‘Thanks for standing up for me. That was kind of you,’ she whispers.
‘Shit. Did you pay?’ he asks, once they’ve reached the other side of the park.
Oops. Dawn checks her handbag, £7.99 from Claire’s Accessories. Just big enough to hold her phone, a tampon and her last crumpled fiver. Some shops won’t miss the odd item here, the odd piece of clothing there. Cafés are different though, especially when they’re not from a chain. The first thing she’d borrowed from a shop was a baby-gro for Rosie. She hadn’t even meant to; it was hiding in the bottom of the trolley. Lots of expectant mothers do it.
Apparently.
It was sort of difficult to stop after that, especially when she started needing other things later on. Food, blankets. She will never steal though, only borrow. Items and prices are all noted down in her special book and when her luck turns, she will pay it all back. Life could get better at any minute, who knows what could happen? Or perhaps she just needs a few lucky hands.
She looks behind them at the café. No one is following them. Then her eyes turn a couple of feet to the left of it. She knows she should look away. She’s managed to stay out of the betting shop for months but today feels like it needs a certain something to lift it higher as it’s starting to sink.
Can’t let that happen. Must keep her spirits up.
‘Dawn! We’ve been wondering what happened to you. We’ve missed you, it’s not the same in here without you,’ Barney says from behind the desk. Well, that’s what he would say if he wasn’t busy fiddling with the CCTV monitor above his head. Hard worker, that Barney. It’s quiet for a Tuesday. Good old Bert is in the corner, chewing on a biro and moving his eyes from his paper to the screen in front of him. It’s usually the dogs with Bert.
The fruit machines stand in a trio; the middle one whistling out sounds for a lanky lad with a man-bun. He looks like a Steve, Dawn reckons. The machine takes it down a few octaves and Steve punches the side of it three times, one for each bad word he spits out.
‘Maybe we should get out of here,’ Shaun whispers in Dawn’s ear. ‘You might need that fiver for something else.’
Dawn has already smoothed out the creases and fed her note into the hungry gap; her heart beginning to thump in line with the satisfying clunks of money turning into coins. The day around her is lifting already. Five pictures to match in any direction. Parrot, parrot, parrot, skull, pirate.
Damn.
Shaun shuffles about on his feet next to her, bored. Irritating really, kids have no attention span nowadays. Too much screen time, probably. One skull, and four pirates. Nearly. The machine sings and dances with her, joining in with her celebrations as the five parrots chirp at Dawn from the screen display. Clink, clink, clink.
Now you’re talking.
Dawn steals a glance behind her. It’s quite a bit busier now, and she catches Barney’s eye. He gives her a little nod before getting back to his paper. Dawn expects he’s really pleased for her that her luck is turning. Today’s going to be a good day. Dawn keeps playing and wins again and then again.
‘Maybe we should stop now.’ Shaun points to her fistful of eight-pound coins. ‘I could pop back next door and pay for our drinks.’
‘Great idea.’ Dawn feels like hugging him. Such a lovely, honest boy. Not many around like him these days. ‘Let me just have a quick go over there, then we can double it and I’ll treat you to a Maccy Ds.’
‘Why did you do that?’ Shaun groans as they stumble back out onto the pavement. ‘Everyone knows roulette’s for losers.’
Dawn may be five pound lighter after losing the last of her benefits for this week, but she doesn’t feel like a loser just yet. She can’t find the words to explain to him. It’s such a small price to pay for the buzz inside her head. She wants him to understand how the blood’s now pumping through her veins with that extra bit of enthusiasm. She just needs to keep it going.
‘Where now?’ Shaun asks, making her smile. It’s exactly what Rosie always used to ask when they went out shopping together. She’s pleased he wants to stay around to have some more fun. She doesn’t want to go back to St Jude’s yet, and the day is a beautiful one, bursting at the edges with sunshine.
There’s a large poster with its own frame on the wall next to the hairdressers. She takes in the pictures of the beautiful wedding dress, the flowers and the small words at the bottom: Complimentary champagne and cream teas for two at Dover Castle. Dawn quickens her pace towards the traffic lights.
‘Where are you going?’ Shaun is having to break into a jog to keep up with her.
‘We, young man, are having a trip to the castle. They’re putting on a wedding fayre and I have a consultation to attend regarding my upcoming nuptials.’
Dover Castle always takes Dawn’s breath away. Partly because of its beauty and the way the sunshine bounces from its stone walls and turrets, and because it’s at the top of a bloody great hill. She and Shaun trundle up to reception and Dawn feels sorry for Shaun having to carry that heavy sports bag as the beads of sweat appear on his forehead. She would offer to hold it for him, but she can’t have the castle staff thinking she’s there to steal stuff. If they ask, she’ll tell them they’ve come straight from her son’s football match. Perhaps he could play for Dover FC. She looks again at Shaun’s face. Maybe the under 16s team, let’s make it realistic; the boy still doesn’t have a single strand of facial hair.
‘It’s Dawn Elisabeth Brightside, one word. For now, anyway,’ she adds with a girlish giggle, ignoring Shaun’s eye roll. ‘I have an appointment for the wedding consultation? My son’s joining me.’
‘You don’t need an appointment, it’s an open event,’ the girl says, each word as flat as her ghd-smooth hair. She points to the right. ‘Just go back out and up the hill a bit more to the next entrance.’
The view from the top of the hill fills Dawn’s chest up with goodness as the sparkling sea winks back through the gaps in the lush green hills that surround the town. She can even see the park from here, the roped-off toilets are just a tiny dot. She looks away and tells Shaun to hurry up.
Dawn had thought there would be more people there, but there’s just one couple sitting at a desk chatting to someone with an Event Coordinator badge on. An elderly woman is stapling photos to a display wall of various brides and grooms, smiling as they throw their vows around over the top of a tower.
‘Maybe we’re a bit early for the champagne,’ she mutters, disappointed.
‘Can I help you?’ the woman with the stapler asks.
Dawn tells her all about Hugh: millionaire property tycoon who couldn’t get out of London this week after all on account of being so busy with work. The woman nods so she carries on, letting her know every detail of his romantic proposal at the top of The Shard. Right down to the cello player he hired to play One D’s ‘What Makes You Beautiful’.
‘So, he told me to go ahead and get the prices for all the available packages and he’ll join us next time,’ Dawn finishes.
The woman looks a little relieved and Dawn wonders if she’d gone too far with the part about Hugh hiding the ring inside an oyster that she’d almost choked on, and how Daniel Radcliffe who was sitting at the next table had to perform the Heimlich manoeuvre. Sometimes she gets a little carried away.