Thief of Hearts
Page 4
“Just ’cos she wears hair extensions and makeup doesn’t make her a cow,” said Susan, pointing a finger in Mary’s direction. She was in her early twenties but had left school at fifteen. She was also one of the most outspoken members of the class. “Women like you are the reason feminism is dead. I bet you go around slut shaming girls just because they like to wear clothes that show off their bodies.”
“Hey now, that’s not what I was saying at all,” Mary defended. “Women can dress any way they like. It’s their actions I judge, and that Arabella is taking advantage of Jude’s kind nature, pure and simple.”
“My first wife was exactly like Arabella. Took me for every penny in the divorce,” said Larry.
Mary shot him the side eye. “How many times you been married?”
“Three,” Larry answered, like it was a perfectly reasonable number of times to have wed.
I enjoyed listening to where their book discussions usually went, but in this case they were getting slightly off topic. “All right, all right, think about this question. In your opinion, what’s the role of Arabella’s character in the book?”
“Her role is to be Sue’s opposite. If it weren’t for Arabella, we wouldn’t be able to appreciate quite how lovely Sue is,” said Kian quietly before blurting an unexpected, “shit!”
“Good answer,” I said encouragingly, and our discussion continued. Stu didn’t contribute, and I was a little unnerved by how closely he watched me, unsure if it was simply because I was in his line of sight or if he was trying to suss me out somehow. Anyway, there was definitely some sort of calculation going on.
I just couldn’t tell whether or not I should be concerned.
Two
Overdue. Final notice.
Past due.
When I arrived home that evening, I flicked through the bills that had arrived in the post with the usual mounting sense of dread. The feeling of being overwhelmed was always there, but I’d become adept at ignoring it and pretending it didn’t exist most of the time. Unhealthy? Yes. But really, it was the only way to sleep at night.
“I don’t like the look of that frown,” said Alfie, and I startled. I hadn’t noticed him standing by the kitchen counter with a bowl of cereal in hand, so distracted as I was by the strongly worded letter.
“And I don’t like the look of that dinner,” I countered in an effort to steer his attention away from the dire state of my financial affairs.
I’d married young, barely twenty years old, tied the knot with my childhood sweetheart, starry-eyed and completely in love. Sadly, there was no fairy-tale ending for us. Mark was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma at twenty-four and passed away six months later. It was a late diagnosis, and because of the rapid spread of his disease and urgent need for treatment, we’d decided to go private. Hence my current financial state.
In the end I still lost him, my heart irrevocably broken into a million tiny pieces. Nowadays I managed to hold them together with haphazard duct tape and determination. In other words, I focused so hard on helping other people overcome their issues I didn’t have to think about my own.
At just twenty-eight, I was in debt to the tune of almost fifty grand and a widow. Instinctively, my eyes flickered down to the diamond that still graced my ring finger.
I couldn’t take it off. The very idea was emotionally traumatising. I knew it wasn’t a healthy way to deal with my grief, but some days it felt like the only way to keep living my life.
“It’s more of a late lunch,” Alfie replied. “I only woke up a couple hours ago.”
I sighed and dropped my keys onto the counter. “You’re going to have to regulate your sleeping pattern soon, Alfs. If you don’t, you’ll get sick.” My voice quavered with emotion. I had so few people left in my life, and I was terrified of losing them the same way I lost Mark.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that. You know I can’t deal with your sad doe eyes,” Alfie huffed, sounding guilty. I immediately felt bad for making him feel bad. It was a vicious circle.
“Don’t mind me. It’s been a rough day. Actually, would you mind pouring me a bowl of whatever that is?”
Alfie nodded and a minute later we were both munching away in companionable silence. I’d once heard a dietician say cereal held all the nutritional goodness of cardboard, but God, it tasted so bloody good. Carbs and sugar were the food equivalent of getting a hug from a life-sized fluffy teddy bear.
“So, what happened?”
I glanced at Alfie, lost in my own thoughts. “Huh?”
“At work. You said you had a rough day.”
“Oh, right, yes. There was a new student, an ex-offender. He claims he was involved in a stolen car racket. Mary gave him a bit of a grilling.”
Stu hadn’t said much after that initial introduction to the class. In fact, he’d continued to unnerve me with his silent attention. And despite the vague stirrings of attraction I’d felt, something told me his own interest wasn’t that way inclined. My gut said he was more interested in my purse than my knickers, and I hated myself for feeling that so instinctively. I never wanted to be judgemental, and I truly believed that everybody deserved a second chance.
Alfie grew still and I instantly regretted telling him about Stu Cross. My cousin could be paranoid at times, and it was one of the reasons he was a virtual shut-in. He suffered from a mild anxiety disorder and trusted very few people, me being one of them. The only reason for that was we’d known each other since birth. Needless to say, Alfie didn’t like the idea of me teaching an ex-criminal.
“You didn’t give him your surname, did you?”
“Of course I did. All the students know me as Miss Anderson, Alfie. It was unavoidable.”
“But what if he looks you up or follows you home some day? What if he becomes obsessed and starts stalking you or something? You can’t trust people who’ve been to prison, Andie. You just can’t.”
“Will you calm down? He’s not going to start stalking me. You’re letting your imagination run away with you.”
“How can you know that? You don’t know what could happen.”
