Paula Spencer Read Online Free PDF

thanks.
    Talk to you. Where did she get that from?
    Leave her alone. Nicola's making something of herself. More than Paula ever did. And Nicola has her problems too.
    She's at the cafe. She's getting nervous. It's ridiculous. She's only going for a cup of coffee. She used to be good at looking at men. She could look straight back at any age, height, shoe size. Charlo knocked it out of her. That must be it. The confidence, the guts – gone. Or maybe you have to be young for it. To hold a look. To stare without fear.
    It's nearly empty. She sees that before she gets to the door. Just two people, Italian-looking, sitting at the back. Tiny cups on their table.
    The door's open.
    She steps in.
    The smell is great. All the different bread and the little pizza things. The salami, all the tomato-covered stuff under and over the glass along the counter. It's gorgeous and nerve-racking. Even the cakes. There's nothing that's just round and normal-looking. She knows the names of none of them.
    But it's grand. It's why she's here. There's a wet-looking cake that looks like a killer. It'll do.
    There's a body behind the glass, waiting for Paula to straighten up.
    A small woman, smiling. Dark, Italian. Paula smiles back. This is easy. She doesn't let herself look further, at whoever might be doing the pizzas, away to her left.
    —I'm spoilt for choice, says Paula.
    The woman smiles.
    Paula points at her cake.
    —Is there alcohol in that one?
    She looks at the woman asking herself, repeating the question in her head. Strange question, she probably thinks.
    The woman now points.
    —This?
    —Yeah, says Paula. —That one.
    —No alcohol, says the woman.
    —Grand, says Paula.
    She's tempted. She could tell the girl that she doesn't want the kids having anything with alcohol in it. But she doesn't.
    —You want?
    —Yes, please, says Paula.
    She doesn't even ask the price.
    —And a cup of coffee for here.
    The woman smiles.
    —You sit, I bring.
    —Grand.
    Nicest thing she's heard all day. You sit, I bring.
    She sits. She looks in the milk jug. There's plenty. She runs her hand over the wood of the table. She can see the methadone clinic across the road. The steel double doors are shut. There's no sign outside or logo. There's no one hanging around. It's the wrong time of the day. But it's in there. She was there herself more than once, looking for John Paul. She stood in that place feeling great because they were junkies and she was only drunk.
    There's a cage over the only window. Maybe there's someone over there looking out, a nurse or doctor, looking across where Paula is. Maybe thinking the same thing as Paula. She's on the right side of the street.
    She still hasn't looked over at the pizza oven. She isn't that fussed.
    The coffee.
    —Lovely.
    In a lovely cup. Not that cheap china that's half-plastic, that sticks to your lip as you take it away. This one is a beautiful blue, no saucer. And the woman puts the cake, in a box, on the other side of the table.
    —Thanks very much.
    No mention of money. They know. She won't run off without paying.
    Her running days are over.
    Scotland the Brave. She's quicker this time.
    —Hello?
    —It's me.
    It's Nicola.
    Oh shite, she's caught.
    —Hi, love.
    It's very quiet, there's a roof over her head – she might get away with it.
    —Where are you?
    —At home, says Paula. —Just changing my shoes.
    —I was thinking I'd bring the kids over later, to wish you a happy birthday and that.
    —After work, says Paula. —Lovely. I'd love that.
    —Okay. Eight-ish. They've done cards for you.
    —Ah. The dotes. Bye, love.
    She pushes the red. They'll talk later, while the kids are playing or watching a video. They might talk. Paula doesn't know. They chat but they don't really talk. Nicola looks after Paula. She checks on her – that's what tonight is really about. She was no good to Nicola when Nicola was younger, except as a bad example. But it's better now. She thinks it is – she knows. She