Other people s children

Other People’s Children A Story about The Villagers

By Patricia Ainger

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© Patricia Main 2009 All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher or author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

For my mother The characters and events in this story are the creation of my imagination – any similarity to real people or events is purely coincidental … honest.

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Other People’s Children

The Old Farmhouse........................................................................................................ 4 Chapter 1 ........................................................................................................................ 5 Chapter 2 ...................................................................................................................... 21 Chapter 3 ...................................................................................................................... 45 Chapter 4 ...................................................................................................................... 68 Chapter 5 ...................................................................................................................... 81 Chapter 6 ...................................................................................................................... 96 Chapter 7 .................................................................................................................... 120 Chapter 8 .................................................................................................................... 139 Chapter 9 .................................................................................................................... 157 Chapter 10 .................................................................................................................. 175 Chapter 11 .................................................................................................................. 199 Chapter 12 .................................................................................................................. 223 Chapter 13 .................................................................................................................. 241 Chapter 14 .................................................................................................................. 256 Chapter 15 .................................................................................................................. 275 Chapter 16 .................................................................................................................. 297 Chapter 17 .................................................................................................................. 324 Chapter 18 .................................................................................................................. 343 Chapter 19 .................................................................................................................. 355 Chapter 20 .................................................................................................................. 369 Chapter 21 .................................................................................................................. 380 Chapter 22 .................................................................................................................. 400

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The Old Farmhouse

s hedhe

s

S shower T

fireplace Kitchen

a

lutility room d oo

i r

office

Dining room

loo

Bedroom

lounge

s

porch Hallway and stairs

bathroom

E

bedroom bedroom en-

bedroom

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suite

Chapter 1 ‘Matt and I are splitting up, Caroline.’ I told her as I help myself to one of the delicious looking biscuits on the plate in front of me.

Her reaction to my news is unexpected. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Maggie, but frankly, I’m not overly surprised. You and Matt have always struck me as being more friends than lovers – you just don’t argue the way lovers do.’ She said in her typically outspoken manner, ‘Do you think you’ll be able to stay friends?’

‘We’re hoping so – it’s all very friendly at the moment.’ I replied, a little staggered by her comment – I don’t know what I had been anticipating but it certainly wasn’t this.

‘When did this all come to a head?’

‘The other day – this new job of his has made us realise a lot of things.’ I replied, feeling something of an idiot … I wonder how many other people have come to the same conclusion as Caroline. Oh well … ‘But what I really want to pick your brains about, Caroline is how can I earn some cash without have to go out to work?’

‘Hmmm. That’s a difficult one. You don’t want to get involved in piecework, Maggie, stuffing envelopes or anything like that. They always say you can make a fortune doing it but I can’t help feeling there must be easier ways of earning a living.’

Caroline said

thoughtfully.

‘I can always fall back on that, I suppose.’ I replied grimly, sipping my coffee.

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We sit watching her two girls out in the garden while we think about the question. Caroline’s married to Jim Sykes who works at the University; he’s a tutor overseeing PGCE students – a nice guy if a bit vague at times. But that doesn’t matter, Caroline used to be a social worker before the children came along and is scarily efficient. She still does a little to cover holidays and the like so keeps her hand in, so to speak.

They’ve got two children – Bryony, who is nearly

thirteen now, and Daisy who is ten – the same age as Duncan – in fact Caroline and I met at ante-natal classes.

The girls are busy re-

painting the climbing frame prior to selling it.

‘I’ve told them they can have the proceeds to share between them if they make a good job of repainti ng it.’ Caroline explained with a grin. ‘It should fetch at least £50 if not more, so they are being extremely careful about the painting.’

I chuckle with her – the lengths we mothers go to sometimes! I can almost feel the girls’ concentration from here.

‘Nothing like a bit of incentive, Caroline. But to get back to my problem, I’m wondering if there might be some mileage in taking on some more accounts work.’ I said as we again turn our minds to my dilemma.

‘That’s a good idea, Maggie, though so many people have accounts packages on computers that do it all for you these days, you might not find enough to make it viable.’ sensibly. ‘What about taking in a lodger?’

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Caroline pointed out

‘I could … But I don’t much fancy having another adult in the house.

I’d be uncomfortable with a man and the thought of another

woman messing around in my kitchen does not appeal.’

‘A nice attractive young man could be fun, Maggie.’ She said consideringly and we both laugh. ‘What about fostering? Have you ever considered that?’

‘Fostering? What children, you mean?’

‘Hmmm … they’re always appealing for more foster parents these days and they pay a realistic amount these days. Okay, so there’s no doubt that you earn the money and it’s certainly not for the faint hearted, but it could be the answer. After all, you’ve got buckets of room up at your place, Maggie.’

‘But aren’t they always problem children?’ I asked, wondering if she has got something up her sleeve … you never quite know with Caroline … but maybe I’m doing her a disservice.

‘Oh no, as with everything, the ones you hear about are the troublemakers, but there’s loads of kids out there needing foster care for other reasons. I’ll have a chat with one of my mates if you like and see what the current situation is with regard to money and all that if you like.’

‘Thanks, that would be helpful, Caroline.’ I said, thinking about it. ‘I suppose I could do something like that but I’d have to sound Duncan out on it first. As it is I don’t know how he’ll cope with the separation.’

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‘Hmm … he’s a quiet kid and they’re the worst when it comes to this sort of thing – you’ll have to watch that he doesn’t just internalise his upset. It’s not going to be easy for him, Maggie, after all, whatever your relationship may be, you are his Mum and Dad and for him that’s stability.’

‘I know, I’ve been worrying about it, Caroline,’ I sighed. ‘Matt did say he’d tell Duncan but that would mean it wouldn’t be until Matt gets back from his trip and that’s just not feasible. Duncan’s used to Matt going away a lot but he’s bound to pick up that something is going on, you know what kids are – they pull it out of the air. I’ll have to talk to him about it tomorrow when I bring him back from my parent’s place. Any advice on how I do it?’

‘Just be up front with him, Maggie,

As you say, kids pull

things out of the air, he’ll only imagine the worst if you don’t tell him the truth. He may well feel guilty in some way, you know.’

‘What on earth for? It’s nothing to do with him.’

‘I know that and you know that, but from his standpoint, his Dad is leaving him and kids tend to see that as a fault in themselves, ‘Dad doesn’t love me … what did I do wrong … that sort of thing’ – it is a very common reaction.’ She pointed out.

‘Oh hell, that’s not how it is at all. I’d never have thought of that.’ I said, revising my ideas on how I had visualised Duncan taking this. ‘Both Matt and I want to make this as painless as we can for Duncan. I suppose we’d assumed that, because we’re still as we always have been, that he wouldn’t be any different either, but now 8

you say it, I can see it’s not like that. Oh, well, we’ll just have to work overtime convincing him that nothing has really changed. After all, it’s not as though Matt was always around, his job has always taken him away for weeks at a time.’

‘Yes, but there is a lot of difference between Dad being away for a week and knowing he’s coming home at the end of it, and Dad moving to the other end of the country and not knowing when you are going to see him. Even at the age of 10, kids don’t have an adult view of timescales, Maggie.’

‘Phew … you’ve given me a lot to think about, Caroline, I knew it was a good idea coming round to see you.’ I said gratefully. ‘I’ve got to be going now but I’ll think about the fostering idea.’

‘You do that, they’re crying out for decent foster parents at the moment, Maggie – you’d be helping some kid who needs a home as well.’ Said my friend Caroline, the social worker, ‘You’re just the sort of person they are looking for.’

As I walk down her path to the pavement, I smile to myself.

Caroline lives in a house built roughly where the cowshed and calving pen used to stand when this place was a working farm.

I can

remember as a very small child, standing on the gate watching the new born calves in what would probably be Caroline’s kitchen now.

I’ve never mentioned this, I don’t think Caroline would appreciate, it but it always tickles me when I go to visit her.

As I stroll back to the Old Farmhouse, I think about the state of affairs again … hmmm … It’s not looking as simple as I thought …

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and I’ve got this appointment at the solicitor’s this afternoon … oh heavens, I expect he’ll want to know my financial situation … I’d better look out some figures to take with me this afternoon. My earnings from the accounting work I do and the household bills – he will probably ask me for that sort of information. I’ll dig it all out after lunch. Fortunately I am pretty organised when it comes to the paperwork side of running a home ... okay, so that is mainly because Matt was never interested in it … so it doesn’t take very long to get the salient figures printed out.

I carefully fold the papers and put them in my handbag checking I have the map I printed off from the Brewster Toms’ website.

Phoning up to make the appointment had been interesting. I’ve not had a lot to do with the firm over the years, only needing to deal with them when Dad transferred the house to my name, though I did make a will about that time as well, but had been rather surprised when the phone was answered in a less than professional manner.

‘Brewster Toms … who d’you want?’ the girl had asked in a broad Bristolian accent, and I’d formed the definite impression she was chewing on something.

‘May I speak to Mr Brewster please?’ I’d asked, Dad always deals with Joseph Brewster – they knew each other at school or something.

There was no answer, just a click on the line and I heard the phone ringing.

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‘Good morning, may I help you?’

a rather pleasant if

exasperated male voice had asked. ‘Giles Brewster here.’

‘I am sorry, Mr Brewster.’ I’d replied apologetically, ‘I meant Joseph Brewster.’

‘Oh that’s all right.’ He’d said brightly. ‘I’m afraid my father isn’t in the office today, is there anything I can do for you?’

‘I don’t know.’ I’d said, sounding like an idiot and kicking myself as I realised it. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t sound terribly lucid. I’m Maggie Jones, your father used to act for my father – Geoff Cooper.’

‘Oh, I see. I’m afraid that Dad has more or less retired now, Mrs Jones, I’ve taken on most of his clients, though – what is it you wanted?’ he had explained politely.

‘My husband and I are separating and I would like to talk to someone about it.’ I’d told him, ‘It’s all quite amicable and we just want to make sure we’ve not overlooked something which is going to cause difficulties later on.’