Reaching across the counter, I grabbed his hand and reassured him earnestly. “I promise it won’t. I’ll be careful and make sure no one follows me home. Now, would you like to go visit Jamie before he closes up for the day?”
“Hey now, that’s not what I was saying at all,” Mary defended. “Women can dress any way they like. It’s their actions I judge, and that Arabella is taking advantage of Jude’s kind nature, pure and simple.”
“My first wife was exactly like Arabella. Took me for every penny in the divorce,” said Larry.
Mary shot him the side eye. “How many times you been married?”
“Three,” Larry answered, like it was a perfectly reasonable number of times to have wed.
I enjoyed listening to where their book discussions usually went, but in this case they were getting slightly off topic. “All right, all right, think about this question. In your opinion, what’s the role of Arabella’s character in the book?”
“Her role is to be Sue’s opposite. If it weren’t for Arabella, we wouldn’t be able to appreciate quite how lovely Sue is,” said Kian quietly before blurting an unexpected, “shit!”
“Good answer,” I said encouragingly, and our discussion continued. Stu didn’t contribute, and I was a little unnerved by how closely he watched me, unsure if it was simply because I was in his line of sight or if he was trying to suss me out somehow. Anyway, there was definitely some sort of calculation going on.
I just couldn’t tell whether or not I should be concerned.
Two
Overdue. Final notice.
Past due.
When I arrived home that evening, I flicked through the bills that had arrived in the post with the usual mounting sense of dread. The feeling of being overwhelmed was always there, but I’d become adept at ignoring it and pretending it didn’t exist most of the time. Unhealthy? Yes. But really, it was the only way to sleep at night.
“I don’t like the look of that frown,” said Alfie, and I startled. I hadn’t noticed him standing by the kitchen counter with a bowl of cereal in hand, so distracted as I was by the strongly worded letter.
“And I don’t like the look of that dinner,” I countered in an effort to steer his attention away from the dire state of my financial affairs.
I’d married young, barely twenty years old, tied the knot with my childhood sweetheart, starry-eyed and completely in love. Sadly, there was no fairy-tale ending for us. Mark was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma at twenty-four and passed away six months later. It was a late diagnosis, and because of the rapid spread of his disease and urgent need for treatment, we’d decided to go private. Hence my current financial state.
In the end I still lost him, my heart irrevocably broken into a million tiny pieces. Nowadays I managed to hold them together with haphazard duct tape and determination. In other words, I focused so hard on helping other people overcome their issues I didn’t have to think about my own.
At just twenty-eight, I was in debt to the tune of almost fifty grand and a widow. Instinctively, my eyes flickered down to the diamond that still graced my ring finger.
I couldn’t take it off. The very idea was emotionally traumatising. I knew it wasn’t a healthy way to deal with my grief, but some days it felt like the only way to keep living my life.
“It’s more of a late lunch,” Alfie replied. “I only woke up a couple hours ago.”
I sighed and dropped my keys onto the counter. “You’re going to have to regulate your sleeping pattern soon, Alfs. If you don’t, you’ll get sick.” My voice quavered with emotion. I had so few people left in my life, and I was terrified of losing them the same way I lost Mark.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that. You know I can’t deal with your sad doe eyes,” Alfie huffed, sounding guilty. I immediately felt bad for making him feel bad. It was a vicious circle.
“Don’t mind me. It’s been a rough day. Actually, would you mind pouring me a bowl of whatever that is?”
Alfie nodded and a minute later we were both munching away in companionable silence. I’d once heard a dietician say cereal held all the nutritional goodness of cardboard, but God, it tasted so bloody good. Carbs and sugar were the food equivalent of getting a hug from a life-sized fluffy teddy bear.
“So, what happened?”
I glanced at Alfie, lost in my own thoughts. “Huh?”
“At work. You said you had a rough day.”
“Oh, right, yes. There was a new student, an ex-offender. He claims he was involved in a stolen car racket. Mary gave him a bit of a grilling.”
Stu hadn’t said much after that initial introduction to the class. In fact, he’d continued to unnerve me with his silent attention. And despite the vague stirrings of attraction I’d felt, something told me his own interest wasn’t that way inclined. My gut said he was more interested in my purse than my knickers, and I hated myself for feeling that so instinctively. I never wanted to be judgemental, and I truly believed that everybody deserved a second chance.
Alfie grew still and I instantly regretted telling him about Stu Cross. My cousin could be paranoid at times, and it was one of the reasons he was a virtual shut-in. He suffered from a mild anxiety disorder and trusted very few people, me being one of them. The only reason for that was we’d known each other since birth. Needless to say, Alfie didn’t like the idea of me teaching an ex-criminal.
“You didn’t give him your surname, did you?”
“Of course I did. All the students know me as Miss Anderson, Alfie. It was unavoidable.”
“But what if he looks you up or follows you home some day? What if he becomes obsessed and starts stalking you or something? You can’t trust people who’ve been to prison, Andie. You just can’t.”
“Will you calm down? He’s not going to start stalking me. You’re letting your imagination run away with you.”
“How can you know that? You don’t know what could happen.”
Reaching across the counter, I grabbed his hand and reassured him earnestly. “I promise it won’t. I’ll be careful and make sure no one follows me home. Now, would you like to go visit Jamie before he closes up for the day?”
