Lifesaver Read Free Page B

Crystal can’t wait to see you! And thanks again for Saturday, by the way. It was fun.’
    ‘Oh, hi Vic; yes, it was,’ I lied. ‘Thanks for coming.’
    We’d had Vicky and her husband Peter over for dinner. Maybe it was just that we were somewhat out of practice in hosting dinner parties, or maybe it was the presence of my goddaughter Crystal and her baby brother Pat, but the whole thing had been hideously unrelaxing. Vicky and Peter’s babysitter had pulled out at the last minute, and Vicky had entertained the fanciful notion that her children would go to sleep at our house instead. Fat chance. Both Crystal and Pat had decided that fighting and crying for Vicky’s attention was a far better way to pass a few hours away from home, way past their bedtime.
    The fact that neither Ken nor I really like Peter very much wasn’t very helpful, either. Peter had this great thick mass of reddish hair, and freckles, and in my opinion didn’t pull his weight with the kids nearly enough. Every time I saw him it reminded me of the words of my favourite childhood book: Anything to me is sweeter/Than to see Shock-headed Peter. Crystal was the image of him but, being four, she still managed to be incredibly cute.
    Much as I adored Crystal, I had only recently been able to face her again; to actually want to spend any time with her. It still hurt, seeing each new thing she did and said and learned. I couldn’t help thinking about my little Holly, and how left behind she’d got. She would have looked up to Crystal so much. Crystal could have taught her all her bad habits. Given her lessons in Advanced Hypochondria, Primal Screaming, and of course, Tantrum Throwing II—The Full Monty.
    This was a bit unfair, although Crystal was going through a bit of a difficult phase. She was fine around me, but she didn’t half give poor Vicky a hard time - the expression ‘drama queen’ could have been minted just for her.
    ‘What did you do yesterday?’
    I tried to remember. ‘Um. Not much. Ken played golf with some people from the office. I went over my audition script.’
    ‘What audition? You didn’t tell me you had an audition! When? For what?’
    Vicky sounded slighted, and I felt too lethargic to protest that I had definitely brought up the subject of the part. ‘It’s tomorrow. Only a regional cable soap, plus I’d have to be away filming for days at a time, most weeks, down in Bristol. I’m not sure I want it.’
    ‘Oh, Anna, go for it. I’d kill for a part like that—regular work, and fame, but only regional so you don’t get papped every time you’re seen rolling out of a bar with your skirt stuck in your knickers and your lipstick sliding off.’
    The wistfulness in Vicky’s voice gave it another edge; a hologram of longing. She was dying to get back to work, but hadn’t been offered any parts since she got pregnant with Pat. It was hard enough for her to get away for the auditions, let alone to commit to any sort of theatre runs or filming schedules.
    ‘Yeah. I suppose I could handle being famous in the West Country.’
    ‘That’s the spirit. Anyway, see you at four for the party, yeah? Come round to me and we’ll go in my car.’

    Ten minutes after we hung up from each other, I was still sitting in Ken’s bathrobe on the unmade bed. Eventually I roused myself enough to trudge downstairs, fill the kettle, and half-listen to a heated radio phone-in, something about congestion charging. I let the different voices wash over me and remove me from myself, like sleep. The kettle boiled, but I didn’t notice. I forgot about the audition. I made myself switch off, click, like the kettle, and just sat. It was something I’d done a lot in the past six months, like a mobile epidural. Instant numbness. I craved it, and I’d become quite adept in achieving it. I looked at it as a technique to be perfected, like a Stanislavsky exercise, or yogic breathing.
    I really thought I’d only been there for ten minutes or so,