A story I discovered from a very old notebook. I must have been 12 or 13? Which is quite surprising when you read it!
I'll punctuate, paragraph and spell check as necessary, but apart from that I feel like this should be preserved as my childhood interpretation of what it must be like to be a Grown Up.
Cara sat on the bench, resisting the temptation to check her watch - she'd checked it 3 minutes ago. John was exactly 23 minutes late. She bit her lip (for once not minding about ruining her new lipstick) and push her long blonde hair out of her eyes, simultaneously crossing her legs so her cream summer skirt was shifted up her leg, revealing yet more golden skin. She knew she shouldn't be here, and dreaded to think what would happen if her husband found out.
But why should she get caught?
It was all so perfect. He was in Manchester all week, the twins were at nursery and her only friend who lived in this area was sick with flu. A cold wind blew through the trees, making Cara's slender frame shudder. The matching cream cardigan she was wearing wasn't nearly warm enough, but Cara wasn't the type of person for warm clothes. She was the type of person you met in Tesco's wearing Gucci sunglasses and skinny jeans with heels, shopping for a family of four, and wonder how she does it.
But there isn't much to it - with no job, Cara could devote all her time to the kids, the house and herself. But even with the gym and pilates sessions twice a week, the numerous trips to Tesco and Mothercare - not to mention Warehouse, Irish and her personal favourite Gucci - and the weekly self tan, manicure and pedicure, Cara was bored.
Until she met John.
Even at the memory of him, a flutter went through her, causing her to shiver in excitement and anticipation of what was to come this afternoon. Her lips creased back into a perfectly white smile - a smile her husband had paid for.