‘It’s only for a while.’
Tilly wasn’t even asking but had phoned to tell me she’d got it all planned.
‘Danni’s mate wants to move in as soon as she can, and as I’m going to be away doing the schools run for at least four weeks, I may as well get out now. I’ll be in digs weekdays anyway, so you’ll only have to put up with me at weekends.’
‘Are they paying you well?’ I asked, hopefully.
‘Not really,’ my daughter said cheerfully. ‘But it’s what I want to do. I loved doing that bullying play and I cannot wait to finish at that bloody diner. I was there till one o’clock this morning. My feet are agony–’
‘Well, make sure you leave on good terms,’ I put in. ‘In case you need to go back.’
‘Thank you for your faith and positive attitude,’ Tilly said huffily.
‘You know I didn’t mean–’
‘And you won’t make a fuss if Daddy brings me down, will you? I’ve got too much stuff for the train.’
‘Where are you going to put it all? Oliver and Sam have got the spare room, of course–’
‘And Ben might come in the car too as he’s got no money again.’
Tilly sounded disapproving. I resisted the urge to point out that neither would she have if her father hadn’t stepped in. And made a mental note to suggest that since Rob was so keen on all our children being treated equally, he might like to give a small hand-out to the boys too.
‘So I thought I’d have the conservatory, if you’ve given them my room,’ Tilly was saying, as if she were bestowing a major favour. ‘And Ben can have the tiny one. He’ll be going back on Monday.’
I shook my head. The double room had originally been Ben’s if anyone’s and I’d hardly be putting a pregnant Sam on a sofa bed.
‘We’ve got Malcolm and Gabriel coming to eat on Sunday,’ I said. ‘I expect Gabriel told you.’
‘Yeah – there’s some amazing guitarist on at the Fox Saturday night, that’s why Ben’s coming.’
‘Oh, not to see his poor old mum, then?’
Tilly laughed. ‘That too – he’ll have all his manky washing with him.’
‘I expect you’ll have yours too.’
‘I will!’ Tilly was shouting now as there was a fresh outburst of voices around her. ‘I’ve got to go!’
‘I’m making steak and kidney pie,’ I shouted back. ‘With pasta for Sam. You can have that too as you don’t like kidney.’
There was more noise and her reply was lost.
‘WHAT?’
‘I said NO I CAN’T,’ my daughter yelled just before we were cut off. ‘I’M NOT DOING CARBS.’
I’d heard that one before, I thought, as I finished crimping the pastry round the edge of my largest pie dish and began to snip apart a mound of sausages. I’d decided to make a toad as well – Tilly could always hoik out the meat from the batter if she was still on her regime by this evening (never a given) – and do lots of vegetables. Then I’d thrown together a coq au vin too, mainly because I had half a bottle of wine left I didn’t much like – it was one Rob bought – but was too parsimonious to pour down the sink. And I wanted to put on a good spread for Malcolm.
He had sounded almost rapturous about coming to eat, sending me quite long sentences by email and checking twice what time I wanted him to arrive.
A small, disloyal, part of me half-wished we’d be dining on our own. Not so long ago I’d have been over the moon to have all my children under my roof, but I’d sort of got used to the house tidy now. And quiet … I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had the place to myself.
As I was stirring, Sam appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking wan.
‘You not feeling well again, sweetheart?’ I said, as she rummaged in the cupboard and pulled out the peppermint tea. She gave me a weak smile. ‘Not too bad.’
‘I’ll make you pasta with pesto and pine nuts, is that okay?’
‘Yes, that’s lovely. Rich in magnesium and iron,’ she recited. ‘Something that’s actually good for you in pregnancy. I’ve got a great long list of foods that aren’t!’
‘It was only soft cheese and raw eggs when I was doing it,’ I told her. ‘That you had to avoid, I mean,’ I added hastily. ‘Not that were good.’
Sam had been very sweet about the fish pie, and had only shrugged philosophically when I’d apologised for turning her life upside down. ‘It should have occurred to me I’d been sick,’ was all she’d said, but I noticed she was now fully vegetarian and nobody was queuing up for my nutritional advice.
‘You go and sit down,’ I said now, as she poured boiling water onto her teabag. ‘Take it easy while you can.’
