Page 2 of Maybe Tomorrow

‘Don’t be daft. You weigh the same as I did when I was your age. I wasn’t fat, was I, Geoff?’

‘I’ve no idea. I didn’t meet you until you were twenty.’

‘Stop splitting hairs.’ Judith pulled out a chair at the table and sat down. ‘Has someone at that college been calling you names again?’

‘No,’ Alice said. She didn’t look up from the bowl of cornflakes. Reluctantly, she picked up the bottle of milk and poured on a generous amount.

‘I can give that tutor of yours a ring if you want?’

‘No,’ Alice replied, almost a moan.

‘Judi, leave her to it,’ Geoff said, placing a comforting arm on hers. ‘You know what girls are like. They see a few models in a newspaper and wonder why they’re not as stick thin as they are. I’ll bet a week’s wages you thought the same when you were her age. What you don’t seem to realise, Alice,’ he said, turning his attention to his daughter, ‘is that those supermodels are starved. They may look happy in their designer make-up and clothes, but the people who manage them put them on strict diets.’

‘Your dad’s right. For once. You shouldn’t read those magazines.’

‘It’s not the magazines,’ Alice said, eating small spoonfuls of cereal, struggling to swallow against the emotion rising up inside her.

‘What is it then?’

Alice didn’t answer.

‘Come on, we’re going to be late,’ Geoff said, standing up.

‘She’s still eating.’

‘I’ll get stuck in traffic if I don’t leave now.’

There was a flurry of madness as Geoff grabbed his coat from the hallway and slid his feet into size eleven boots. Alice kicked out her chair and followed her dad.

‘Here, take this toast. It’s still warm,’ Judith said, wrapping a couple of slices in a tea towel.

‘I don’t want it, Mum,’ Alice moaned.

‘You’ll be hungry by ten o’clock if you don’t eat anything.’

‘I’ll get something at the college.’

‘Geoff, will you tell her?’

‘She’ll get something at the college, Jude,’ he said, leaning forward and kissing his wife on the lips. ‘I’ll give her a pound.’

‘I don’t know why I bother getting up early to make sure you both have a decent breakfast.’

‘Because you love us,’ Geoff smiled.

‘Alice, waterproof coat and a brolly. Come straight home after your last lesson. If the storm is as bad as they’re making out on the radio, the bus’ll never get up the hill.’

‘Yes, Mum.’ Alice rolled her eyes.

‘You’ll be here when I get in?’ Geoff asked.

‘Aren’t I always?’

‘Love you,’ he said, opening the front door and letting in a blast of autumnal breeze.

‘I’ll take your word for it. Have a good day. Both of you.’

She watched as father and daughter made their way down the path. Geoff unlocked the van and Alice struggled to climb in. Sheslammed the door closed behind her. As it pulled away from the kerb, Alice waved frantically at her mum, a huge smile on her face.