Ken Morris called into an empty house and collected his mail. He put the assorted envelopes down on the passenger seat of his van and drove to a lay-by to examine them. One with an American stamp he opened first. His daughters both lived there and he was smiling with anticipation as he broke the seal. As well as the hastily scrawled note, typical of Sue, there were photographs of her family. A husband he had yet to meet and two grandsons he knew only from the regular supply of snaps. He looked at them several times, read the note twice and put them down. The letter from his Turf Accountant was next. He smiled as he opened that one too, expecting the amount he owed to have fallen. But it had increased.
Worse, the account was closed until he paid the whole amount off. As he had been told, they didn’t like him using their money to try and recoup his losses. The figure owed was frightening, and the tone of the men, when they had met him coming from the cinema with Christian’s three boys, had been clear: pay up or be used as a warning to others. He had paid something off his account after the three men had warned him, by borrowing more from moneylenders and now his debts were escalating alarmingly. He had a nasty letter from the moneylenders too.
He looked again at the snaps of Sue and her family. When would he ever be able to go out there and meet them all? With both daughters married and settled permanently in the States he had to find the money to visit them. He couldn’t stop gambling. How else was he going to find the money to pay off his ever mounting debts and arrange to visit them? As he drove home, he changed direction a few times. Perhaps he was becoming paranoid, but if someone followed him and learned that he was living with his elderly mother — the thought was too terrifying to hold on to. He had to do something, but what? To begin with, he would ask one of the labourers to go in and place a bet for him, borrowing money from the petty cash. He could put that back at the end of the month. He had to win some time.
The night of their escape, as Jeremy and Justin called it, was the first of many that month. Being reassured by the orderly state of the house and the apparent good behaviour of the five boys, Joanne began to accept more invitations, explaining to John that, as long as the boys were properly looked after, she felt confident to leave them for a few hours. John was surprised but pleased.
‘Just tell me where you’ll be, so I can get in touch with you if necessary,’ he said.
‘Really John, we ought to have mobiles so we can keep in touch more easily. It’s ridiculous, everyone else has one these days. Everyone but me.’
‘There’s no need to add to our outgoings. You have a phone in the house, that’s enough.’ He had a mobile, but dealt with the account via his office. He didn’t want Joanne to know about it. She fussed so much she would be bothering him too frequently during his working day, and at most inconvenient times.
Travelling a lot, dealing with his widespread cafes and houses, he needed to be free of her while he was involved with work, as he explained to Cynthia’s husband, Christian, one day when they met at one of his lorry parks about fifteen miles from Abertrochi.
‘I talk to Cynthia a lot during the day,’ Christian said. ‘She always knows where I am and what time I’ll get home. We both have such busy lives we need to be in constant touch or we’d lose our way as a couple.’
‘Lucky you,’ John said. ‘I hate to admit it, but Joanne irritates something terrible.’
‘I am lucky,’ Christian said. ‘Cynthia keeps the home going so smoothly I never have to worry about a thing, and the boys have always been happy and easily managed. She touches everything so lightly it seems effortless. And, d’you know, John, I don’t remember ever having a cross word.’
When they parted, Christian to return to the camper van where he and Ken were about to travel north, and John to return to Abertrochi, John went to a phone box and told Joanne that he’d been held up and wouldn’t be home that evening as promised. He drove away from the lorry park with a lighter heart.
Cynthia’s boys became regular visitors to Joanne’s house, pleading with Cynthia and explaining that Jeremy and Justin had so little fun that they welcomed them going over with video games and tapes they rarely saw. Apart from these ‘official’ times, they were often there without her knowing. They would arrive at the gate and whistle for Jeremy and Justin to join them on the cliff path, after the boys — and sometimes Joanne too — had gone to bed.
With the dark autumn evenings, she was pleased when they went to bed early and settled down, convinced that it was her firmness and management that had made them so amenable. She frequently boasted of their good behaviour to Cynthia and Meriel, explaining that it was the result of her strict regime. Cynthia didn’t disabuse her of her theory. She only glanced at Meriel when Joanne went on, ‘Children need firmness, a framework from which they can find themselves.’
‘If my guesses are correct,’ Cynthia whispered to Meriel with a chuckle, ‘They find themselves by running along the cliff path and into my airing room for midnight feasts and freedom!’