I hoped the sickness would pass soon. Mine had disappeared altogether after a few weeks, I kept telling her optimistically, adding that then I’d felt fantastic, and keeping very quiet about my friend Marie from Oliver’s toddler group who had thrown up every day for the full nine months.
Sam nodded and disappeared into the front room. I began to count out potatoes, making generous provisions for hung-over sons – I’d heard Gabriel’s and Ben’s voices floating up the stairs at 1 a.m. followed by the smell of toast (my scented candle was in a cupboard for the foreseeable) and hadn’t seen my youngest since – and a daughter whose concept of carbohydrates could be elastic. Glad I’d been firm about not letting her father hang about.
Rob had dropped her and Ben, three suitcases and a dozen half-filled bin-liners at the house the previous afternoon. He’d let me know that Fiona had relented and they were once again bonding over Farrow and Ball charts for the new property Fiona liked. But it hadn’t stopped him lingering hopefully or Tilly hissing in my ear about dinner.
‘You like feeding people,’ she’d said accusingly. ‘You always say one more doesn’t make any difference.’
Unless it’s an ex-spouse with a penchant for breathing on you.
As I dumped the boys’ empties in the recycling bin, I spotted Ingrid coming down the road.
‘How’s your mother?’ she asked, softer and more sympathetic than usual. I told her about my detour to Margate after I’d been measuring in Dover. Now Gerald was there, the house looked more loved and homely again. ‘She’s finally seeing a consultant at the end of the month, I said, adding as I felt a rush of gratitude to Ingrid, and before I could stop myself: ‘Would you like a coffee?’
‘You look busy,’ she said, surveying the trays and dishes lined up next to the hob. ‘Got all the family here?’ The usual sharp note had returned to her voice. I pulled china mugs from the cupboard and smiled at her.
‘Yes, Oliver and Sam are staying with me for a while. Ben and Tilly arrived last night …’ I explained about my daughter’s new job and how she too was going to be around for a bit. ‘I don’t know how she’s managed to accumulate so much stuff. There wasn’t a spare inch of space left in Rob’s car–’
I stopped abruptly, hoping talk of my offspring wouldn’t lead to Ingrid mentioning David …
‘He’s back again, is he?’ she said, tartly.
‘Only long enough to remind me why we got divorced. Biscuit?’
As Ingrid shook her head, I moved quickly onto the garden and the work involved in getting it straight. Ingrid nodded. ‘I’d like to see your pond …’
We carried our cups outside. It was warm and the grass was long and springy beneath our feet. ‘I’ve got a lawn-mower at last,’ I told Ingrid, ‘I’m hoping to persuade one of the boys …’
‘But the daisies are so pretty.’ She bent over my pond, looking into the depths. ‘Any frogs or newts?’
‘There was frogspawn–’
‘Mum!’ Oliver was standing in the back doorway. ‘Jinni’s here.’
She was already stepping outside. I looked at her, startled, as Oliver reappeared, his tone more urgent: ‘I think you need to look in the oven …’
I sprinted past Jinni and got the pie out before the golden perfection of its crust could descend into charcoal, gave the potatoes a poke, the casserole a stir and added the batter to the now-sizzling sausages before racing back out into the garden, where Jinni and Ingrid stood facing each other two metres apart as if ready for a shoot-out.
Jinni swung around and gave me an exuberant hug. ‘Hello, girlfriend! Long time no see. Sorry about that. I’ve had a wood burner installed!’ She was smiling widely, dark hair tied up in a bright scarf, silver bracelets jangling. She indicated her dusty overalls. ‘I’ve spent bloody hours stacking logs!’ She turned to Ingrid. ‘I had that tree chopped down,’ she said, challenge in her voice. ‘The bloke from the council agreed completely. Said I’d better get on with it before it rotted completely and fell on me!’
Ingrid shrugged. ‘Oh, if it was diseased–’
Jinni gave a hard laugh. ‘Don’t you care anymore? That’s not like you, Ingrid. You don’t usually let a spot of reason put you off. Losing your edge?’
