Two-Hundred Steps Home Volume Six

  AMANDA MARTIN

  TWO-HUNDRED STEPS HOME

  Amanda Martin was born in Hertfordshire in 1976. After graduating with first class honours from Leeds University she wandered around the world trying to find her place in it. She tried various roles, in England and New Zealand, including Bar Manager, Marketing Manager, Consultant and Artist, before deciding that Writer/Mummy best summed her up. She lives in Northamptonshire with her husband, two children and labradoodle Kara and can mostly be found at http://writermummy.wordpress.com

  Two-Hundred Steps Home is her latest work. Amanda is writing the novel in daily instalments on her WriterMummy blog as part of her 2013 365 post-a-day challenge. This ebook is Volume 6 and contains the 30 instalments from June.

  COPYRIGHT

  Published by 3AD Publishing at Smashwords

  Copyright © Amanda Martin 2013

  Amanda Martin asserts the moral right to be

  identified as the author of this work

  Also by Amanda Martin:

  Two-Hundred Steps Home: Volume 1

  Two-Hundred Steps Home: Volume 2

  Two-Hundred Steps Home: Volume 3

  Two-Hundred Steps Home: Volume 4

  Two-Hundred Steps Home: Volume 5

  Dragon Wraiths

  Baby Blues and Wedding Shoes

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction although based loosely on the YHA Hostels of England and Wales. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  Thank you for downloading this free ebook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

  http://www.amanda-martin.co.uk

  http://writermummy.wordpress.com

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Title

  Copyright

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Follow the Blog

  About the Author

  ONE

  Claire sat, cradling her phone, and stared at the scuffed vinyl floor. She waited for relief to come, but it didn’t. I have a place to stay until my wrist gets better, why doesn’t that make me feel better?

  Her mind churned with turbulent thoughts, until she couldn’t distinguish which was most urgent. How am I going to get to Kim’s? I need to collect my things from the Snow dome and the hostel, collect my car – assuming it hasn’t been towed – and get to Cambridgeshire. All I want to do is sleep.

  Aware that the helpful nurse was watching her from behind the reception desk, Claire raised her phone and pretended to read messages. It was amazing how easy it was to look busy, holding a phone. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the nurse turn away to deal with a new arrival.

  Solutions refused to surface from the choppy sea in her head, and Claire was about to admit defeat when the phone began to vibrate. Startled, she looked at the screen, wondering who would be calling late on a Friday afternoon.

  Kim? Please don’t let her be ringing to tell me I can’t stay. Claire swallowed, aware of the dryness of her throat, and put the phone to her ear.

  “Hi, Kim, what’s up?”

  “It’s not Kim, it’s Jeff.”

  “Jeff? Why are you calling? Is Kim okay? I only spoke to her a minute ago.”

  “Whoa, steady.” Jeff’s deep voice exuded calm. “Kim’s fine. She says you’re coming to visit. I’m glad she’ll have company while I’m away this weekend.”

  “I hope that’s okay? I don’t want to intrude.”

  “Don’t be silly.” Jeff chuckled, an unnervingly sexy sound. “Kim was worried that you’d try to drive the Skoda, when the docs have told you not to. I called to ask if you have Breakdown Cover?”

  “Er, sure, yes. Since the Skoda overheated. I don’t think it covers injury though.”

  “I wouldn’t be so certain. Some policies cover you for illness, if you’re unable to drive. And you’re only coming fifty miles. If not, I can talk you through disabling the car so that the breakdown guys won’t be able to get it going. You have Relay, I take it?”

  Claire tried to process Jeff’s words. He sounded so assured and in control that she didn’t want to question what he was saying. Something niggled at her, though.

  “Isn’t that fraud?”

  Jeff laughed, a deep, rolling sound, like a timpani drum. “Yes, I suppose so. But you’ve paid for your cover, and you are stranded, even if it’s you that’s broken rather than the car.”

  “Well, when you put it like that…” Claire tried to think through the pounding in her skull. She wished she had someone smart and competent to sort out her problems. As the thought drifted traitorously through her mind, another yelled out, Don’t be so pathetic. You’re a Twenty-First Century Gal. You don’t need a man to bail you out. A third voice - quieter, more thoughtful - said, Need, no. Want, yes.

  Claire murmured her thanks to Jeff and promised to call if she needed to resort to disabling the Skoda. She hung up the phone and flicked through her emails until she found the Breakdown policy. A quick scan lifted her spirits, and she called the helpline number.

  “Yes, Ms Carleton, we do offer Compassionate Relay, in some circumstances. Can you explain why you are too ill to drive?”

  “I’m currently sat in A&E, my car is on the other side of town and my clothes in a third location. I have a sprained wrist, wrapped in heavy bandaging, and I’ve been informed I am not allowed to drive for 48 hours at least.”

  There was silence as the Customer Advisor processed Claire’s impassioned words.

