Anywhere's Better Than Here (4 page)

She imagined what it would really be like to be friendless and wandering. What on earth would she do all day? She supposed she'd have to keep finding food all the time and safe places to shelter. It was hard to imagine what the day to day reality of being a survivor would entail without knowing what type of disaster she'd survived.

If it was a nuclear holocaust she'd presumably have to keep stopping to be sick and she'd probably collapse a lot. There was no fun in that scenario. Ditto with an extreme weather situation. Everything would be under water, or upside down. Too messy, too dangerous. It would be better if there'd been some sort of virus that had killed off everybody but her. She'd read a book like that once. Except, in the book, there'd been two survivors who'd become aware of another human's presence and had eventually met and fallen in love and begun the mammoth task of repopulating the planet. There was no mention of the problems of inbreeding. Strangely, the animals of the world had been unaffected by the virus. Stranger still, one chapter had seen the heroine battle against some dinosaurs. Quite where they had come from, the book didn't explain.

Laurie tried to imagine herself battling a dinosaur. She wouldn't know where to begin. She'd have to make some sort of weapon. A spear. But she knew there was no way she was strong enough to pierce the hide of a dinosaur. It wouldn't be sporting to shoot the creature and, besides, there was nowhere to get a gun from anyway. She'd just have to pray she could outrun a dinosaur. If she stayed mostly indoors, she'd be safe from the bigger beasts. But, presumably, there'd be dead bodies everywhere and they would pose a health risk to her. She'd just have to move cautiously. She pictured a dinosaur rounding the corner of the street. It was one of those big ones with the long necks and tiny heads. Its legs weren't very long, so she had a chance at escaping. But what if she was fenced in by dinosaurs? She glanced around, checking exit routes. If only she could climb over the shoulder height garden fence on her left and get inside the house behind it. She could barricade herself in. She tested the fence to see if it would take her weight and was just about to attempt to scramble up, when the postman came through the gate.

‘‘Morning!'' he grinned at her.

‘‘Yes it is.'' She grinned too.

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he tramped off along the street.

Now what? What did unemployed people do all day? Technically she wasn't actually unemployed but she soon would be. They'd sack her when she just didn't turn up anymore. Whatever she did, she'd have to keep to her normal schedule for the time being. She hadn't the patience to attempt to explain to Ed what she was doing. She'd put that off for as long as she could. Probably until the rent was due. Her heart started to beat harder. She pushed all thoughts of money out of her head. That only lasted until she realised it was lunchtime and she was hungry.

Face facts, she told herself. Find a cash machine. She walked to the Perth Road shops, determined to get a realistic idea of what was going on.

There were two cash points: one outside the Royal Bank and one outside the Spar. She stood between both machines, deciding which to use.

Neither had a queue.

They both seemed to be working.

She kept looking up the street to one and then down the street to the other. She knew that it didn't matter which she used, but she couldn't make up her mind. She couldn't even seem to take a step away from what she judged to be the exact middle point between the cash points. People walked around her as if she was invisible and even when someone jostled her, she still couldn't move. A week ago, even yesterday, she would have been shamed by this public show of lack-of-plan, but now she couldn't even be bothered to pretend to read the adverts in the window or to act as if she was waiting for someone.

It started to drizzle.

She fished around in her pocket for something useful. All she had was her house key and a Kirby grip. She plucked the key out of her coat and held it up.

This key was one of a seemingly endless march of replacement keys – destined for wherever it was all her keys elected to visit after a few months in her company. She had it on a key fob that Ed had given her. It was a little model Barbie doll who was dressed in a bright pink fish-tailed evening gown. She even wore a little tiara in her butter yellow, lustrous hair. Ed had been delighted with the gift, handing it over in its reused wrapping paper which Laurie recognised from the birthday gift she'd given to him a few months previously. He'd even almost managed to get it to hold together using the original sticky tape.