Ingrid shrugged again and gave one of her steely sweet smiles. ‘I’ve got more pressing concerns with the new leisure centre. It’s a monstrous building – it’s going to ruin the view, the back elevation will be blocking out the light to a child’s bedroom–’ Jinni was already looking bored.
‘No doubt they’ll soon back off when they see you coming,’ she said dryly.
Ingrid ignored her. ‘So,’ she went on smoothly, ‘I have, as David would put it, bigger fish to fry.’ There was a small pause while Ingrid looked at Jinni with an expression I couldn’t read. ‘And he doesn’t want me to cause trouble for you.’
Jinni gave a sarcastic smile and adopted a sugary tone of her own: ‘How generous of him.’
I looked from one to the other, confused, my heart beating harder at the mention of David. ‘I’m sorry, I really need to get back in the kitchen,’ I said uncomfortably. ‘I’ve got cooking to do. Would either of you–’
‘I must get on too.’ Ingrid was brisk. ‘Thank you, Tess.’ I followed her through to the front door, leaving Jinni in the kitchen. Gabriel had arrived while we were outside and was perched on the arm of the sofa chatting to Oliver and Sam. He jumped up and hugged me. ‘Tess! You’re looking great.’
He rummaged in a rucksack at his feet and produced a box of chocolate mints. ‘I brought you these.’ He pointed to a carrier bag on the floor near Oliver. ‘And there’s some beers …’
‘That’s really kind of you.’ I gave him a kiss. ‘You know Ingrid, don’t you?’
As Ingrid was saying goodbye, Tilly sprinted down the stairs, wearing a new top and a lot of make-up. ‘Gabe!’
Then the doorbell rang.
Malcolm strode towards me and pressed a bottle of red wine into my hand. ‘It’s a decent one,’ he said. ‘I’ve been wanting it to go to a good home.’
Ingrid, beside me, looked Malcolm up and down. ‘Are you well?’ she enquired.
‘I’m still here.’
‘I hope you’re going to be reporting on the goings-on with that so-called community centre,’ she said. ‘The head of the company that’s got the contract to build it is in the Masons with Dick Barford! Head of Planning,’ she added, as Malcolm remained impassive.
‘I know who he is,’ he growled. ‘Speak to him–’ Malcolm jerked his head towards Gabriel. ‘He’s head of conspiracy theories.’
Gabriel flushed and Malcolm gave a loud guffaw. ‘You can do one of your “investigations”.’
‘He’s been very good, actually, as far as my problems go!’ Jinni was now in the doorway behind us, putting special emphasis on the word ‘problems’ and flashing Ingrid a look. My heart sank.
But Malcolm appraised her keenly and then gave a grin. ‘I don’t think we’ve met,’ he said. ‘Although I’ve heard how camera-shy you are.’
‘I hate those posed pictures,’ Jinni said. ‘Pointing at the damage with a long face.’
‘Yes, they’re terrible,’ agreed Malcolm. ‘But then Pete is a terrible photographer.’
‘You should be a bit more loyal to your staff,’ said Ingrid tartly.
‘They’ve got jobs, haven’t they?’
Ingrid shook her head as if he were worth no further effort and opened the front door. She nodded at me. ‘Give my best wishes to your mother.’
‘I was worried there for a moment,’ said Malcolm, when she’d gone. ‘Thought she was staying.’
‘That’s enough to put anyone off their food,’ said Jinni. ‘She’s such a pain. Her and that tosser son.’
‘Do you want to eat with us? Having Jinni here again in my house, humming with energy, made me want her company despite my wounded feelings. But she’d just been rude about David, so presumably she wasn’t …
‘I can’t!’ Jinni pulled a face. ‘I’d love to but –’ She gave me a wink. ‘Something just came up …’
‘Have fun,’ said Malcolm.
‘Are you in tomorrow?’ Tilly asked. ‘I’ve got a TIE job I want to tell you about.’
‘Hey fab! Yep – come over.’ Jinni turned back to me. ‘We’ve got to catch up too. I don’t where the time has gone.’ She blew a kiss around the room. Then winked again. ‘Well I do! Have a good one!’
She was gone and aromas from the kitchen were calling me. ‘Where’s Ben?’ I asked Tilly.
‘Still lying on his bed groaning,’ she said, smiling at Gabriel. ‘Was he really rotten last night?’
