NEL WAS UNLOCKING her car when Jake came up behind her. ‘I’ll come home with you and help make the cake.’
Nel turned. ‘No, it’s all right. I can manage.’
‘But I want to come. It’s my fault the cake was ruined. The least I can do is help.’
‘I don’t need your help! I did the last one on my own. Besides, if you came, your car would be stranded here.’
‘I could follow you home.’
‘I’d rather you didn’t.’
‘Then I’ll come with you now, then.’
‘No!’ Nel squeaked as he walked round the car, at the same moment wondering if she’d locked the passenger door.
She hadn’t. Jake was sitting in the car before she could get in herself. ‘Could you please get out of my car?’
‘Well, I could, but I’m not going to. I ruined your cake: I want to help you make another one.’
Nel got in next to him. She had often wondered how women, when they referred to ‘throwing men out’, did it. After all, he was much bigger than she was, and no amount of pushing and shoving would shift him if he didn’t want to be shifted. She could have called for help, but she didn’t want to draw attention to the situation.
‘Well, that’s very kind of you, but I forgive you for ruining the first one, and want you to get out of my car.’
‘Well, that’s very kind of you, but I’m not going to get out, so you might as well just drive home.’
As Chris and the man who suggested closing the hospice down were now approaching, obviously intending to talk to Jake, Nel started the car. She didn’t want to give either them, or Jake, the opportunity to hatch up more skulduggery. ‘Very well, if you insist on coming home with me, there’s nothing I can do to stop you.’
‘No.’
‘But you won’t like it. It’s a very untidy house, full of dogs and cats who all leave hairs all over you.’
‘That’s my favourite sort of house.’
‘Hah!’
She swept round into the supermarket car park. ‘I’ll have to buy some ingredients. You wait here.’
‘I’ll push the trolley.’
‘No! We might meet someone I know! Think how embarrassing! People will think we’re a couple! Only they won’t, because all my friends know I’m with Simon.’
‘Oh, him.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with Simon!’ Nel was so used to defending him to Vivian and Fleur, she did it out of habit.
‘I’m sure. You’ll just have to think of some other way of describing me if we meet anyone you know. I quite like “bit on the side”.’
Nel bit her lip. Her sense of humour was threatening to ruin her bad temper with Jake again. ‘Oh yes. I can see me saying that.’
Jake smiled slightly, seemingly totally unconcerned about her reputation. He pulled out a trolley. ‘This big enough?’
Nel snatched it from him, irritated once more. ‘I’m making a paddle-steamer, not the QE2.’
‘Same difference, when it’s cake. Now, what do you need?’
‘It’s like going shopping with the boys!’ she said a little later, when the trolley was full of things she was not at all sure she needed. ‘They just pick things up and say, “Can we have this?” Only the things they choose are at least mostly quite cheap.’ She looked resentfully at some delicious-looking olives that had no place on any cake. ‘Oh hi!’ she greeted an acquaintance.
Jake, who was a little way behind her, and should have stayed there, pretending they weren’t together, came up.
‘This is Jake,’ said Nel.
‘I’m from the hospice,’ said Jake. ‘I’m going to help Nel make a cake.’
The acquaintance, whose name Nel had momentarily forgotten, regarded Jake with amazement, and Nel realised she shouldn’t have worried about people thinking they were a couple. No one would ever believe they were together in that way, Jake was too gorgeous. Nel had a sudden urge to tell this woman that although at the moment she was looking a complete wreck, with not only half her eye make-up missing, but with a lot of mud in strange places, she and Jake had slept together. She clamped her lips together so she couldn’t.
‘You didn’t introduce me,’ said Jake when they had moved on.
‘I forgot her name. Sorry. And you could have just stayed looking at something else.’
‘Not ashamed of me, are you, Nel?’
‘Well, you weren’t too pleased having to take me to dinner with all your workmates!’
‘That’s perfectly reasonable. They take the rip out of me terribly.’
‘Oh, so you can dish it out, but you can’t take it!’
‘You know something? You’re attractive, even when you’re being ratty.’
