Page 95 of Someone Else's Shoes
‘Yes.’
‘And your eyesight is good?’
‘It’s – it’s fine.’
‘Then would you like to explain to me why you just ran straight through a red light?’
‘No excuse,’ says Sam shaking her head. ‘But my friend here just got the all-clear from her cancer treatment and I – I hadn’t slept last night for worrying about the appointment and I guess I was just so happy and maybe tired, I don’t know, that … I lost focus for a moment.’
The woman stares at Andrea, taking in the wrapped head, the pale skin.
‘It’s probably my fault too,’ says Andrea. ‘I was talking too much. I always talk too much.’
‘You know what?’ says Sam. ‘Just give me the ticket. It’s fair enough. I should have been paying better attention. Let’s just get this over and done with.’
The officer frowns at her. ‘You’reaskingme to give you a ticket?’
Sam doesn’t know what has come over her. She lifts her palms and gazes directly at the officer. ‘Yes.’
Then, when nobody says anything, she says: ‘You know what? I just lost my job because my boss thinks I’m a waste of space. My daughter isn’t speaking to me. My husband is leaving me because he thinks I have a lover. Most days I wish I bloody did. And I’m probably menopausal. If I’m not menopausal I’m in real trouble because I cry pretty much every day. I’ve missed two periods and most mornings I wake up with what feels like a juggernaut pressed on my chest. But right now I can deal with all of it because my best friend here has got through cancer. Everything else is just my own stupid crap. So just give me the ticket. Let’s get this over with.’
The officer looks between the two of them. She peersdown at her feet for a moment, thinking, then up again. ‘Menopausal, huh?’
‘I’m still a safe driver,’ Sam says hurriedly. ‘I mean, I still drive safely most of the time. You can check my record. I just … it’s just been a really weird couple of days.’
The officer keeps gazing at her steadily.
‘Sorry,’ says Sam again.
The woman leans into the window. ‘Just wait till you get the night sweats,’ she says, her voice lowering. ‘They’re abitch.’
Sam blinks.
‘And those fuckers don’t help.’ She gestures backwards towards the squad car with her head. She stands back on the kerb. She puts her notepad into her pocket. ‘I’m letting you off. This time. Just keep your eyes on the road and pay attention, okay?’
‘Really?’ says Sam.
The officer is already walking away. She stops and turns for a moment, stooping so she can wave at Andrea. ‘And good job. The whole … cancer thing,’ she says. She pauses, then adds: ‘Maybe next time get a taxi home.’
And then she turns and walks slowly back to her squad car, muttering into her radio as she goes.
Kevin has crapped on the hall carpet. He sidles up to her as she opens the front door, his head low, his gait wobbly and the whites of his eyes showing, as if in apology. Phil is not there, and neither is Cat, and she doesn’t have the heart to be cross with him. He might have been left alone for hours. ‘Don’t worry, old man. It’s not your fault,’ she says, and runs a bowl of detergent and hot water, pulling on her rubber gloves.
She is on her hands and knees when Cat lets herself in. Cat hesitates at the doorway, as if deciding whether to come or go, but perhaps it’s hard to walk out on a mother who isscrubbing dog excrement from a beige carpet, so she nods a hello and tiptoes past the affected area, as if this will somehow have an effect on what Sam is doing.
‘Is Dad in?’
‘No,’ says Sam, through gritted teeth. She has run out of the really good carpet shampoo and is now using washing-up liquid. She rocks back on her heels, turning her head away while she tries not to gag. Dog accidents are always her job, and they never get any easier to clean up. She wonders at what point this task was allocated to her. Perhaps she was busy that day and missed the meeting.
And then she becomes aware that Cat is behind her. She twists to see her. Cat’s face is solemn.
‘You okay?’ says Sam, although she thinks she knows the answer.
‘I’m sorry about the shoes.’
Sam puts down her sponge. ‘Don’t be. You weren’t to know.’
‘I thought you were having an affair.’
