Second Chance Read Free

them.
This
was the thanks she got. Bridie pursed her lips. She should have known better than to expect gratitude. She dried the knives and spoons and settled them neatly in the drawer. She put the butter in the fridge. She wiped the top of the marmalade dish and put it in the top press. She gave the press door a good slam because she was so annoyed. There were Cornflakes all over the table mat where Tony had been sitting. He was most untidy.
    She glanced at her granddaughter who was gazing wide-eyed at the clothes tumbling around in the washing-machine. Angela was her pride and joy. How lonely her life would be without her daughter andprecious granddaughter. And, to tell the truth, she liked having a man in the house at night. Since they’d come to live with her, Bridie slept soundly.
    When she had been on her own, she’d slept fitfully. Always listening for unusual noises. Two houses on the street had been burgled. Bridie was terrified the same would happen to her. Now that Jean and Tony were living with her she felt protected.
    But it was hard getting used to having people around the house all day. She had got into a routine of her own that suited her. She liked keeping a tidy house. Tony was not a tidy person. He didn’t fold up his newspapers neatly. He left his jacket hanging on the back of a chair. It drove her mad. She had asked him to hang it up in the press under the stairs. When she asked him, he would do it for a fewdays. Then he would forget. It was most annoying. Her dear dead husband Tom had been very neat in his habits. “A place for everything and everything in its place,” was his favourite saying.
    Bridie’s lip trembled. She missed Tom. He’d been a good husband. He was a quiet man. He let Bridie make the decisions. That suited her. Bridie was an organiser. They’d rarely had rows. Their life was a comforting routine that seldom varied. Breakfast together. Then he went to work. He worked in a furniture shop in town. She cleaned and tidied the house and did the shopping. Then she’d prepare lunch. Which was served up promptly at one o’clock. Except on Sundays. On Sundays they had lunch at one-thirty.
    After lunch Tom would go back to work and Bridie would garden or knituntil it was time for Tom to come home for his tea. After tea they would go up to the Phoenix Park for a walk if the weather was fine.
    Some would say it was a dull life. But she and Tom had been happy until he’d died suddenly of a massive stroke two years ago. Now all she had was trouble and strife. When Tony was made redundant, Bridie urged Jean to persuade him to come and live with her. It was the ideal solution. She was sure of it. But it hadn’t worked out as she had thought. Having three people under her feet all day was not easy. Her little routines were interrupted. She was in a state of constant tension. She worried about Angela burning herself at the fire. Or pulling the standard lamp down on top of herself.
    â€œGa, ga!” A small pair of hands grabbed Bridie’s skirt. She lookeddown at her granddaughter. Angela was struggling to pull herself upright. She was almost walking now.
    Bridie felt love flood through her. She leaned down and picked up the little girl. “What is it, my precious?” she crooned. “Who’s a lovely girl? You’re my little darling.” She cuddled the toddler tightly. It would be awful if Jean and Tony moved away to the other suburbs. She’d hardly get to see Angela. They wouldn’t be able to afford the expensive bus fares into the city.
    She should have kept her big mouth shut this morning. And all over a drop of spilt milk. She’d have to make amends some way. Bridie sighed deeply. Somehow, this time, she felt it was too late.

CHAPTER THREE
    Dave Cummins had the shakes. He needed a fix. Badly. His mouth tasted like sandpaper. He felt sick and shaky. He crawled out of bed. He pulled his blue sweater on and stepped into