Falling Glass Read Free Page A

prayers from the Jehovah’s Witnesses next door continued. Seven of them crammed into a caravan same size as hers.
    She grabbed the dressing gown from the back of her chair and put it on. She opened the window a little wider and listened to the babble.The chanting was neither a pitch for the Lord’s intervention nor even His understanding, but rather a simple plea that the Almighty hear them. That’s all they wanted. Just hear us, Jesus, know that we exist.
    “Well, I can certainly hear you,” she said, getting off the bed.
    She slid open her bedroom door and checked on the girls.
    Claire was reading Little House on the Prairie at the kitchen table; Sue was still out for the count.
    “Morning,” she whispered.
    Claire didn’t look up.
    “Morning,” she repeated.
    “What?” Claire said.
    “When someone says ‘good morning’ to you, it’s customary to respond,” she said.
    “Sue’s sleeping, I didn’t want to wake her,” Claire muttered.
    Rachel nodded. Always with the answer, that one, but she quickly saw another line of attack. Claire was sipping from a glass of orange juice. There were ice cubes in it.
    “I thought I told you never to go in the freezer,” she said.
    “Mum, please, I’m trying to read,” Claire snapped.
    Rachel walked the length of the caravan and sat down opposite her daughter. There were two ways to go here: get angry and give her a punishment or ignore it.
    She thought for a minute and then picked the latter.
    “What’s happening in your book?” she asked with a benign smile.
    Claire looked up. “They just got Jack back, okay?”
    “Who’s Jack?”
    “Their dog, they thought he was drowned – please, Mum.”
    “Fine,” Rachel muttered and walked to the front door, ruffling Claire’s hair a little roughly as she went past. She undid the locks, opened the door, looked between the branches of the Scot’s spruce. A sky like irises, low clouds, vapour trails.
    The sun had not yet cleared the trees to the east.
    Dave’s paper was lying on his porch and his car was still there. He was, apparently, sleeping late.
    She felt lonely.
    Now there weren’t even stars. She rubbed her chin, scuffed her flip-flop on and off, on and off. She peered through the line of caravans to catch a glimpse of the ocean but there was only a gluey sea mist down there today.
    She sat down in the door opening. At her feet an empty vodka bottle, a half-smoked cigarillo, a wine glass containing rain water and several watermelon rinds now covered with hundreds of black ants.
    The prayers to her right suddenly stopped and after a minute the whole clan came out and began manoeuvering their way into the Volvo 240. Four boys, two girls. Eldest nine. Dad run off to England.
    Rachel waved. Anna waved back.
    “Rachel honey, after I leave the weans off, I’m swinging past the Spar. Need anything?” Anna asked sweetly.
    She had a good heart, Anna. Rachel couldn’t bring herself to really like her but she had a good heart.
    “Nah, I’m okay… Wait, no, I need some fags.”
    “Sure. Usual?”
    “Usual.”
    The Volvo backed out, wove through the caravans and down the dirt track. A new Toyota Hilux was half blocking the way out, so Anna had to swerve over almost into the ditch.
    “Some people, no consideration at all,” Rachel said to herself. Probably yuppie scum here to buy blue belly from Stu.
    Rachel got up and transferred herself to the deckchair next to her house. She lifted one of last night’s wine glasses, plucked out a dead fly and drank.
    Perhaps she dozed a little.
    She woke with a start. The sun was higher, the mist had burned off. It was March 17 so it was never going to be warm but it was shaping up to be a—
    Something was wrong.
    “Claire?” she said.
    No answer.
    She stood. “Claire?”
    “What is it?” Claire demanded from inside the caravan.
    “Is your sister awake?”
    “She’s in the bathroom,” Claire said with the verbal equivalent of an eye roll.
    Rachel nodded to