Helping Sarah

Chapter 11

Sarah

When I was growing up, spending all the time I possibly could drawing in my schoolbooks and notebooks and every piece of blank paper I came across, drawing family and friends and scenes from favourite films, I dreamt of one day making a living from quirky portraits and bright illustrations full of colours and fun and vivacity.

At no point did I imagine Iwould spend my time drawing instructions on how to use a battery operated window cleaner to pay for rent and groceries.

Then again, at no point either had I imagined myself a widow and single mother at twenty-one.

The good thing was that it apparently needed a lot of illustrations to learn how to recharge the batteries in the handheld machine as well as the correct movements to avoid streaks on your windows. Good for the invoice I could send afterwards, that is, not so much for my creativity. It was all straight lines and small dots and seven shades of black and grey.

But, I reminded myself every time I reached for the ruler yet again, at least this last assignment from the small entrepreneurial business that had become a client last year would give me an income until I knew whether I got my dream job or not.

I met with the middle-aged married couple who owned the business once a month to see the latest invention they needed instructions for, and though their offices were on the other side of Cambridge, in the business park on the north side of the city, it was one of my favourite days of the month. I missed having colleagues to chat with about all and nothing, and I had jumped at their suggestion of physical meetings rather than just talk over the phone.

It was early afternoon by the time I left the building their offices were in. I halted just outside the automated doors and looked round. The business park was one long, wide street with smaller side streets and car parks dotted along its length in between the buildings of various sizes.

And with lots of shrubs and trees and corners to hide behind.

If I had looked over my shoulder before, Michael's words yesterday about Lenny had not lessened my inclination to do so now.

I had checked that I had the alarm and the spray in my bag three times before I'd left the flat this morning and had spent the entire bus ride here looking at every passenger getting on or off in the hope that I would spot Lenny in time to get the spray out.

At least I wasn't as alone here as I had been on the trip from my flat to the bus stop. The business park was a busy area with pedestrians, cyclists and drivers, but I really wished they would cut back some of the bushes so they weren't so tall and that the lorries might find somewhere else to park. Somewhere away from the kerb.

I tugged my cardigan closer around me and thought longingly of my hooded jacket. The spring sun had been shining brightly when I left home, but had been hidden behind grey clouds by the time I got off the bus at the entrance to the business park. Intermittent showers had pattered on the windows while I'd been inside learning about automatic gravy stirrers.

Glancing up, I only hoped I could reach the bus stop before the next one started. I headed away from the building towards the awning I could just make out at end of the street, but halted as I reached the pavement and looked the other way down the long street. Then looked up again at the grey clouds and tried to gauge how much time I had before I'd get soaked.

The bus stop was right over there, and the bus would be there in ten minutes, but it was Friday and I had nothing I needed to hurry home for. It was hours yet before I was meeting Lisa, and at the other end of the street was where Capra Games was located, the firm that had asked for my vision of the GoatRace characters.