She hated opening presents. They were never right. Usually the gift inside seemed to have been picked for someone other than her. It was worse if it was an item of clothing as the gift-giver always wanted you to try it on. Once she'd been given a hideous blouse that she knew immediately would be too small. Her aunt had insisted she try it on. No sooner had she pulled the top over head, she'd realised it was stuck. Her arms folded sharply within the top, making useless little wings. She'd wriggled sweatily for a minute, knowing she was going to have to ask for help. After a few muffled calls from within the top, within the bathroom, she'd been forced to open the door (no mean feat with your hands trapped inside a blouse) and call out. Eventually her mother had appeared and managed wordlessly to wrench the blouse over her head.

Heartbreakingly, it was too ripped to be worn again.

Thankfully Ed never bought her clothing. In fact she could count the amount of times he'd bought her presents on one hand. Once he'd given her a fiver. The other times it had been useless comedy trinkets like a miniature bong or a tiny minarette that played a scratchy recording of the call to prayer a few times before conking out. She'd actually quite enjoyed the call to prayer. She'd listened to it in bed at night once and imagined she was staying in a ramshackle hotel in Morocco.

There was nothing really she could imagine doing with the Barbie key ring. Well, there was, but she often thought of injuring Ed with objects. It was obvious now that Ed had been imagining her as some sort of Barbie doll. He mock-leered at the pneumatic teats of the dolly bird and nudged Laurie as she held the key ring in front of her face and lifted the dress to see if Barbie was commando. She was, but she had nothing to hide and was as smooth as an egg.

‘‘Uh, thanks Ed.'' One should always pretend the gift was appreciated.

‘‘It reminded me of you.'' He smiled at her hopefully.

Laurie struggled to look thankful.

‘‘Did it?'' She was more puzzled than annoyed.

Ed's smile faltered. Presumably he'd meant to be complimentary, but had misjudged again.

‘‘Yes. She's, y'know, pretty and her hair's blonde. Her smile's nice.'' He'd looked down at his lap. He started to reach for the remote control. Laurie had felt sorry for him at that moment. He was a little boy, learning how to be a big boy. She hated to see the kicked dog look about his eyes, but, really, at what point was he going to be able to manage on his own? She knew from magazines that all men required a certain degree of training, but how long did it take? She took a deep breath and snatched the remote from Ed's clammy hand.

She threw the remote across the floor and stood up, pulling Ed to his feet. She gave him a hug and kissed him on the lips. Ed stood motionless, his arms by his sides. Laurie kept kissing him until she could feel him start to get into it. They stood like that for a few minutes, Ed becoming breathless and clutching at her upper arms. It always amazed Laurie how easy it was to switch men on. She doubted many women were as easily manipulated. How easy it would be to navigate through the world if you were prepared to put out. She could always anticipate when Ed would attempt to manoeuvre her to the bed and proceed to have a go.

On that occasion she'd been about to pull away and make an excuse when she'd happened to catch sight of herself in the mirror that was leaning against the wall. From the position she was standing in, she could only see herself from the shoulders down and most of Ed was blocked by her body. It was like watching a film that she was in control of. When Ed tried to pull her towards the bed she resisted and when she felt the tension in him go weak she put her hand up to her breast and squeezed, turning her upper body slightly towards the mirror. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched the woman in the mirror. Ed's eyes were closed. He had no idea what she was doing. He tried again to pull her towards the bed and again she resisted, this time taking Ed's hand and putting it between her legs, over her jeans. He sighed into her mouth as she moved his fingers under her own.

This type of encounter had worked for a few weeks, but then Laurie was bored again. She avoided going to bed at the same time as Ed and feigned sleep when he climbed under the covers. Luckily, he seemed to have taken the hint because he hadn't tried it on for ages.