With Joanne blissfully unaware, Jeremy and Justin would creep down and through the door within moments of her light being extinguished, having been fully dressed and waiting for the signal. Their outings were fewer now the weather was colder. But it was with the same excitement that they always ran down the drive and on to the cliff path. Sometimes they would let themselves into the warmth of the airing room with its clean smell of wood and soap, where they just sat and talked, the Sewell three making the Morgan two envious, with their tales of their easy-going mother and the easily outwitted and kindly housekeeper, Millie.
After a week of violent storms which dislodged a large section of the cliffs making it too dangerous and unpleasant for them to venture near, Rupert who, although identical in age to Oliver, was self-appointed leader, announced that, with the sea and midnight picnics no longer an attraction, he would teach them all to drive.
Joanne continued to enjoy her free evenings. Money was still a serious problem but many of the ‘evenings out’ entailed nothing more than a visit to friends for a drink and a chat. She often called on Meriel and sat with a glass of wine until the ten o’clock news began before walking home, confident that the five boys were still at their homework as they had been when she had left them. She rarely took the car, it hardly seemed worth it for a ten minute walk, and Meriel always drove her home if it was raining, or cold, or when they had sat talking too late.
Cynthia called one evening when she and Meriel were watching a television programme and managed to persuade them both to buy a ticket for a wine-tasting evening in aid of one of her fund-raising schemes. She at once forestalled Joanne’s protests by saying, ‘Oliver and Rupert will stay with Jeremy and Justin. They all have homework and settle down to it so well together there’s no reason for you to say no, dear.’
Joanne began to panic when she got home. The tickets were expensive. And there was always a raffle. How was she going to find the money? She had something to wear, but the cost of the ticket was impossible. Taking some of the items given for charity was risky, the person who gave them might mention them and ask how much they raised. But, desperate to avoid the others knowing of her poor circumstances, she took a vase of her own which she had never liked, plus a small brooch, wondering if she could sell them for enough to pay for the ticket. Then, when she was doing her shift in the charity shop, someone brought in a beautiful set of silver backed brushes and hand mirror. She took them all to a shop in town and received the cost of the ticket with some to spare. Generously — and to soothe her troubled conscience, she gave the remainder of the money to Cynthia’s fund and glowed in her praise.
It was when Joanne was at Cynthia’s wine-tasting event that Rupert made his announcement, that tonight was the time to begin driving. The night was dark enough, and the parents would be out until quite late. Eleven o’clock at least. It was the work of a moment to reach up to the hook where Joanne kept her car keys.
Keeping to the quiet roads of the housing estate, Oliver drove carefully around, explaining his moves to Jeremy. By the time they returned the car to its place, Jeremy had driven around several times, reversed into a parking place, managed a three point, or rather a nine point, turn and felt able to drive across the world.
Justin and Marcus, who were too small to be competent, were promised that they too would be able to control a car, long before their seventeenth birthday, when their fathers might be expected to pay for lessons.
‘I’ll never be tall enough,’ Marcus moaned. ‘I’ll be this height until I die!’
‘Look at your trousers,’ Oliver said. ‘They’re showing too much sock. Of course you’ve grown.’
Delighted, Marcus informed his mother that he’d outgrown his trousers and needed new ones if he wasn’t to look a fool in front of his friends!
For Meriel and Cath, the autumn was one of a gradually developing friendship. Their mutual interest in antiques began it, but they soon felt able to talk about almost everything with ease, knowing they would be understood, even when their opinions differed, although Meriel still avoided the subject of children.
They continued to attend antique fairs, car boot sales and table top sales whenever they saw one advertised, although they had yet to rent a table themselves and try out their skills at selling. Their knowledge of prices was slowly improving, and they bought and sold a variety of objects, sometimes losing a little and sometimes gaining.
Meriel refused to bring out her ’fifties memorabilia though. In fact she was adding to it as she and Cath searched for choice items amid the dross.
‘I’m keeping it all, until I know exactly what I’ve got and what it’s worth,’ she told Cath, who quite understood.
It was December when they finally tried out a sale of their own. They rented a table at a small venue in a church hall intending to display a variety of less valuable china. Cath brought some cushion covers she had made and small items like appliqué pictures depicting Christmas scenes, and calendars with pictures of the four seasons. When the sale ended at midday, they were both satisfied with the response.