‘I don’t deal with family law myself, Mrs Jones, but one of my colleagues, Andrew Bates, would be able to help you. I’ll transf er you to his line, shall I?’ he had offered.

‘That would be very kind, thank you Mr Brewster.’ I’d waited while the phone clicked and whirred and then another male voice had come on the line.

Again, I had explained what I wanted and waited while he flicked through his diary. He said he could fit me in this afternoon … of course, once I had put the phone down I had realised I didn’t 11

actually know where their offices are, hence the visit to their website.

Once I’d printed off the map and directions, I’d looked round the rest of the site – the photos of the solicitors were rather interesting. Giles Brewster is a nice looking chap, though he’s losing his hair a bit at the front … probably in his 40s I should think. It had taken me a moment to find Andrew Bates … late 40s perhaps? ... slightly tubby if his face is anything to go by, but he has a friendly smile.

Driving to Bristol for the appointment I think over the events of the other night. Matt and I had gone out for a meal. We’d gone out to a restaurant up on the Lansdown and had a very civilised and fruitful discussion over a rather pleasant meal … but Matt and I have always been civilised. Anyone overhearing what we were saying would have been gob smacked! I chuckle to myself as I imagine it.

‘So, Maggie, you are a separated woman now.’ I said to myself just trying it for size, so to speak.

Doesn’t feel very different to be honest – which just about says it all really. All in all, it’s working out rather well. That job up north sounds just up Matt’s street. He’s really excited about it too, which is nice to see – it has been a long hard slog for him getting this far in his career and he utterly deserves the promotion. I hope the trip up there goes well – he’s going to look for somewhere to live while he is visiting the works over the next few days … with a bit of luck he’ll find something reasonable.

Funny about Matt and I, we grew up together in Clevedon, where my parents still live. We’d been mates at school and somehow 12

we’d drifted into marriage. It had seemed the sensible and obvious thing to do. Looking back on it, I don’t think we’d ever been in love, but we were very good friends and comfortable with each other. Then Duncan had come along. I had a rough time when he was born and went off sex completely. It didn’t bother either Matt or I – sex had never really figured in our relationship much, more something we did because we felt it was expected of us - and with me up in the night feeding Duncan, it made sense for Matt to mo ve into one of the other bedrooms … somehow we never got back to sleeping together after that. But that was okay, we thought ourselves happy, if we thought about it at all.

This job coming along really brought things to a head … not that it is really an accurate description, mind you, anything less headlike than our discussion last night I cannot imagine. It came down to the fact that Matt wanted to take this job in Cumbria – and I agreed wholeheartedly that it would be a brilliant opportunity for him career wise – but we neither of us considered for a moment that I would go with him. I remember we laughed out loud when we realised this – as I said, people really would not have believed our conversation last night.

We’re both worried about how Duncan will take it though, it’s all very well for us to see our relationship for what it is, but he’s not going to see it that way. We talked about it for a long time debating whether we were just being selfish for the sake of it, but it came back time after time to the fact that Matt is going for this job and I’m 13

staying here – whichever way you look at it, that amounts to separation. It would be career suicide for him not to take the job – and apart from that, it is precisely what he has been working towards for the last ten years. Had I loved him, it would still have been a considerable sacrifice to leave this house which I love dearly and move out of the area which has been my home all my life, but I don’t love him any more than he loves me, and we both agreed that this would ultimately destroy the friendship we do have, impacting in a far worse way on Duncan. We shall both do our best to make the break as painless for him as possible, Matt stressing that he will want to see Duncan whenever logistically possible.

Sitting in Mr Bates’ office just after three, I give myself a pat on the back – I was right about the tubby bit. His smile is very friendly though, just what I imagine would reassure anyone coming in here with a difficult divorce situation.

‘So how can I help you, Mrs Jones?’ he asked when we have gone through the usual preliminaries.

‘My husband and I are separating, it’s all quite friendly and we want it to stay that way. He’s taking a job in the north of England.’ I explained rather badly.

He asks a few questions about our reasons for taking this course of action but what I say seems to satisfy him.

‘Do you own property?’

‘Yes, there’s no mortgage.’ I replied, grateful that this is not a problem.

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My family have farmed round here for generations; my uncle, as the elder brother, had inherited the farm and the land when my grandfather died, but uncle’s heart had never been in farming so, when he was presented with a very generous offer by a developer wanting to build on the land, he took it, using some of the money to refurbish the old farmhouse and the rest to feed his gambling habit.

Uncle Bert never married; but he was a keen follower of the turf and, before he died, he managed to get through most of the cash by backing the wrong horses.

Dad, being the sole remaining close

family, inherited the old farmhouse but he and Mum didn’t want to move away from Clevedon where they have an estate agent’s business, so, as Matt and I had not long been married and were living in a tiny flat in Bristol at the time, he signed it over to me. As he put it, he didn’t want it himself, but didn’t want to let it go out of the family. He’s always said he gets more enjoyment watching me living here than anything else. I’ve always loved the country and, although the Old Farmhouse is now bordered on two sides by the estate build by the developer, at the back, it opens onto fields and a little woodland which I enjoy tramping through. Uncle Bert retained this land when he sold up – he had a crackbrained idea that, when he won big money, he would go into breeding racers and would need a couple of acres for that. Needless to say, he didn’t ever put this idea into practice and I use the land by letting out the grazing to a couple of local people who have ponies and need somewhere to keep them.

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‘Is it in your name only, Mrs Jones, or in your joint names?’ Mr Bates asked, flummoxing me … I honestly can’t remember.

‘I don’t really know, but your firm holds the deeds.’

He calls his secretary and asks her to dig out my deeds and bring them up.

‘Do you have any children?’

‘Yes, one son, Duncan – he’s ten. He’s staying with me but Matt is intending to pay whatever maintenance is deemed appropriate.

That’s usually decided by the Child Support Agency, isn’t it?’

‘It doesn’t have to be, Mrs Jones, if you can come to an agreement between you that is acceptable to both of you and, as long as you are not intending to claim any benefits and your husband honours his agreement to pay, the CSA won’t need to be invol ved.

What does your husband earn?’

I feel a bit of an idiot not knowing the exact amount, but give him what I think is a close ball park figure – he chews the end of his pen for a moment, and fiddles with his calculator working out what the CSA, for example, would expect Matt to pay in maintenance for Duncan. I make a note of the amount so I can tell Matt.

It doesn’t take long for his secretary to find the deed packet and deliver it as requested and together we pore over the land certificate.

‘Oh good, it’s in your sole name, Mrs Jones. That makes things easier.’ He said putting the packet back together again. ‘Now, is your husband intending to pay any maintenance to you personally?’

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‘No, he did offer, but I don’t really want him to, to be honest. It doesn’t seem fair. It’s not as though we are breaking up against the wishes of one of us, it is a mutual thing and I’d rather be selfsufficient. I’ll have to think of a way of earning some money to support myself, I know that.’ I said. ‘I don’t particularly want to go out to work – Duncan is only ten and with no family in the vicinity, I don’t like the idea of him coming home to an empty house, not to mention the problems if he were ill at any time and school holidays present a nightmare – I’ve seen some of my friends struggle with that one.’

‘Hmmm – do have any private income or a job of some sort?’

‘No, not really, though I do oversee the accounts for a couple of small firms in the village where I live – I’ve brought a note of the amounts I earn doing that.’ I said, handing him the papers I worked on last night. ‘I’m going to have to find something to augment that though – I don’t want to go out to work because of Duncan.’

‘You definitely can’t live on this, Mrs Jones. However, if your husband pays maintenance at the rate I suggested and you’ve got child benefit on top of that …’ he scribbles figures on a sheet of paper and hands it to me ‘that would give you an income of about this. What do you anticipate your outgoings on the house to be? Not to mention any car you run.’

‘I’ve brought a breakdown of the utility bills for the last year, and that includes the Council Tax.’ I said handing that over to him.

‘But I’m not going to manage on this, am I?’ 17

‘I doubt it very much, Mrs Jones. Then there is the question of pension rights. I take it you don’t have any pension provision?’

‘No.’ I said bleakly, suddenly seeing this whole situation rebounding on me. What was crystal clear when I walked through the door, now looks impossibly foggy.

‘You would have a right to a proportion of your husband’s pension but, it would probably be easier all round if you could get your husband to take out an insurance policy of some sort which he would pay into but which you would collect. We can help you tie that up securely. That would not only leave his pension in his hands but give you a guaranteed pot at retirement age. You said he was willing to pay you maintenance – this would be a very small figure by comparison.’

‘Oh, I see. Yes, that would make sense.’ I sit back in my seat and sigh. ‘I didn’t think it would be as complicated as this.’

‘People rarely do, Mrs Jones.’ He said with an understanding smile. ‘But don’t get too despondent, we’ll sort it out. Have a chat with your husband about what I’ve said and let me know what you want to do. The best way of securing both your best interests is for us to draw up a settlement outlining the basis of the agreement. Do you anticipate getting divorced?’

‘I imagine so, though it’s not on the agenda at the mo ment – neither of us has anyone else. We can do that later, can’t we?’

‘Oh yes, if you live separately for two years you can file for divorce on that basis. It is relatively painless.’

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‘Thank you Mr Bates, you have been most helpful.’ I said gathering my belongings together. ‘I’ll be in touch.’

Walking back to the car, I go over what he said.

On those

figures, I would only just about be able to meet the household bills … of course I would get a discount on my Council Tax for being a single person but running the car would be a problem and any extras out of the question. If I had to make any repairs to the house it would be an impossible nightmare. Hmmm …I shall have to give some thought to earning some money. A part time job would be difficult because of the school holidays, as it is, Mum has only been able to have Duncan this week because she took some of her annual leave. There’s got to be an answer … don’t despair, Magdalena, you’ll find a way through.

When Matt rings that evening, I tell him about the meeting with Mr Bates. Like me, he’d completely forgotten about the pension question but agrees that the insurance idea would be an easy way out, saying that he’ll make enquiries about a suitable sort of policy from his broker.

