Unconsciously touching and pushing errant curlers back in situ under her green and red print headscarf, Roxanne called out, ‘Anyone want to give me a hand with hanging out the washing?’ She wasn't expecting an answer or help from either her husband or the children, because all three were in the sitting with the television on.
Every Saturday morning the routine consisted of putting on the washing first. Then it was the kettle followed by two cups of tea which she took up to enjoy with Tom in bed.
It was a routine Roxanne had picked up from her mum and didn’t see any benefit to having a different one. As her mother regularly said, ‘Housework in the morning spares up the Saturday to spend with your dad and stop him from going to her down the road!’ There was actually no her down the road or ever had been. But whenever Roxanne teased her mum, she received a warning against tempting fate along with a finger pointing skywards.
Placing the peg bag on top of the washing load she elbowed the door handle down, pushed at the door with her bottom and stepped outside. Temporarily blinded by the unexpected brightness, she stumbled and caught her hip against the edge of a plank of wood. Tom had set it up between two chairs as a work bench for his d.i.y. She'd forgotten it was there. 'Shit, shit, shit!' Cursing at the pain and at herself she added, 'You be grateful for this lovely weather.'
Tom was doing his best to work through the list of jobs they had made together, and currently making slatted shelves for the airing cupboard. After the struggles of last winter they wanted to be prepared for the coming one. Christmas was always tough on their budget but as the kids got older it was more so. And avoiding using the driers at the launderette over the Winter months was going to help.
Lifting out Monica’s school skirt and shaking it before pegging, Roxanne gave a small smile. She was proud of her children. Here was evidence they did their best to not get into scrapes at school. Particularly Michael, who for the first three years at comprehensive school was always coming home with torn sleeves, scuffed shoes and ripped trousers. The only mending she had to do these days was sewing on the odd loose or missing button, or darning socks.
As she continued with the rhythm of hanging out the clothes, her mind scurried between recalling conversations with Rita about the lost money – Tom had suggested she paid Rita a surprise visit – and the children asking for outings and treats same as their friends now that schools were closed for the summer. Tom’s parents used to take care of them but his dad was poorly. His mum had offered as she usually did but Roxanne was loath to accept and add to her burden.
With everything hung up and the washing basket empty she went back indoors to find Rita sat at the table pouring tea into two cups from a freshly made pot. ‘Mum’s made you your favourite. Said you’ve got to eat it while its fresh,’ Rita said.
Dropping the basket onto the floor, Roxanne gave a delighted laugh. ‘This is perfect. I was just fancying a confab with you and now there's lemon meringue too.’
8th story in the R&R Agony Aunt series. Copyright Robyn Cain, September 2024
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