Second Chance by Patricia Scanlan Read Free Book Online Page A

from one of them.
    With great anticipation Tony heard the ending of the postal dispute announced on the six o’clock news one evening several weeks later. The next morning he was waiting for the postman. To his dismay all he got were several brown envelopes containing bills, and a card from his sister who had been in Spain on holidays.
    â€œDon’t worry,” Jean assured him. “They’ll have lots of mail to sort. There’s probably loads of replies waiting for you.”
    Tony got two replies out of the fifty letters he had sent out. Both regretting that they could not offer him employment. He was gutted. Despair enveloped him. What a failure he was as a husband and father. “Stop worrying, we’re managing all right. Something will turn up,” Jean encouraged. But he could see the new worry lines in her face. The anxious furrowing of her brow when more brown envelopes with their unwelcome bills dropped on the doormat in the mornings.
    â€œMaybe I should go to England,” Tony suggested glumly. “I’d surely get a job there.”
    â€œIt’s as bad there as it is here. Hold on for a while. We’re not on our uppers yet,” his wife said, but Tony could not get rid of the nagging anxiety that weighed him down.
    They quickly learned to economise. No more Chinese take-aways. No newspapers. No more biscuits or cakes. They started to buy cheaper loo rolls and cheaper nappies for the baby. Yellow-pack labels saved them a few pounds. As fast as the sand in the egg-timer, their little nest egg of savings disappeared. Jean suggested that maybe they should start looking for a less expensive flat.
    Her mother stepped in and suggested that they come and live with her until things picked up and her son-in-law got another job.
    â€œI think it’s for the best, Tony. At least it won’t be taking an enormous amount out of your dole money in rent. I could look after baby Angela for Jean if she was able to get a part-time job,” Mrs Feeny said with that delicate breathy voice that hid a will of iron.Tony knew he would be making a big mistake by agreeing to his mother-in-law’s suggestion. They’d manage on their own. Thousands … no millions of people managed in similar circumstances and he’d get a job somewhere, he knew it. “Let’s wait another little while,” he urged his wife. But he could see that she wanted to move in with her mother.
    â€œI’ll get a job in an office or maybe a shop or café for a couple of hours a day. Mam can mind Angela. She’d love it and it would give us a few extra bob,” Jean pleaded the day they gave back their video and stopped their Cablelink payments. Then the washing-machine broke down and Tony just didn’t have the money to get it repaired. Jean started bringing the washing around to her mother’s. She spent longer and longer there. In the end, Tony agreed togo and live in the red-brick house off the North Circular Road. He had never felt so fed up in his life.
    Now, nearly a year later, he was sick to death of his life. Sick to death of his mother-in-law and, right at this minute, sick to death of his wife. Especially after their row this morning. He stared glumly out of the shop window. The rain was easing off. Where was he going to go today anyway? He had had no destination in mind when he had barged out of the house earlier on. All he had wanted to do then was to get away from his wife and her mother. He put his hand in his trouser pocket and took out the loose coins that jangled there. One pound and thirty pence, he counted. Hardly a fortune, still it was better than nothing. Last week he’d only had twenty pence left on his dole day. He wouldn’t mindbuying a paper and going for a cup of coffee and a read. But if he bought the paper he wouldn’t have enough to buy anything to eat later. He had better stay out of Jean’s hair for the rest of the day. Tony sighed. He