‘He was okay,’ said Gabriel tactfully.
‘Well, tell him to come down now,’ I instructed. ‘And Oliver, could you do some drinks for Gabriel and Malcolm, please. ‘Tilly, finish laying the table, darling? I got distracted when Ingrid came …’
‘I’ll help you.’ Gabriel sprang to his feet as usual. Malcolm looked cynical.
‘He’s a lovely boy,’ I told him firmly, when they’d gone into the dining room. ‘Always so considerate.’
‘He could do with considering what makes a decent news story,’ said Malcolm, but there was none of his usual rancour. ‘I’m looking forward to this,’ he went on. ‘I haven’t had steak and kidney for months.’
He looked almost moved when I brought in the serving dishes. ‘You are truly an angel in human form,’ he declared, unfolding his napkin. He surveyed the table. ‘Toad in the hole too. My cup runneth over.’
Ben, who had brightened up since the food arrived, took the slab of batter and sausages Tilly passed him and began to pile potatoes onto his plate beside it. ‘Next best thing to a full fry-up,’ he said. ‘I’ve been gagging for one all day.’
‘You’re vile,’ said Tilly, looking at his plate disapprovingly and helping herself to broccoli spears, ‘you’ll be dead of a coronary by the time you’re thirty.’
Ben, his mouth full, made a disparaging noise in his throat. ‘You can talk,’ he said good-naturedly, when he’d swallowed. ‘Bet you’re back on the cake and chips by tomorrow latest.’
I frowned. ‘Stop it you two. Tilly, why don’t you have some chicken with that?’
‘Or would you like some of this pasta?’ Sam offered her the bowl.
My daughter glared at her brother and shook her head at Sam. ‘Can’t. I need to lose weight before I start the new run. I’m doing high protein and veg only.’
‘Till someone opens the biscuits …’ Ben said, and he and Oliver both laughed. Their sister scowled.
‘You look great as you are,’ Gabriel said gallantly, and suddenly she smiled, looking unusually bashful. I wondered how far their relationship had progressed. It would be nice if they got together. If my daughter could be happy and settled like Oliver and Sam …
I watched as Oliver put a hand on Sam’s arm. I felt fiercely protective of the teeny prawn-baby growing there across the table. I pictured tiny curling fingers and toes. We’d agreed to keep the news in the family for a few more weeks but I couldn’t wait to start buying things.
‘You all right, Mumsie?’ Ben looked quizzically at me between munches. ‘Your face has gone wonky.’
I jolted back to the present and looked around at the various plates.
‘What can I pass you now, Malcolm?’ I said, proffering more gravy
He shook his head. ‘Not a thing. I am enjoying this wonderful pie.’ He shook his head. ‘A rarity indeed. A beauty who can cook!’
For once he seemed to be serious. Ben made a come-off-it-mate face as I felt myself flush at the compliment.
Malcolm did look surprisingly content. I gestured to Oliver to top up the wine, but Malcolm covered his glass. ‘I’ll just drink this one slowly. Not supposed to do it at all.’ He pulled a face. ‘That’s the trouble with the medical profession. Anything remotely agreeable, they ban it.’
‘Would you like some of this elderflower cordial?’ Sam asked kindly.
Malcolm looked askance. ‘It’s not quite got that bad.’
Sam giggled. She had a bit more colour now. Although she wasn’t eating much. Probably afraid my pesto was rancid and she’d end up with twins.
‘Are you okay?’ I mouthed at her.
She nodded. ‘This is lovely, Tess.’
‘Splendid!’ Malcolm beamed around the table.
Ben was still talking about breakfast. ‘I didn’t want to risk dragging my poor body down the town and then finding there was nowhere open on a Sunday …’
‘Your instincts were half-right,’ Malcolm told him. ‘Stan’s is closed on a Sunday – a situation I would be attempting to rectify if I lived in town and it affected me in the slightest – but the second-best breakfast in Northstone is available …’ They fell to discussing the attributes of the ideal greasy spoon, with Ben putting up a case for hash browns and ‘non-flobby’ eggs, Oliver for crispy bacon, and Gabriel chiming in about fresh orange juice and proper coffee. ‘Don’t start coming over all American,’ growled Malcolm.
