Finding Her Voice

Sharon had grown so used to having everything taken care of, but now it seemed it was all up to her!

- Helen Jardine

Sharon stared at the agreement forms. They’d fallen through her letterbox just before she set off for work.

Everything had seemed okay through the envelope’s plastic window. MRS S LAMB, then her address. S, of course, for Sharon.

Her name, however, was down as SHARONA on the actual forms. Sharona. With an extra ‘a’.

‘Brilliant.’ These were official forms, with money involved. If she didn’t get it straightened out immediately she could easily imagine trouble.

She could call. Or try the website. But neither option was tempting. Both made her tremble.

Sharon hated calling places. She dithered and hesitated, and got her words all in a muddle. And official websites frightened her. An errant click on the wrong button and disaster could strike. Which was why Pete had always taken care of things like money, bills and forms. But Pete wasn’t around any more.

Her eyes pricked.

No, forget Pete, she told herself, just like he’s forgotten you.

She was 21 when they had married. He was a chemistry graduate, fresh out of university. Shy. He was 28. Full of vigour. It was a classic case of opposites attracting.