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Order this writing that appears in the one-of-a-kind anthology Lockdown’s Over the Down in the Dirt May-August 2021 issues collection book		get the 420 page May-August 2021 Down in the Dirt 6" x 9" ISBN# perfect-bound paperback book:

Carol

Sheila Kinsella

    After four futile attempts at closing it, the cupboard door still won’t shut. Resigned, I put my reading glasses on to check the expiry dates on the cans of baked beans, bottles of soy sauce and cartons of raisins as I remove them and place them on the countertop. I blush at the dates, 2018 and even 2016. The liquid content goes down the toilet bowl and I cram the rest into a black bin liner. There, now the door closes.
    Since I was made redundant at the beginning of the year, this is how I amuse myself during the day while Andrew is at work. Twenty-five years as a marketing consultant at a large soft drinks’ distributor – puff – gone up in smoke. Now I’m fifty-five — no one wants to employ me. Over the hill, past it. Out to pasture. The jobcentre wants me to re-train as a shop manager, I have transferable skills they say. Not bloody likely.
    I sit at the table drinking my third cup of coffee and look around. Pristine, that’s what my kitchen is. Nothing left to tidy.
    My smartphone pings: ‘Good luck with the job hunt darling xxx.’ Andrew. He’s sweet but doesn’t understand.
    I send a message to an old colleague: ‘Hi, free for lunch?’ Two seconds later, her reply comes in: ‘Sorry, it’s total madness here. Raincheck. x’
    Next, I text my daughter, ‘Hiya, wanna chat?’ No reply. Guess she’s busy.
    Ah well, I take my computer to check job applications and update my Excel file. Six times ‘don’t call us, we’ll call you.’ Four rejections. Eight pending.
    A pop-up starts to blink at the top of my screen. Adorable fluffy puppies are lined up in a row. Cute. I click on the cuddly Labrador. I enter my name, address, email and card details. Well, it’s only ten pounds, after all, oh look! Puppy Bingo is giving me an extra 20 pounds bonus as a welcome gift. The dogs flash by, like in the pub fruit machines but instead of lemons, oranges and grapes, there are Labradors and Retrievers, oh, and a baby Pug. I feel like a child again. Animals whizz by, accompanied by flashes of pink and blue cupcakes. If the dogs and colours match when they stop, I win. The first couple of times I do win, and my balance increases. A little voice in my head is telling me to stop, but it’s soon drowned out by my complete immersion in this new occupation.
    The sun streams into the living room. I should go for a walk and make the best of the day. But the computer screen flickers, those endearing puppies beckon me. Just one more go.
    Five hours later, as dusk falls and the room darkens, my phone beeps: ‘Carol, where are you parked?’
    Shit. It’s Andrew. I forgot to pick him up from the station. My current balance is minus four pounds fifty. I close the laptop, grab the keys and rush out of the door. I drive Andrew’s automatic Mercedes with extra care because it’s a longer car than I’m used to. My company car was a Nissan Qashqai with a gearbox, but that’s gone now.
    For most of the short drive, the screen is imprinted on my retinas when I blink.
    ‘Sorry,’ I say as Andrew gets in the car.
    ‘No worries darling, I imagine you’ve been busy with your applications,’ he kisses my cheek.
    ‘Busy day?’
    ‘Middling,’ Andrew clicks his seat belt in place. ‘Old Bill’s retirement do this Friday.’
    ‘Nice,’ I manoeuvre the car around the roundabout and head home.
    I haven’t made dinner, but Andrew is too polite to mention the lack of cooking smells.
    ‘Thought we’d have takeaway tonight, is that ok?’ I smile.
    ‘Chinese?’ Andrew asks.
    ‘Yeah sure.’
    ‘Usual?’ He picks up the house phone.
    ‘Yeah, extra prawn crackers,’ I shout from the kitchen as I set the table.
    ‘Where would we be without the extra prawn crackers?’ Andrew chuckles.
    He orders the dinner, and we sit down with a glass of wine.
    Later, in bed, as soon as I hear Andrew snoring, I slide my tablet out from under the bed, plug my noise-cancelling earphones in and get ready to win my money back.
    ‘Welcome back Carol!’ Puppy Bingo screams across the screen. ‘Try our new game – Glitter Puppies!’
    Cute puppies surrounded by sparkling diamonds flash past in a dizzy spin. Click. Stop.
    ‘You have won!’ Gold text on a pink background fills the screen.
    Phew, now we’re getting somewhere. I push the button once more. Bells ring in my ears. The twitchy light from the screen winks across my face.
    ‘Congratulations, you’ve won extra plays!’
    My wrist aches from holding my finger poised over the button.
    The next morning when I wake, the tablet has dropped to the carpet and my earphones are half on, half off. I hear the shower running in the bathroom. I take off the headphones and pretend to sleep. I hear Andrew pad into the spare bedroom with his clothes to dress so as not to wake me. As the sun streams into the bedroom through the crack in the curtains, I know that he’ll walk to the station anyway. I snooze until the front door slams shut.