The following week in Churchill’s Garden, Cath joined them and as it was Helen’s day off, all six of them plus Toby sat down to coffee. Vivienne was talking happily about a man she had met who loved Toby. Helen spoke of her dismay that her three wouldn’t be spending Christmas with her and Reggie.
‘I’m going to make sure the New Year is a good one,’ she said. ‘Henri is fifteen now and she’ll soon want to spend these occasions with her friends. I have to do what I can for as long as I can.’
Cynthia jokingly told her, ‘My Rupert is quite smitten with your Henrietta, whose name he refuses to shorten.’
Cynthia told them of the guests she expected. People living alone and without family. ‘Are you having any visitors?’ she asked Joanne. ‘You have a sister, haven’t you?’
‘Only my sister Samantha, and we have lost touch.’ Quickly she added, ‘My John will be away right up to Christmas Eve, and he always takes the dog for a long walk on Christmas morning while I prepare lunch.’
‘Dinner,’ Cath whispered. ‘We always called it dinner.’
Meriel watched Cath anxiously as the talk of families continued but she seemed calm and unaffected.
Then Helen surprised them by saying, ‘Joanne, what was your son doing driving your car the other night?’
‘My Jeremy? Surely you were mistaken, Helen,’ she said with a laugh. ‘It must have been me. I’m not very tall and with my hair back in a chignon, well, that must be the explanation, there isn’t another. Jeremy can’t drive and at fourteen, he’s hardly likely to be learning, is he? No, I’m the only one to drive my darling little Fiat.’
But privately, although she didn’t think it possible, she was always prepared to believe the worst of her sons, even without any reason to do so. So for the next few days she checked the mileage on her car. Once there was a discrepancy of ten miles; she convinced herself she had misread the dial. John’s car was beside her own and for no reason apart from looking to see whether the two numbers were easy to confuse, she looked at his mileage too.
That evening, when the boys were finishing their homework, Joanne cleared up after the evening meal, she repaired her make-up and changed into a long evening gown that John had bought her years before. The whisky bottle and a glass were set out on a tray beside John’s chair so he could help himself to the one drink he allowed himself when he was home for the evening.
She arranged the lighting just as he liked it and settled down to a pleasant evening, during which she intended to bring up the subject of extra money for Christmas.
‘Darling,’ she began, when the boys had gone to their rooms. ‘Christmas is nearly here. We have to decide what we’re going to buy for the boys, and I need to know what entertaining we can do. Shopping is becoming an urgent priority.’
Within ten minutes of her broaching the subject of finance, John stood up and said he was going to the pub.
‘Shall I come with you?’ she asked. ‘Cynthia’s boys would agree to come for an hour or two. They never seem to mind, and the five of them get on so well. Oliver and Rupert, the twins, are very sensible, and young Marcus is a darling child.’
‘I’d love you to, but it’s a boring meeting to discuss some repairs needed on one of the houses. Why don’t we arrange something for later in the week instead? Invite Cynthia and Christian and go out for a meal?’
‘Are you sure we can afford it?’ she asked.
‘Not really,’ he grinned, giving her a hug. ‘But let’s do it anyway. It isn’t often we give ourselves a treat.’
It was past eleven before he returned. He explained that he ‘got chatting’ and forgot the time.
‘You didn’t drink too much, did you?’
‘I stuck to low alcohol beer, you know I don’t take chances. Joanne,’ he said irritably. ‘My business depends on my being able to drive, doesn’t it?’
‘Was it a successful meeting?’
‘Well, I got the price for the repairs to the Tenby place whittled down a bit, so, yes, I suppose it was.’ He smiled then, a smile reminiscent of the early years of their marriage, when that smile was capable of weakening any protest she made about the risks he took financially.
In those early days they were rarely apart. Much of his work was local and his commitments were few. Joanne had worked for five years, besides running the home and helping out in the business whenever John needed it. It was when the boys were born she had become less involved, and even then there had always seemed to be enough money for a comfortable life.
Since then, John had expanded more and more, widening his ownership of cafes to include houses, and his absences from home had become a part of every week. Their marriage had drifted down to fewer hours together and less and less money to spend.
‘If only you didn’t have to work so hard, John darling,’ she sighed.
‘Come and show me how you’ve missed me,’ he said and with an arm around her, he led her up to their room.
