At the end of the road, away from the CCTV, I shiver on the bench and eat my roll. As I toss the wrapper into the bin, a wrinkled woman in white fur boots and billowing scarf leans so close I can smell the candyfloss on her breath. She pastes a poster of a glittery mask on the bin. We laugh.
Behind the Scots pines, men heave the poles of a red and yellow striped tent. Dodgems and carousels gleam, perfectly still. A car shoots by, brakes, reverses and opens the window.
‘Crap for brains.’ A voice yells.
I take out my phone and pretend to read. A message dings.
Ruby, you mean the world to me. Xx
It’s from Dai. I don’t reply. I don’t know what to say.
At home, Dai has given the children cheesy mash and put Lucy to bed. I smile brightly and kiss her goodnight. Lucy curls her fingers round my ears. Peter ignores me.
I tidy away the snack wrappers and juice beakers. The doorbell rings and I let in a middle-aged man with steel-rimmed glasses and shiny shoes. He removes his coat and sits in the armchair with a calculator and a wad of papers.
‘Credit cards? Loans?’
We tell him the worst.
‘How many cars?’ His face is broad with blubbery jowls. ‘Can you do without it?’
‘Any children’s activities you can stop? Swimming, ballet, music? What can you cancel? Insurance, home, life, mobile phones?’
I agree to cancel everything.
‘Valuables?’ He examines the room. ‘Any jewellery? A house abroad?’
I laugh and lose concentration.
He wears a black three-piece suit and prods his calculator.
‘If you cancel those you should be able to make the mortgage payments but the arrears must be paid in full by midnight next Monday.’
And then? We’ll enter the Promised Land, no security and cheap food.
‘If not we’ll begin repossession proceedings.’ He peers up sternly and looks at the children’s drawings on the wall. ‘But I hope it won’t come to that.’
‘Is it cold in here?’ I ask when he’s left. I’m shaking. My teeth chatter. But Dai's disappeared to the corner, a ‘do not disturb’ sign painted across his face.
I used to be a dancer but I feel so little like dancing these days that I often forget.
‘We have to do something,’ I say.
‘I am doing something.’ He mutters without looking up.
‘What can you do?’ I say sucking the bitterness from my lips.