and I imagine life as it might become.
That night, I shed my sherbet-lemon life. Let the-woman-I-was clutch at stars that fizz and pop, and amount to zilch. I shrug on the bass-drum blackness with its prickles of ice. I spend the evening typing notes, print them and slip them into wallets with the parking tickets signed with a false name. I set off early, scraping ice off windscreens and issue four wallets. By 3 p.m., I’ve distributed seventy tickets with the option to cancel for a ten pound fee to be left as instructed. At bedtime, I tell Dai I’m going out. I dress in black. Dai looks me over but doesn’t ask questions.
The fairground is bitter with neon. Machines grind, voices shriek. Frying onions and burning toffee poison every breath. I creep through the trees to the bench. The dog growls as a woman slips a plastic wallet in the bin. I pat the dog. In the bin, I find fifty wallets.
I photocopy more tickets. The paper’s wrong so they’re not realistic but they’ll do. I tell Dai I’m working all weekend, and avoiding the CCTV cameras I venture out of the borough. I slap tickets on a van outside a funeral home, the rugby players parked on the verge, the theatre-goers parked in the council car park. By Sunday night, I’ve enough to pay the arrears.
I give all the money to Dai to pay into the bank.
On Monday evening, I use the two eggs in the fridge to make a cake. Dai looks happier. I remember the tickets for the masked ball.
‘Shall we go out?’ I ask.
He laughs. ‘To celebrate.’
Dai and I break apart the pinecone and stick its golden scales to card, attaching the red beads and golden pesetas. It looks rich and elegant. To the second mask we stick feathers and black ribbons, threading the silver horseshoes to the edges. I unearth my glittery dance shoes, put on a frothy dress and brush my hair until it gleams. But a black-ice dagger twists in my heart.
We follow a trail of flashing lights through the fairground to the red and yellow tent. Outside, the pale dog lurks in the shadows. The wrinkled-woman holds out her arms and kisses my cheeks. Dai holds my fingertips in his and tugs me into his arms. I rest my head on his shoulder and we twirl round and round the dance floor.
‘I knew we’d do it,’ I whisper.
‘We will,’ he smiles knowingly.
‘The money is in the bank?’ I ask, suddenly anxious.
He nods.
‘And you’ve made the transfer?’
‘They can wait another day.’