The next morning she went to get his overnight case from his car, in order to do his washing, while he and the boys were eating breakfast. For no reason at all she looked at the mileage and saw with surprise that it had increased by forty—seven miles.
‘Which pub did you go to last night?’ She asked the question casually, but her heart was racing as though her life depended on the answer.
‘The Boathouse,’ he told her, naming one about twelve miles away, and she sighed with relief. If he had called for the man he was meeting and had taken him home again, the mileage was easily accounted for. Then he spoilt it.
‘I saw Cynthia and Christian Sewell while I was waiting for my builder friend,’ he said. ‘I didn’t have a conversation, but I did suggest that meal we discussed. It’s on for Friday, all right? Pleasant couple, aren’t they?’
Not forty—seven miles then, if he didn’t call for his friend. The words were like daggers. Where could he have been? And she could have sworn that when he first came in that evening he’d had no intention of going anywhere. The thought had come on him suddenly, as though he had needed to get away from her. Having to meet a builder had been an invention. So where had he gone?
‘I said, they’re a pleasant couple and—’
‘John, Helen said my car has been seen with a young boy driving it. Helen thinks it was Jeremy.’
‘Nonsense. She must have made a mistake. She’s a bit woolly at the best of times. Nice enough though.’
‘But you have to question the boys. She was very certain.’
‘Why should I act like a Victorian father because she thought she saw your car? There are others, just like it! Really Joanne, do you think either Jeremy or Justin could drive without lessons? Forget it for heaven’s sake! The woman was mistaken.’
His irritability made her hold back from further argument. She would have to talk to them herself. Worried about having to confront the boys but still more concerned with the mileage on John’s car, she was quiet as she watched the three of them leave after breakfast; the boys running with school bags flying, and John more slowly, carrying his freshly packed overnight bag, waving, blowing kisses and promising to be back in a few days, when they would have that promised evening out.
When she drove to meet her friends in Churchill’s Garden later that morning she was still puzzling over the extra miles John had travelled. The story about Jeremy driving was forgotten. It was John’s car not her own that worried her.
‘What did John say about your Jeremy taking up driving then?’ was Helen’s greeting.
‘It couldn’t possibly have been Jeremy. I’m not the only person in Abertrochi to prefer a small car you know.’ Her voice came out sharper than intended and she quickly added, ‘He’s too young, Helen. How could he have learned?’
‘I haven’t taught Rupert or Oliver,’ Cynthia laughed, ‘But I know they both drive the car around the drive and through the lanes to the old stables, where they practise turning and reversing.’
‘You don’t mind?’ Joanne frowned.
‘I’ve warned them not to go on to public roads. They’d hate to have their licence taken from them before they’re old enough to have one.’ She shrugged, as she touched up her lipstick after finishing her first cup of coffee. ‘They know what’s involved so I can leave it up to them.’
Continually surprised by her friend’s strange attitude to bringing up children, Joanne said nothing more, but went to order her coffee and cake. A large sticky one today, she decided. She felt the need for some spoiling. Imagine leaving important decisions like that to fifteen-year—old boys! Cynthia was heading for trouble. That was as clear to see as the cherries on her iced bun.
She and Cynthia discussed the proposed meal out and decided that, although it was not the most exciting place, The Fisherman’s Basket was a suitable venue. ‘It doesn’t entail a long drive,’ Cynthia explained, ‘And we can all drink if we want to. We can easily get a taxi or even walk if we feel like it.’
‘That would be a change,’ Joanne said mildly. ‘It’s usually me having to stay on tonic water so I can drive.’ She was disappointed. She and John went out so rarely together that she had hoped for a more exciting place.
‘Perhaps you could go on somewhere to dance afterwards?’ Vivienne suggested. ‘If Meriel would have Toby I’d come with you.’
‘Why don’t you?’ Cynthia said enthusiastically. The idea of an evening spent with Joanne and John was daunting; all that serious conversation. Vivienne looked hopefully at Meriel who agreed to look after the little boy and no one noticed the look of dismay on Joanne’s face.
Joanne sat with a stiff smile on her lips which didn’t reach her eyes as Cynthia and Vivienne discussed the various places where they could dance. She wanted to cancel the whole thing. John didn’t dance and neither did she. What a prospect, sitting in a crowded room being blasted with music and unable to talk.
