Chapter 36

Jess entered the kitchen. Phil, still in his frog suit, was listening to her mum talking about her day. As Jess came in they looked up.

‘Tea? Coffee?’ asked Phil. ‘Cocoa? Herb tea? Coke? Old-fashioned cloudy lemonade? Water?’

‘Old-fashioned cloudy lemonade sounds nice, please,’ said Jess. She sat down next to her mum, but as they were on separate chairs, she still couldn’t hug her. If they’d been on a bench, it’d have been easy.

‘What are you having, Mum?’ asked Jess.

‘Apple and ginger tea,’ said her mum. Jess sniffed it.

‘It smells nice,’ she said. ‘But I’m not really into herbal tea. Flora likes it but I think she’s a bit more mature than me in her tastes. She even likes Beethoven.’

‘Have you heard from Flora recently?’ asked Mum.

‘Yeah,’ said Jess. ‘She’s having a ball at Riverdene. You know what they say: blondes have more fun.’

‘Not true!’ said Phil, placing a lovely tall glass of lemonade in front of Jess. Ice cubes clinked in it and there was a slim slice of lime floating on top. ‘Blondes can be immensely boring, and besides, they show the dirt. We brunettes are far more dramatic.’

Jess sipped her drink. It was fabulous. ‘Wonderful! Thank you!’ she said. ‘It looks like a proper cocktail.’

‘I did work as a barman once,’ said Phil. ‘On a cruise ship. We went all round the Med.’ It seemed Phil had done everything.

‘How interesting!’ said Mum. ‘Where did you go?’

‘Oh, Naples, Genoa, Gibraltar, Tunis, Cairo . . .’

‘I’ve always wanted to see those places!’ said Mum. Dad and Fred both entered the kitchen. ‘Maybe I should get a job on a cruise ship – but I’m so useless, I would be the last person in the world to mix cocktails.’

‘Yeah!’ said Jess. ‘Mum’s idea of a cocktail is a cup of tea with half a disintegrating biscuit in the bottom.’

‘I am the worst person in the world when it comes to catering,’ admitted Mum. ‘Do you remember that appalling shepherd’s pie I made, Tim?’ Dad cringed. ‘I thought it would be nice to put ketchup in with the potato. But I overdid it. We called it Red Pie at Night – Shepherd’s Delight.’

‘We were ill for days,’ said Dad, with a grin.

There was a brief pause while Phil prepared a coffee for Dad and a glass of Coke for Fred.

‘How was Granny today, Mum?’ asked Jess. She felt a bit guilty at having jumped on to the bus to St Ives, leaving Granny on her own all day – even though Granny had said she wanted to be by herself.

Mum sighed. ‘She was a bit low when I got back. It’s this business about the ashes. I think she wanted to be on her own with the urn. And I think now it’s come to it, she’s finding the whole thing a bit harder than she’d expected. She does want to throw them in the sea, but she doesn’t want it to be too public. She’s afraid she might get a bit emotional, I think. And she’s afraid that, if it’s windy, they might go everywhere. I think she’s also upset because she feels she’s being a wimp about it.’

‘Of course she’s not being a wimp! Poor Granny! It’s the love of her life in that urn!’ said Jess. Suddenly, she caught Fred’s eye for a moment. Thank goodness Fred was still alive and in the same room.

‘I tell you what,’ said Phil. ‘Do you think she would like to come out in my boat? We could have a little service out in the bay. That would be more private.’

Mum’s face just lit up with relief and excitement.

‘You’ve got a boat?’ she said. ‘Oh, that does sound marvellous! Could we really? She’d be thrilled! Thank you so much, Phil!’

Then the grown-ups started to plan the details. They decided they’d do it tomorrow if Granny felt up to it. Jess was sure she would be. It was just terrific that Phil had been able to solve Mum’s problem. It was as if there were a kind of magic working away under the surface of things, as if, after everything going so disastrously wrong for a while, somewhere a tide had changed and now good luck was flooding in.

Jess had only one thing to worry about now. She was amazed and immensely relieved that her mum had behaved so well this evening. When she’d turned up at the door, Jess had feared she would ruin everything. She’d been terrified that her mum would make a terrible scene. Goodness knows she had enough ammunition – so much to be furious about.

Instead Mum had been quiet and sweet and friendly. It had been really kind of her to bring Jess’s stuff. But what if, inside, Mum was still raging? She was a very polite person. Jess could not remember her making a scene in public, ever. She usually kept her outbursts of yelling for when she and Jess were alone. What if she were still seething under all the smiles?

Jess felt she had two choices: either she must never be alone with her mum again (tempting, but hard to organise), or make sure she had some time alone with her as soon as possible, so she could see what her mum was really thinking.

Though this evening seemed somehow enchanted, Jess was terrified that, once they were alone together, her mum would rip off her smile with a horrible tearing Velcro sound. In fact, she might rip off her whole friendly face and underneath there might be a fire-breathing dragon.

‘This time you’ve really blown it!’ she might roar, sparks flying out of her eyes and burning small craters in the pavement. ‘You’re a treacherous, cunning, lying, horrible harlot!’

Mum’s hair would turn into hissing snakes. Steam would come screaming out of her ears and cause a sulphurous fog that would hang over Cornwall for days. Ships would founder on the rocks. Trees would go black and die. Teddy bears’ eyes would fall out.