‘The figures he suggests for Duncan are fair, I think, Maggie.

I’d anticipate an annual increase in line with inflation as well as something to account for the fact he will get more expensive as he gets older, wouldn’t you? Now I’ve got an idea what property costs up here, I can do some sums, but it all looks eminently feasible at the moment.’

‘That‘s a relief, Matt. I have to say I was a little demoralised after talking to Mr Bates.’

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‘I can understand that. I’m a bit bothered about your financial situation, Maggie, I fully respect your determination to manage on your own, but you are unable to go out to work because of my son and I feel I ought to contribute to that. Yes, I know he’s your son as well, but that’s not the point.’

‘I’m going to have to think about it, Matt, but I do appreciate your point. If you have any ideas, let me know. Have you found anywhere suitable up there yet?’ I said changing the subject.

He tells me he saw two properties today, neither of which grabbed him, but is seeing some more property tomorrow.

Lying in bed, I go round in circles trying to work out some way I can earn some money without having to go out to work. Nothing springs to mind.

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Chapter 2

On waking the following morning, I lie in bed revelling in the warmth of the duvet, reluctant to commit myself to the chill I know I’ll encounter as soon as I leave my nice warm bed.

This old

farmhouse is wonderful in many ways but warmth is not one of them.

Giving in to the inevitable, I bravely throw back the duvet and, grabbing my dressing gown quickly wrapping around myself, go over to the window, pulling back the curtain to see what it looks like outside. Dawn is just breaking and the sky is pale blue with streaky clouds – it looks as though it might be a nice day.

The trees bordering the front of the large gravelled area outside are starting to look bare. That wind we had yesterday knocked most of the leaves off and they are lying, a golden bronze carpet on the gravel. There is a flowerbed to one side and I note that it’s looking a mess – I must get down to clearing out all the dead stuff before it gets too tatty.

As I go along the hallway towards the stairs past Duncan’s room I smile a little – he’s staying with my parents for the week and much though I love my son, it is nice to have the house to myself. The kitchen is chilly and, as I reach for the kettle, I think again about putting the heating on. Apart from the open fire in the lounge, this house is heated by night storage heaters and, although they are quite effective once they get going, you have to think ahead – no instant

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heat with them. Maybe I’ll put some of them on very low today, just to take the edge off.

The house was in a bit of a state when we moved in. Although Uncle Bert had modernised the plumbing and electrics (thank goodness), he hadn’t done much to the décor for decades and the whole lot had to be ripped out. It took a couple of years but, in the end, we got it as it is now. By modern standards, it is a large house with four decent sized bedrooms and generous bathroom facilities upstairs – my bedroom having an en-suite shower and loo – and an enormous lounge, sensible sized dining room, office, utility room, shower and loo downstairs. The kitchen is a barn of a room but has too many doors in it for convenience. I remember we debated for a long time about whether we should try to relocate some of the doors but it wouldn’t have made much difference and would have cost the earth. I would have liked a wood burning stove in here but Uncle Bert blocked up the chimney during one of his fits of re-organisation and it just wasn’t possible to achieve that without making great big holes in the walls which, as they are of stone, would not have been as simple as it sounds. However, I console myself by having an open fire in the lounge and satisfy my pyromaniac tendencies with that.

The cat flap clatters and Toby explodes into the room making me jump. Purring loudly, he rubs round my legs as I reach for a sachet of cat food to put into his bowl. He falls on the food as though he has been starved all his life, though his substantial girth does rather spoil the effect. Toby is a massive and extremely stupid ginger tom 22

whose only thoughts are for food, sleeping and being cuddled. As a working farm cat he would have been totally useless. I saw him once lying in the back garden watching a field mouse run across the lawn – he just lay there! Honestly, as a cat, you let the side down, Toby.

Carrying my mug over to the table, I sit down, ignoring Toby who is trying to see if he can get some more food out of me by rubbing round my legs again. As I eat my breakfast, which, in my childfree state, is decadently late this morning, I go over in my mind what I have to do today … I’ve got to go and collect Duncan t his afternoon … what time did Mum say? A quick glance at the calendar, where I scribble most things, shows that Mum’s expecting me at about five.

But before I have to do that, I have an appointment to get my hair trimmed. As it’s a nice day, I decide to walk into the village – it would be very lazy to drive and I would probably not be able to park anyway – parking near the High Street is not terribly easy and it is frequently more sensible to walk than even contemplate driving. It is rather pleasant walking through the estate, the gardens are looking autumnal with lots of dusky pink ice plants and the hydrangea heads dying back slightly. The developer made a good job of this estate, the houses are a nice mix of big family houses and, more importantly, smaller, terraced, starter homes. There is not a lot in the way of affordable property in the village and there are frequently articles in the local paper talking about this subject and how the council ought to do something about it.

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While I peer into the baker’s shop window trying to decide if I shall be strong-minded and sensible … or if I shall treat myself to a cream cake, a voice hails me. I turn to see Jane Hammond crossing the road towards me. Jane is the vicar’s wife - a vivacious, energetic redhead with a reputation for organising people whether they want to be organised or not. That makes her sound bossy and she’s not – it would be more accurate to say that she cares very much about people and does what she can to put that into practice … even if you don’t always realise you need assistance at the time. Although I am not a particularly frequent churchgoer, I have got to know Jane quite well over the years. Initially we met through the village playgroup, where I helped out for a while when Duncan was small. There was not all this red tape about child protection then and it was easy for mums to be helpers sometimes; there was quite a large group of us going in to help with various activities once or twice a week - I’ve no idea what they do about it now.

‘What have you done with Duncan?’ Jane asked after we have exchanged the usual pleasantries.

‘He’s over at my parents’ place, Jane, being spoilt rotten by my mother, I expect. I’ve had a few days to myself.’

‘Matt not around then?’ Jane asked.

‘No, he’s gone up to Cumbria. He’s been offered a job up there and has gone to look for somewhere to live.’ I replied – I know from past experience that it is hopeless trying to keep any secrets from Jane

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but, that said, she is not a gossip so I know she won’t spread it round the village.

‘Oh dear, I’m sorry to hear you are moving away.’

‘I’m not, Jane.’

I answered, registering her reaction to this

rather stark response ‘We’re splitting up. Duncan and I will stay here.’

‘Oh Maggie, I am sorry to hear that.’ She said in a concerned voice. ‘Are you sure it’s the only way? Counselling can help a lot at reconciling differences … have you thought about that?’

‘No, there’s no point, Jane, there are no differences to reconcile - we’re both quite happy about it really. We’ve always been more like good friends than a married couple anyway and we intend to keep it that way. Goodness knows why we got married in the first place this is really only a recognition of the real state of things.’ I assured her as she blinks slightly. Well, I suppose it is not normal behaviour so her surprise is to be expected. ‘We talked it over the other night and, although Matt suggested I check with a solicitor that we haven’t left anything out, I think we have got it all sussed.’

‘Well, that sounds very civilised, Maggie. Have you spoken to your solicitor yet?’

‘Yes, I went up to see a guy at Brewster Toms in Bristol yesterday.’

‘Giles’ firm, eh?’ Jane said almost to herself.

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‘You know of them, then?’ I asked surprised … though why I should be, is anybody’s guess. It’s a locally held belief that Jane and her husband are omniscient.

‘Yes, his godmother lives in the village.’

A quick look at my watch informs me that I’m going to be late for my appointment if I’m not careful. ‘I’d better be getting on, Jane.

I’m having my hair trimmed this morning and Mrs Stubbs does not like it if one keeps her waiting.’

Laughingly agreeing with me, she disappears into the baker’s shop.

It is warm in the salon and, while Mrs Stubbs trims my hair, I watch her grandson, Joshua, playing quietly in his playpen. Joshua is a good little boy and quite charming, smiling up at all the clients and gurgling nonsense words as very small children do – I should imagine that he is very popular with a lot of the local women who come in her to have their hair done. Mrs Stubbs is full of how marvellous it is having her younger daughter, Tilly, back in the village and tells me at great length how Tilly has managed to rent a cottage for herself and the child. Tilly, working on a perm beside us, glances across goodnaturedly from time to time as her mother enthuses about how nice Tilly’s neighbours are. Mrs Stubbs is an excellent hairdresser but, boy, can she talk!

Pleased with my haircut – my hair is very wiry and curls, so I tend to keep it short as it is impossible to deal with if it gets long – I amble home feeling very righteous as I resisted the temptation to go 26

back and buy a cake. I have always been active but a predilection for cakes and chocolate means I am perpetually battling with keeping my waistline within limits.

Now I am heading for singledom again,

perhaps I should work a little harder at that.

I’m not planning on

going out looking for a man as such, but if one should come along, I certainly don’t want to put him off.

I spend a couple of hours after lunch tidying up the flower border – it takes ages and I fill three black bags. Where does all this stuff come from? However, by the time I have finished, the border looks a lot tidier and I am delighted to see that there are some bulbs coming up in places … are they usually this early or is it another example of the effect of global warming, I wonder? Getting the dirt off my hands takes a good bit of scrubbing … the soil is rem arkably tenacious but I succeed in the end. Just as I am putting the kettle on, the door bell rings. It’s the vicar.

‘Hello, Peter, do come in.’ I said with a smile.

Our vicar

doesn’t stand on ceremony and likes to be known by his Christian name. ‘I was just going to make a cup of tea – would you like one?’

‘Thanks, Maggie, that would be very nice.’

He replied,

carefully wiping his feet on the mat and following me into the kitchen.

‘What can I do for you, Peter?’ I asked as I fill the kettle.

‘Well, it’s more what I can do for you, Maggie. Jane tells me that you and Matt are splitting up – I just wondered if there was anything I could do.’

27

‘That’s very kind of you, Peter. But to be honest, I don’t think there is.’

‘Tell me about it.’ He invited, so, sitting down over coffee and biscuits, I relate the tale of Matt and I, how we met and eventually married and where we now find ourselves.

