Love & The Goddess Read Free Page B

of the house and avoiding people as best I could. But eventually, I knew I had to venture out. I needed bread and milk and I
couldn’t drive into Galway again or call Tesco’s to deliver the basics. It was a case of visiting the local supermarket or living like a hostage for the rest of my life.
    I knew if Ella had been here she’d have come to my rescue with the essentials, but she was in Greece running a conference and I still hadn’t been able to speak to her. I’d left
her all manner of messages but usually turned my own phone off, so when she did manage to get free from team building and marshalling two hundred executives from breakfast to dinner, all
she’d been able to do was to leave voicemails: “Hang in there, Kate. I’m back next week. Just hold on.” She was my best friend, and I knew from her voice that she felt
terrible about not being able to be with me.
    I drew in a deep breath, as I parked my car in the supermarket car park. I had to do this or I might starve. Heading for the back entrance, I passed the local bank manager’s wife, who I
knew well. She had her head stuck in her car boot as she meticulously rearranged her bags of shopping. I glanced back as I passed her, to find her staring at me. “Hello, Sandra. How are
you?” I summoned as cheery a voice as I could manage.
    “I’m fine. In a terrible hurry.” She blushed as she scurried around to the driver’s door. I felt my stomach turn over. Was this how it would be? People I’d met and
chatted to every day until now, suddenly avoiding me, too embarrassed to speak to me? Grabbing a shopping trolley, I braved it and headed into the supermarket. It was early in the morning and
members of staff were stacking the shelves. I lingered by the vegetables. Orange baby carrots gleamed through their clay coating, smelling of freshly turned earth. Cauliflowers plump like cabbage
patch dolls winked at me, suggesting a killer soup, bursting with vitality. Beside them sat velvety aubergines and crinkly celery in pale green corrugated sticks. Focusing on what I could do with
all these lovely ingredients distracted me for a moment. Food had always been my thing. Family celebrations had seen me spend days preparing gargantuan amounts of food to thrill everyone, from my
gourmet father to my sister Liz, who qualified as the crankiest dieter on the planet. The role of nurturer sat well with me and I’d developed all sorts of tricks for making food irresistible.
Nothing pleased me more than to see guests stagger out my door, not from drink but from a belly weighed down with overeating.
    Now there would no more celebrations to cook for. I found myself thinking it would seem like too much trouble to cook for myself. A shiver ran through me as I registered how lonely I felt as a
single woman. Then a voice in my head scolded me with: So, are you going to abandon yourself and let yourself become a waif? A pathetic victim? And what about always warning Julie to eat well?
You hypocrite! No. I wasn’t going to let Trevor take away my enjoyment of food and cooking. As I was filling my trolley, a voice cut through my thoughts: “So, how are
you?”
    I spun around. An old woman was peering at me. Her face was familiar but I didn’t know her name. I said, “I’m well and how are you?”
    “I heard about your break-up.”
    I opened my mouth to reply but nothing came out.
    It didn’t stop her. “You’re lucky to be breaking free at your age. Men get very bossy as they get older. Set in their ways. Your fellah was too old for you anyway. I had to
wait for my auld fellah to die before I could get a bit of peace.”
    How could I answer that? “Well, thanks for telling me.” I smiled and turned away. I understood the veracity of her words. But advice, no matter how wise or kindly the intention, now
seemed overly intrusive. I somehow numbed out and began hurling whatever came to hand into the trolley. In my search for tinned tuna, I stumbled into the