Playing Around by Gilda O'Neill Page B

dissolved instant-coffee grains spreading out over the stainless steel draining board.
    ‘Angie? Is that you?’ a voice called from upstairs.
    Angie stared up at the ceiling. She was getting ready early tonight, must be going to the West End. ‘Yes, Mum.’
    ‘Bring me up a cup of tea, there’s a good girl.’
    Angie made the tea and took it upstairs, all the while planning what she was going to say.
    ‘You’re still in bed,’ she began as she put the mug on the bedside cabinet.
    ‘I know.’ Vi exhaled a long, lazy plume of smoke. ‘I looked in that mirror this morning and knew that I’d been letting things get to me. I looked worn out. So I decided to catch up on a bit of beauty sleep. To have a little rest.’
    She stubbed out her cigarette and sipped at her tea. ‘I won’t be wanting too much to eat just now, I’m going out with Chas later. A couple of poached eggs on toast’ll do.’
    Angie stood there, staring at her mother with her hair rollers bristling from under the pink chiffon scarf and the remnants of yesterday’s make-up streaked round her eyes. She looked a real state.
    ‘And have a little tidy up downstairs, Ange. I don’t want Chas coming round and seeing all that mess.’
    Angie swallowed hard. ‘Shall I do the eggs before I do yesterday’s washing-up? Or shall I clear up the front room first?’
    ‘Don’t you take that tone with me, Angela.’
    ‘Mum, I’ve been working all day. And I even had to find time to do the rotten shopping, because you said you were busy.’
    ‘You kids, nowadays,’ sighed Violet, dramatically. ‘You have it all too easy.’
    Angie’s mouth dropped open. She never usually confronted her mother about her demands, but then she at least usually got herself out of bed and dressed, even put the washing-up in to soak, and managed to drop a bit of washing round the launderette for a service wash. But this was ridiculous. And after what she’d heard her saying to Chas …
    Angie steeled herself. ‘Mum, I can’t do everything any more. No. I don’t mean I can’t. I mean I won’t. I’m fed up with it all.’
    Violet’s green eyes blazed with anger. ‘Are you answering me back?’
    ‘No, it’s just—’
    ‘Don’t you get saucy with me. You’re always the same when you’ve been round your bloody nan’s. She puts ideas in your head. Interfering old cow.’ Vi lit another cigarette. ‘Treat you, did she?’ she asked casually, picking a strand of tobacco off her tongue.
    ‘No,’ lied Angie, pulling down her sleeve to cover her new watch. ‘I wouldn’t let her.’
    From her mother’s scornful expression, Angie could see that Vi thought her daughter was little more than a fool. ‘Just get down those stairs before I lose my temper,’ she said wearily. ‘Go on. Get the hoover out. I’ll be down in a bit.’
    Course you will, thought Angie as she ran down the stairs, the tears welling up in her eyes, as soon as I’ve done everything, that’s when you’ll be down.
    Angie really had had enough. Wait till Saturday. Then she’d show her. She’d show everyone. She was going to change herself. Change her life. She’d show her what it was like to have to do things for herself. She’d show Jackie that she could be just as interested in what she looked like. And she’d prove to Martin that she was a whole lot more than just a little squirt.

Chapter 3
    ‘ANGIE, IF YOU don’t get yourself in there. This minute. I’m going to start screaming.’
    Angie, wide-eyed with fear, stared at her friend, knowing she was easily capable of doing something as embarrassing as screeching out loud in public, but still unable to force herself to go through the door and into the seriously posh-looking interior. ‘I can’t.’
    ‘I told you, it’s only a bloody hairdresser’s.’
    ‘But look at them.’ Angie jabbed her thumb at the stylish young women sitting on the other side of the huge plate-glass window. ‘And look at me.’
    Jackie shrugged. ‘You