“What’s wrong with working in the post office?” Claire had asked. “Not that I’m actually working in the post office. I have to be trained to do that.”
Her mother had laughed again, only to trail off uncertainly. “Claire, really. This isn’t... Look, I understand you needed a bit of a break, especially after Hugh...” Her mother’s voice turned tearful and tragic, and Claire had suppressed a sigh.
“I’m not actually all that broken up about Hugh.”
“It’s admirable, of course, to put a good face on it—”
“I’m not putting a good face on it—”
“But that’s all in the past anyway.” Marie brought her hands together in a sort of clap. “The reason we’ve come all this way is because Daddy has arranged a job for you down in London. A proper job.”
Claire had felt a leaden sense of inevitability fall over her, weighing her down. “What kind of proper job?”
“Working for a charitable foundation. Something with sport...” Marie had glanced at her husband. “What is it, Edward?”
“The Foundation for Promising Athletes,” he’d said, his voice a rumble, his arms folded. Sitting there so silent and disapproving, he reminded Claire of Dan. Except Dan was a lot nicer.
“Sounds very... sporty,” Claire had managed. “So what does it do?”
“Oh, it scouts for athletes from all around the country,” Marie had enthused. “It’s found the number twenty-two-ranked tennis player—”
“And it’s a charitable foundation?” Claire had interjected. “It sounds like a talent agency.”
“It’s not like that.” Marie had drawn back, affronted. “It runs camps and things. For the disadvantaged. They just have to show ability. Isn’t that right, Edward?”
Her father nodded. Claire had sighed. Her parents had been home for ten minutes and she already felt overwhelmed, knocked back by the sheer force of her mother’s will. She didn’t want to go to London and work for some tony foundation, but at that moment she didn’t have the energy to explain that to her mother.
Fortunately, her parents had left it, no doubt assuming Claire would fall in with their plans as she always did. And after an interminable dinner at Raymond’s, Claire had excused herself and escaped to her bedroom, glad not to have to face her parents till the morning.
Lying in bed, she wondered what they were saying about her. She hadn’t possessed the courage to order a glass of wine with her meal that night; her parents had exchanged relieved looks when she’d asked for sparkling water. Now she imagined them whispering about her, how wan she looked, how much better her life in London would be. Telling them no was going to take all the strength she had.
The next morning her mother was in the kitchen when Claire came downstairs, ready to clean two of Rachel’s jobs that she’d switched to Saturday.
“You’re up early,” Marie said brightly as she sipped a black coffee, her smartphone in her other hand.
“I’m going to work.”
“Work?” Marie looked blank. “You mean at the post office? But, Claire—”
“No, not at the post office. I’m cleaning houses for Rachel Campbell.” Marie gaped at her, utterly flummoxed. “I enjoy it,” Claire said with an edge of defiance. “And I have responsibilities.”
“Of course you do,” Marie agreed. She sounded as if she were soothing a skittish colt. “Of course you do. But… you can tell Rachel you can’t do it after today. And you can give your notice at the post office.”
Claire didn’t bother to reply. She just took a banana from the bowl and reached for her coat. Outside the sun was shining, but the wind was cold. She lowered her head against it, calling herself a coward. An emotional coward, just like Dan, because she hadn’t disagreed with her mother. Because part of her felt it would be safer, easier, to slink back to London than to keep trying to carve out a life for herself here, with people she wasn’t even sure wanted her around.
On the way to Rachel’s she saw that Dan was in the post office when she arrived, and impulsively Claire stepped inside.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, and she just shrugged. Dan peered at her from behind the Plexiglas. “Claire? Is everything all right?”
“No.” Her voice wobbled, and she mentally shook her head at herself. Now Dan actually showed a modicum of interest in her. “It’s bloody awful at the moment. My parents just arrived.”
“You don’t get on with them?”
“Not particularly, although I doubt they would say that.”
Dan came out from behind the post office counter. “What do you mean?”
“They’ve been managing my life forever, and they still think they can do it.” She paused and then blurted, “They want me to go to London. My father’s arranged a job for me, working for some sports charity.”