‘I see.’ He said with a sigh, thoughtfully nibbling on a biscuit.

‘What a dreadful shame.’

Seeing my puzzled look, he went on.

‘Sorry, Maggie, I don’t mean your situation specifically, but just the state of marriage generally these days. As you say, you and Matt should never have married in the first place.

I have thought for a

long time that marriage ought to be more difficult, that there should be more advice before people get married … like you, Maggie, so many people marry for the wrong reasons. I suppose you could say that it is wanting to make love to your best friend. You and Matt are undoubtedly good friends … but no more than that.’

‘Do you think we are wrong then?’ I asked, suddenly feeling guilty remembering my marriage vows.

‘In splitting up?’ he asked, and I nod. ‘No, Maggie, not at all, that seems to be the most logical solution to this situation – the mistake lies in the fact that you got married in the first place. Sorry if that sounds critical, I daresay you had all the best intentions … most people do. They just don’t realise what it means. Marriage is so romanticised these days, with the emphasis on the dress, the presents and the reception … not to mention the peer pressure, all your friends are getting married and it seems to be the next thing on your life 28

agenda. It’s not for nothing that most fairy stories end at the wedding.

But anyway, that aside - and I apologise for getting on my soapbox, Maggie, this whole issue is rather a bugbear of mine – how are you going to manage on your own with Duncan?’

‘I don’t know at the moment. Matt will pay maintenance for Duncan, which is reasonable, and has also offered to finance me but I don’t want that. I’m exploring ways of earning some money without going out to work.’ I admitted. We talk over the options – the vicar can’t come up with anything I’ve not thought of myself.

‘Well, if I have any further ideas, Maggie, I’ll let you know.’

He said, looking at his watch. ‘But I’ve got to go. Thanks for the cuppa – if there is anything I can do, please let me know.’

‘Thanks, I’ll bear that in mind, Peter.’ I replied, showing him to the door. ‘I do appreciate you coming to see me like this – thanks.’

‘It’s no trouble, Maggie.’ He said with a smile, ‘I’ll drop in occasionally if I may.’

‘Thanks, I’d like that.’ I said. I watch as he strides purposefully out of the gates, checking his mobile phone for any messages as he goes. Peter Hammond is a very hands-on, practical priest – I feel a twinge of guilt … maybe I should put in an attendance at church sometime. It was kind of him to come round.

As I drive over to Clevedon to collect Duncan, I think about this idea. If I could get a reasonably behaved child it would not only be company for Duncan but would solve the money problem. The extra income would make the difference and, although my outgoings would 29

rise slightly because of the extra mouth to feed, basic expenditure would not be affected ... after all, I’ve still got to heat the house come what may. Mind you, I am very awake to the fact that parenting a child is not an easy option, especially one that’s not your own … it’s a hell of a responsibility and would doubtless be emotionally demanding apart from any practical aspects.

It sounds heartless

considering fostering a needy child purely for financial reasons … but maybe I’m just being finicky.

‘Have you had a good week with Duncan?’ I asked, greeting my mum.

‘Lovely, thank you dear.’ She replied, giving me a hug. Mum’s nearly sixty now but in keeping with the modern trend towards youthful appearance, doesn’t look it and still holds down a responsible job in Dad’s estate agent franchise here in the town.

Apart from that, she and Dad are definitely more socially active than I am. ‘He’s been very well behaved and a pleasure to have around.

Your father sends his love, Maggie, he’s had to go out on a viewing and won’t be back until about seven.’

Duncan gives me a hefty squeeze as soon as he realises I am here – he’s looking well and, despite all I have had to occupy my mind this week, I have missed him. With Matt being away as much as he is, Duncan and I have always tended to do things together. He’s a tall boy for his age and, although he enjoys chasing around the football field as much as any other boy, he occupies himself contentedly either on his own or in my company most of the time.

30

While we enjoy the luxury of a chat over a cup of tea, Mum sends him out to get her evening paper as he has been doing for her all week; as soon as he’s gone, I tell her what Matt and I are doing.

‘Oh dear, Maggie, I am sorry to hear that. You always seem so happy together.’ She said worriedly, ‘Are you sure you can’t work something out?’

‘Oh we could go on as we are, Mum, with Matt living in Cumbria and me down here but it would be impossible with neither of us being able to make a real life for ourselves. Friendship is all very well but there is more to life than that.’ … at least I hope so.

‘I suppose so. How will you manage?’ she said, clearly not convinced and I tell her what I have discussed with Matt. ‘You’ll have to get some sort of work, Maggie.’

‘I know, I was talking to my friend Caroline the other day, Mum, she came up with something which might be the answer.’

And I pass on what Caroline and I talked about.

Mum is,

unsurprisingly, sceptical about the idea, giving me dire warnings about badly behaved brats running wild through my house sniffing dope with one hand and swigging vodka with the other.

‘No harm in looking into it, Mum.’ I said equitably as Duncan comes back with her paper.

I stop off in the village for fish and chips – a treat we usually have at least once during school holidays.

Duncan regaled the

journey home telling me all about the cool week he has had with Mum and Dad, describing in considerable detail the balsa wood 31

model he and Dad are building in the shed and asking if it would be possible for him to go over one weekend to finish it.

‘Yes, I should think so, Duncan.’

I replied, parking on the

drive. I take the fish and chips through to the kitchen while he brings his bag into the house, dumping it in the hall.

‘Have you got much

in the way of dirty washing in your bag?’

‘No, Gran did most of it.’ He replied coming into the kitchen and washing his hands at the sink before sitting down at the table.

The cat flap beats as I put the plates down on the table; Toby’s come in – amazing how he invariably appears whenever there is food in the offing.

It is harder than I thought it would be telling Duncan that Matt and I are splitting up. When I have finished explaining about the new job and everything he just sits staring at his plate. With Caroline’s advice in mind, I have stressed that both Matt and I love him very much and that it’s not any reflection on him that we’re doing this.

Oh heavens … I hope I have got it right ….

‘I will see Dad, won’t I?’ he asked eventually, ‘I mean, you and he are still going to be friends, aren’t you?’

‘That’s the intention, Duncan.

Once your Dad has found

somewhere to live, you can go up and visit. He’s keen for that.’

‘Why are you splitting up, Mum?’ he asked plaintively and suddenly I find myself wondering if it is such a good idea.

‘Because your Dad and I are only good friends, Duncan, and there’s more to a married relationship than just friendship.’ I said 32

hoping he’s old enough to understand that whilst at the same time praying that he won’t want details … we haven’t got into sex education in any detail with Duncan yet and I’m none too keen on going into the complexities of married life right now.

‘Has Dad got a girlfriend?’

‘No, we’ve neither of us got anyone else.’ I confirmed, relieved but wondering what he will ask next.

He picks up Toby and hugs him, the cat purring delightedly and shedding fur all over Duncan’s jumper.

‘We’ll be poor, won’t we, Mum?’ he said ‘You don’t earn very much with your work … or will you be going out to work now?’

‘Not poor, no, love.’ I said with a slight smile, ‘Though I’ve got to work out a way of earning some more money, Duncan, I don’t want to go out to work while you are still at school so it would have to be something I could do here at home. I was thinking about possibly fostering a child. What do you think about that?’

After all, if he is going to be totally anti the idea, there is no point pursuing it.

‘What … having some other kid living here?’ he said, and my heart sinks – oh well, it was probably a naff idea anyway.

‘Yes, that’s it.’

‘That could be cool … a boy of about my age, do you think?’ he said with the beginnings of a smile. ‘We could play football together.’

33

‘I don’t know the ins and outs of it yet, Duncan, but you’d be up for me making some enquiries then?’ I asked taken aback at his reaction and feeling guilty that he is apparently so keen to have another child to play with … is he lonely?

I ponder this thought as he goes off to unpack his bag and start questioning my parenting skills as they call it these days. I’ve never really thought about it much, I’m Duncan’s mum and I have always done whatever I thought best at any given time. It seems to have worked pretty well up until now. Have I been missing something?

While I wash up the dishes, I go over and over his reaction. Are we being totally selfish going for separation? Would it be better if we stayed together? But, then again there is the question of Matt being in Cumbria – there’s no staying together if he’s going to be up there anyway – it wouldn’t achieve anything.

I consider again the possibility of selling the Old Farmhouse and moving up with Matt. Not only would it be a dreadful wrench leaving my parents – they are not getting any younger and I’m the only family they have, but I would hate to leave this house. Starting again would be easier if I loved Matt, but I don’t, I would bitterly resent losing this property. I can see that, however hard I tried, this fact alone would gradually erode the friendship Matt and I have and if that goes what the hell have we got left? No, that’s not a solution. We’ll just have to work hard at making Duncan feel wanted.

Caroline rings during the evening.

‘Maggie, I’ve got that

information for you - got a pen? Write this down.’ She dictates 34

various figures and explains how the system works.

‘If you’re

interested, they’d be pleased to hear from you. Have you told Duncan yet?’

‘Yes, it wasn’t easy, Caroline, but, although he’s not happy about the separation, he likes the idea of another boy living here.

Mind you, I don’t think he’s thought it through, more seeing it as someone to play football with.’ I commented, ‘Now I feel guilty that he’s lonely.’

‘You just can’t win as a parent, Maggie!’ Caroline exclai med and we laugh ‘But if you want to go ahead with exploring the fostering idea, let me know and I’ll give you some names.’

Trying to get the logistics straight in my head, I go into the office and turn the computer on, bringing up the spreadsheet showing the anticipated figures. I add in the figures Caroline has given me.

Hmmm … not a fortune, but certainly viable. In fact, better than that because it would still leave me free to earn some cash if I think of any other way of doing it. Deciding I don’t know enough about it to make a decision, I determine to talk to Caroline again and get those names and contact numbers from her.

