The weeks went by, the days grew shorter and colder, until one day, in early November, a turning point came.
Val’s hours had been reduced from four days to three mornings a week.
Her salary was cut in half and she was having to spend more time at home. The house was freezing. She started to worry about her next heating bill. And it was boring, sitting at home by herself all afternoon, watching daytime TV. Boring and lonely.
One Wednesday lunchtime she was coming home from the library on the Number 11 bus. She got on in Harborne and planned to get off close to her home in Yardley, a journey of some twenty-five minutes. But as she approached her stop, she changed her mind. The bus was warm; her house was cold. The bus was full of people; her house was empty. The view from her seat on the bus was ever-changing; the views from her house were monotonous. Suddenly she felt no inclination at all to get up from her comfortable seat and step out into the cold.
It was 1.15. A complete circuit of the city would bring her back to this same spot at 3.45. So that was what she did, and that was what she soon got into the habit of doing every day. Every working day, at first, but then, before long, she found that she was doing it on Tuesdays and Thursdays as well. Sometimes clockwise, sometimes anti-clockwise. Two and a half hours in which nothing was required of her, except to sit still, to watch the comings and goings of the other passengers, and to allow her thoughts to drift in spiralling patterns which mirrored the bus’s slow, circular progress.
Yardley — Stechford — Fox & Goose —
Why was her house so cold? Because she couldn’t afford to keep the radiators on all day. And even when they were on, she didn’t turn them up to 5 any more, the way she used to when winter came. Nowadays she never turned them higher than 2. Why not? Because the library couldn’t afford to pay her properly. Because the government had drastically reduced its budget for libraries. Because we were now all living — apparently — in an age of ‘austerity’.
— Fox & Goose — Erdington — Witton — Perry Barr — Handsworth —
This new buzzword — austerity — had only entered common currency about a year ago. What did it mean? In 2008 there had been a global financial crisis and some of the world’s largest banks had been on the point of collapse. The people had bailed them out and now, it seemed, in order to pay for this, public services would have to be slashed and benefits would have to be cut. But it was worth it because we had been living beyond our means and we were ‘all in this together’.
— Handsworth — Winson Green — Bearwood —
And this, essentially, was why Val was now being careful never to turn her radiators up higher than 2 and was choosing to ride round and round the outer circle on the Number 11 bus rather than go home to her chilly living room. But at the same time, she couldn’t help thinking about the traders and fund managers whose activities had brought the banks to the brink of collapse: were many of them, she wondered, being careful to keep their radiators turned down to 2? It didn’t seem very likely.
— Bearwood — Harborne — Selly Oak —
The thought made her angry and depressed. The fact that she was angry and depressed made her feel guilty. It couldn’t be much fun for Alison, living with a mother who was angry and depressed all the time. What could she do to stop herself from feeling angry and depressed?
— Selly Oak — Cotteridge — Kings Heath —
Last night she had watched a TV panel show where a popular comedian, Mickey Parr, had gone off on a satirical riff about bankers still getting bonuses even after the banks had had to be bailed out by the government, and the studio audience had been in stitches. They all seemed to think the situation was hilarious. Val had sat on the sofa with her glass of Pinot Grigio and watched the routine through a puzzled frown. Why did people think it was funny? Why did it not make them angry and depressed?
— Kings Heath — Hall Green — Acocks Green — Yardley
She was still pondering that one as the bus reached her stop at last, after a longer than usual journey of two hours and forty minutes. It was three o’clock in the afternoon. Before getting off she hesitated very briefly, wondering if she should stay on for another circuit, but even Val realized that would be a step too far. So she disembarked and went straight to the supermarket, to try and find something different (but cheap) that she and Alison could have for dinner. It was on the short walk home from there that her mobile rang, heralding the call from Cheryl that would transform her life.
*
Alison had been to the pub with Selena again, and was late home. It was after 9.30 when she let herself in. She went into the kitchen and found that her mother’s shopping was still sitting unpacked on the kitchen table. From the living room she could hear the sound of the television.
She picked out the first thing she could find in the shopping bag. It was a small plastic packet, on the front of which were the words ‘HAPPEE CHICKEN BITES’, accompanied by a cartoon picture of a purple chicken with a cheeky smile on its face, biting its own leg off. Alison turned the packet over and read the small print at the bottom. ‘Manufactured by Sunbeam Foods’, it said. ‘Part of the Brunwin Group’.
She took the packet into the living room. ‘What is this, Mum? Are you taking the piss or something?’
Val jumped to her feet. ‘Where the hell have you been?’ she said. ‘I’ve been trying to contact you for hours.’
‘Sorry, my phone battery ran out.’ She was almost having to shout over the sound of the television, it was turned up so loud. ‘Can you mute that? Why are you watching that shit anyway?’
Val was watching a famous reality show, in which a dozen celebrities were flown off to the Australian jungle and had to survive there for two weeks, while the viewing public voted them off the programme one by one. It wasn’t the kind of show she would have bothered with in the past, but nowadays it seemed she would watch almost anything.
‘Why am I watching it?’ Val turned and pointed at the screen. Her face was flushed, her pointing finger was shaking. ‘You want to know why I’m watching it? I’m watching it because I’m going to be on it.’
Her eyes were wide with an excitement she was waiting for Alison to reciprocate. But the words she had just spoken made no sense to her daughter. Alison recognized them all, individually, but her brain could not put them together into a meaningful sentence.
‘What are you talking about?’ was all she could say.
‘Cheryl rang up this afternoon. I thought it might be about the song, but … anyway, this is nearly as good. They want me to go on the show. This show.’
After opening and closing her mouth ineffectually a few more times, Alison managed to ask: ‘When?’
‘The day after tomorrow,’ said Val, and laughed wildly. ‘I know. It’s amazing, isn’t it? They want to bring someone new in halfway through the series and the person they’d booked has dropped out. So they called Cheryl and said they were desperate to find someone and she suggested me.’
‘Desperate?’
‘Well … no, that wasn’t the word. Anxious, or something. It might have been desperate. I don’t know. Anyway, that’s not the point. In three days’ time, I’m going to be in that camp. With those people.’
Alison stared at her mother, utterly nonplussed. In fact neither of them could speak, now: but the moment of release, when it finally came, was euphoric. It wasn’t long before they found themselves shrieking with excitement, and dancing together around the room until Val lost her balance, fell heavily against her daughter’s artificial leg and they collapsed on to the sofa in a heap, tears of joy running down their faces.