Free One Night Only by Emma Heatherington

run g th e docto r , ru n ou t th e doo r an d lef t hi m t o it , bu t typica l Poll y had a nice , warm , homel y solutio n whic h prove d exactl y why sh e di d no t fee l u p t o becomin g a parent . Ther e wa s a time t o cr y , a tim e fo r te a an d suga r , bu t al l T es s coul d identify wit h wa s a tim e t o run .
    So , feelin g extr a guilt y an d forgettin g sh e wa s lat e for school , T es s mad e th e te a fro m Polly ’ s kettl e tha t was alway s o n th e boi l (yes , ‘Poll y Pu t th e Kettl e On ’ – th e old one s ar e th e best ) an d brough t i t t o Rut h wh o wa s now sittin g a t th e kitche n table , he r fac e staine d wit h dollops o f mascar a an d he r eye s blood-re d fro m he r (a s T es s was t o late r know ) menta l breakdown . I t wa s a horrible, horribl e thin g t o watch .
    “ Than k you, ” sh e said . “Than k you . Bot h o f you . Tha n k you. ”
    Rut h grippe d th e cu p wit h bot h hand s an d raise d i t to he r lips .
    W ithou t takin g he r eye s of f he r , T es s sa t dow n o n the chai r opposit e an d watche d i n admiratio n a s he r sister too k charg e o f wha t wa s no w a ver y delicat e situation .
    “ Y o u kno w yo u ca n tal k t o me, ” sh e sai d t o Rut h i n a voic e T es s onl y eve r hear d Poll y us e wit h he r children. “N o woma n i s alon e whe n sh e ha s he r friends , and everyon e need s a friend . W e al l nee d ou r friends. ”
    Friends ? S o al l o f a sudde n the y wer e friends ? Y es , T ess coul d se e th e gir l neede d help . I t wa s a s plai n a s th e fact tha t sh e neede d he r root s don e badl y , bu t friends ? That wa s takin g i t a bi t to o fa r .
    “I’ m s-s-sorr y , ” stuttere d Rut h betwee n shak y slurp s of tea . “ I shouldn ’ t hav e called . I – ”
    “ Y es , yo u shoul d hav e called, ” sai d Poll y . “ Y o u were righ t t o call . Y o u wer e mean t t o call . It ’ s bette r tha t you le t al l thi s emotio n ou t her e tha n a t hom e o n you r own. T es s wa s jus t ventin g of f som e long-withhel d ange r . She didn ’ t mea n t o touc h a nerv e lik e that , di d you , T ess? ”
    T es s looke d a t Poll y wit h widene d eye s an d sh e reacted wit h a raise d eyebro w – again , a loo k tha t T es s ha d only eve r see n he r us e wit h he r children .
    “No , I . . . wel l . . . look , I nee d t o ge t bac k t o work,” sai d T ess . “ I wa s jus t passin g through . Her e – ” Sh e pu t the loca l pape r o n th e tabl e an d wondere d i f sh e reall y should rus h of f bu t let ’ s fac e it , sh e wasn ’ t exactl y Florence Nightingale , wa s she ?
    “What ’ s that? ” aske d Poll y , lookin g a t T es s a s i f she wa s he r mothe r . “Wh y di d yo u brin g m e th e newspaper?” “Jus t . . . it ’ s just , afte r Spaghetti-Gat e I though t you ma y b e intereste d i n th e a d o n pag e twenty-five . It ’ s a specia l offe r . A weeken d break . It ’ s fo r thi s weekend, whic h i s wh y it ’ s s o chea p an d i t migh t b e impossibly short notice but I think it would do us the world of good, i f yo u coul d ge t Jame s t o giv e yo u som e tim e out.” “ T im e out? ” sai d Poll y , a s i f T es s ha d jus t suggeste d a cur e fo r cance r .
    “ T im e out? ” sai d Ruth , lettin g ou t a dream y sigh .
    T es s looke d a t Rut h an d realise d tha t i f anyon e needed a brea k – an y o f th e thre e o f the m – i t wa s he r wit h her snot-staine d fac e an d bloodsho t eye s an d loo k o f utter despai r . Bu t despit e wha t sh e ha d jus t witnessed , T ess couldn ’ t brin g hersel f t o invit e he r . Sh e jus t couldn ’ t .
    An d anyho w , sh e kne w – sh e jus t kne w tha t sh e didn ’ t hav e to . Sh e kne w tha t tha t littl e piec e o f th e jigsa w would b e lef t t o he r darling , carin g siste r . Y es , Poll y woul d take car e o f it . I n fact , T es s kne w sh e woul d hav e aske d Ruth alon g befor e T es s eve n