Duncan and I go for a long ramble over the Cotswold Way on Saturday – it is good to have him back again. We have a great time pigging all the blackberries on the hedgerows. I used to collect them in pots and take them home fully intending to do something creative with them, but blackberries are not that versatile and there is only so much one can take in the apple and blackberry line … though I did 35

make some very good apple, blackberry and elderberry jelly one year which was pretty scrumptious.

Despite my good intentions, the tubs of blackberries inevitably ended up sitting in the freezer from one year to the next so now we just regard them as a special treat when we go walking at this time of year and eat as many as we can manage.

Once we get to the viewpoint, we sit on the bench looking at the view. The land below us is a wash of autumnal colours – the oranges and bronzes of the dying leaves contrasting with the slightly muddy green of the grass in the meadows all overlaid with a very slight haze – incredibly like an impressionist painting. Over to the right is a bright red maple, flaming in all its October glory, Duncan points it out to me, enthusing over the colour of it and I have to explain why the leaves go that colour … fortunately, this is one of the semi-useless facts I have picked up from watching nature programmes on TV over the years. We sit there in a friendly silence, patting a passing dog who comes to investigate us before being called by his owner and bounding off down the path.

‘When’s Dad coming home?’ Duncan asked fiddling with a twig he’s picked up and poking at the mud round his boots.

‘He said he might be home Monday or Tuesday, Duncan. With a bit of luck, he’ll have found a house up there; I know he’s looking hard.’

‘This job is important to him isn’t it?’ Duncan asked and my heart sinks.

36

‘Yes, Duncan it is, it’s what he’s been working towards for the last ten years. But don’t go thinking that it is more important than you - he seriously considered turning it down when he realised that it would mean leaving you behind, but that would have been foolish.

You are growing up now and in few years will be living your own life.’

‘I wouldn’t want Dad to turn it down because of me.’ He said, busy with his twig again.

‘We’d have had to leave the Old

Farmhouse, wouldn’t we?’

‘Yes, it would have meant selling it, Duncan, and moving away from here completely.’

‘We wouldn’t have liked that, would we, Mum?’

he said

looking far at the view before us. ‘You and me belong here.’

‘Yes, Duncan, we do.’ I replied, feeling tears pricking my eyes at the realisation that he has apparently weighed everything up and made a decision to accept the situation.

‘I wouldn’t want to move away from here. I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said last night, Mum.

Although I’ll miss Dad, I

can go and see him and that will be okay, but if we moved away, I couldn’t come and visit here because it wouldn’t be mine anymore … places are different from people.’

I contemplate my son for a moment, wondering if perhaps the farming blood has somehow sidestepped a generation or two only to re-appear in Duncan. My grandfather, who origi nally farmed this land, always said it was part of his being and would never have left it 37

– Dad and my uncle never felt like that, though my uncle did work as a farmer until the developer came along with his offer, but it was only a job with him. To some extent, I feel tied to the land which is partly why I took so happily to being a housewife when Duncan came along.

I enjoy pottering around the house, making bread and growing my own vegetables … come to think of it, Duncan has never needed to be asked for help in the garden, he enjoys working with the land too.

‘Will I be able to phone him sometimes?’

Duncan asked

breaking in on my reverie.

‘Duncan, you can phone your Dad every day if you want to and you will be able to e-mail him as well. You are not going to lose contact with your Dad, I promise you.’

He grins at me, looking younger than his years, then gives me a hug, ‘Race you to the stile, Mum!’ he cried, chasing off down the path with me in hot pursuit.

When Matt rings, I tell him quickly how Duncan took the news and, calling Duncan, leave them to talk. Duncan looks a lot less … well, haunted, is probably the right word, when he comes looking for me once he’s finished talking to Matt.

‘Dad’s found a house, Mum. He was telling me about it.’ He enthused, ‘It’s not far from the football ground and Dad’s suggested we could go and watch a match when I go up.’

‘Sounds good, Duncan.’

I commented, pleased to see he is

reassured now he has spoken to Matt … interesting, he said ‘when’ not ‘if’.

38

Sunday morning, as I am busily ironing Duncan’s uniform for school tomorrow – naturally I intended to do this earlier in the week but somehow I can always find something else to do where ironing is concerned so it has been left until I can’t actually put it off any longer - the doorbell rings.

Duncan, playing some game or other on the computer is dead to the world, so, putting the iron down I go to see who it is.

‘Morning, Maggie.’ Said Fred Plaister with a beaming smile.

Fred owns the land abutting the Old Farmhouse; his family have farmed here as long as mine, though Fred has diversified over the years. His wife uses part of his land for her greyhound sanctuary and most of the rest of it is given over to sheep and beef cattle as Fred’s family has done since time immemorial, though he also raises turkeys and geese for the Christmas market nowadays, and has a flock of free range hens. A couple of years ago, Fred converted one of his barns into self-contained units which he rents out to some small businesses – I think he has two or three people up there now. I like Fred and sometimes chat to him when I go for a wander over my fields – he has been very helpful a couple of times when my fences needed work.

Not doing it for me as such, but showing me how to repair properly, which is much more interesting, not to mention useful, from my point of view.

‘Hello, Fred.

How are you?’

doorpost.

39

I asked, leaning against the

I don’t invite him in and he doesn’t expect me to – for one thing, his boots are covered in mud. - looks as though he has come across the fields and down the footpath which runs along the boundary between the housing estate and The Old Farmhouse. He uses that path for his stock sometimes, when moving them to one of the fields he uses just down the road, much to the annoyance of one of two of the house owners who don’t seem to recognise the fact that living in the country means occasionally you get mud and muck on the road.

‘I’m fine, Maggie. I’ve come to ask you something.’ He said cutting straight to the chase. ‘You know I rent that field down the road to graze the flock in winter, well, I can’t do that this winter, Bob needs it for his own stock.

I was wondering if you would be

interested in letting your field – I know you have a couple of horses there but the sheep wouldn’t interfere with them.’

‘Sounds interesting, Fred, what sort of deal do you suggest?’ I asked.

‘I was thinking perhaps we could come to an arrangement whereby I let you have a couple of lambs or maybe a turkey and a lamb or whatever would suit you.’ He replied craftily, resorting to the sort of barter that’s gone in farming areas ever since man settled down and fenced off land.

I like the sound of that, for one thing, I wouldn’t have to declare it on any forms whereas rent would be taxable. For another, a supply of free range, organic meat is not to be sneezed at. I have a large

40

chest freezer and, if I’m thinking of increasing the number of mouths to be fed, a supply of meat would be very useful.

‘I like the sound of that, Fred. How about a lamb, a turkey at Christmas and maybe a dozen eggs every week?’

‘Done!’

he said, adding generously

‘I’ll even throw in a

chicken every now and then.’

We shake hands on the deal and I suggest we go and have a look at the land in question together. Quickly whipping into the house to tell Duncan I am going up the field with Fred, and unplugging the iron just in case, I grab my field boots and my old waxed jacket and am soon contentedly walking round the side of the house with Fred.

The horses wander over as soon as they spot us but soon go off again once they realise we have nothing for them other than a few scratches on the nose. Together, Fred and I walk the boundary, checking the fence for sheep-proofness. Despite their well-deserved reputation for stupidity, sheep can be annoyingly effective escapologists and the last thing either of us want, is a wandering sheep. There are a couple of places where the fence needs a little reinforcement but Fred says he will get that seen to. Once the field is secure, he will bring the sheep down.

‘What did Fred want, Mum?’ Duncan asked when I get back into the kitchen and resume the ironing.

‘He wants to put his flock in our field. down the road this winter.’

41

He can’t use the one

‘Cool!’ Duncan said, his face lighting up. ‘I like sheep. Do you think he’d let me help sometimes?’

‘I’m sure he would, perhaps you could have a word with him next time you see him and ask if there is anything you can help with on his farm.’

‘Cool!’ Duncan repeated, returning to zapping his aliens.

I again reflect on the concept that he is a throwback to my grandfather. Mind you, to be fair, I think there is farming somewhere in Matt’s family but it is several generations back – funny thing genetics.

I walk with Duncan to school on Monday morning, not so much from the point of view of child safety as because it gives me a chance to talk to some of my friends. Caroline is chatting to Jan outside the gate, Jan’s little son, Simon pulling at her arm. He’s only just four and not old enough to go to school yet with his big brother, Daniel, who is in Duncan’s class. Like Caroline, Jan and I met through antenatal classes, though Jan and her family live in another part of the village.

They greet me and we talk generally about the weather as one does. Caroline asks if Duncan has adjusted at all which makes Jan look at me curiously and I explain the situation between Matt and I. ‘Oh, Maggie!

How awful for you.’ She said. ‘Still, with

Duncan so young, you’ll be able to screw a decent amount of maintenance out of Matt for yourself.’

42

‘I’m not going down that route, Jan.’ I replied and she looks at me as though I have just suggested something indecent.

‘But how on earth will you manage?’ she asked, taken aback.

‘I’ll have to work, of course.’ I replied with a smile – what does she think I’m going to do?

‘So, Matt’s getting off scot free.’ She said, ‘That’s typical!’

‘No, I don’t think so, Jan. He’s got to start again from scratch up in Cumbria and misses Duncan a lot.’ I said, reflecting yet again on how different Jan and I are in our outlook on life.

A few years ago, Dave, her husband, had a bit of a fling with a woman he met somewhere and Jan had shown a materialistic streak then which had shaken me, not so much concerned that she might have lost his love, as annoyed that her ‘property’ could have been poached by someone else.

As these affairs frequently do, it had

petered out and Dave had settled down with Jan again. I sometimes think that Simon was Jan’s stranglehold on Dave – as she put it at the time, maintenance on two children would cripple him so he had to stay put and behave himself.

Walking back with Caroline, I ask her for a phone number in connection with this fostering business.

‘It has to be that or a lodger, I think.’ I said, ‘At least with children, I would feel I was making a slight difference to someone else. Matt thought it was a good idea too.’

‘No problem, Maggie, I’ll run in and get it for you.’ Caroline said as we reach her house. I wait with Duncan on the pavement and 43

a few moment later she reappears with a piece of paper. ‘Let me know how you get on.’

