Puppies Are For Life. Linda Phillips
blaster in the other. He was followed by their daughter carrying – nothing at all. Except a tiny handbag in quilted leather that dangled from her shoulder by a chain.
‘Wow!’ she said over her mother’s shoulder after the briefest of dutiful kisses. ‘Is it finished now?’ Her big brown eyes, made larger than life by the none-too-discreet application of eyeliner, began taking in her surroundings. She’d seen the cottage a couple of months after they moved in, when they were just starting work, but hadn’t been back since they’d transformed it.
But Susannah found it impossible to answer right then; she could only stare at Katy’s new hairdo. It had been bleached blonde from its normal, beautiful red-gold, and most of it had been cut off – except for one odd strand, which for some reason had been left to run down over her left cheek. Parts of it caught on her lashes as she blinked, though she seemed not to notice the inconvenience.
Susannah caught Paul’s eye and saw him shrug; then he gave her a quick shake of the head. So he had no idea why they were being honoured with this visit either. What had they talked about in the car, for heaven’s sake? Trust him to leave all the awkward questioning to her.
‘Yes, it’s all finished,’ Susannah said, spreading her arms wide and trying not to stare at the disastrous hair. ‘What do you think of it, Katy? Do you like it?’
Katy made considering noises in her throat. ‘It’s much smaller than I remember.’
Susannah and Paul exchanged glances again. So far, everyone who’d seen the cottage had raved about its cosiness and its charm; they weren’t accustomed to it being criticised.
‘It’s certainly smaller than Windy Ridge,’ Susannah had to concede, ‘but you know we bought it with a view to retirement.’
‘But that won’t be for ages yet!’ Katy shot her father an alarmed glance.
‘You don’t have to be old these days,’ Paul told her. ‘People are being thrown out of our place at a rate of knots.’
‘But that won’t happen to you yet, will it?’ Now it was Susannah’s turn to look fearful.
‘Who knows what will happen?’ Paul picked up the suitcase because it was blocking the sitting room. ‘I’ll take this little lot upstairs.’
‘You’ve bought a new three-piece suite,’ Katy declared as her father struggled out of the room. ‘What was wrong with the old one?’
‘What was wrong with it?’ Susannah laughed outright. ‘What was right with it, more like. After you and Simon had used it as a bouncy castle it was never the same again.’
She looked at Katy who had sat down stiffly on the chintz two-seater and was gazing thoughtfully round at the pale peach carpet. Anyone seeing her would have thought she had come home to discover a new set of parents instead of just different furniture.
‘Come and look at the spare room,’ she said brightly to cover her disappointment. Why wasn’t Katy falling in love with the place like everyone else?
Katy rose to her feet and trudged up the stairs in ugly lace-up ankle boots that looked almost identical to a pair Susannah remembered being forced to wear as a child. She had loathed those boots almost as much as the thick brown stockings that went with them. Come to think of it, Katy’s skin-tight leggings strongly resembled those awful stockings too. Ugh!
‘You saw our room when you were here before,’ Susannah reminded her at the top of the stairs. ‘But you haven’t seen this one done up. This is the guest room.’ Pushing open the door with a flourish she saw that the suitcase now dominated the bed and the ghetto blaster was perched on top of the smart pine dresser. It didn’t look quite the same.
‘Oh,’ Katy said from the door. She slowly stepped in, her eyes drawn to the bed. ‘You’ve got a new bed too!’ she gasped. ‘What have you done with my old one?’
‘Katy –’ Susannah picked up a doll from the window-sill and fiddled with its hat. She had dressed it to tone in with its surroundings, but Katy appeared not to have noticed it. Turning round she found a recumbent Katy – boots and all – testing the bed fully clothed. ‘Katy –’ she began again; but how could she explain to her daughter that this was not exactly her room? Nor was it her home any more, not really. Well, of course it would always be home to her in a sense. And yet … it wasn’t.
‘We – er –’ she thought quickly – ‘we decided we ought to put in a double, since this is really a guest room, you know. I mean, when you’re here a single would be fine, but when Simon and Natalie come to stay – and little Justin, of course – it makes sense to –’
‘But this one’s hard as a rock. Mine was nice and soft. It had a hole that fitted me, too. Right in the middle of the mattress.’
‘Well, now it’s gone to the tip.’ Susannah sat the doll down with a bump. ‘This mattress will be much better for you,’ she added, struggling for a more sympathetic tone. After all, she reminded herself, Katy had definitely sounded upset about something over the phone. ‘Soft beds are bad for your back. And anyway you’ll not notice it just for a few days.’
Katy slanted a look at her mother. ‘I’ve come for much longer than that.’
‘Oh … really? How – how come you’ve got time off right now? I thought you were saving your days for Christmas.’
Katy swung herself off the bed. ‘I’ve lost my job,’ she said flatly, beginning to pull drawers from the dresser to see what was inside. There was nothing in them; only a woody piney smell that began to permeate the tiny room.
‘Lost your –’ Words failed Susannah for a moment. Then she hurried over to where Katy was standing. No wonder she’d shown no enthusiasm about the cottage, with news like this on her mind. ‘Oh, Katy I’m so sorry! But how?’ She could see the girl’s reflection in the cheval mirror and sensed that tears were close in spite of her attempt at non-chalance.
I –’ Katy swallowed – ‘I can’t do the work any more; they’ve given me the sack. I’ve got two months’ pay to come – and – and – oh, Mum, I don’t know what to do!’
Susannah saw her own distraught face reflected back at her as Katy turned and buried herself in her arms. When her daughter finally came up for air she ventured another question.
‘But why can’t you do the work, Katy?’ She took the opportunity of brushing aside the hair lock. ‘You were managing very well. I thought they liked you. They made you secretary to the Head of Department, didn’t they?’
Katy nodded and sniffed and mopped her eyes with a tissue. ‘I thought he was so nice at first but he turned out to be nothing but a slave-driver.’ She snorted with disgust. ‘He had me working all hours and I didn’t get a penny extra money for doing it. But if you complain you’re done for, you know; they just get shot of you for some reason or other and find someone else.
‘Do you know, there were forty-three applicants for that poxy little job? I was over the moon when they picked me. But now –’ her tears welled up afresh – ‘I’ve got RSI!’
‘Oh good God!’ Susannah whispered, her stomach taking a turn. This was her worst nightmare realised: that a child of hers should contract some deadly disease. How on earth would she cope? She found herself sitting on the edge of the bed, not knowing how she had got there, or what to say. ‘But what is it, this RSI?’ she managed eventually. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it.’
‘Where have you been all your life?’ Paul said suddenly from the door. ‘It’s what typists and chicken factory workers get these days –’ He went over to Katy and hugged her for the second time that evening. ‘Isn’t it, my precious love?’
Katy nodded and allowed herself to be comforted by her father’s long, strong arms. He was like a cuddly bear in his thick woolly sweater and she sighed with a surge of relief.
‘Repetitive