    I enter the passcode on the tablet, the browser displays the last page visited. I hold my breath as I log in, but my jaw drops when I see the balance of minus two-hundred-and-forty-three pounds. There must be a mistake. Surely?
    In the bath, soaking up the Dead Sea bath salts my ex-colleagues gave me, I ponder the pernicious balance. With my skills I can beat the system, after all, I’m not some Sharon living on a council estate in Essex. I’ve got a Mercedes on my drive and Chablis in the fridge. Besides, I’ve got my redundancy money, I could double it.
    The kitchen clock reads ten-thirty when I hit ‘Go!’ on the screen. Straight away I’ve got three Corgis, or should that be Corgi, in a row and my negative balance is running down nicely when the phone rings.
    ‘Hi Mum, you messaged me yesterday. Wanna chat?’
    ‘Oh, Liv dear, sorry love, I’m in the middle of something, can I call you back?’ My heart misses a beat, we talk so rarely these days since she went to uni.
    ‘Mum, I’ve got class in five. If you’re busy it’s ok, love you, bye!’ Liv hangs up.
    Ping, ping, ping! Three Dachshunds all in a row, I’m on a roll. Ding a ling! Three Westies! I’ll soon rake the money back.
    I check the clock, it’s five-thirty. How did that happen? A quick reccy of the freezer reveals a pizza and some frozen pasta. Pizza for dinner with a lone tomato and limp rocket. Sprinkle a few herbs on it and Andrew won’t notice. Mental note must go to the supermarket tomorrow. I’m interrupted by the doorbell ringing.
    ‘Parcel for Carol Burns?’
    The delivery man hands me a cardboard box. ‘Sign here please.’
    He passes me his tablet and I scrawl my name across the screen.
    ‘Have a nice day!’ He rushes back to his van.
    ‘You too!’
    That’s odd, I didn’t order anything. I shake the box, it’s light. I slice the tape with a knife and pull out the polystyrene chips. A huge chocolate Easter egg sits in the centre of the box, accompanied by a leaflet.
    ‘Welcome to Puppy Bingo! We like to welcome our new members, so enjoy this tasty feast on us! Keep pla-a-a-aying.’
    How lovely is that? I adore chocolate.
    Andrew walks in the door half an hour later, ‘What’s this?’ Andrew points at the cardboard box.
    ‘Oh, I was playing some silly bingo game online and they delivered an Easter egg. It looks good quality chocolate too’.
    ‘Yummy,’ Andrew makes a funny face. ‘Not getting a gambling habit, are we?’
    ‘As if,’ I laugh.
    The days roll into each other, weeks and months slip away and all I can think of is to recover my money, but the rollercoaster of Puppy Bingo is unpredictable. Most days I lose a thousand pounds and on good days I barely make five hundred. It’s a continuous rollercoaster with no exit.
    The delivery man no longer brings chocolate eggs; the postman brings final demands. I’m good with figures and it’s me who controls our finances, but my redundancy money is long gone. I juggle the accounts, moving thousands from the savings account to the current account, prioritising which bills to pay first. I have two Excel files, one to show Andrew in case he asks and one ‘real’ file. I feel guilty, Andrew trusts me so much that he seldom asks about money. It’s like I’m cheating on him but instead of a lover, it’s Puppy Bingo.
    One morning I wake, my hair matted to my head. Andrew has left for work. The face that stares back at me from the bathroom mirror is unrecognisable. Visible grey root growth, dark hammocks under my eyes. Crusty eyes and unnourished skin. The shock of my appearance awakens a spark of my former self. I call my sister Iris.
    ‘You’ve got to tell Andrew, you know you have,’ Iris pleads. ‘He loves you, no matter what.’
    Iris lends me money to pay the bills providing I see a counsellor, she even makes the appointment. The next day I stand on platform three waiting for the 12h30 train to Haywards Heath. My smartphone beeps, ‘Don’t miss this! Double up! More chances to win!’ Ah well, one last chance, why not? I click on the App, the wheels spin, I lose again which just makes me more determined to continue, I have to win. I’m glued to the phone, the train rolls into the station, the tannoy announces its arrival, the train departs. I stand there, clicking away.
    Suddenly I feel tired and stupid. How could I fall into the gambling trap? I feel as if I’m stuck at the bottom of a bear pit, the bear is coming and there’s no way out. I stare at the train departing as it becomes a metaphor for my past life. I gaze at the railway tracks; their ancient wooden sleepers coated in oil and grime and littered with discarded tin cans and unwanted burgers. Now I understand how desperate someone might feel to contemplate jumping. The tannoy announces the twelve-thirty-five to London. One-step and a jump are all it takes. I take a deep breath to prepare. Suddenly a familiar voice screams my name.
    ‘Carol! Carol! Stop!’ Iris screams. ‘Stop that woman!’
    A crowd gathers around me, muttering platitudes and blocking my path.

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