‘Thanks, Caroline – I’ll keep you posted.’ I replied, tucking the paper into my pocket.

44

Chapter 3 When I get back from dropping Duncan at school, I potter round the house, cleaning the bathroom and folding the now dry washing … aware the whole time that I am actually putting off phoning about fostering.

‘Oh, this is stupid!’ I exclaimed … there are times when I annoy myself. ‘Don’t be such a wally, Maggie, get on with it. They can’t bite you.’

Feeling slightly nervous, I ring the number Caroline gave me and explain to the voice which answers why I am calling.

‘Oh yes, Caroline said you might be calling, Mrs Jones.’ He said in a friendly fashion. ‘So you’re interested in fostering?’

‘Yes, I’d like to know a bit more about it - what is the procedure?’ I asked.

‘First of all, we’ll come out to visit you, have a look at your house, ask you some questions, take some references, that sort of thing. When would be convenient for you, Mrs Jones?’

‘Well any time, really. Is this afternoon any good?’

He refers to his diary and we make an appointment for 1.30, telling me that his name is Sam Dehaney and that he’ll be bring April Jeavons with him.

Feeling rather anxious, I spend the rest of the morning tidying up the house and cleaning.

Why I should think that my normal

standards of cleanliness are not good enough all of a sudden is anybody’s guess.

As I walk round the house, doing a last minute 45

check, I wonder what they will be looking for … none of the furniture is particularly new, though it was good quality when we bought it.

Some of the stuff goes back a long way, coming to me with the farmhouse and being solid rather than fashionable.

I hope that

doesn’t count.

Sitting over a mug of coffee after lunch, I contemplate the questions they may ask – I am aware that I am looking into this business from a financial point of view, but lying in bed last night I thought about the other, more important aspect of it … the seriousness of looking after a child … being a parent in as many ways as possible, giving a kid a real home. I think I could do a reasonable job … well, they can only turn me down …

Mr Dehaney and Ms Jeavons arrive on time and I welcome them into the house. He’s wearing a smart pair of trousers and a warm jacket and looks friendly – a little to my surprise, he is black, though he doesn’t have any sort of accent …. I mentally kick myself for being so stupid – why should he?

He’s a nice looking man with a

friendly smile which lights up his eyes. He shakes my hand; his colleague looks a bit like a hippy – all uneven hems, beads and scarves - and she exudes a definite air of disapproval, which unnerves me a little.

I offer them a cup of tea or coffee and they follow me

into the kitchen.

‘I don’t know if you’d prefer to sit in here or in the lounge.’ I said as I get mugs and coffee organised.

46

‘Here would be just fine, Mrs Jones.’ Mr Dehaney said, sitting down at the table and getting a file out of his briefcase.

‘No, no milk

for me, thanks.’ Mugs of coffee on the table, I sit down with them and wait to see what comes next.

‘So, you are thinking about

fostering, Mrs Jones. What made you decide to do that?’ he asked, sipping at his coffee.

‘Well, I have this big house and need to earn a little so as to support my son and … um … it seemed like a possible way of doing that and also helping someone out at the same time.’

Ms Jeavons turns from her apparent assessment of the kitchen, focussing her disapproval on me and I wince inwardly. ‘You see this as a way of making a living, then?’

‘No, not entirely, though I have to say that the financial aspects do matter.’ I replied, annoyed by her antagonism. ‘It just seems to be a way to solve my problems whilst solving someone else’s at the same time.

I am not a money grabbing profiteer, Ms Jeavons, but

neither am I a well-meaning do-gooder.’

‘What do you understand to be involved in fost ering a child, Mrs Jones?’ Mr Dehaney asked, giving his colleague a quick glance.

‘I don’t know a lot about it … but, I see it as giving a child a home – a home in the proper meaning of the word, somewhere they matter, where they are practically looked after … somewhere they can be at home … but that would include a certain amount of discipline and training.’ I said trying to put my thoughts into words.

‘Go on, Mrs Jones.’ Mr Dehaney said encouragingly.

47

‘Well, it’s no good having a child staying here as a guest or a visitor … they’d have to be part of the family, having the same privileges and responsibilities as everyone else.

For instance,

Duncan, that’s my son, he’s expected to do some jobs ... he’s not just a passenger but an active participator … oh, that sounds very prissy.’

I grind to a halt feeling a fool.

‘No, I don’t think so, Mrs Jones. How does your son feel about having another child here?’ Mr Dehaney asked.

‘He likes the idea, but I don’t think he’s thought it through to any great extent, seeing it more as having a playmate than anything else, but he’s only ten so that’s not surprising I suppose.’

‘What do you mean by discipline?’ Ms Jeavons put in.

She’s been scribbling things down on her pad but I can’t see what she’s written … she makes me very nervous.

‘Obeying the rules of the house, I suppose. We don’t have many.’ I put in quickly lest she think I have a massive list of dos and don’ts. ‘Mainly, it is about being considerate to other people and taking responsibility for yourself.’

‘Like what?’

‘Um … well, not using something belonging to someone else without asking permission first … putting dirty washing in the laundry basket … not lying … basic things like that.’

… maybe

getting a lodger in would be a viable solution.

‘Can we have a look round the house, Mrs Jones?’ Mr Dehaney asked with a smile.

48

‘Of course, I’ll show you round.’ I answered. ‘This is the kitchen and there’s a dining room through here …’

As I show them the office and explain that I do a little accounting work, Ms Jeavons asks how much time I spend on that in an average day. I end up explaining that it doesn’t work like that – more on a weekly basis, and that I usually do it while Duncan is at school or in bed.

I take them through the house, trying to see it as they would … but I don’t know what they are looking for… Matt’s bedroom causes comment.

‘Who’s room is this?’ Ms Jeavons asks … her tone accusatory.

We’ve already been into my room.

‘My husband’s, but he won’t be here. The room will be empty.’

‘Oh?’ she said coldly and my heart sank … this woman is determined to dislike me for some reason.

‘My husband and I are separating, Ms Jeavons, he has taken a job in Cumbria and will be moving up there in the next week or two … that’s why I need to do something to augment my finances ...’ I explained with what I hope is dignity.

Again, she scribbles something on her pad.

‘Is there a garden, Mrs Jones?’ Mr Dehaney broke in.

We are standing in the upstairs hallway and I point out the extent of the garden through the window. ‘And the field’s mine as well. Though a local farmer is going to graze his sheep there this winter.’

49

More frenzied scribbling …

‘You have a nice vegetable plot there, Mrs Jones.’ Mr Dehaney commented and, as we go downstairs, I tell him how successful I was with my tomatoes this summer. He seems interested.

As we settle back in the kitchen, I offer them some more coffee but Ms Jeavons turns it down for both of them, pointedly looking at her watch.

Mr Dehaney passes some papers across the table to me.

‘If you could fill these in please Mrs Jones, just so that we can carry out the necessary checks and searches, then we can get you properly processed.’ Mr Dehaney said. ‘If they come out clear, we’ll be in touch again. Thank you for showing us round. It has been nice to meet you.’

Slightly stunned, I show them out … does this mean that they think I’m suitable or not? I don’t have the nerve to ask them. Going back into the kitchen to clear away the mugs, I glance through the forms … crikey! They don’t want to know much, do they? Mother’s maiden name and place of birth … heavens! Leaving them on the table, I get ready to walk down to the school to meet Duncan.

I bump into Caroline on the way down the road and tell her about this afternoon.

‘Who came out to see you, Maggie?’ she asked as we wait to cross the road.

‘A Mr Dehaney and a Ms Jeavons ... he was lovely but I got the impression she disapproved of me for some reason.’

50

‘Oh Sam Dehaney’s a good guy.’

Caroline commented, ‘I

wouldn’t worry about April Jeavons though, she’s got a bee in her bonnet about middle class people, Maggie, she’d disapprove of you on principle. Daft really, her dad’s a bank manager.

That said,

though, she’s very good at her job.’

‘I’ve got to fill in a load of forms now, Caroline, I had a quick glance at them before I came out – they look gruesome.’

I

complained and she laughs commenting on the ubiquitous red tape you find everywhere these days.

After dinner, while Duncan talks to his dad on the phone, I settle down to fill in the forms … it takes two hours and involves a considerable amount of hunting through my memory and the file of important documents I keep in the office, but in the end I complete them all, sign on the dotted line and put them on one side to post on the way to school in the morning. I didn’t like to say to Caroline that I didn’t reckon much to my chances but, as I lie in bed, I try to work out what it would be like having a lodger here … maybe a man wouldn’t be too bad. After all, Matt has been little more than a lodger when all is said and done. On that thought, I turn over and snuggle down to sleep.

Matt comes back on Tuesday full of enthusiasm for both the new job and the house he has found to rent. Once he’s got used to living up there, he is aiming to buy a property of some sort but at the moment he has little idea of the area. He spends an hour with Duncan while I plough through some of Dave Fielding’s accounts. Dave runs 51

the garage in the village and is reckoned to be reliable if you want your car repaired or MOT’d. He’s not so reliable when it comes to running his accounts though, and tends to dump a bagful of scraps of paper on me once a week, expecting me to sort it all out for him. I’ve been doing his accounts for about five years now so am used to this, but it sometimes takes some working out – not least deciphering his writing.

‘How’s it going, Maggie?’ Matt asked coming into the office.

I look up blankly from my task of trying to work out if Dave had written a 5 or 3 on this particular bill.

More than grateful for the

interruption, I ask Matt’s opinion on the dilemma I have in front of me … after looking at the figures in question for a moment, Matt decides that it’s definitely a 5.

‘That’s what I thought – thanks, Matt.’ I said putting the paper down. ‘Apart from that, I had a visitation from the social services yesterday afternoon.’

‘Sounds nasty.’ He commented with a smile, perching himself on the other chair in here. ‘How did it go?’