She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘You do know they sell sharp knives and big pairs of scissors at this supermarket, don’t you?’
‘You just get more and more exciting. Now let’s buy some chocolate buttons. I haven’t had chocolate buttons for years. Oh, and squirty cream. I love that!’
There had been a short, sharp row at the checkout when Jake insisted on paying. When forced to admit defeat, Nel said, ‘Well, if I’d known you were paying I’d have put a bottle of Baileys in the trolley.’
‘Oh, do you like Baileys? I can pop back and get some.’
Nel found herself blushing. It was a sweet gesture, one Simon would never have made. Simon, if she found she’d forgotten something really vital, and had to go back, would sigh and tut and ask her what was the point of making a shopping list if she didn’t look at it.
She put her hand on his sleeve. ‘Oh no, I was joking!’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes! It’s a bit sweet for me, although Fleur likes it.’
‘OK. Here, let me push the trolley. It doesn’t steer very well.’
As they made their way through the car park to the car, Nel wondered why, when Simon said that sort of thing, she felt irritated and patronised, but when Jake said it she felt cherished.
At home, as she put the key in the door, Nel realised that the house was in a state. She had rushed out that morning, before the meeting, to visit someone who was thinking of becoming a stallholder at the farmers’ market. It would be their first official market, and Nel knew they would take a bit of persuading that it was worth going through all the necessary hoops. But she needed a certain amount of regular stalls, or the council wouldn’t consider them. The market was going to be even more important to the hospice now, if she could arrange for it still to be a source of regular income.
She opened her mouth to tell Jake all this, and then shut it again. He probably wouldn’t be interested, and why should she apologise for the state of her house? If she was too busy to do housework, what business was it of his? Her home was her castle, he could like it or lump it.
‘I’m sorry about the mess,’ she said, aware too late that the words had come out like an inward breath, automatically.
But Jake had put down his bags of shopping and was talking to the dogs, who were all jumping up at him, whimpering, as if no one ever usually spoke to them at all. He didn’t hear her apology, and obviously didn’t care about the mess as he wasn’t looking round her kitchen in shocked silence, like Simon had the first time he had arrived unannounced.
While Jake was allowing the dogs to lick icing off his trousers, Nel put the bags on the table, and noticed that one of the animals had been sick in the sitting room. She fetched a dustpan and her rubber gloves. It happened quite often, so she had a routine.
‘Put the kettle on, would you?’ she called from her knees as she scooped and scrubbed, to keep him in the kitchen where it was messy, but vaguely hygienic. ‘I won’t be a minute.’
‘If I move to the country, I’ll have dogs. It’s one of the things I don’t like about working in London.’
She could hear him filling the kettle. She just wanted to shove a few things under cushions while she had the chance. ‘What are the other things?’
‘Oh, the general pace of life. Property prices. I’m renting at the moment, but it seems such a waste of money.’
She came back into the kitchen. ‘But would you like living in the country? What about the culture? Theatre, cinema, art exhibitions?’
‘It’s only an hour and a half on the train. I could still do all those things.’
‘I suppose so. Right, let’s get the oven on.’
‘But you’ve got a range! Aren’t you going to cook the cake in that?’
Nel shook her head. ‘If you’re going to question everything I do, you can go home. Now, wash your hands, please.’
He gave her a look which told her that bossing him about probably wasn’t a good idea. It provoked a smouldering sort of glower which promised retribution of a kind Nel had forsworn. ‘How do you like your tea?’ she added quickly.
Fleur came home while they were waiting for the cakes to cook. She breezed in, chattering the moment she got through the door, unaware that her mother was not alone.
‘Oh,’ she said, silenced halfway through a diatribe against the amount of research they were expected to do, ‘when it’s Art, for Godsakes!’ She came to a sudden halt when she saw first that her mother was not alone, and second who her companion was. ‘Umm – making another cake, Mum? I thought you did that yesterday.’
‘I did—’
‘There was an accident. All my fault,’ said Jake, who was sitting at the table carving letters from rolled out liquorice all-sorts. ‘That’s why I’m helping your mother make another.’