‘Cynthia suggested The Fisherrnan’s Basket,’ she told John when he telephoned that evening from his office.
‘No, I’ve already booked for four at Fuschia Palace,’ he said. ‘I called in on the way from the pub the other evening.’
Joanne smiled and dialled Cynthia’s number.
Instead of reverting to the original plan of a meal then back to her house for coffee, it was once more taken out of her hands. The telephone lines buzzed for the next hour and then Cynthia rang her back.
‘John has changed the booking to five and suggested that as you don’t drink much anyway, you’d be willing to drive us, then we can go straight on to the club afterwards.’
‘Lovely,’ Joanne breathed, before slamming down the phone. She bought a bottle of wine and rang Meriel, arranging to see her the next evening. ‘As I can’t drink on Friday I might as well indulge tomorrow,’ she explained.
She was having her brown hair tinted and cut and set the next morning, and planned to see who was in Churchill’s Garden. Tidying up before leaving for her appointment, she found a letter from the boys’ school. It was folded small and was tucked in between the shorts and football boots in Jeremy’s sports bag. It was addressed to parents, asking them for their permission to arrange a trip to France during the following spring. Jeremy and Justin were just leaving and she called them back.
‘Jeremy, why didn’t you show me this?’
‘I don’t really want to go,’ he replied, staring down at the floor.
‘I don’t think that’s true. You’ve often told me how much you’re looking forward to the time when your class will be going.’
‘He said you can’t afford it,’ Justin piped up, and suffered a fierce dig from his older brother.
Upset that he should try to hide it out of consideration for her, she turned away and pretended to reread the letter while she recovered.
‘I’m sure you’ll be able to go,’ she promised, while wondering how she could possibly find the money. Surely John would find a way of affording this? How could they make their son face being left behind while every other child in the class went to France? ‘I’ll talk to Daddy this evening and we’ll tell the school that you’re going. All right?’
‘There’ll be spending money, and clothes,’ Jeremy warned.
Guessing his fear was having less than the others, she reas- sured him further.
‘There’ll be an upper and lower limit on what you can take and you’ll have the same as the rest, Jeremy. You won’t have a penny less than you’re allowed, I promise.’ She hugged him and said, ‘It was so kind of you to think I might worry about this, but it’s all right, this is what Daddy has been saving for. so you can take advantage of these opportunities. You’re going and you’ll enjoy every moment.‘
‘Jeremy is going skiing with the school,’ she announced to Meriel and Cynthia when she emerged, neatly coiffeured, from behind the net curtains separating the hairdressing salon from the rest of the shop premises. ‘There’s such a lot to organize. New clothes of course, and currency, you know what it’s like. but I don’t mind. Jeremy’s such a good boy, never given me a moment’s worry. He deserves a treat.’
She was talking bravely but so far she hadn’t been able to reach John. He hadn’t telephoned and, as usual, the office phone was unmanned. If he told her they couldn’t find the money she didn’t know what she would do. If only she were trained and able to work at something glamorous. John was so snobbish, and wouldn’t be willing for her to find just any old job.
Pulling her thoughts away from her money worries she joined in the general admiration of the diamond ring Christian was going to buy Cynthia for Christmas, as well as listening to Cynthia’s memories of their trip to Paris and London. Cynthia could afford to send her boys without a moment’s thought. Meriel’s ex-husband could afford to give her enough money to enable her to live comfortably without seriously looking for work. Vivienne was supported by an ex-boyfriend so she could look afier Toby without the pressures of work. John worked all the hours he could and they were still struggling. It wasn’t fair.
She was the last to leave the cafe that morning and when she stepped out into the cold gusty day and her hair was in danger of losing its style, she realized she had left her scarf behind. It had a habit of slipping off her shoulders. Going back to their table, still uncleared by the waitress, she saw something on the floor, half hidden by her scarf. A purse. Cynthia’s purse. It was a split second to pick it up and put it in her handbag.
No one could possibly have seen. The coffee clientele were gone and the lunch crowd had not yet arrived. She hurried back to the car and drove home feeling as though a thousand eyes were upon her and knew what she had just done: stolen from a friend.