Tilly raised her eyebrows. ‘He is half …’
‘Pah,’ said Malcolm. ‘It’s got to be butter on the toast – I won’t patronise a place that serves that margarine muck – and sausages with meat in them, not the sawdust sweepings from the floor.’
He turned to me. ‘If you want a proper start to the day, I’ll introduce you to the pleasures of Stan’s one morning this week. I want to talk to you about writing something for me.’
‘Me?’ I squeaked. ‘I can’t …’
‘You can’t be any worse than the twerp they sent me this week. English graduate! Could barely write his own name–’
‘Work experience,’ explained Gabriel. ‘He was–’
‘Going to be the next John Pilger – came over all concerned about “inequality”, Malcolm shook his head in disgust. ‘If there wasn’t inequality, there’d be bugger all news.’
‘You can always supply the content and let Golden Boy here write it up for you,’ he continued. ‘We’re going to start a series of debates on local issues with different people putting their point of view. You can be our newcomer. I might ask your neighbour too. Pit her against Ingrid. Might as well make some use of the annoying woman–’
I wasn’t sure which one of them he was referring to as the irritant – Ingrid most likely – but decided, knowing Malcolm, it could be both. ‘I don’t know–’ I began.
‘We’ll discuss it over double eggs. And mushrooms!’ he added, with a gleam in his eye. ‘They’re important.’
He took another roast potato. ‘Wednesday.’
The light was fading by the time we’d moved into the sitting room and I was offering around the mint thins. ‘I don’t think I could,’ said Malcolm, taking one. ‘Superb lemon tart. I really shouldn’t have had the ice-cream too–’ he rubbed his stomach. ‘But all absolutely magnificent, my dear.’ He put his coffee cup down and stood up. ‘Now, I must be off.’
He shook hands with Ben and Oliver, and gave Sam a crooked smile. ‘You want to feed her more,’ he told Oliver. ‘She’s looking a bit peaky.’
He rested his eyes on Gabriel. ‘Do you need taking somewhere?’ he said gruffly. Tilly was coming through from the kitchen; I saw her eyes flick towards him.
‘No, I’ll walk, thanks,’ Gabriel gave an easy smile. ‘It’s a lovely evening.’
‘Nice to see you again!’ Tilly gave Malcolm a kiss and settled herself on the arm of the sofa next to Gabriel, leaving Malcolm looking comically surprised.
I followed him to the door. The air was soft and a new moon was hovering over the dark outlines of the trees framing the rectory. There was one small light on downstairs.
Malcolm stopped and faced me and seemed to hesitate. I gave him a hug and he clasped me back. ‘You must come again soon,’ I said, filled with affection for him and all of them, thinking how relaxed I was, and how good it felt, after all, to have friends and family around ….
‘I’ll see you for breakfast,’ Malcolm replied.
‘I’ll look forward to it …’ I smiled at him thinking how much I really would.
And then over his shoulder I saw the car draw up, and my warm, happy feelings dried instantly into a hard lump below my ribcage.
I fixed my eyes back on Malcolm’s and shut the door the moment he’d turned to wave from the drive. ‘Could you put the blue wheelie on the pavement for me?’ I asked Ben, hurriedly shutting the curtains.
‘You all right, Mum?’ Oliver was looking at me.
‘I’ve just remembered it’s bin day.’
I gathered up Malcolm’s empty cup and my wine glass and went through to the kitchen.
I heard Ben complaining he had bare feet, Gabriel offering to go outside for him, Tilly telling her brother he was the laziest little gimp she’d ever known, Oliver saying something to Sam about getting to bed.
For a faint moment I had hoped.
But nobody had rung at my doorbell. There was no text on my phone.
It wasn’t that I cared if Jinni and David were having a fling – they were probably well-suited. It was the way they were going about it. The manner in which David had abruptly dropped me even as a friend, or business colleague. It wasn’t as if anything had happened between us.
And why did Jinni pretend? That tosser son...
I threw back the last mouthful of red wine from my glass and dumped the crockery down hard. It wasn’t that I cared at all, but why treat me like an idiot?
Because you are one, I told myself bitterly. You are a total tool.