Page 60 of If I Could Say Goodbye
I’ve got up early, just like I used to. I’ve cleaned the inside of the bin and bleached the sink so far. Just ignoring Kerry for five minutes has let me see how much has changed. I throw the dishcloth away with pinched fingers and open a new packet, pour bleach down the drain, throw open the window, turn on the radio, make a pot of coffee and sing along to the radio as I plug in my phone charger.
The Imaginable Death of Jennifer Jones – #6
Death by Phone Charger
Jennifer Jones is watching the busy café-goers with interest. It is the last rush before the Bank Holiday and there is a feeling of defeat and exhaustion about the room. But it is not the coffee drinkers and the pastry eaters that Jennifer Jones is interested in. She knows her phone battery is almost dead. Towards the back of the café, there is a slow trickle along the wall. Jennifer hasn’t yet noticed how the water from the ceiling above is running directly towards the plug socket. She orders an iced latte and makes her way to the back of the room. For a second the lights flicker. But Jennifer Jones is too busy looking around for a free table, to notice. She finds the perfect spot and draws the chair back from beneath the table. From her bag, she unwraps a lead, then crouches down to where the water drips towards the socket and goes about the business of plugging in her phone charger; there is a bang, a flash and then . . .’
I blink and bring myself back into the kitchen. Christ, I hope that’s not how I die . . . and just think about the state of my hair.
Oscar bounds into the kitchen. ‘Can I have Choco Pillows for breakfast please?’
I kiss him on the cheek, pull back and smile at him, noticing that he has begun to put on a little puppy fat. ‘How about Fruit ’n Fibre?’
He scrunches up his nose with a look of disdain.
‘I bet I can count more different fruits in my bowl than yours.’
‘What do I get if I win?’ He folds his arms in front of his rounded tummy and negotiates.
‘How about a trip to the park?’ He considers this.
‘And an ice cream?’
‘Deal.’ I put my hand out and he shakes it.
Hailey joins us just as Oscar identifies a crescent of coconut in his bowl.
‘Hah! Hazelnut!’ I gesture to my spoon where half a hazelnut sits swimming in milk. ‘That’s three all!’
Oscar’s head leans in closer to his bowl of cereal, scrutinising the contents.
‘Hazelnut isn’t a fruit, it’s a nut,’ Hailey quietly admonishes.
‘Three–two!’ Oscar beams.
‘Good morning, sweetheart.’ I smile at her as she pushes her glasses up her nose and tucks her hair behind her ears. ‘Do you want Fruit ’n Fibre?’
She shakes her head. ‘No thanks, I’ll just have an apple. I’m not hungry.’ In contrast to Oscar, my daughter has lost weight. The nightie she is wearing is too short, but it is hanging from her shoulders.
‘OK. Right.’ I clatter my spoon against my cereal bowl and clap my hands. ‘Here is the plan. After I beat Oscar at hunt the fruit . . .’ I wink in his direction, making him dip his head closer to the bowl, his eyes squinting as he searches the milk, ‘we will get dressed, go to the park—’
‘Get ice cream,’ Oscar interrupts. I roll my eyes at Hailey and the corners of her mouth tilt; it’s almost a smile, almost.
‘Get ice cream, and then, Hailey, how about we make Daddy’s favourite dinner?’
‘Ugh, not that horrid canny-whatsit? I hate that, it’s all sludgy.’
I ignore Oscar’s remarks about my spinach and ricotta cannelloni.
‘I agree with squirt . . . it looks like little tubes of grassy poo,’Kerry had said the first time I made it. I blink and push the memory away; I need to stay in the here and now.
‘And we can make the white chocolate cheesecake.’
This time, Hailey rewards me with a proper smile, dimples forming, eyes creasing at the sides. ‘Can I bash the biscuits?’
‘You certainly can.’
Hailey hops onto her chair and peers over Oscar’s shoulder, whispering into his ear.
