A GIFT OF LUCK
“Oh, bother!” Lucy glanced at her watch and quickened her pace, though she was already nearly running. “Late againjust my luck.”
The bleak November day was hardly inviting for a stroll. Slush coated the pavements, the sky hung grey and heavy overhead, and a miserable drizzleor was it sleet?spat down relentlessly. To make matters worse, an overnight frost had left the puddles glazed with ice, and Lucy, her nose buried in a thick woollen scarf, winced each time her feet slid treacherously beneath her. Near the bus stop, her luck ran outshe crashed down hard, and before she could stop herself, a curse slipped out.
“Blimey! Mum always said swearing in public wasnt ladylike!”
A boy, no older than ten, smirked down at her.
“Need a hand?”
Lucy shook her head. What help would that be now? Her cream coatbought in defiance of practicalitywas now a sodden, mud-splattered mess. The puddle hadnt been deep, but it was enough to ruin her days plans. James would be furious
“Not in a rush anymore, then?”
The boy seemed in no hurry to leave. Lucy clambered up, brushing uselessly at her coat, her trousers clinging damp and icy to her skin. She shot him an irritable look.
“Dont get cross! Didnt mean to offend.” He hesitated, then dug into his jacket. “Heretake him, yeah? Ive got school, and hell freeze out here. Cant keep im, weve got dogs. Already missed first period. Mums sharp as a tack, but if I bunk off the rest, shell have my hide.”
A tiny kitten shivered as he pulled it free.
“A money cat,” Lucy murmured, reaching out instinctively to stroke its fur.
“A what?” The boys eyebrows shot up.
“Money cat. See his coat? All mixed up. They say cats like this bring luckfortune, happiness, all of it.”
“There! Hes yours, then. For luck! Go on, take im!”
Lucy shook her head. “Cant. No time to look after him.”
But the boy wasnt listening. He thrust the kitten into her arms, waved, and leapt onto the approaching bus.
“Hell bring you luck! Guaranteed!” His words dissolved into the street noise, and Lucy suddenly found herself standing theresoaked, filthy, and clutching a kitten. She was late for everything now, with nowhere left to hurry to.
“Well then” Lucy huffed a laugh, recalling his remark about swearing. “Days not so dull after all. What am I to do with you, eh, my little bit of luck?”
She cuddled the shivering creature close.
“Never had a cat before. How dyou even look after one? What do you eat?”
The kitten let out a pitiful mewl, and Lucy sighed. Right. Couldnt very well abandon the poor mite. Oddly, she pitied them boththe kitten, and herself. Unmoored, barely needed by anyone since Mum had gone.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Tucking the kitten inside her coat for warmth, she checked the screen and grimaced. James.
“Where are you?” His voice was arctic. Lucy braced, already forming excuses.
“Near home, at the bus stop. Took a tumble.”
“You what?”
“Slipped. Fell.”
“I see. Cant even stay upright? How much longer?”
Lucy exhaled, calculating how long itd take to clean up.
“I asked a question! Mum wont be pleased if were late.”
“I” She started to reply, but the kitten sneezed, its pink nose poking free of her coat. Lucy jolted, nearly dropping the phone. “James, I dont think well make it today. Im drenched, filthy”
“Are you hearing yourself? Is this a joke to you?” James erupted, and Lucy held the phone away from her ear. “Weve planned this for ages! Mums gone to all this troublefor you! And you just?”
“But weve met her already. She knows were engaged.”
“And thats good enough for you, is it?” His voice crackled with fury.
Lucy fell quiet, staring into the kittens oddly intent eyes.
“You listening? Why the silence?” Jamess tirade petered out, and Lucy knew what came nextthe storm, then the calm. At first, she hadnt understood his temper. James was her first proper boyfriend, and she had no yardstick for how men ought to behave.
Her childhood had been gentle. Mum, Gran, Grandadnever a raised voice. Dad had died when she was small, and Mum, heartbroken, had poured herself into Lucy, her ageing parents, and her work. Lucy, like her mother, had been a late arrival. Olivia had been forty-three when she was born.
“Why so late, Mum?”
“Because I was daft. Chose my career. Loved it too muchsurgeons lifes no picnic. Always on call. Couldnt step away without falling behind. Shouldve started sooner, love. Had more than just you, maybe.”
Lucy would press a hand to her mothers mouth. “Dont.”
But Olivias fear of not seeing Lucy grow up had been palpable. Every milestoneprimary to secondary school, GCSEs, A-levels, unished exhale with relief.
“Good.”
Lucy had known nothing of her mothers failing health until the end. Olivia had hidden it, not wanting to worry her. Then, when time ran out, she sat Lucy down.
“Darling, Ive done all I can for you. The rest is up to you now.” She hugged her weeping daughter. “Dont cry. Plenty of time for that. Listenheres the folder. Deeds to the flat, the car. Youre quite the catch now, so choose carefully. Watch a man. If he puts you before himself, marry him. Otherwise, dont.”
“How will I know?”
“Let me tell you how I knew your dad was the one.”
Lucy nodded.
“We were at uni together. Barely knew each otherjust hello in the halls. Both skint, living on beans and toast. My parents sent parcelsveg, preserves, meat. Your dad had no one. His parents were gone, an aunt too far. Then Mum fell ill. Badly. Two months in hospital. Dad nursed her while I took examswouldnt let me visit. First time I was without their help. Managed a month, then ran aground. Caught a chilltypical doctor, cant treat herself. Pneumonia set in.” Olivia chuckled. “Halls were emptymost had gone home. The lads left were cooking something, ran out of salt. Sent your dad to fetch some. Instead, he found me. Delirious, hadnt eaten for days. Woke up in a strangers roomtea, broth, meds by the bed. Arms sore. Needle marks everywhere.”
Lucy laughed. “He didnt know how to give injections?”
“Not a clue. Tried anyway.” Olivias smile softened. “Later, I learnt hed pawned his mothers wedding ringonly thing he had of hersto buy me medicine and a chicken.”
“This one?” Lucy touched her mothers ring.
“Yes. He bought it back, slipped it on my finger when we married. And wed barely spoken before, Lucy. Thats the sort of man you want. Not one who shouts.” Olivia gripped her hand. “Promise menever let anyone speak to you like that. Ever.”
Now, staring at the kittens unblinking gaze, Lucy remembered. She lowered the phone. How had she forgotten? Was James anything like the man Mum described? Did love mean enduring this? A day, a year, a lifetime?
No.
This wasnt love. James had proposedbut never said he loved her.
“Its not enough,” Lucy said aloud, startling herself. She lifted the phone. “Do you love me?”
Silence. Then
“Whats got into you? Ive been ranting, and you ask that?”
“Yes,” Lucy said simply, stroking the kitten nestled warm against her.
James said nothing. The answer wasnt there.
“Be happy, James. Hope you find someone you can answer that for.” She ended the call before he could reply.
Her chest ached. She wanted to howl.
“Why dyou keep staring? Might as well scratch me. Isnt that what cats do when youre down?” She adjusted the kitten and trudged home.
Her coat hung like a wet rag. Teeth chattering, she broke into a jog, tears streaking her face. Fumbling the key, she finally got inside, shed the coat, sank to the floor, and wept.
Two years. All for nothing. Why hadnt she remembered Mums words sooner?
“Because