Deliberately she made herself a sandwich and a cup of tea before she looked at it again. There was still time to return it. Her eyes strayed to the telephone. Telling Cynthia she had picked it up would be so easy. Her hand reached out but before she touched it it began to ring and she jumped back as though from an electric shock. Her heart was beating in her throat, almost choking her as she answered.
‘Hello Cynthia,’ she said casually.
‘Joanne, you didn’t see what I did with my purse, did you?’
‘Your purse? No, you paid at the counter so I wouldn’t have, would I?’ She gave a stiff little laugh, ‘Don’t tell me you’ve mislaid it?’
‘Oh, I haven’t really looked yet. It’s just that it wasn’t in my bag when I got home. Don’t worry, it’ll turn up.’
‘Have you phoned Churchill’s Garden?’
‘Yes, no one has handed it in. I’ll look in the car again, it’s probably there.’
‘I hope you find it,’ Joanne said. Her hand was trembling as she replaced the receiver.
Ignoring the sandwich and the cooling tea, she opened the wallet part of the purse. Fifty pounds in tens. Enough for the deposit on Jeremy’s skiing holiday. The purse held another nine pounds in silver and she slid it into her hand and stared at it for a long time before putting it into her handbag.
The talk next day was about children. Cynthia explained in a rare moment of revelation that she had been an only child. Untrue but an essential part of the story she had invented about her childhood. ‘Because of that I wanted more than the generally accepted two children, so they would have brothers and sisters and eventually in-laws and nieces and nephews. An extended family, some of whom would hopefully become friends. Unfortunately, we didn’t have another after our darling Marcus.’
‘I don’t have anyone,’ Meriel said, ‘And I can understand why you try to make sure there’s someone for your boys, even if they don’t become as close as you hope. Aunts and uncles are all I have, and a few cousins. The aunts were great when I was small but I became less and less important to them as I grew up and they became more involved with their own burgeoning families. I haven’t seen some of them for years, even though they aren’t that far away.’
‘I’ve got three brothers and two sisters,’ Helen told them. ‘I hate and love the lot of them! But it was wonderful growing up with a large family. I wish I could have had more but the marriage breakup spoilt any chance of matching my mother’s achievements.’
They turned to Joanne questioningly.
‘As you all know, I have a sister but we don’t see each other,’ she said crisply.
‘Aren’t you going to tell us why?’ Helen demanded.
‘No.’ Joanne replied, then she laughed. ‘All right, we quarrelled over my John. My sister met him first you see, but it was me he fell in love with and Samantha accused me of stealing him. There, doesn’t that sound silly? As if I could have stolen him. I can assure you he came willingly. We both knew straight away that we were meant for each other.’
‘Don’t you speak to her at all?’
‘Never! I don’t even know where she lives or what she does.’
‘You might have nephews and nieces. You’re depriving your boys of cousins!’
‘They don’t know I have a sister and I hope they never will.’
‘Joanne is so rigid about everything,’ Helen sighed when Joanne went to the ladies. ‘I’m surprised she’s agreed to send Jeremy on this skiing holiday. She’s so hard on her boys. There’s a strict regime in that house that’s almost an obsession. Mealtimes are the same every day even if the boys want to go out somewhere with friends. Bedtimes, a time to bath and she has a timetable for homework that would terrify my lot!’
‘She even checks with the school to make sure they aren’t cheating on the work they’re given,’ Meriel added.
‘I like to be organized,’ Cynthia said, ‘I couldn’t fit in all I do if I didn’t work within a system, but everything in Joanne’s house happens like clockwork. It’s soulless somehow. Between you and me, I sometimes wonder how John puts up with it.’
‘Oh, there are all kinds of marriages,’ Meriel offered. ‘And perhaps John likes the security of a formal and controlled home life.’
‘Hardly, when he isn’t there half the week!’
The discussion was inevitably turned to Christmas. Cynthia and her family were going away but she promised a celebration during the week before. ‘I’ve promised the boys a party too, so I hope your two will come,’ she smiled at Joanne. Turning to Helen she said, ‘I don’t suppose there’s any chance that your three will be home? It would be lovely if they could come too.’
‘I’ve got a few things planned,’ Vivienne said. ‘But as usual, it depends whether I can arrange the necessary Toby—sitting.’ She pulled out a diary. ‘Any offers? My neighbour is free for one night and someone I met at Keep Fit has promised to do Christmas Eve.’