Nel was grateful for the interruption of Fleur’s arrival; she thought Jake had been about to bring up the subject of that Saturday night. There were lots of reasons why she didn’t want to talk about it, mostly because she didn’t want him to thank her for understanding it was a one-night stand, and that was all. She knew the truth but she didn’t want to discuss it with Jake.
‘Fleur, this is Jake Demerand. Jake, my daughter, Fleur.’
Jake got up and took hold of Fleur’s hand. ‘Hi.’
‘Hi.’ Fleur wasn’t easily silenced, but the sight of a man she herself had described as gorgeous in her kitchen, with her mother, did the job – for a few seconds at least.
‘Cup of tea, darling?’ said Nel. ‘Jake, another one?’
‘I’m awash. Why don’t I open the wine now?’
A glass of wine sounded wonderful. Nel glanced at the kitchen clock. It was after six. ‘Better not. I’ll have to drive you back to your car soon. In fact, I could do it now. Fleur will help me with the cake.’
‘If you think I’m going to let you do the fun part on your own after I’ve carved out the name, you’re in for a surprise. I’ll take a taxi home later.’
‘Mm, wine, good idea,’ said Fleur. ‘I’ll just get the corkscrew from my bedroom.’
Simon would have given Nel an ‘I know you’re doing your best, but it must be very difficult for you, bringing up teenagers without a father’ look. Jake just burrowed about for wine glasses. It was really odd, Nel reflected, hunting in another cupboard for Bombay mix and crisps, how easy it was to be with Jake. He was a hotshot London lawyer and she had slept with him. Not only that, he represented the enemy, literally, with regard to the water meadows. And yet having him in her kitchen, chatting to her dogs, rummaging in her cupboards, was somehow fine.
‘Why were you late home?’ enquired Nel when Fleur reappeared.
‘Oh, I was in town. I bought some black trousers.’
‘So how many pairs is that now?’
‘Eleven,’ said Fleur promptly. ‘I couldn’t get to sleep the other night and I counted. Lots I just keep for messing around in.’
‘When will the cakes be cool enough to ice?’ asked Jake.
‘Not for ages,’ said Fleur. ‘But we can take them outside if you like. They’ll cool quicker there. It’s freezing.’
‘OK. I’ll take the big one, and you tell me where we can put them.’
‘Don’t put them where the foxes can get them!’ called Nel as Jake and Fleur disappeared through the back door.
While she was alone she looked frantically in the freezer. She’d have to cook something for them all to eat, but what?
Fortunately, the farm she had visited had given her a whole tray of cracked eggs, and in spite of the cake, there were still plenty left.
‘Spanish omelettes all right for supper?’ Nel asked, when Jake and Fleur came back in having found a place for the cakes which they could observe from the kitchen.
‘Oh great, my favourite! Thanks, Mum!’ said Fleur, giving her mother a squeeze which was not only affection, but contained quite a lot of ‘doing all right there, girl!’ about it, too, as she went through to the sitting room and turned on the television. Nel had never been in this position with her daughter before, and she wasn’t sure if it was funny or embarrassing.
‘I really like them too,’ said Jake. ‘Does that mean I can hug you as well?’
Nel found herself blushing and hoped he wouldn’t notice. ‘No. You can peel potatoes. Do you want a knife or a peeler?’
‘A peeler. Do you really think you can just pretend Saturday night didn’t happen?’
‘The world is divided into people who do potatoes with knives, and those who like peelers. I like peelers myself.’
‘Stop rambling and answer the question.’
Nel stopped gathering crumbs with her cloth. ‘No. And I’m not pretending it didn’t happen. I’m just never referring to it again.’
‘But why not? It was fabulous. At least, it was for me, and I kind of got the impression you liked it too.’
‘I did! But can we please not talk about it?’ She gestured towards the sitting room.
‘I’m sure she knows the facts of life.’
‘Yes! But not the facts of my life!’
He laughed. She wished he wouldn’t do that. It made his eyes crinkle and his eyelashes appear particularly curly.
