‘What about Sammy?’ Dave’s first words when she told him she was thinking of applying. Not Brilliant! or You go for it! or even When’s the closing date? but straight into obstacles, disincentives.
He was jealous. It hit her with a shock. He was actually jealous. There had always been a healthy competition between them. At least, she had imagined it to be healthy. Who could get the sergeant’s exam first, who’d pass the tier three interview course quickest. But now she was confident enough to have a shot at working on a national level, knew she had a reasonable chance of getting selected, and he hadn’t even considered applying. He begrudged her.
She’d tried to be diplomatic, no need to rub his nose in it, but she wasn’t about to let Dave’s resentment colour her decision. ‘We’d have to get a nanny.’
‘We’re already struggling with the mortgage.’
The house had been bought off plan. One of a development of individually designed properties on the outskirts of Shaw near Oldham. It had been a roller-coaster of meetings and design discussions, site visits and fallings out with the builders, but now it was theirs. And it was beautiful. Not overly ostentatious, but quality workmanship, everything from the York flags on the patio and the wooden-framed windows to the tiles in the bathrooms and the kitchen with its black marble and beech fittings had been chosen by them. Gill adored it. And it worked perfectly as a family home. Double garage. Enough space for Sammy to have a playroom that could be adapted to a den as he got older. There was a sun terrace outside their bedroom window at the back with an uninterrupted view over the farms and moorland up to the reservoir. Gill often brought work home and, unless it was freezing, it was a place she loved to sit while she did it.
‘We’re not struggling, Dave. That’s not struggling. We’re just having to be careful. Besides, I’d be on a bigger salary, from the start.’
‘If you get it,’ he pointed out. She bit her tongue. ‘Sounds as if you’ve already made your mind up,’ he complained.
‘Your mum or mine can come over in emergencies. They’d love to help. We can make this work.’ That was Gill’s mindset: decide what you want, plan a strategy to get you there, and get on with it.
‘He’s only little,’ Dave said. ‘Maybe in a few years…’
Feeling a prickle of annoyance, Gill got up, walked to the French windows, looked out at the garden, the cherry blossom, Sammy’s Jungle Gym. Turned to face him. ‘I might not get the chance again,’ she objected. ‘You know how limited jobs at the faculty are. If I don’t jump at-’
