Second Time Around. Erin Kaye

put a protective hand to her chin and turned away. Jennifer, remembering what it was like to have bad skin, felt sorry for her. Perhaps she was finding her university course hard going – stress could cause an outbreak of spots. But Lucy was no longer in her teens – she shouldn’t have to live with skin like that. ‘It might be acne,’ she suggested, walking over to the table and setting her bags down on the worn seat of a pine chair. ‘Maybe the doctor could give you something for them.’

      ‘It’s not acne.’

      Jennifer kicked her shoes off, leaving them where they fell on the worn lino. ‘No, you’re right. It doesn’t really look like acne. More like a skin infection.’

      Lucy removed her hand from her face and said, angrily, ‘Mum, it’s not a skin infection! It’s just spots. Ugly, yes. Disgusting, yes. But just spots! They’ll go away soon enough.’

      Jennifer took a deep breath and counted to five. ‘I’m only trying to help,’ she said quietly. Lucy said nothing in reply and then another thought occurred to Jennifer. ‘Are you eating properly? Because sometimes when you don’t eat enough fruit and –’

      ‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ cried Lucy, this time raising her voice. She gripped the back of a chair with both hands until her knuckles went white. ‘Don’t you know when to leave it, Mum?’

      Jennifer, genuinely perplexed and hurt by what she perceived as her daughter’s over-reaction, said, ‘Well, I’m sorry. I thought … never mind.’ She glanced through the utility room door at the pile of laundry. ‘Don’t tell me the washing machine at your digs is still broken.’

      ‘Yep.’

      Lucy paid out an absolute fortune for a room you couldn’t swing a cat in. ‘It hasn’t worked since you moved in. I feel like ringing the landlord up and giving him a piece of my mind.’

      ‘Don’t you dare,’ snapped Lucy. ‘I’m the one paying the rent. Do you want to make me look ridiculous?’

      Jennifer, with no desire to see the argument escalate any further, bit her tongue. She pulled out a chair and sat down heavily. Why was Lucy still acting like a rebellious teenager? She and Lucy ought to have gotten past this stage and moved on to a more harmonious relationship, like the one she shared with Matt. ‘Come and sit down,’ she smiled, patting the seat of the chair beside her. ‘And tell me all about your week.’

      Lucy complied, folding herself into the chair with her shoulders hunched, like she wanted to disappear. She’d had an issue with her height since primary school when she’d been the tallest girl in her class. Jennifer wished she could make her believe that her height was something to be proud of. She would look so much better if she stood up straight and tall, and a cheery smile would help too – but there was no telling Lucy.

      ‘I went out for a drink with the girls in the house a couple of times,’ said Lucy, brushing crumbs off the table with the sleeve of her dressing gown. Jennifer watched them fall to the floor and decided to let the behaviour go unremarked. ‘But everywhere’s so expensive these days. It’s nearly four quid for a glass of wine in some places. Apart from the Union,’ she went on, ‘but you wouldn’t want to go there every night.’

      Jennifer clasped her hands together and rested them on the table, trying not to look alarmed. Lucy didn’t talk much about her university life, academic or social, and Jennifer sometimes wondered if she was keeping something from her. But then all students kept secrets from their parents, didn’t they? She told herself not to worry so much – it was all part of growing up. But still, she couldn’t help herself from commenting, ‘I hope you’re not drinking too much.’

      ‘Of course not,’ said Lucy evenly, ‘But you can hardly go out without having a couple of glasses of wine, can you? And taxis home are expensive too. You wouldn’t want me to be walking home from the city centre late at night, would you?’

      ‘Well, no. But aren’t there late night buses?’

      ‘Not always.’ And for some reason Lucy blushed. Jennifer suspected she was not being entirely truthful, but, pleased to hear that Lucy had friends to go out with, she decided to let it go. ‘It’s great that you’re going out with your friends and having a good time. That’s what university’s all about. So long as your studies don’t suffer.’

      ‘They don’t.’

      Jennifer yawned and glanced at the clock and said without moving, ‘I guess I’d better go upstairs and get out of these glad rags. I’ll show you what I bought tomorrow, shall I? I don’t think I have the energy for it tonight.’

      Lucy toyed with the frayed belt of her dressing gown. ‘So, as I was saying,’ she said with a note of urgency in her voice, ‘things are expensive. Even food.’

      ‘Tell me about it,’ laughed Jennifer good-humouredly, and she stood up. ‘Your brother just about eats me out of house and home.’ She collected her bags and coat, and added, rather sadly, ‘Though not for much longer.’

      ‘So I was wondering,’ said Lucy, interrupting Jennifer’s thoughts, ‘if I could have a hundred quid. Just to see me through till the end of the month.’

      ‘What?’ said Jennifer, doubting what she’d just heard.

      ‘I’m a bit short, Mum. I was wondering if you could give me a hundred pounds.’ She paused and looked searchingly into Jennifer’s stunned face and added, ‘Just this once.’

      ‘But I don’t understand,’ said Jennifer, setting her bags and coat down again on the adjacent chair. ‘I gave you an extra fifty only a week ago.’

      ‘But that was for text books.’

      Jennifer, confused, sat down again. ‘But how can you be short of money? Your monthly allowance is more than enough to live on. And I thought you said you would budget?’ Last year, her first year at uni, she’d tapped Jennifer constantly for money. At the end of the summer they’d had a long chat about finances and Lucy had promised that she’d manage her money. And here they were, less than a fortnight into the new term, and she was asking for more. ‘This can’t go on, Lucy.’

      Although the business was doing okay and she could meet her monthly commitments, Jennifer wasn’t exactly awash with money. David paid the bulk of Lucy’s living costs and education, but Jennifer contributed a hefty sum too. She rested her elbow on the table and rubbed her brow with her thumb and forefinger. ‘I’m sorry, pet,’ she said, feeling both guilty and resolved, ‘but I don’t think I can help you out. You’ll have to go overdrawn for a bit and pay it back at the end of the month.’

      Lucy’s face reddened and she pulled the folds of the dressing gown defensively round her thin frame. ‘It’s only a hundred quid, Mum,’ she said grumpily.

      ‘Only a hundred quid!’ repeated Jennifer in astonishment.

      ‘And Dad said the overdraft was only for emergencies.’

      ‘Do you think I’m made of money?’ said Jennifer, losing it a bit. ‘The car needs to be taxed and MOTed, I need to get the leak in the shower fixed and the outside of the house desperately needs painting. Not to mention replacing this kitchen.’ She looked at the pale blue paint peeling off the cupboards she had painted herself when they’d moved in, the dripping tap, the cracked wall tiles and shook her head in exasperation. ‘Anyway, what do you need it for?’

      ‘I told you,’ said Lucy irritably, avoiding eye contact, as she had done for most of this conversation. ‘Things are expensive. Everyone at uni’s in debt.’

      ‘Well, you don’t need to be. Not with the money you have coming in. I thought you knew how to budget, Lucy. Haven’t I been over it with you time and again?’ Jennifer sighed heavily, got up, opened a kitchen drawer and pulled out a pen and a notebook.

      ‘What are you doing?’ said Lucy.

      Jennifer sat down again and opened the notebook. ‘Let’s go through this one more time.