‘Seriously,’ she went on. ‘We can’t talk about it now. Or ever!’
‘That’s ridiculous. We need to talk about it. We had unprotected sex.’
Nel kicked the door to. ‘Please! Don’t say things like that in front of my daughter! It’s hard enough trying to make sure she has morals and things without her finding out that her mother is a slut!’
‘You are not a slut!’
‘And you are not to discuss what happened between us with my daughter in the house!’
‘Fair enough. Come out for a drink with me then.’
‘No!’
‘You’re being ridiculous! Either we talk about it now, or you come out with me and we talk about it elsewhere.’ Up to this point he had sounded remarkably good-natured in the face of her stubbornness, but there was definitely an edge to his voice now.
‘We can’t have’ – aware that she was getting agitated, she lowered her voice – ‘a relationship. There’s no point in discussing Saturday night.’
Jake crossed the room and opened the door to the sitting room. ‘Agree to come out with me, or I tell Fleur everything.’
‘That’s blackmail! You can’t expect me to give in to that!’ She was nervous, but she didn’t really think Jake would tell Fleur.
‘Fleur!’ said Jake. Nel went cold suddenly. ‘Tell your mother you wouldn’t mind at all if she went out for dinner with me.’
Fleur turned round, trying to suppress a smirk. ‘Of course I don’t mind, Mum. You’re old enough to make up your own mind about these things. Just don’t come back too late and make sure you’ve got your homework done first.’
Nel made a sound like a tennis player who’s just hit a really hard ball. It didn’t quite sum up her feelings of exasperation, but it helped. It also made it clear to Jake and Fleur what she felt about them.
‘So, get out your calendar and we’ll make a date,’ said Jake.
‘And what am I supposed to tell Simon I’m doing?’ she asked, not expecting an answer.
‘That you’re meeting with the solicitor representing the Hunstantons,’ said Jake.
Fleur got up from in front of the television and came into the kitchen. ‘Tell him you’re discussing tactics.’
‘What? I’m asking the solicitor for help in saving the fields? I don’t think so.’
‘Why do you have to tell him anything?’ said Fleur, picking a cube of fried potato out of the pan. ‘You’re not engaged or anything, are you? Just go out with who you want!’
Jake raised an eyebrow and sort of smiled. The combination was too much. She opened her mouth to say she didn’t want to go out with Jake, but she didn’t, she just stood with it open.
‘I really think it’s important that you keep abreast of all developments, as they happen,’ said Jake.
‘So do I,’ said Fleur.
‘Very well,’ she snapped, trying not to respond to the two sets of twinkling eyes which regarded her. ‘But there had better be some developments – good ones!’
‘Oh, I think I can guarantee that.’
Nel blushed furiously and tried to frown at Jake without Fleur noticing.
He raised his eyebrows briefly, confirming he really had meant what she’d thought he’d meant. ‘Right, where’s this calendar then.’ Jake then took the calendar, which was designed for families, and mostly full of dentist and vet appointments for the children and dogs (the animals had their own column) and meetings for Nel, and found a slot. ‘You don’t seem to be doing anything Friday next week? I’m working in London, but I could be down for seven. We could meet up at eight? That suit you?’
Nel shrugged. ‘Fine. My feelings on the matter obviously aren’t important.’
‘Mum!’ Fleur was shocked. ‘That’s a bit rude.’
‘Sorry. I’m just a bit worried. Do you know that the hospice roof needs replacing and it’s going to cost thousands?’ she said to Fleur.
‘How awful. Shall I make a salad?’
‘That would be lovely. The potatoes and onion are done, I’ll just have a look for something meaty to put in.’
By the time they sat down to eat, they had opened another bottle of wine Fleur had produced from somewhere. Nel put her hand over her glass. ‘I’ve still got to ice the cake. I’ve got to keep my wits about me.’
‘But you’ve got us to help you, Mum. It’ll be fun. Do you think I can take a picture of it and add it to my portfolio? Cake is art, isn’t it?’
‘Oh, I’m sure it is. Fine art, even,’ said Nel, who didn’t really care about art at that precise moment. She was tired and worried.