‘Well,’ said Mum, in the real world, ‘this has been lovely, but I’d better be going.’ She got up. ‘Thanks so much for the tea – and for the offer of your boat tomorrow, Phil. We’ll be over at about eleven, then?’

Phil nodded. ‘I’ll have the Peggy Sue all spruced up and ready to go,’ he said. ‘They have funerals at sea in Venice. I saw one once.’

‘So they do!’ exclaimed Mum. ‘It is kind of romantic, somehow.’

‘Where are you parked?’ asked Dad, always one to dispel a romantic atmosphere with tiresome practical details.

‘The Island car park,’ said Mum.

‘I’ll walk to the car with you, Mum,’ said Jess.

Mum said her goodbyes – even, in quite a friendly way, to Fred. She and Dad exchanged a peck on the cheek. Phil actually gave her a hug, from which she emerged flushed and confused but sort of pleased-looking.

The men stood at the door and waved as Jess and her mum set off down the narrow lane. Jess felt a throb of terror and braced herself for the steam, the snakes, the burning sparks of rage. But her mum said nothing. All she did was take Jess’s arm, and they set off towards the Island car park.

‘Mum,’ said Jess, ‘you’re not cross, are you?’

‘Cross?’ said Mum, in rather a startled way. ‘No. Why should I be cross? I was feeling a bit guilty, actually.’

‘Guilty?’ repeated Jess, amazed. ‘Why should you feel guilty?’

‘Because I didn’t manage to tell you about Dad,’ said Mum, with a sigh. ‘I should have said something long ago.’

‘Yeah, why didn’t you?’ asked Jess. ‘Not that I’m cross or upset or anything. It just would have been so much easier for us – and Dad, too – if I’d known.’

‘We should have managed it better,’ said Mum. ‘Dad and I kept discussing it. I wasn’t sure when you’d be old enough. I kept meaning to tell you, but, somehow, the right moment never came. I did try, just a few days ago, when we went to see Lawrence of Arabia’s cottage, and I tried again in that park in Penzance, but I’m afraid I lost my nerve.’

‘Well, it’s OK now,’ said Jess. ‘There’s no need to worry about that any more.’

‘I thought you might freak out,’ said Mum.

‘Well, I did, for a while, just at first,’ said Jess. ‘But I’m thrilled about it now. It is so much better than if he had got a girlfriend and a horrible baby and stuff. That would be dire. Instead, he’s gay! That’s so cool! Just wait till I tell all my friends! They’ll be so envious!’

‘Good. That’s all right, then,’ said Mum. She heaved a great sigh, as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

‘Are you sure you’re not cross about . . . about Fred?’ asked Jess, her heart pounding. ‘I really didn’t know he was going to be here. It was a total surprise.’

‘It seems rather a flamboyant gesture on his part,’ said Mum. Jess was glad they were walking side by side, and she didn’t have to look her mum in the eye at this crucial moment.

‘Yes, well, Fred is a bit flamboyant,’ said Jess.

‘He’s trying to impress you?’ said Mum.

‘It’s just his way,’ said Jess. Her heart was working up to a terrifying crescendo of thumping. She was sure it could be heard, like distant drumming, all over Cornwall. ‘Fred’s, well, in some faintly ludicrous sort of way, Fred’s actually – what might be known as “my boyfriend”, I suppose.’

‘I thought as much,’ said Mum. ‘I wasn’t born yesterday.’

There was a mesmerising pause. They went on walking towards the car park. Jess braced herself for her mum’s furious denunciation of Fred and all his satanic ways.

‘Oh well,’ said her mum. ‘C’est la vie.’ And she shrugged, quite pleasantly.

‘C’est what?’ gasped Jess. Why, at this desperate moment, did her mum have to launch into French, of all things?

‘That’s life!’ said Mum. ‘Que serà, serà – what will be, will be. And that’s Spanish, by the way.’

‘Are you trying to tell me, in several different European languages, that you don’t mind?’ asked Jess.

‘I’m saying that this moment was bound to come, and as I’m on holiday and in a rather good mood, I’m not going to let it bother me.’

They arrived at the car and, as Mum turned to face Jess, she suddenly looked about ten years younger.

‘I’m so glad you came,’ said Jess.

‘So am I,’ said Mum. ‘I thought I’d do something impulsive, just for once. A spur of the moment type thing. And, well, you did need your PJs and stuff, so I did have a practical excuse. I hope I didn’t ruin your evening, turning up out of the blue like that.’

‘Of course you didn’t!’ said Jess. ‘You made it just perfect!’

Jess threw her arms around her mum and hugged her harder than anyone has ever been hugged in the history of hugging. And her mum hugged her back, twice as hard as that.

Eventually the hug came to an end. They stood there in silence, looking at each other with tears in their eyes.

‘You look pretty, Mum,’ said Jess.

‘So do you, my babe,’ said Mum.

Then she got in the car, started it and drove off with a funny little wave. Jess stood and watched her go. She looked so tiny, so vulnerable. Tears were running down Jess’s cheeks now.

‘Please let her be safe,’ she whispered out loud. ‘Please let her be safe and happy for ever and ever. And ever.’