‘I don’t know to be honest, Matt. There were two of them – a Mr Dehaney and a Ms Jeavons – he was friendly but she just sat there disapproving of me. I showed them over the house ... your room caused a comment from Ms J. and I had to explain about that, which didn’t improve things much. But they left me with a load of forms to fill in so I did those last night and posted them this morning. I don’t

52

know if they’ll accept me though, in fact I have been thinking it would be more sensible to get a lodger.’

‘I wouldn’t write off the idea of fostering, Maggie. Wait until they come back to you.’ Matt said encouragingly.

‘When do you think you will be moving your stuff up to Cumbria, Matt?’ I asked changing the subject.

‘I’m intending to shift it next Friday, Maggie, I’ll get it all packed this week. I thought we could go over to the solicitors and get the legal side of things sorted out before that – do you think we could do that?’

‘I don’t know, I’ll call my solicitor tomorrow.’ I answered, packing up my work.

‘Let’s go and talk somewhere more

comfortable – I’ve got a bottle of wine somewhere.’

We move into the lounge and make ourselves comfortable.

I

tell him about the vicar’s visit and his point of view, discussing why we had got married in the first place.

‘I reckon he could have a point, you know, Maggie.’ Matt said thoughtfully, ‘If we’d had any advice or counselling, I doubt we’d have got married.’

‘I suppose you’re right, but it’s a bit late to worry about that now … anyway, I wouldn’t be without Duncan … and we’ve had some fun times over the years too.’

‘Hmmm – I’ll drink to that.’ My friend Matt said, raising his glass and we grin at each other.

53

It’s nice having him here but it’s like having a friend to stay for the weekend … not what a husband should be ... at least so far as I am led to believe. Sad really.

‘So your parents have taken it reasonably well.’ He commented at one point. ‘I called in on my dad on the way back down and told him about it – he hit the ceiling initially but calmed down in the end.

I stressed that he’d still get to see Duncan just as much – I hope that’s okay with you. He sent you his love, by the way.’

‘Of course it is, Matt – don’t be daft!’ I replied ‘As far as I can see, our task is to make this as painless for Duncan as we can and stopping him seeing his Grandad certainly wouldn’t help with that.

Did Duncan say much to you about it all?’

‘Hmmm … he didn’t seem overly worried when we discussed it, so it looks as though you did a good job of explaining things to him – thanks, Maggie. I felt a bit rotten when I thought about it, leaving you with the job of telling Duncan. It can’t have been particularly easy.’

‘No, but I had a chat with Caroline beforehand and she gave me an idea of the problems Duncan might have with it which helped.

More wine, Mr Jones?’

We sit up quite late talking about all sorts of things as the level in the bottle slowly sinks.

Matt starts organising his belongings on Wednesday – but apart from his CD collection and his books, there isn’t a lot – a few items of furniture which mean a lot to him … his grandmother’s rocking chair.

I’ve said I’ll hang on to that for him until he comes down next time – 54

he won’t have room in his car for that as well as everything else. It helps that we’ve had separate rooms for so long, making the question of bed linen and towels so much easier to resolve – Matt will just take the stuff he has used for years, though I do insist that he takes some extra towels just in case he has visitors. I also turn out some kitchen stuff and crockery for him – we have more than I need. At least he’ll be able to cook himself a meal.

We go to see Andrew Bates on Thursday afternoon – Caroline has very kindly said she’ll collect Duncan from school if we are not back in time.

You never know with the traffic between here and

Bristol, and the last thing I want is for Duncan to be left hanging in mid air not knowing where we are.

Mr Bates starts by suggesting that Matt gets his own legal representation and points out that he cannot act for both of us.

However, once we begin talking about the practicalities, I think he realises that we are both singing from the same hymn sheet and although he regularly comments that Matt should get his own solicitor to check on something we’ve agreed, it is very much an automatic comment.

At the end of an hour, we have thrashed out an agreement which seems to cover all the points, protects both Matt and I and meets with everyone’s approval. The house, all it’s maintenance and upkeep is mine, with me having sole responsibility – Matt is not claiming anything in that respect though he does remind me that I’ll need to remember to change the insurance when it’s renewable. Matt agrees 55

to pay a proportion of his salary into my bank account as maintenance for Duncan with the figure being tied to inflation and taking account of the increased costs as the boy gets older. As he said on the phone, Matt has spoken to his broker and between them they have come up with a policy which will compensate me for the loss of pension rights.

Andrew Bates goes over that with a fine toothcomb looking for any possible problem but has to concede that it is all as he would like it for me. There is almost a festive feel to things in his office and, as we get up to leave, he shakes hands with both of us.

‘I have to say, this has been one of the most pleasant sessions of this kind I have known in my entire career.’ He said, grinning at us.

‘You are to be congratulated – I have to say I was sceptical when you told me it was an amicable arrangement, Mrs Jones, but you were right. But down to practical matters, I’ll let you both have a copy of the agreement when it has been engrossed. If you will both sign and return it to me, I shall arrange for copies to be sent to you for you to keep and store the originals in our strong room. Good luck with the new job, Mr Jones.’

‘He’s a nice guy.’ Matt commented as we walk back to the car, ‘I liked the way he was checking everything on your behalf. It makes me feel happier about the whole thing.’

‘Surely you haven’t been worrying about it?’

‘Not about the sense of us splitting up, but I have been wondering whether I am leaving you with an unfair burden, Maggie.

56

If at any time you need some cash, you will tell me won’t you? My big worry is that you will struggle.’ He said as we get into the car.

‘Okay, if I have a major problem I’ll let you know. But you’re having to start all over again, Matt, and that’s not going to be particularly painless.’ I pointed out as I put on my seat belt.

‘Yes, but it’ll be easier for me, especially with the relocation package the firm have given me, and also I don’t have to worry about babysitters and the like. You mustn’t just sit at home and vegetate, Maggie. You’ll have to make some sort of social life for yourself.’

He replied, signalling and waiting for a bus to go past before he can pull out.

‘I’ve got lots of friends in the village, Matt. I’m sure I’ll sort something out.’

By the time he pulls up outside the school, we have started talking about possible social activities which I could take up … his tongue in cheek suggestion that I could always try line dancing (a particular anathema of mine) causing great hilarity and I am still chuckling as I stand waiting for Duncan to appear.

It’s strange helping Matt load his possessions into the car.

Fortunately his current company car is an estate with a phenomenal capacity – barring the rocking chair, which will stay wit h me until he next comes down, we manage to get all his stuff inside. Several times during the morning, we both comment on how odd it is that we neither of us is devastated by this, we’re both sad that we aren’t going to be sharing a house any more, but it’s no more than that. As he 57

points out as we have coffee together, this really does underline the fact that our marriage is non existent.

I watch him drive away, sorry to see him go but by no means overwhelmingly so, and quite contentedly go inside to finish off Dave’s accounts.

As I walk down to school to collect Duncan, it dawns on me that that was the real end of my marriage. A line I read once in a poetry class comes back to me ‌ something about not with a bang but a whimper. How apt.

I take Duncan over to Clevedon on Saturday morning so he and Dad can finish off their project and spend the rest of the day moving things around the house to compensate for the gaps left by Matt removing his belongings and giving his old bedroom a thorough clean. By the time I have to dash back to Clevedon to collect Duncan, you would hardly know that Matt had ever lived here.

When I get back from dropping Duncan at school on Monday I feel rootless.

The weather is continuing to be fine and, after an abortive attempt at housework, I decide to go and tidy up the vegetable patch in the hope that the manual labour will settle my emotional state. It works ‌ I find it therapeutic working in the garden and my mood lifts as I dismantle the row of runner beans. The plants are dead now and I busy myself cutting them down and disentangling them from the poles; it takes some time and effort as the now defunct bean plants are unbelievably tenacious in their grip. Then I have to heave the trailing 58

and ungainly plants over to the compost heap, but once I’ve managed that, I pull up the poles, tie up them up and stack them tidily in the shed for next year – job done!

I've left the roots in the ground to dig in but decide that this is a good point to go and grab a coffee before I start on that. We'll be getting some rain soon, I have no doubt, and then the ground will become claggy and impossible to dig, so I'd better do it today. Oh well … when I’ve had a coffee.

Leaving my muddy boots outside the back door, I pad into the kitchen in my socks and wash my hands before putting the kettle on.

What's the time? Ten fifty … hmmm. Nibbling on a biscuit while I wait for the kettle to boil, I ponder on why I am so irritated by Ms Jeavons' attitude to me. It is silly to allow that to get to me. I've never really thought of myself as middle class, but I expect, like everything else, it is a matter of viewpoint. Okay, so I own the house but that is through my family and they were working farmers …

Matt’s a manager and we've had a pretty good lifestyle over the years, though we have never gone in for expensive foreign holidays … I wonder if that counts? I've never really been given to introspection much and this episode, with someone else judging me and plainly finding me wanting, has stopped me in my tracks. It's not that I expect people to like me automatically, but to dislike me before she met me, on the strength of the house I live in … that is unfair. I suppose that is why it grates.

59

Sipping my coffee, I stroll over to the back door and, resting my mug on the ground, put my boots back on. The trees are nearly bare of leaves now and there is a definite autumnal feel to the air. I’m glad of my thick jumper.

Life has been fairly unchallenging up until now … not that it's particularly challenging at the moment for that matter … well, not by some standards … I grew up in Clevedon in a comfortable house; school was okay - I wasn't a particularly high flyer but neither did I struggle and the memories I have are of happy, carefree days most of the time. I belonged to a circle of friends which included Matt and we had a lot of fun over the years, rarely doing anything outside the group. From this standpoint it looks rather boring … I never went out binge drinking or trying drugs, I didn't get involved with underage sex either, as one is led to believe virtually all teenagers do these days … just pootered along really.

Matt and I drifted from friends to boyfriend and girlfriend and then into marriage … it seemed a natural progression. In the same way, I'd drifted from school into college, taking a qualification in accounting. I’ve always liked the way that numbers behave and find it very satisfying working with spreadsheets so, when Duncan came along, it made sense to keep my hand in by doing the accounts for Dave Fielding at the garage and Carrie Potter who runs a child minding service and is virtually (and scarily) innumerate. Not a vast amount of work, but it brings in a few pennies. But enough of this, Maggie, get on with that digging.