Joanne looked disapproving. ‘Toby is only three and that seems a bit young for him to be left with so many different people,’ she said in the babyish tone she used, as though afraid to offend.
‘One morning,’ Vivienne cheerfully told them, ‘I left him with the postman while I went to the shop for milk.’ Joanne tightened her lips but said nothing more. Meriel was thankful that Cath was not there.
Dates and times were discussed until it was arranged that the party would take place on the fourteenth.
Joanne decided to drop in on Meriel that evening to thank her for the nice evening they’d had the night before. She left her boys alone, as she didn’t intend to be long, saying she’d be an hour or two. But she found Meriel’s ex-husband there.
‘Oh, I’m sorry Meriel, I didn’t know you had a visitor, hello Evan, how are you?’
‘Hardly a visitor,’ he smiled stretching over to kiss her cheek. ‘I used to live here, remember.’
‘Used to,’ Meriel reprimanded quietly. ‘You no longer call this home — remember.’
‘Really, I wish he’d stay away!’ Meriel said when Evan had gone. ‘That’s the third time this week he’s called on some pretext or another. I didn’t tell you but I came back from shopping yesterday and he was cutting the lawn. December, and he’s cutting the lawn!’
‘It is a good idea to tidy up before the winter makes it impossible,’ Joanne excused. ‘I like things to be neat.’
‘But it isn’t his lawn! At least, it won’t be once the house is sold and until then this is my home and I invite who I want to see.’
Joanne was surprised to see Meriel so irate. It was rare for her to lose her temper.
‘You still miss him, do you?’ she said softly.
‘I’ve accepted that he’s now married to someone else, so why doesn’t he?’
At Joanne’s house the five boys were getting into her car. Jeremy was driving, with Oliver beside him and Rupert sat in the back with Justin and Marcus. They drove around the expensive houses near their homes and along the lanes into the outskirts of Abertrochi. With a bravado they didn’t really feel, aware that they were supposed to be home and in bed. Jeremy and Justin got out and bought chips and they drove to a large car park overlooking the sea and ate them. Justin was still too small to reach the pedals but he sat beside Rupert on the way back and watched as Rupert explained the sequence of starting and driving off, with the gear changes and the correct signals.
Concentrating on instructing Justin might be why Rupert failed to notice Joanne on her way home.
Joanne had realized that Meriel was upset by her ex-husband’s visit and had left earlier than intended. She was also feeling a bit guilty at having left her boys on their own for the first time. When the car passed her she only glanced at it. It was Jeremy in the back seat who recognized her. Putting his foot down, Rupert drove back to Joanne’s house faster than he had driven before. He parked in the exact spot where they had found the car and, glowing with the excitement of near discovery, pushed Jeremy and Justin into their house.
‘As long as she doesn’t touch the bonnet and realize it’s warm we’ll be all right,’ he said gleefully, as the three of them hurried away through the darkness, giggling like conspirators.
When Joanne entered, she found her boys in bed and deeply asleep. A touch of a cover might have revealed that they were fully dressed, but she only opened the doors and glanced at the two shapes before going downstairs again.
The boys were eating breakfast the following morning and Joanne was washing dishes when John arrived with a suitcase and an assortment of parcels.
‘John, darling! I didn’t expect you until this evening.’
‘An appointment was cancelled, and an assistant who had given notice decided not to leave after all, so I had the morning free and drove back through the night. Breakfast then bed, I think,’ he said after greeting the two boys and handing them each some chocolate.
When the boys had left for school, John pointed to the parcels. ‘There are a few presents for the boys,’ he said as he finished the meal she had made for him. ‘What do we do about their main presents, any ideas?’
‘Well, with the skiing trip in February we can’t give them anything too expensive, can we?’
‘What skiing trip?’ he demanded.
‘Didn’t I tell you?’ she asked innocently. ‘Surely I did.’
‘No you didn’t. You know damned well this is the first I’ve heard of it. They can’t go.’
‘It’s only Jeremy, Justin isn’t old enough and it’s too late, I’ve already told him he can. And, I’ve managed to find the money for the deposit.’
‘Cancel it. We can’t afford it and he isn’t going.’
‘But John, we can’t do that. He’d be so upset. D’you know he hid the paper, he wasn’t going to tell me — us, worried that we couldn’t afford it.’
‘He was right, we can’t.’