  “I see. Please wait.”

  Claire ran her hand through her hair and yearned for coffee. Her breathing felt shallow as if there was insufficient oxygen in the room. Eventually the phone clicked and she heard the sound of the line reconnecting.

  “Ms Carleton? I’ve checked with my supervisor and we are prepared to offer assistance. We’re not able to help you collect your possessions, but if you can gather them and wait with your vehicle, someone will arrive to take you to your destination within the hour.”

  Claire hung up, and surged into action. She felt like Annika Rice with a new challenge. I’ll get a taxi to run me to the hostel and back to the snow dome. Carl will have to just suck up my expenses this month.

  With a fresh lease of life, Claire strode from A&E and flagged down a vacant taxi.

  ***

  TWO

  Claire looked at the bright green numbers on the dash and scrunched her eyes, as if to block out what they said. It’s nearly midnight. Kim is going to be livid. She’s pregnant, the last thing she needs is her mate turning up on the doorstep like Cinderella’s pumpkin.

  Outside the window t
he streets became familiar, as the breakdown truck finally neared its destination. Rather than anticipation, Claire’s stomach knotted with tension and her eyes itched with unshed tears.

  Despite the Customer Advisor’s assurances that the Skoda would be picked up within the hour, it had been over two before assistance arrived. Time enough for Claire to check out of the hostel, track down a security guard to retrieve her belongings from the Snow Dome lockers, and unstick the parking ticket from her windscreen.

  Relief that the Skoda hadn’t been towed was short-lived as Claire watched the time tick past on her smartphone clock, like she was in some low-budget movie. She didn’t dare venture in search of coffee in case the breakdown driver arrived in her absence. As a result she greeted him with a tongue-lashing when he did arrive, to which he merely shrugged and said, by way of explanation, “Friday night, love.”

  They were the last words spoken between them. The relatively short journey to Kim’s house had taken much longer in the breakdown truck and Claire had been torn between trying to make conversation and risking a nap that might result in her slumped, slack-jawed and drooling, against the driver’s shoulder. In the end she opted for silence.

  Now, with Kim’s house around the corner, Claire wondered if she was doing the right thing. Do I want to be in a house of hormones and happy families? At least I won’t have to listen to them shagging endlessly, if Jeff’s away.

  She tried to recall something from Ruth’s pregnancy with Sky, so she could offer support if required. With a start, Claire realised she didn’t even remember her sister being pregnant. I guess I was too busy climbing the career ladder to have time for babies. Poor Ruth, no wonder she feels Robert and I neglect her. Mind you, she was still with Chris then: she didn’t need me.

  At last they were parked outside Kim’s house, and the silent driver climbed down to release the winch securing Claire’s Skoda to his lorry. With a, “Where do you want it, love?” he followed the gestured response, handed Claire some paperwork to sign, and left.

  Poor bloke, I wonder if he’ll get it in the neck from the Missus, being out late on a Friday night? Tough job.

  Claire shouldered her rucksack and headed for the porch, praying Kim wasn’t already asleep. Before she reached the door it was flung open and Kim bustled out, her face split in a wide grin.

  “Claire, you’re here at last! Let’s see your wrist, you poor thing. Come in, come in, I’ve just been watching Graham Norton. How was the trip? Was Jeff useful? He was glad he managed to catch you before he had to leave. I saw the breakdown truck – did you have to disable the car, or did they take pity on your poorly arm?”

  While the words spilled forth, Kim ushered Claire in and walked her to the spare room to dump her bag.

  Waddled is probably more accurate. Claire watched her friend’s progress through the house and marvelled that she seemed to be so much more pregnant than when she’d seen her two weeks earlier. How is that possible? It’s like the baby has doubled in size in a fortnight.

  Eventually, Kim paused to catch her breath, and Claire was able to speak. She wasn’t used to this garrulous version of her oldest friend, and keeping up was using the last of her energy. After the long silence of the last few hours, her throat felt dry and her mouth unable to form words. She swallowed, searching for something simple to say.

  “You look well.”

  “Do you think so? I feel completely haggard, but Jeff says I’ve reached the blooming stage – you know, with the flawless skin and glossy hair. Just about makes up for the swollen ankles and the weird dreams and the endless need to pee. Plus I’ve suddenly started to sway like an elephant when I walk. How embarrassing is that? It’s like I suddenly got super-pregnant overnight. So much for trying to get married without it being obvious. Mind you, I tried on a gorgeous dress this week that’s perfect and, with a bit of breathing in, I should be okay. The wedding’s only two weeks away, can you believe it?”

  Claire’s brain drowned under the deluge of words. The last sentence shone through her murky mind like a ray of sunlight. Her face must have revealed her shock, because Kim suddenly clapped both hands to her mouth.