‘Have another glass of wine,’ said Jake. ‘Iron is good for women.’
Nel scowled at him. It may have been true, but she didn’t like him knowing too much about women. It would give him too much insight into her own character, and would indicate a lively past. A lively past didn’t make him any less attractive, but it made her feel even more out of her depth with him. ‘Have some salad. It’s good for men.’
Jake laughed again. If only he wouldn’t do that, thought Nel.
After the meal Jake said to Nel, ‘You go and sit down. We’ll make coffee and clear up, won’t we, Fleur? Then we can get going on the cake.’
‘Yes, off you go, Mum,’ agreed Fleur. ‘Do you want ordinary tea or mint?’
‘Mint,’ she said. ‘I sense I’m going to get indigestion.’
‘I hate to say this,’ said Nel, a couple of hours later, ‘but I’m not sure this cake isn’t better than the first one.’
‘I’m definitely taking a picture of it,’ said Fleur. ‘I need to bulk up my portfolio. I could even make a cake as my final piece.’
‘Well, I’m very proud to have had a hand in it,’ said Jake. ‘I’ve never seen such a fantastic paddle-steamer in my life. It’s beautiful.’
‘You’ve both been wonderful,’ said Nel. ‘I couldn’t have done half so well without you.’
Jake caught her eye and held it. ‘I’m almost pleased the first one got ruined.’
As she’d been in danger of thinking something similar herself, Nel contradicted him hurriedly. ‘Well, it’s nice to have the chance to do things better.’ She yawned, suddenly overcome with fatigue.
‘You’re tired. Would you like me to go?’
Nel had been enjoying herself. It had been fun, doing the cake with Jake and Fleur, who seemed to get on terrifyingly well, but it wasn’t real. Playing with icing and eating chocolate buttons would entertain him for an evening, but he would soon tire of the everyday, cornflakes-but-no-milk sort of life which was hers. He was London restaurants, bachelor flats and beautiful suits, not hairy sofas and dogs being sick on the carpet. Eventually, the warp and weft of her life would irritate him, and eventually, he would break her heart. It was harsh, but it was the truth and reality was sometimes a bitter pill, which had to be chewed thoroughly, not swallowed and then forgotten.
‘Well, it has been fun and you have been extremely helpful with the cake. But the birthday party is tomorrow and I’ve got loads of things to organise for it.’
‘I did make a lot of hard work for you, didn’t I?’
Fleur had disappeared, probably to the bath, and they were alone. ‘You didn’t mean to.’
He reached for her but she held him off so he only got hold of her wrists. It was enough to send her heart racing and make her short of breath. He looked as if he was considering kissing her. Terrified of what would happen if he did, she pulled free. ‘Are you coming to the party tomorrow?’
‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘I’ve got to be in London all day. I’m getting the early train.’
‘Then you should go. Let’s phone you a taxi.’
‘It’s all right, I can walk into town from here. Burn off the chocolate buttons. Nel—’
‘I really don’t want to talk about it.’
‘I was only going to make arrangements about Friday.’
‘I don’t think we should do Friday.’
‘I think we should definitely do Friday.’
She was too tired to argue with Jake as well as with herself. She sighed and gave in to both her opponents. ‘Oh, OK.’
‘I’ll pick you up here, at eight. Say goodbye to Fleur for me.’
Then he kissed her cheek and let himself out of the door.
Nel closed her eyes, staying quite still, as if that way she could hold on to the moment. Then she ran up the stairs and shouted to Fleur through the bathroom door, ‘Will you leave it in for me? I’m still covered with mud and sugar.’
‘OK. Oh, and Mum?’
‘What?’
‘Have you been holding out on me?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘With Jake? He’s the one you took to Chill, isn’t he? You never told me you’d got to know him.’
‘I’m not going to stand here talking to you through the bathroom door.’
Nel stomped off to her study and switched on her computer. A few games of FreeCell while she waited for the bath might calm her down. While it was booting up she concentrated very hard on not thinking about Jake. Away from his office he was so nice, such fun, so incredibly sexy. In fact, if she cast her mind back, he’d been pretty sexy when she’d met him in his offices, too. He exuded sexiness from every pore. Not thinking about him seemed almost an impossible feat.
