Back to the Grind

Welcome! I’ve signed up for a special new year blog hop hosted by romance author Viviana MacKade. Click here for more info.

I’ve been experiencing the post-Christmas blues and channelled them into this piece of flash fiction for my first #MacKadeBlogHop post.

She fell back onto the couch and groaned.

Her mother scurried about the house with a duster.

“If you don’t get a move on, you’ll be late for work.”

She rolled her eyes and said, “I know.”

“You’ve done nothing but lounge for the last three days.” Mum ran the yellow duster over the bookshelves. “It’ll do you good to get back to normal.”

“Mum, just give me a break, will you?” She rubbed her eyes and tried to muster up the energy to make a cup of coffee.

“You keep saying you hate that library job, so why don’t you find something else?”

“Because it’s good experience for my master’s application and when I apply for proper librarian jobs.” Working front line in local libraries these days meant you were more of a customer service operative for the council. Librarians hid away in comfy offices, planning enrichment activities rather than working with the books. One day, that would be her.

She forced her aching limbs to push herself up from the couch and shuffled into the kitchen. Her new, fluffy novelty slippers flopped against the floor like enormous clown shoes. Why the hell did Gran insist on buying her the ridiculous footwear every year? But, if she requested an alternative gift, the woman would have a hissy fit.  

Mum followed her into the kitchen and turned on the radio. 80s music filled the room. “Have you heard anything yet?”

“The deadline was the beginning of the month. They won’t have finished sifting through the applications yet.”

She filled the kettle and held it over the hob. The ignition switch clicked repeatedly until the blue flame surged to life.

After setting the kettle over the ring, she leaned a hip against the kitchen counter.

“I don’t expect to hear anything until February at the earliest.”

“I hope you get your first choice. Although Manchester is quite a drive from here.” Mum wrung out a dishcloth and wiped down the marble worktop, even though it already gleamed. “Do you want me to make you some breakfast?”

“I’m twenty-two. I can do it myself.”

“I know, but I just don’t want you to be late.”

“Stop fussing, Mum.”

“It’s been so nice having someone to take care of again.”

Like she didn’t do everything for Michael and Dad. Mum needed to get out of the house. “Why don’t you find a part-time job? Or perhaps some volunteer work.”

“Oh, I couldn’t do that.” Mum scrubbed an invisible mark. “You, Dad and Michael need me.”

“Dad and Michael can take care of themselves. Michael should get a job, instead of sitting on his arse gaming.”

“He needs a break after the stress of his a-levels and not getting into university.”

“He finished his exams in June. Will he spend the rest of his life living with you and Dad?” Her insides squirmed at the resentful tone of her voice, but she couldn’t seem to hold her tongue this morning.

The kettle whistled, and she turned off the hob, took a mug out of the cupboard and added a spoonful of instant coffee. It was always the same. Michael had lazed his way through college and failed his exams, while she got earache every step of the way, despite studying and holding down a part-time job.

Mum scurried into the utility room, probably to sort out another load of her brother’s sweatpants and T-shirts.

If she hadn’t had to return home to pay off some of her student debt and save up for her post-grad studies, she would have found a small flat somewhere. But London rents were not an option.

The dark brown liquid in her cup melded with the creamy milk, turning a deep beige. She had barely screwed the green lid back on before Mum grabbed the bottle and returned it to the fridge.

She gritted her teeth and took a mouthful of coffee. The hot liquid scorched her tongue, but she forced it down. Perhaps the pain would help jolt her senses.

The radio presenter announced the time. Shit! Coffee sloshed over the side of the cup, stinging her skin, as she scrambled upstairs. After a quick shower, she threw on whatever she could find that was clean.

Back downstairs, after grabbing her coat and scarf, she opened the front door. The blast of frosty air stung her cheeks.

“Did you make a lunch?” Mum shouted from the kitchen.

“I’ll grab something on the way.”

She dived out into the frigid air and slammed the door behind her.

Following a power walk to the tube station, she only just made her train.

Passengers packed into the carriage like penguins huddling against the Antarctic winds.

To her left, a man dozed. Dark circles marred the skin under his eyes.

Her eyes had looked the same in the bathroom mirror. After three days of late nights and lie-ins, she’d taken hours to relax before drifting off last night, then she’d woken every thirty minutes from four am, anticipating her alarm.

She lowered her lashes and leaned her head against the bright yellow pole.

The announcement of her stop made her jolt, and she waded through the passengers to disembark. Once above the ground, her breath misted and swirled before her. Only eight hours to go.

She dug her keys from her bag and dawdled up the wide steps to the front entrance of the library. Bright lights already shone through the windows.

Oh shit, Carol was in. She unlocked the door and headed straight for the front desk. The computers and self-checkout stations had already been switched on and were ready to go. Why the hell Carol insisted on arriving so early she did not know.

She trudged into the staff room and shoved her bag and coat in her locker.

“Good morning!” Carol sang when she stepped out of the kitchen. “I set everything up and we’re ready to go.” Carol handed her a steaming cup of coffee. At least the woman’s strange delight in arriving early had some benefits.

“Thanks,” she said, and prepared for the usual small talk. Carol was nice enough, but perkiness at this time of the day grated on her nerves. The woman was nearing retirement after working in the library service for forty years. They had little in common and Carol was as institutionalised as they came.

“Did you have a nice Christmas?” Carol asked with a beaming smile.

“Yes, thanks. Did you?” Her cheek muscles ached in protest when she forced a smile.

“It was nice to spend some quality time with the grandchildren.”

“Good,” she said, before heading back to the front desk. Her fingers automatically logged onto the computer. Please be busy. If not, the time would drag. No doubt it would be quiet, and she’d have to force a conversation with Carol.

A dull throb began at her temples. There better be some painkillers in her handbag.

At nine o’clock, on the dot, Carol opened the front doors.

Perhaps they’d have some nice customers today who wanted to find some interesting books to read.

Looking up from the computer, her heart sank when Mr Booth strode to the front desk. “I want to complain about a water leak outside my house.”

She withheld a sigh. It was going to be a long day.