“Who is she?” Frankie asked as she climbed out of the car.
“Just come into the house and I’ll explain… You have to believe me — I didn’t want any of this. It’s you I’ve only ever wanted. You know that, yeah?”
“Just tell me who the Hell she is!” Frankie shouted. It didn’t matter what Shaun had to say — at the moment, all she knew was that there was a near naked girl in one of his tee shirts.
“You have to trust me,” Shaun took her by the hand and stepped back into the house.
Frankie gagged, “What the fuck is that smell?” she asked.
Shaun’s heart skipped a beat and he hurried through to the kitchen. The back door was wide open. The oven was on full. A stink of fur hanging in the air…
T H E E N D
Road Rage
1
Tina breathed a sigh of relief when the clock struck home-time. Her job as a receptionist may not have been the most active of roles but it didn’t make it any less tiring. Just over eight hours of filing paperwork, answering multiple phone calls and dealing with customer enquiries — she was ready to go home and have a nice relaxing soak in the tub, maybe even with a glass of wine. And a take-away. She was definitely ordering a take-away tonight. Her husband — Tony — worked nights and tonight was no different. After the day she had had, wading through a mountain of paperwork, it was the perfect reason to order take-away — not that she really needed one.
#notworthcookingforone is what she’d hashtag, along with a picture of whatever she had chosen to order, along with a second picture Tweet of a glass of wine to wash it down with.
#Rudenotto
“See you tomorrow!” she called out as she left the office, pushing the door open with her back and stepping out — backwards — into the street, clutching onto her handbag. Once outside, she turned and headed towards where she’d parked the car — hopeful to get to it before the heavens opened. Ominous dark clouds up above threatening to unleash a torrential downpour any minute now. Always the way — beautiful days right up until home time. And then, the blue skies were swallowed up and day become a very wet night. The only exception to this being the weekends. Then the days started wet and remained wet right the way through to when she turned in for the night; the clouds only parting come Monday morning.
#Godhatesme
She reached her little car just in the nick of time. A few splashes of rainwater had splattered down but not enough to soak her. She shut herself in and slid the key into the ignition before tossing her handbag onto the seat next to her just as a message pinged through on her mobile phone. Typical. A quick ferret around her bag and she found it. A message clearly displayed on the front of her iPhone; one of her most prized-possessions.
Free tonight if bored x
It was from one of her best friends; Shelley Atkins.
Sorry — plans tonight. Catch up soon tho? xx
Having tapped out the quick message, Tina pressed send and tossed the phone onto the seat where it landed next to her bag. It’s not that she didn’t enjoy spending time with Shelley, it’s just she had been promising herself that long soak in the bath and bottle of wine all afternoon. Sure, she could have enjoyed a drink with her friend and been sociable but — tonight at least — she just didn’t fancy it. Besides, despite being a romantic at heart, Shelley was single so Tina could always catch up with her at the weekend — especially as Tony played bass guitar in not one but two bands and, as a result, gigged most weekends.
Eyes facing forward, she turned the key and the car spluttered into life; a plume of smoke from the rear exhaust. She selected reverse, backed out of the space and drove away — leaving the car park behind her in the rearview mirror. She let out a heavy sigh as she settled back into her seat and made herself comfortable. Another day done. Two more days and then it was the weekend. And then it was Monday and the week started again. She dismissed the latter part of the thought and turned her mind to looking forward to the weekend.
#dontwishlifeaway
Driving through the main part of the city, traffic was already building up. The congestion wasn’t helped by the fact the rain had started beating down heavily, causing all cars to slow to a near stop. As Tina sat at the back of yet another traffic jam — with cars piling up behind her, also queuing, she knew she was in for a rough ride home. If the centre of town was already bad, there would be a good chance that the motorway would also be backing up too. She closed her eyes momentarily and wished herself away from the jam, instead picturing herself in the bath that she so longed for. In her picture, a tidy little bottle of red was on the floor — within easy reach — and a glass (full) was already in hand. A warm, soaking flannel placed across her forehead as she laid there with her eyes closed. The driver behind hit his horn — a long, loud blast pulling Tina back to the dull reality of evening rush-hour. She opened her eyes — sighed — and drove up to the back of the car in front. She didn’t know why the driver behind was so keen for her to move. It wasn’t as though they could get much further.
#wishfulthinking
Although Tina knew she wasn’t going to be the only one to have the idea — she decided that, as soon as the turning came up, she’d take the back way home. It was a little longer but the (usually) quiet country roads at least let you get to a decent speed and stay there whereas, on the motorway, there were usually tail-backs regardless of the weather. It just so happened that bad weather made things worse because, nine time out of ten, some idiot would slide into someone else because they hadn’t left enough of a gap between vehicles. As soon as that happened, the thirty minute journey home could turn into over an hour’s worth of travel time. At least.
#learntodrive
I I
Twenty minutes passed and Tina hadn’t made much progress. Her happiness at finishing work was quickly turning into a feeling of resentment. She resented the weather, she resented the traffic — both at fault for eating into her ‘free’ time. The time she could spend in the bath was getting shorter if she wanted to really make the most of her evening with mindless rubbish on the television and her take-away.
Why did the traffic always have to be worse when going home? Why did it have to make you late for your free time? She couldn’t help but feel she must have really pissed someone of authority off in a previous life. The traffic was never bad enough to make her late for the morning start. Only ever for going home.
#lifesucks
What made it more frustrating was that she could see the turning she needed to take — a few hundred yards away. The cars weren’t moving anywhere fast and yet hardly any traffic seemed to be headed down the road she wanted. More than that — not many vehicles were coming out from the turning either which suggested that particular route was quiet.
“Come on, come on…” she muttered under her breath, desperate to be able to get to the turning. Once she was driving down that road — so long as it was as quiet as it appeared — she knew she’d be on the way to getting home at a semi-decent hour. Still hope for that hot bath and glass of wine yet, she thought.
Slowly she watched as the cars passed by the turning — most sticking to the same route. She couldn’t help but wonder whether they knew something that she didn’t know. Maybe the road was closed further down? Maybe they could see that — a little further down the road — it was also at a standstill? Whatever — it had to be better than this. This was just painful. Not forgetting also that it was an excellent indication as to how the motorway would be. Another thought popped into her head; maybe they didn’t know the back route as she did? It was definitely a little more twisty-turny than the standard route and — as mentioned before — it was slightly longer. That on top of the fact that it was easy to get lost if you didn’t know the route properly — maybe people were put off? Thank God her sister, Joanne, showed her the route all those months ago when they went to the shops together; a cheeky little trip to make the most of the discount Joanne got for working at the supermarket.