Her computer, operating at last, needed subtle adjustments before it would bring up her game. She knew she could have changed the default settings and got it to bring it up immediately, but somehow she’d never got round to it. Now, as she clicked and pressed keys, she realised that she was doing it on automatic and was really thinking about Jake. She dragged her mind away from his crinkly eyes, the way his wrists protruded from his shirt cuffs, the feel of his hands on her arms. She realised that since Saturday, if she wasn’t thinking really hard about something else, she was thinking about him.
Fleur appeared, draped in white towelling. ‘You can have the bath now. It’s nice and hot.’
‘Thanks. I’ll just get this game out . . .’
‘And you’ve definitely been holding out on me. How come you know Jake?’
‘I met him at the solicitors when I went to tell them that the hospice owned the fields. It’s such a pity they don’t. Now they’re going to be built on.’
‘We were talking about Jake.’
‘Well, you were, I was trying not to.’
‘First you go clubbing with him—’
‘That was pure chance! I was all set to go on my own.’
‘Then I come home and find you all cosy cosy in the kitchen.’
‘Not that cosy. He insisted on coming home with me from the meeting, which I didn’t know he was going to be at—’
‘Grammar, Mum . . .’
‘In fact, he got in my car and refused to get out. There wasn’t much I could do about it.’
‘It sounds like a load of excuses to me.’
‘The truth often does.’
‘Which is what I’ve always told you.’
‘Remind me, which one of us is the adult here?’
‘Me,’ said Fleur. ‘You’re refusing to answer perfectly reasonable questions about your boyfriend.’
‘He is not my boyfriend, Simon is!’
‘I’d dump that horrible Simon and go for Jake, if I were you.’
‘Simon is not horrible!’ Nel protested. ‘He’s very nice! He cleans out my gutters.’
‘Jake helped you with the cake.’
‘You helped me with the cake. You wouldn’t clean out the gutters.’
‘You don’t know Jake wouldn’t. Anyway, you can’t only go out with people who do DIY.’
‘That is the principal reason for me going out with anyone,’ Nel explained. ‘After years of doing it myself, I’m on the lookout for someone who can put up shelves.’
‘I’m sure Jake could if he tried.’
‘Anyway, none of this is relevant. Jake isn’t interested in me at all, he just felt bad about ruining my cake.’
‘So why did he ask you out, then?’
‘Out of politeness. He’s very polite.’ Nel didn’t actually believe this, she just hoped Fleur would.
‘And getting in your car and refusing to get out doesn’t sound remotely interested, either. Or polite.’
Fleur did sarcasm very well, thought Nel, considering she’d always tried to avoid it herself when talking to her children. She sighed.
‘And he did kiss you under the mistletoe,’ persisted Fleur, sensing Nel’s weakness.
‘I wish you wouldn’t keep going on about that. It was weeks ago, and it was only Christmas spirit.’
‘So, what happened after he took you clubbing? Did you go back to his place?’
The role reversal was getting beyond a joke. This was becoming a serious interrogation. ‘I did spend the night with him, yes. But I got an early train home in the morning.’
‘I know you must have got a train home, what I want to know is what happened when you got back to his place.’
Nel decided to give Fleur the same line as she had Simon. ‘Oh, Fleur, we had mad passionate sex on his sofabed – what do you think happened?’
‘All right, I was only asking. Now you know what it feels like, getting the third degree.’
‘OK, I’ll never ask you anything again, now go and get dry before you freeze to death. I’m going to get in your bath.’
Fleur’s bath, even if it was full of toxic chemicals and bits of stick disguised as sandalwood, was a sensible place to end a long day. She really should turn her mind to the party tomorrow. And Simon, who was her boyfriend.
She pulled off her clothes and climbed into the water. As she sank her shoulders beneath it, she realised she wasn’t thinking about either of those, she was still thinking about Jake. He had become the default setting of her mind.