‘But we have to. This time we have to.’ She rarely stood up to his arguments about money, but this time, having stolen from a friend to pay the deposit, she had to persuade him to pay the rest of the money. To do such a thing was bad enough, but to have done such a wicked thing for nothing, would be impossible to live with. She would have to stop going to Churchill’s Garden, avoid all her friends. She wouldn’t be able to visit Meriel again. No cinema trips, no social life at all. John couldn’t do it to her, she wouldn’t let him win. Not this time.
She stood up and stared at him, her eyes steady as she held his gaze. ‘John, however you get the money, whatever you have to do to get it, Jeremy is going on that school trip. Do you understand?’ She was shaking when she walked into the kitchen, and as she heard him run up the stairs to their room she began to cry.
Then she rang Cynthia and asked her to cancel the dinner for that evening, she was feeling ill and thought it might be flu.
In Churchill’s Garden a few days later, Cath was sitting at her usual small table. Her eyes never left her newspaper but Joanne knew she was aware of their arrival. Rather half—heartedly she invited her to join them but Cath smiled, thanked her and declined. Irritated, Joanne pushed past her and went to their usual table in the corner from where they could look out at the bleak winter garden beyond the glass doors. She didn’t want company herself today but had made herself come. Anything to get out of the house and away from the worry about the money she needed and which, so far, John had refused to give her.
Meriel and Cynthia came in together, Cynthia having been to look at clothes for the holiday period and a few last minute gifts, and Meriel to keep her company. Cath turned and smiled at Meriel and giving in to her persuasion, agreed to share their table. Coffees were brought and a dish of scones stood in the centre of the table.
‘No work this morning?’ Meriel asked Cath.
‘I didn’t like the two men in Gregory Way.’ She shuddered. ‘There were women there some mornings, the last time they were very young girls. I couldn’t cope with that so I left. So, there’s only Tom and Ray twice a week.’
‘They are all right are they? Pay you well and not much trouble?’ Vivienne asked. There was an expression on her face that Meriel couldn’t read.
‘Do you know them?’ Meriel asked.
‘I used to know Tom but I haven’t met his brother,’ she said and quickly changed the subject before Meriel could ask why she hadn’t mentioned it before.
‘I’ll let you know if I hear of anyone needing a bit of cleaning done,’ Helen promised Cath. ‘We pick up all sorts of information in the shop, so I’ll keep an ear wagging.’
‘Don’t you always?’ Vivienne teased.
Christmas again became the main discussion, each of them talking over their plans.
‘The boys are growing up and only want clothes,’ Joanne said.
‘Mine too,’ Cynthia agreed, ‘Except darling Marcus. He wants a book on insects and a new bicycle.’
‘My boys still want toys,’ Helen said. ‘William is twelve and George is ten. But Henri wants clothes, the skimpier the better.’
Only Cath was quiet.
‘Are you planning to go away?’ Vivienne asked her.
Cath shook her head. ‘No, I’ve nothing planned at all.’
Vivienne looked at Joanne and began to ask, ‘You couldn’t look after Toby for me this evening, could you — I was hoping to…’ she stopped seeing from Joanne’s expression that the answer would be a refusal. ‘No, I can see it isn’t convenient.’
Meriel explained that she had a prior engagement and Vivienne turned to a startled Cath. ‘Could you look after Toby for me?’ she asked.
Cath jumped up and glared at Vivienne in horror. ‘How can you ask me? You don’t know me! You can’t tell whether or not I’m a suitable person to care for your child. How can you be so careless of his safety!’
‘Cath?’ Meriel frowned. ‘I think I know you well enough to know you’d be an ideal person to look after Toby.’
‘You don’t know me at all!’ she shouted, glaring angrily at Vivienne. ‘You invite me to sit and chat and pass an idle hour and think because you know my name and I take my turn at buying the coffee, that I’m decent and reliable and a suitable person to trust your beautiful and precious child to?’ She banged her half empty cup on the table and ran out into the street, shouting, ‘You don’t deserve to have a child!’
Meriel ran after her but when she reached the street there was no sign of her among the shoppers milling around the pavement. Forgetting her own intended purchases, she hurried home.
Getting into her car she drove up to the small chalet where Cath had made her home, but although she waited for almost an hour, her friend didn’t appear. Leaving a note asking her to call, she drove home.