The First Wife by Emily Barr Read Free Book Online

dash home again. I didn’t want friends. I had everything I needed at home. I thought I did.’
    Al smiled. He was, I could see, a very handsome man, in spite of the fact that he had shaved all his hair off, which I found rather intimidating.
    ‘Can I ask what happened to your parents?’ he said gently ‘I’m assuming you’re an orphan?’
    ‘An orphan? I don’t think so. I could be.’ I looked down at the table.
    ‘You don’t want to talk about it?’
    ‘Not really. So, tell me how you went from sleeping rough in London to working at the CAB in Falmouth. That’s got to be a more interesting story.’
    It was. Al had grown up in foster care, run away, lived in hostels and on the streets, got involved in drugs: ‘the standard downward spiral. At the time you think you’re the only one in the world it’s happening to, but believe me, Lily, it’s a well-trodden path.’ He had been saved by a volunteer at a night shelter one Christmas. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘all those people who volunteer at a night shelter because it’s Christmas, as if that’s a different day from all the others if you don’t have a home. It makes them feel better about themselves for one day of the year. So I was all cynical about it, but then this woman walked in. There was something about her. It was like I knew her. Turned out she’d taught me for a couple of years, at primary school. She was horrified because it turned out she thought I was bright, and she’d been imagining me doing all right for myself in the world, getting educated and doing worthwhile things of some sort. Then she met me at rock bloody bottom, drunk and, honestly, horrible and abusive. She helped me out.’
    ‘How did she do that?’
    ‘Well, she took a massive gamble on me. Took me home with her, because she was on her own, and gave me her spare room.’ He looked at me, his eyes wide. ‘I mean, can you imagine? A drunk off the streets? Not the most sensible course of action on her part. But it paid off for her, probably because I’m a conformist at heart. It’s a longish story, even from that point, but I’m here. Sometimes I wonder how long it’ll— But I’m here, and I want to try to do the same for others as Mrs Jennings did for me.’ He put one of his large hands on top of mine. ‘I’m talking about you, young lady. OK?’ He looked at me hard. I concluded quickly that I was not attracted to him at all, even though I would have liked to be. ‘I’m giving you my mobile number. Call me any time. I mean it.’

    I cycled home, and it was still raining. When I came in through the front door, I could hear that everyone was still there. The television was still on. The adults were downstairs. I thought of Al, getting himself together at Mrs Jennings’s flat in London. I had nothing to overcome, not compared to him. His old teacher had taken him in because she wanted to help. These people had taken me in because I was paying them, or at least, for the moment, the state was paying them. As I stood on the doormat and pulled my silly boots off, Julia appeared. She looked confused.
    ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Lily. You’ve been out?’
    I smiled at her. ‘I had coffee with a friend,’ I said, savouring the words.
    ‘Oh, that’s nice. I was just trying to make some of your real coffee. You’ve given us a bit of a taste for it. I don’t suppose you want another . . . ?’
    ‘I certainly do,’ I said. ‘Shall I make it?’
    She grinned. ‘Would you? I have no idea how much to spoon into that thing.’
    This house was warm, because a house like this was so much easier to heat than the cottage had ever been, and it smelled nice, like clean washing drying on radiators. Al wanted to help me. Julia wanted me to make coffee. I could hear the twins playing on the Wii, jumping about, snorting in their exertions, and laughing so hard that they were almost hysterical. Tommy and John were watching TV in John and Julia’s bedroom. There was no sign of