Page 5 of A Colourful Country Escape
Lexie ran and ran along King Street, past the elegant buildings that towered above her and threw her into shade, through streets full of designer handbags and expensive watches she could never afford. She ran until her lungs burned, until she almost felt sick. But she couldn’t face stopping. What was she even running from? She hadn’t done anything wrong, had she? Other than encroach into a world where she’d never belonged.
Was it the words she was fleeing from? She hated Drew for what he’d done, and yet his words still stung. As her feet pounded the pavement, they became a chant in her head. Flaky, impractical, rubbish with money. No proper job.
Crap. At. Life.
And words couldn’t hurt unless they were true. Maybe they were the pearls of bloody wisdom after all.
Urrrrrggggghhhhhhh.Lexie shuddered to a stop, the feeling of suffocation reaching its peak. She couldn’t do this any more.
Perhaps she’d been out of her depth for far too long. In that high-end shopping street, in her life with the privileged Drew. Who had she been kidding that he’d throw off his fancy future to settle down with a girl from a council estate? People like her didn’t marry guys like him. Guys with money. From adifferent class. People like her cleaned their toilets.
Lexie looked around as she caught her breath. The adrenaline was draining from her and she wondered if her legs would give way. Instinctively, she had made it back to her tram stop, away from that pretentious mess. She’d done them a favour and buzzed off, no longer the unfortunate fly in their ointment. They could carry on with buying solitaire diamonds and arranging lavish venues, and she would … she would …
She flopped backwards onto the nearest bench before her limbs collapsed. What would she do?
The rain had stopped now, but her hair was still dripping. Washing away all traces of that rotten fraud of a man. If only the rain could have taken his hurtful words with it, but it wasn’t possible to scrub away the truth. She was just doing a few hours in her friend Jake’s shop, rather than working on her career. Before that, she’d managed social media and content for a firm that went bust, and had been putting off the fear of CVs and interviews. She never felt like she had anything good to say about herself.
Paying her rentwasalways a struggle; she forgot to prioritise. But saving the turtles was important too, wasn’t it? And that MOT … what a faff. Sorting out other people’s lives was always so much easier. Why was that? She’d never had any problems running multiple social media accounts and writing heaps of sparkly blog posts for other people’s businesses. Maybe that’s what she needed to do – get back to something she wasn’t rubbish at.
As the teatime commuters bustled around her and tired clouds yawned in the smoggy sky, Lexie wondered if she was getting bored of this place. Manchester wasn’t her home; she’d grown up in Lancaster. Although she’d felt restless there too. After the years of backpacking with yet another dodgy ex that had ended in disaster, she’d never felt settled anywhere.
Her parents and younger sister Sky were still in Lancaster, squashed into their crumbling terrace. And of course she kept in touch. But those rented walls had felt too small somehow, after she’d seen the world. When she’d landed back in the UK, she’d bounced from city to city. After finding Drew she’d thought she might stay here – but no. Perhaps it was time to rebound again.
‘Jobs, jobs, jobs. Read all about ’em.’
Lexie searched around for the voice. Of course, it was job day in the paper she usually grabbed on her way to the tram.
Save your money, Drew used to say. You can read it online for free.
But Ron the newspaper seller had to make a living, and she always passed the paper on to the elderly lady in her block when she was finished. It was never wasted.
How had newspaper Ron’s voice travelled all this way? It had to be a sign. Lexie hauled herself to her feet and fought through busy commuters to reach the stand. Her drained, willowy frame was jostled like a bulrush in the breeze, but suddenly she had extra determination.
‘Exciting opportunities! Your new life could be waiting.’
Lexie was getting closer to Ron’s sales chatter. She couldn’t fault his marketing efforts, even if his message seemed unlikely.
‘Fancy yourself as an astronaut, Madam? Butler to the Queen?’
Lexie couldn’t help a small smile as she heard him drumming up trade. His magic was hypnotic – she wasn’t the only one queueing up for their new life already. As she waited in line, she searched her bag for coins. There was her wallet. But … oh. It was empty. She’d tipped it into her homeless friend’s hands.
She exhaled a long sigh as she felt the last sliver of hope wriggle away into the evening air. It seriously wasn’t her day. Her old life had been snatched from her and she couldn’t even afford the tiniest hope of a new one. And what about her rent? Scary Landlord was going to have a field day.
Lexie snapped back to life and inhaled sharply. She’d reached the front of the queue. No, she couldn’t face a fuss. Being reminded she was a penniless loser was not high on her list of priorities. Shoving her wallet back into her bag, she tried to back away discreetly.
‘Lexie!’
But it was too late. Ron had seen her.
‘Where are you off to, my old mucker? Can’t I interest you in a paper full of fresh beginnings? I could see you as a tightrope walker.’ He gave her a wavy-armed impression and a smile that would ordinarily have been infectious.
She tried to smile back. ‘I think I’ve been balancing precariously for too long, Ron.’
He nodded towards her bag. ‘Didn’t have enough coins today, kid?’
Nor a single note, she thought miserably.
‘Don’t worry,’ he continued. ‘This one’s on me. You overpay me every day as it is, what with never accepting your change. I probably owe you half the stack.’
