The Trust

Chapter 18: New hair, don't care

"Want to go for a walk this morning?"

The ask is as surprising to me as the accompanying kiss on the cheek. Clive has been unusually loving and attentive lately.

"I've got to go into the office this morning for a bit. How about this afternoon?"

"Liverpool vs Man City, remember? Kick off at three." Right. Effing soccer. Over the years, our time together as a family has been scheduled around the English Premier League. His smile was apologetic and for once, I think, sincere. He's trying.

"Some other time, eh?" I drain my coffee and pat his arm as I pass by.

"Don't forget, one of us has to pick up Audrey from Claire's house at 4," he says, clearing away the breakfast dishes.

"By one of us, you mean me of course," I say, not unkindly.

"I could go at half-time. But if you wouldn't mind..." For a moment, in his boyish smile I see the professor I fell in love with 18 years ago.

"Sure," I shrug.

"Don't work too hard. It is a Saturday, after all. They take advantage of your work ethic, Darce," he says. The compliment is rare, and I savour it.

"I won't," I say, rubbing the back of my neck. It was a few days after Thanksgiving, and the money still hadn't materialized. I was starting to worry and wonder if that was why suddenly my sleep was terrible every night and I was waking up with a headache kink in my neck that was growing worse by the day.

"And see a doctor about that neck of yours. You've probably got a pinched nerve," he says, handing me a glass of water and a headache pill. Grateful, I swallow the pill quickly and put on my coat.

"Thanks," I say on my way out the door, and mean it. It's been a long time since I felt cared for, even that little bit of attention feels good.

A brisk wind lifts my hair as I slide behind the wheel of the plush car. With a push of a button, I start the ignition and turn on the heat, soft steady warmth that quickly chases away the chill.

"Play Cardi B," I announce as I back up and my friendly car lady responds crisply. "Playing Cardi B," she echoes and soon I am cruising down the highway, singing along at the top of my lungs. Never has the work commute been this enjoyable.

The headache pill loosens the tight knot at the base of my neck, and I relax, thinking about what needs to be done. I was planning for the real estate conference in Halifax at the end of the month. There were a million things to do to pull off a high-level event for some 200 agents and I was voluntold as event planner. Normally, I'd take on extra work like this with nothing but a smile and a hopeful attitude that someone would see and appreciate my hard work. This time, I negotiated a hefty bonus up front.

Besides fueling a million daydreams about what I could do with the money, the thought of it was also turning me into a different person — someone more confident, who knew her worth. Someone who no longer took shit from anybody. I liked this new Darcey.

Except.

The outside doesn't match up with the inside. I glance down at my outfit, woefully casual even for a Saturday at the office. Yoga pants and a worn sweatshirt. I glance at myself in the mirror, the drug store lipstick I found in the bargain bin was a garish pink, not the right colour for me. My bangs hang limply in my eyes and my skin looks sallow and dry. I used to be pretty; at least that's what I've been told all my life. Now, I was starting to look middle-aged.

I'd have to do something about that. But not today. There was about three hours of work to be done before I felt like the next week would be under control.