A drop of rain fell into her eye, waking her from her day dream. She pulled herself together and opted for the Spar's cash machine. She took a deep breath and read the screen. She had a grand total of £139.43. She'd only just been paid as well, so the money was going to have to do her for a few weeks. Longer if she did leave work. She didn't think she'd be entitled to dole because she was leaving her job for no good reason. Well, not one the Job Centre would understand. She doubted she'd get away with saying she was consumed with vague feelings of dread. That when she phoned customers she experienced a sort of sympathy Tourette's where she was compelled to keep asking them how they were and not giving up until she'd heard some sadness in their voice. This impulse to get strangers to tell her their troubles didn't extend to people she actually knew. When her work mates tried to tell her about their love lives she had to make her excuses and leave the canteen. She didn't care about Morag's husband's redundancy or Sue's man's temper. They were like bad actors and she'd heard it all before.

But when Mrs Green in Aberdare told her about not being able to afford to feed her cat anymore, she'd marked the unpaid phone bill as paid. It was the least she could do. She'd started giving every fifth customer a bill credit. So far she hadn't been caught, but she knew the calls were recorded and randomly monitored. Eventually she'd get summoned into the Big Office and punished in some way.

But it wasn't even that that was making her leave work. She just couldn't be bothered with the people she knew any more. She'd rather work on her own. She imagined herself somewhere quiet and isolated and peaceful. Somewhere where she'd have to actively seek someone out to talk to them. Somewhere where even if you passed a person in the corridor, it was completely acceptable just to nod at them and not be seen as ignorant.

Nowhere immediately sprang to mind.

She wasted the rest of the day in the Overgate shopping centre. She had a feeling that she'd be wasting a lot of her time in there so consciously eked out the experience. She didn't want to look at everything on her first visit. She decided to carry out a comprehensive customer relations survey of the centre. It would give her something to do and if anyone questioned her hanging about for days on end she'd be able to imply that she was the mystery shopper. Very ingenious.

At first she'd gone for an expression of mild curiosity as if she'd dropped her child off at playgroup and didn't get into town much. She'd stuck around the slightly mumsy section in Debenhams but she couldn't get over the amount of pastel, cotton items there were. It was as if when you had a baby you had to start dressing in a similarly baby-like manner. She'd cast around at first to see if there were any other mums milling around with time on their hands and no set agenda, but there was only a shop assistant going about turning all the hooks on the hangers to face in the same direction. She completely ignored Laurie, even when Laurie raised her eyebrows at her in acknowledgement. So much for looking after the customer's needs, thought Laurie, making a mental note to jot it down later.

She worked her way through the whole of Debenhams from the children's section to house ware, asking various questions of staff and making up little back stories to explain herself. She flicked through a book of curtain swatches and watched the woman working in the porcelain section. She moved carefully around her little shop section. Definitely not for Laurie. All those breakables needing dusted and arranged. There was far too much chance of disaster in there. The woman smiled at her and put down the crystal elephant she was dusting.

‘‘Good afternoon, can I help you with anything?'' The woman was happy in her work.

Laurie wondered if the woman's house was full of this stuff or if perhaps it was completely minimalist and uncluttered.

‘‘Yes, please.'' Laurie thought for a moment. ‘‘I'm looking for a present for someone.''

The woman smiled at Laurie. Laurie smiled at the woman.

‘‘Who's the present for?''

‘‘Oh, em … It's for … Gerry.'' She thought for a moment. ‘‘Yes, I'd like to get Gerry a present.''

The woman frowned, but not unkindly. She must get a lot of doddery old folk in here.

‘‘Lovely. So what sort of ornament do you think Gerry might like?''

Laurie was baffled. She didn't have the faintest idea.

The woman led her over to a cabinet that contained dad-type stuff.

‘‘How about football? Does he follow a team?''

There were ugly little football badges made out of porcelain. She couldn't imagine Gerry wearing one, even if she did know if there was a team he followed.

‘‘No. I don't think so.''

‘‘Well, we've also got golf and rugby balls made out of crystal.''

Laurie shook her head. All she really knew about Gerry was that he liked to drink a pint and a nip and that he was a better kisser than Ed.