Short post today. My kids and I are all poorly and I didn’t manage to get ahead of myself while the kids were at nursery this week (I was buying party favours and decorations!)

Writing daily and poor sleep is still exhausting my inspiration. I need to find some energy soon as a big chunk of research is coming up, seeing as I haven’t actually been to a YHA youth hostel in the UK before!

I’m thinking about starting a Pinterest board and asking people to pin their photos, stories and comments about YHA hostels on it to help me with my writing! Maybe I could run a competition to win a cameo-role in the novel: My brother-in-law already wants to write an installment about Claire being chatted up by an American nincompoop in a bar (he’s American, I’ll let him decide whether it’s autobiographical!).

Anyway, on to today’s installment….

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“Hi Mum, it’s Claire.”

“Your sister’s results aren’t back yet.”

Claire realised guiltily that she hadn’t given a thought to Ruth’s tests beyond being glad to hand back parental responsibility as soon as her sister got back from the hospital. Claire had enjoyed her two days with Sky more than she had expected to, but it had been exhausting on a level previously unknown.

“Ah okay, will you let me know when the results are back?”

“If you want, although it wouldn’t hurt you to ring Ruth once in a while.”

Claire inhaled through her nose. The phone works both ways. “Yes Mum,” she said then hesitated, choosing her next words cautiously. “I was calling to ask if I might come home for a few days, see you and Dad?”

There was a pause and Claire held her breath.

“Of course. You are always welcome…”

Claire tried not to snigger and then not to curse as her Mother continued.

“…Not this weekend though, your father is playing golf and I’m on shift at the shop.”

Well by the weekend I’ll be in some Northern Province so that’s not a problem. “I was actually thinking of tomorrow.”

“Why? What’s happened? Why aren’t you at work; are you sick?”

Claire could just imagine her Mother’s reaction if she were to suggest coming to stay while infested with germs. There was an intake of breath down the phone before her mother added, “Don’t tell me you got laid off?”

“No, Mum. Besides, Directors don’t get Laid Off.” Claire hoped her Mother hadn’t discovered an unprecedented interest in her daughter’s career. “I have a new assignment that means I’ll be travelling a great deal for the next few months.” To the Maldives hopefully. “I thought it would be nice to come home for a short visit first, as I’ll be out of reach for a while.”

“Well, if you want to I can make up the spare room. How long will you be staying?”

Claire tried to ignore the lack of enthusiasm and focus on the question. “Only until Friday morning. I have to be in Berwick by bedtime.”

“Berwick-Upon-Tweed? Why on Earth do you want to go all the way up there? It’s practically Scotland.”

Claire stifled a sigh. “It’s part of the assignment, Mum. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.”

“What time will you be here? Only I have a hair appointment at ten and a WI meeting in the afternoon.”

“Mum I still have a key. I can let myself in, if that’s okay with you? If it’s too much trouble I can go visit Ruth instead.”

“I will not have you bothering your sister when she’s poorly. Come to us.”

When did Ruth become the golden child? Claire thought back to when they were all living at home. Ruth was always the one in trouble, needing to be collected from the police station or A&E, while Robert and Claire were home finishing assignments.

“Okay Mum, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Claire hung up the phone then scrolled through her contacts trying to decide whether to ring a friend to suggest a late drink or just call for takeaway. She looked at the familiar names but for some reason none leapt out as someone she wanted to spend her last night in Manchester with.

“Hello, yes, can I order a Number 27 please?” Claire laughed, “Yes, it’s Claire. Okay, that’s great, see you in twenty minutes.”

Claire hung up and got out her iPad. Soon she was engrossed in shooting birds from a catapult, trying not to dwell on the journey that would start when she closed her front door for the last time in the morning.

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