Obsession Read Free Page A

younger and more vivacious than ever. They had made so many plans. But now there was a secondary cancer. The one that in five days, five months, maybe five years from now, would finally claim her.
    As she moved about the kitchen Corrie found herself reflecting, as she had so often in these past few years, on how much easier life would be, not only on her, but on Edwina too, were she only able to settle down to wanting the same things as Paula. A husband, a baby, a part-time job in the local Spar and a life as safe and secure as it was predictable. She knew how happy it would make Edwina to see her married, to know that when she died Corrie wouldn’t be all alone. But life was never that straightforward and though Corrie had a very real fondness for some of the boys, now men, she had been to school with, she couldn’t begin to imagine being married to any one of them. Not even Bob, the only real boyfriend she’d had, who was now married to Maureen Dennis, and with whom she had thought herself in love before he’d two-timed her with Maureen, had even come close to quenching this damnable, burning desire for a life that she hardly dared to imagine. For a while though she had thought Bob her saviour, that at last she had met someone who could stifle her restlessness. And she would have married him, had he asked her, had he not met Maureen and got her pregnant.
    There were no regrets now though, for she knew, had things been different with Edwina, that she would consider Maureen Dennis to have done her a favour. A man who had grown up in Amberside, whose idea of fun was darts on a Saturday night and an occasional visit to Ipswich when they were playing at home, just wasn’t for her. No more than a life spent running her mother’s dress shop in the village square, and the odd knees up at the bingo hall was the life for her. She had taken now to living her life in her dreams, letting them run away with her until she found herself living the fast, glamorous and demanding life of a career woman, like those she read about in magazines. Almost any career would do, but to be able to work in television, to rush about the country – the world – filming dramas or documentaries or even news, well that would be the ultimate. Occasionally she would envisage her leisure hours too, what few she would have given the demands of her career, spent like the sons and daughters of the families who lived in the grand houses in the nearby countryside, who came on summer weekends to throw parties while their parents were away on holiday. All last summer she had watched them from the window of the dress shop, pressing buttons into the wrong button holes as she dressed a mannequin, and more often than not she had found herself smiling through tears of frustration at the fun they all seemed to be having as they sped through the village in their open-topped cars, music blaring and hair flying in the wind. She had no idea what any of their names were, the people in the big houses had very little to do with the village, except an occasional visit to the pub or a rushed trip to the grocer’s. None of them ever came into the dress shop. They’d probably never even noticed it the displays were so dull and styles so sober compared to the glittering designer creations they wore. She imagined them returning to London on Sunday evenings to resume their jet-set existence by night, and pursue their high-powered, demanding jobs by day; how she longed to go with them, to be one of them.
    ‘By the way,’ Edwina said, as she took the cup of hot chocolate Corrie was handing her. ‘I know you and Paula like to tease me, but you wouldn’t really consider advertising for a man, would you?’
    Corrie who was stoking the fire, turned slowly to show her mother a look of mock surprise and confusion. ‘Well I was thinking of putting a note in Norman the newsagent’s window offering French lessons. Why, don’t you think I should?’
    ‘Not really, sweetheart, apart