  “Oh crap, I didn’t tell you yet, did I? One of the hostels we’ve been investigating had a last minute cancellation – seems the groom got cold feet and went to warm them in Barbados – so we’ve been able to book it. We’re begging friends and family to try and come, though we know it’s short notice. And it’s the bank holiday weekend. You’ll be able to come, thought, won’t you, Claire?”

  Kim looked at her properly for the first time since her arrival, and Claire saw that her face did look smooth and radiant, although marred by a frown as she waited for her friend’s answer.

  A wedding. Lovely. Just what I need to confirm my spinster status – to attend a wedding on my own and field a hundred questions about my love life and all I’ve achieved since school. It’ll be worse than a reunion.

  Kim’s face became taut with tension and Claire realised she hadn’t responded to a question that should have elicited an immediate answer.

  “Of course I will, Kim. You’re my best friend, of course I’ll be there.”

  ***

  THREE

  “Morning, sleepy head.”

  Claire turned towards the noise and prised open sticky eyes. Kim was standing beside the bed, a cup of tea in one hand, a plate of toast in the other.

  “I thought you might be hungry, as you said you didn’t eat dinner yesterday.” Kim slid the cup and plate on the bedside table, then perched on the edge of the bed.

  “How are you feeling this morning? How’s the wrist?”

  Claire wriggled upright, blinking her eyes into focus. “How are you so fresh and awake? What time is it?”

  “It’s around 11am.”

  “What?” Claire jerked, as if to leap out of bed. Kim held out a restraining hand, and smiled.

  “Shhh don’t get up. It’s fine, you needed sleep. Sleep is the best healer.”

  “Kim, I haven’t slept in until lunchtime in years.” Well, not without an incentive to stay in bed at any rate.

  “You’ve had an accident, you need to rest.” She tilted her head, and grinned. “Besides, I need you awake to discuss wedding plans with me later. My concern is purely selfish.”

  Claire looked up at her friend, noticing for the first time the blonde roots showing through the bright red hair. As if sensing her scrutiny, Kim put a hand to her head and smiled sheepishly.

  “I had to stop dying it, when I found out I was pregnant. Looks like I’m going to have to wear a wig after all. Not sure what I’m going to do for the wedding. I can’t decide whether to get a blonde wig and look like me, or get you to pin it up so the roots don’t show.” Kim stopped abruptly. “Sorry, I’m wittering on again. I talked your ear off last night, when you arrived, didn’t I?”

  Claire shook her head, hoping it seemed sincere. She reached for her tea, to mask any expression on her face that might give her away.

  “I did, I know. I’m sorry. It’s just I seem to be bottling words at the moment. There’s so much going on in my life, in my head, and Jeff isn’t here all that much. We’re in rehearsals stage at work, so there’s no time to chat...” She trailed off, as if unwilling to explain her need to talk with yet more words.

  “What about your Mum, can you talk to her? Not that it isn’t nice to talk to you.” Claire’s words slurred with tiredness, and she took another gulp of hot tea.

  “I don’t really feel comfortable talking to Mum. I know she isn’t thrilled about the pregnancy, and the wedding being all rushed.”

  “I thought it was Jeff’s parents insisting you get married before the baby arrives.” Claire cradled the mug and let the steam warm her face.

  “They didn’t insist, we guessed. No one has really said anything, it’s all just dark looks and sharp intakes of breath.”

  Claire tried to remember Kim’s parents. From what she could recall, Kim had a great relationship with them.
Much more open and loving than hers. She remembered hearing Kim’s mother call, ‘I love you’ as Kim ran in to school. Kim would yell her answer over her shoulder, long hair flying, face bright with joy. I don’t think I’ve ever told my parents I love them, or heard them say it to me.

  “Maybe you need to sit and have a good chat with your Mum. She doesn’t seem the disapproving type. Perhaps she’s worried about saying the wrong thing, or getting in your way, over-stepping the mark. It must be tough for her, too.”

  Kim stared at the floral duvet cover, a crease between her brows. The girls sat silent for a few moments, the only sound the slurp of Claire’s tea.

  “You’re right.”

  Kim’s sudden words made Claire jump, and she was thankful the mug was empty.

  “I need to call her. I don’t want to plan this wedding, or have this baby, without my Mum. Will you excuse me?”

  Claire nodded, envious of Kim’s decisiveness. Her friend disappeared from the room, leaving Claire to eat her cold toast alone.

  ***

  FOUR

  “How’s your Mum?”

  “She’s great. Thank you so much for suggesting I talk to her. You were right – she’s been so worried about being the pushy parent, she’s been biting her tongue. Now I’ve given her the green light she can’t wait to get stuck in. I wouldn’t be surprised if she came to stay next week. What is it with mothers and weddings?”

  Claire shrugged, unwilling to answer. I can’t imagine what mine would be like with a wedding to plan, and I doubt she’ll find out. She didn’t get a look-in on Robert’s and, from what I remember, Ruth’s was a paltry registry-office affair.