Waiting For You. Catherine Miller

she started to work away at the varnish again, unwelcome thoughts began to niggle away at her. After two years of trying, perhaps it was time to stop blaming it on the fact they only saw each other at the weekend.

       Chapter Two

      ‘Flowers! Mum, you shouldn’t have.’ Fliss took the bouquet from her mother and tried not to blush at the thought of the vase she would have to put them in.

      ‘If I can’t spoil my daughter and my gorgeous granddaughter then what am I to do in life?’ Joan said, while removing her coat.

      ‘Grandmaaaa.’ Hollie launched herself down the stairs and flung her arms round Joan, almost sending her off her feet.

      ‘This must be the best greeting I’ve ever had. Now are you all packed for your sleepover, young lady?’

      ‘I need to show you something, Gran.’ Hollie tugged on Joan’s cardigan sleeve, leading her up the stairs, whether she was a willing follower or not.

      ‘Wait a second, Hollie. I think Gran would like a cup of tea before you both head off.’ Hollie pouted at Fliss, not quite able to understand that not everyone could keep up with the enthusiasm of a six-year-old.

      ‘Not to worry, love. I’ll pop up while you put the kettle on. Right, young lady. You have exactly five minutes of Gran’s time before I need to sit down with your mum.’

      With that, Fliss watched as her mum was whisked away up the stairs, shortly followed by the thuds of Hollie’s latest dance routine pounding through the low ceilings.

      Fliss popped the flowers in a vase, checked on the lamb shanks and made a start on peeling the potatoes. Despite scheduling in a late dinner with her husband, he’d not long since texted to say he was running even later than expected. Who lived like this and survived, she wondered. Whenever she watched homebuyers on telly seeking out a dual lifestyle you never got to see this side of the idyll, which was anything but. When they’d set out to find somewhere so Hollie could grow up outside of central London, she’d wanted to get the best out of everything. They’d settled on a small cottage on the Kent coast so they would be in-between both families. They’d sold their London flat for a profit and Ben had downsized to a less affluent, more up-and-coming part of East London. It made sense that he shouldn’t have to suffer the daily commute, causing him to be thoroughly miserable and arrive home when his daughter was already in bed. At least that had been the plan. Now, several years in, Fliss wondered why she had bothered factoring in his family when they’d only visited once. She’d much rather live nearer her mum and sister. If only she’d known that when they made those decisions. What she would do for a crystal ball. Life would be so much easier.

      As it was they’d settled well in the coastal village of Westbrook. She’d made friends with some of the school mums, there was a healthy demand for her business, but she couldn’t help feel that something was lacking. Maybe it was missing her husband that was the problem.

      ‘Gosh, darling, quite a little mover, isn’t she?’ Joan said, slightly out of breath.

      ‘Yes, she’s got grand ambitions on that front. Seems she doesn’t think her dance instructor’s routines are technical enough so she likes to create her own versions.’ Fliss passed her mum the cup of tea she’d prepared absentmindedly.

      ‘Do you need a hand with anything here before we head off?’

      Looking around the kitchen-cum-diner, it was hardly the setting for the romantic dinner Fliss had planned. There were pans and plates left over from Hollie’s meal covering every square inch of sideboard making the place seem cluttered. Clearing up would be a welcome distraction. ‘It’s fine, Mum. I’ll have it spic and span in no time. Everything’s under control.’

      ‘Will I get to see my son-in-law before we have to disappear?’

      Fliss studied a piece of onion skin that had managed to find its way onto the floor. Ignoring her mother’s signs of disapproval, she scooped it up. ‘He’s missed the right train to be here before you leave. He’ll be on the next one.’

      ‘Again? Seems it’s becoming a habit.’

      Damn, Fliss didn’t want to go down this line of conversation. It never came out favourably for Ben and it was always so hard to explain, especially when she was fed up with making excuses for him. Joan arched an eyebrow in a way her daughter couldn’t match as she waited for the usual deluge of excuses.

      ‘Yes, I know. It’s rubbish. But we’re going to talk about it. It’s not down to Ben how unreliable the transport system is. And you’ll see him tomorrow.’ There she went again, jumping to his defence, finding herself riled so easily when discussing it with her mum who seemed to always have it in for her husband and the amount of time he spent away from his family. It was draining having to continually defend the lifestyle that she’d chosen. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t working out quite how she’d envisaged, but it was their lot and she was doing her best to stick with it. Or rather, stick with Ben if she was being more specific.

      ‘I’m ready!’ Hollie bounced into the room, her blonde ringlets almost as giddy with excitement as she was. Behind her, a pink roll-along suitcase, the zip not quite secured, and a trail of clothes in her wake.

      ‘Were you planning on taking those with you?’ Fliss gestured towards the mess her daughter had made.

      ‘Oh dear!’ Hollie giggled at the mishap and set to collecting the items.

      Fliss smiled at Hollie’s optimism as she watched her place a swimming costume, snorkel and ballet skirt into the case. Just how many activities did her daughter hope to squeeze into her overnight stay with Grandma? ‘Have you remembered to pack any pyjamas, young lady? As, from the look of things, you’re not going to have much time for sleep.’

      ‘Yesss, Mummm!’ Hollie said, the indignant teenager within her sounding disgusted. How quickly her young daughter was growing up. On some days, six going on sixteen couldn’t be closer to the truth.

      ‘Well, if you’re all set to go we best be on our way,’ Joan said, before taking a final slurp from her mug of tea.

      ‘Terrific!’ Hollie said, like a stayover at Grandma’s was the most exciting thing in the world.

      Once they’d left, Fliss placed a bottle of wine into the fridge and hung her head in there a moment longer than necessary. It was preferable to sticking her head in the oven. She listened to the soft buzzing inside and the silence of the cottage beyond. A rare moment of quiet. If only her life was as calm.

      ***

      It read 20:47 on the cooker clock when Fliss heard the jangle of Ben’s keys in the door. Somewhere along the line, her husband had stopped making any effort. Despite the commute, it was unreasonable for him to turn up so late when there were arrangements in place for them to have an evening together.

      In the time it had taken for Ben to arrive, Fliss had devoured two large glasses of wine and resorted to nibbling on breadsticks. Fed up and somewhat tipsy by this point, she’d done what she was for ever telling Hollie not to do, and ruined her dinner by munching her way through a Kit Kat Chunky and a packet of crisps. The lamb shanks were being kept warm in the slow cooker, but the creamy mash and onion gravy would need reheating.

      ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ Ben said, as soon as he reached the kitchen. He dashed small kisses all over her head as he leaned over her.

      Fliss had heard it before and she was beginning to get sick of it. ‘Why are you so late?’

      ‘Something cropped up at work.’

      ‘Always something.’ Fliss sighed deeply, resigned to the fact her husband’s work took precedence far too often. He should have taken a lease on his office at the architectural firm he worked for as his second home rather than buying their London flat. He must barely see the place with the hours he kept.

      ‘I