Breakfast In Bed (Fully English Sequel)

Chapter 13

The removal van arrives just as I am about to abandon hope. My face is heavily made up and I am dressed saucily – adult acne disguised and pouch of tummy fat bandaged in a wrap dress.

"Morning miss," the driver calls from the seat of his truck. His shiny bald head reflects the light from the sun as he cuts the engine and prepares to step down.

"Afternoon," I seethe. "A bit late aren't you?"

"Traffic miss."

He jauntily jumps from his seat and opens the back door of the truck. Inside were the entrails of my bedroom: my bean bag, lilac curtains, side table and other ornaments. The driver loads them up individual and eyes me as he makes trips to and fro from the van to the living room. I don't help. My get-up is far too pristine for me to support him in any way.

Wren is with her grandparents and I am carrying a crate of leftover cake from Wren's first birthday. The plan was to surprise Reece at his office so he could share with his colleagues. As far as I knew, my mum was gone. She hadn't called to tell me where she was going or when but the removals van was enough confirmation. Still I wasn't sure.

"So where are you going after this?" I enquire casually.

The man is now onto carrying taped boxes one by one into the home. Slowly but surely, the belongings of my previous life are taken into the new life I've created for myself. I consider burning them ceremoniously.

"Why?" He rebuts cheekily. "Going somewhere fancy?"

"No," I lie. "Well yes, but that's not why-"

"Look lady," he cuts me off. "I've been hired for an hour to get all this stuff moved into your property. Once I'm done with this, we can talk about any other favours you need me to do, alright?"

I restrain the eye-roll that tempts my eyeballs and stand stoically on the pavement. It wasn't raining anymore but the clouds had stitched over to incubate the heavens. There was no light. Just dim, grey, lifeless weather. My trench coat sat languid on my shoulders, barely protecting me from the untimely gusts that threatened my outfit.

After the driver finishes moving all the boxes, I invite him in for a cup of tea and biscuits which he accepts. In my doorway, he stands, not having broken a sweat but still musty from the damp of his van. He had fifteen minutes until he was scheduled to be out of here. Reece's usual lunchtime was creeping too so I had to get out of here. Booking an Uber was my best bet. But first...

"So when did my mum hire you?" I ask of him casually.

He slurps the tea noisily and I see ecstasy light his eyes. "Hmmm."

The taste of the beverage is too good for him not to have it sit on his tongue awhile. Once it is down his throat, I repeat my question and he answers.

"You talking about Yasmin?" He confirms my mother's name.

"Yes."

"Err," the crumbs of his biscuit sprinkle his clothes and my carpet. "Ab-out, two weeks ago. It was a referral. One of my loyal customers recommended me to her."

I nod. "Your loyal..."

"Rich fella," he explains. "Tall, white, Amazonian wife, twin girls. Can't say his name and all, you know. Data protection and GDPR." His wet chortle echoes off the walls and in it, I feel is something sinister.

"Freddie," I mention in passing. "Freddie Beaufort referred you."

"Who's asking?"

Without permission, he flicks open a packet of cigarettes and slides one onto his tongue. His purse lips clasp it before he lights up and moves over to the window to welcome a breeze.