-on, what do you expect? You wanted it, yeah? Listen, you tell anyone, well – it’s your word against the three of us. I don’t reckon old Phillips will believe anything you say.’
    Mr. Phillips was the new head of the care home. Retired from the army, he had little time for the girls, saw them as a nuisance.
    ‘Come on boys, I fancy a game of pool,’ Darren said. Matter-of-fact, like nothing had happened.
    I pulled my jeans up. Once again I could hear the rustle of the breeze on the leaves as I sobbed silently.
     
    ***
     
    ‘Yeah, I can get it done for you today if you like. Cost a few quid, mind, I’d have to put two of the boys on it. And you’ll pay cash, yeah? ’
    ‘ Yes , cash . I told you that already. ’
    ‘ Alright, missus, keep your hair on, just checking. You d on’t need a loan car, do you? Well, I hope you don’t, anyway, ‘cos we ain’t got one. ’ The mechanic laughed to himself, then jabbed a thumb towards a younger guy. ‘Get on this one, Shane, will ya. Get Mark to give you a hand, if you need it.’
    I didn’t need a loan car, and it had look ed like the kind of garage that didn’t provide that level of service . That was precisely why I had driven around until I had found it. I needed the type of garage t hat didn’t ask too many questions. I had told the mechanic that my husband had dented the bumper when he had been moving our car. ‘ To let a neighbour out of his driveway. The problem is that my husband had had a few glasses of wine, and though he didn’t actually drive anywhere, well, you know ...well, we can’t really claim on the insurance if you see what I mean , I’m sure they’d ask why we didn’t report it at the time .’ The mechanic had nodded, didn’t seem fazed by my story, had given a conspiratorial wink that made him look even uglier than he already was, and then asked if it would be a cash job.
    I had decided to get the bumper of the car fixed. It was the article in the newspaper about the cyclist, it had worried me a little, it seemed that somebody may have spotted the car. I was sure they didn’t have the number plate – they couldn’t have, the p olice would surely have been in touch by now – but it paid to be careful.
    ‘ Right, I’ll be back at about five o’clock then,’ I said, but the mechanic ignored me, had already turned his back, leaving me staring at the wall. A calendar was pinned up there , lopsided , glossy nymphs thrusting their breasts forward , their lips pursed in a mock-sexual pout, seemingly desperate to be ogled by thousands of tradesmen. I didn’t like to think of myself as a complete prude, but I didn’t understand the point, and these girls always looked so young...
    I headed for the bus stop, then changed my mind. It was an unseasonably mild day, the sun casting a balmy glow, so I decided to walk. It would give me time to think, to plan the menu for the dinner party that I was being forced to host. The sun was low, its win ter rays had no real powe r, and there was a light, chilled breeze , yet I had walked only a short way before I felt a light film of sweat over my body. I chided myself, feeling an angry frustration at my unfit condition . I had been such a slim teenager, a slender waist, and ribs you could see, but the rigours of bearing three children , the feared onset of middle-age, together with a total lack of exercise for a good few years had changed all that. I could feel the rolls of fat wobbling on my stomach, and my thighs scraping together with each step.
    What could I cook? Something simple, easy to prepare, but something that gave the appearance of hours of delicate preparation.  G raham had suggested that I cook Chateaubriand steak, but I always found that to be an awkward dinner party choice. People always like d their steak