Lyn has glugged orange all morning. She opens another carton. Her stomach’s full but her dry lips crave more juice, her mouth bits, her throat craves gulping. She slides open her wardrobe, looks at her work clothes, going out clothes, nothing in between, she decides she will cook for Pete, they will eat here. A man will eat in her new flat, not a friend, not one of the guys from work, a man she fucks. Pete.
Pete inside the prison just over there, wiring. Maybe he will see the mulberry tree. She opens her laptop, googles ‘mulberry recipes’ then inserts orange, ‘mulberry orange recipes’ clicks search.
Gluten free mulberry, orange and almond tarts; Orange Mulberry Vinaigrette; Mulberry-Orange Muffins; Gingered Mulberry-Orange Crumble with Pecan Crunch – that sounds more like it. Mulberry Orange Cheesecake in Chocolate Crust.
Where to get mulberries? Lyn googles, ‘mulberries wakefield’
The Mulberry Bar and Club, HMP Prison Wakefield, Wakefield Grammar School Foundation, Second hand Mulbery handbags, Mulberry Place Wakefield, Property Values in Mulberry House.
She clicks next and gets more of the same. Clicks previous, looks at her flat in Zoopla, the empty flat next door in Rightmoves.