60

Leaving my empty mug on the doorstep, I go over to the shed and disentangle the fork from the coils of the garden hose … I don't know how the wretched thing always manages to get entwined around whatever implement I want to use, but it does. Yet again, I coil it up and hang it on the hook where it belongs. I can only assume that Duncan must have dislodged it when he last got his bike out …

Starting at the far end of the row, I systematically dig over the ground, breaking up the roots of the runner beans and picking out any weeds I find, throwing them in the bucket I have beside me. I had a hell of a time when we first moved in here - Uncle Bert had not been much of a gardener and although he used to put in a few rows of potatoes, he hadn't done much in the way of serious weed control for some time and it took me a couple of years of hard slog to get rid of the dandelion roots and the bindweed. The ground elder still gives me a bit of hassle but I systematically pull up any I see and am gradually winning the war.

Wrenching at a particularly stubborn root of ground elder which I have discovered, I find myself thinking of April Jeavons again … you idiot, Maggie - it's not important what she thinks. It's just annoying that I might not be able to do this fostering business merely because she doesn't like the fact I don't work full time and have a big house to live in … okay, so I've not come up against prejudice before and it rankles. Consider yourself lucky, Maggie … so many people have to deal with prejudice on a daily basis. I bet Mr Dehaney comes in for some of that … funny how I was so surprised by Mr Dehaney 61

being black … I suppose I’d based my picture of him on how he sounded on the telephone; the fact that he doesn’t have any sort of accent making me think he was white … I hope it di dn’t show that I was a little taken aback, I’d hate him to think I was in any way prejudiced.

I really must get my head round the idea of a lodger … how does one go about it? Putting a card up in the local shop? Or would it be better to put an ad in the paper. I'd have to throw in meals … it would be impossible having someone else cooking in my kitchen . .. and probably laundry ... that wouldn't be so bad … as a teenager I worked part time in a local hotel for several summer seasons – tourism being the only local trade offering students work, so I know about ‘housekeeping’ from that point of view, but what sort of person would want a room and facilities like that? It would have to be a man, I suppose, though that is a sexist remark … lots of men can cook and look after themselves these days – Matt for one - equally, I imagine there must be women who can't or don't want to. Don't know that I would want a woman who wasn’t domesticated … oh dear, this is very complicated.

Life’s been plain sailing to date - and since Duncan was born, I have enjoyed what, I am now realising, is a fairly privileged lifestyle.

I have always enjoyed being a homemaker but, in addition to that, I got involved in helping out at playgroup when Duncan was small and, until all this red tape came in, also at the primary school going a couple of afternoons a week to hear the children read. Okay, so some 62

of the time I am looking for something to occupy myself as I don't like to be idle, but over the years I have taken up various crafts and learned skills – working hard at achieving a high standard in them …

I am very proud of the wall hanging I designed and wove a couple of years ago – it may not be perfect, but I’ve seen worse on sale in shops at very high prices. I'd like to have a bash at spinning and dyeing wool at some stage … maybe I could have a word with Fred and see what he does with his shearings - I've got a spinning wheel in the back of the garage which we picked up at a sale a few years ago, but I've never done anything with it. It would be interesting to make some natural dyes and wouldn't have to cost very much.

I really must give some thought to what I am going to do socially. Up until now, my social life has largely revolved round the couples we know - Caroline and Jim, Jan and Dave, Matt’s work colleagues, a few old friends from Clevedon days - though we have always participated in the activities of the school PTA and I am on the fund raising committee for the school … ironic, when you think about that. I need to do some fund raising for myself at the moment … can't really hold a car boot sale in aid of Maggie Jones' upkeep. I smile at the thought …

Straightening up and flexing my back for a moment, I look back to see how far I have got so far … about halfway down the row. Still, it was worth it growing the beans. This was a good year for them and I now have several bags of beans in the freezer which will help reduce my food bills over the coming months.

63

Leaning on the fork, I look over the rest of the vegetable plot.

The cabbages are looking rather lacy round the edges, though the inner leaves will be okay - those blasted caterpillars! But at least the slugs haven't been so bad this year. That fabric stuff I laid all around the outside of the plot seems to have worked - it cost a bit and was a chore checking that it met up without any gaps but was worth it. No idea how it works, but it's a relief not to have to scatter pellets everywhere; I don't like the impact they have on the local birdlife.

The sprouts are disappointing this year, though … not sure why they didn't come on, must have been a dud year for the seeds. That happens. Could be worse.

The potato crop was decent and I have a satisfying couple of sackfuls in the shed - the rain earlier in the season certainly helped there. I'll have to give some thought to what I am going to grow next year, I suppose.

Come on, enough standing around, Maggie, finish digging this over!

By lunchtime, I have finished the row and, cleaning off my tools, I stack them in the shed and thankfully … if stiffly … go into the house, leaving my boots outside. I'll have to clean them off and stash them in the shed, but not right now.

So what are you going to do for a social life, Magdalena, my girl?

Flicking through the local paper while I munch on my

sandwich, I seek inspiration. What is there … dancing classes … no, don't much fancy that. Never was much of a one for that sort of 64

thing. Of course, having two left feet doesn't help. Lots of concerts on but that isn't going to be a way of meeting people … drama group … that's a vague possibility … but it would have to be a regular commitment and I don't know that I want to be that tied, let alone the fact that I get dreadful nerves stepping out in front of an audience … I could help behind the scenes, perhaps, though it could be difficult getting a babysitter on a regular basis.

Oh this is difficult! What do people of my age do to meet other people?

There are a couple of ads for dating agencies … don't know that I want to go down that route. I'm not exactly looking for a romantic attachment … am I? I consider Caroline's comment the other day. If Matt and I have only ever been good friends, have I ever been in love? I think back to the time when we had a sex life … hmmm ... not exactly exciting … more comfortable than anything else … but that's what life with Matt has always been … comfortable. You read so much about sex in magazines these days but I've never really thought about it in terms of me … maybe I'm undersexed or something. Is that a bad thing? I wonder how Matt feels about that aspect of things … has he ever jumped into bed with other women?

Heavens, the things I am

considering these days!

Shall I have a piece of fruit cake or not? No, I ought to give some thought to my waistline … which more or less answers the question doesn't it. Go on, admit it, Maggie, you'd like some male 65

company … so where I am going to find it?

I wonder if Matt is

going through this … it’s easier for him to some extent, he can just go down to the pub for a drink and get chatting to the blokes or women down there. I can just imagine what would be said in the village if I started frequenting the local pub … I’ve never had to do this before, there was always Matt. Apart from that guy who got off with me when were at that disco … I was in the sixth form by then … he'd cut me out from the group and we'd ended up outside having a snogging session … come to think of it, that had been rather good … apart from that, I don't think I've ever kissed anyone other than Matt … and I haven't done that for years, well not passionately anyway. It says a lot that you still remember a brief groping session behind the disco nearly twenty years ago …

Oh, Maggie, you have got to get yourself together! Here you are 35 years old and never been in love!

The Bath Institute looks interesting – they’re advertising a series of lectures on all sorts of subjects … surely they get lots of people going to those. Anything which grabs me? Hmmm … I wonder … that one looks interesting … a lecture on Jane Austen and how her books have influenced modern literature. I like Jane Austen's books … I had an inspired teacher at school who was batty about good literature and introduced me to several of the classics. When is this lecture … a couple of weeks' time .. Well that gives me a chance to find a babysitter at any rate.

I scribble the details on the calendar - I

haven't got a hope of remembering them otherwise.

66

Matt said I should let the school know about our change of status. I'd not thought of that, but he’s right – I’d better call in at the school office sometime and have a word with Sally Richards, our school administrator, she'll know what I ought to do, there may be some form or other I have to fill in. Sally's always been very helpful when I've needed help with the photocopying for the PTA, I'm sure she'll know what to do. I must remember to do that.

I go upstairs to clean up generally and change out of my gardening clobber before walking into the village to collect Duncan from school, and as I glance out of the window in the bathroom, I notice that Fred has moved his lambs into the field and stand for a moment watching the beasts. Silly creatures, sheep. The horses don't seem to mind the invasion though. I rang their owners to let them know what was going on the other day, they aren’t bothered, and promised to be careful when they visit. They sometimes bring their dogs over and will have to watch them to make sure they don't worry the lambs.

Just as I am leaving the house I hear the phone going, for a moment I hesitate, if I go back now I'll be late … no, the answerphone will pick it up. I don't want to be late for Duncan, he worries at the best of times and at the moment that would not be beneficial.

67

Chapter 4 As it happens, Sally Richards is busy on the phone when I pass the window of the school office - I'll catch her some other time.

Duncan is quite perky when he comes out, which is not unusual for him - he's a contented child most of the time - but I am being more paranoid at present, looking for signs that he is worrying or something.

We walk back with Caroline and Daisy.

'Have you heard anything from Sam Dehaney yet, Maggie?'

Caroline asked as we wait for the crossing lady to stop the traffic and wave us over the main road.

'No, I don't think I am going to, as a matter of fact.

That Ms

Jeavons really didn't like me.'

'They can't afford to turn someone like you down, Maggie, you've got so much going for you.' she said after giving this comment some thought, 'I'd have welcomed you with open arms.'

'That's sweet of you, Caroline.' I said with a smile and we walk along the road in silence for a while, 'I'm beginning to think about advertising for a lodger. D’you reckon I'd be better off putting a card in the post office or advertising in the paper?'

'Hmmm ‌. Don't know. I'll have a think about it.' she replied as we reach her driveway 'See you in the morning, Maggie.'

'Fred's put the lambs in the field now, Duncan.' I said as we continue on our way.

'Oh great! Can I go and look at them?'

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'I don't see why not. You'll have to put your field boots on, though. I don't want your school shoes covered in mud and sheep droppings. In fact, you'd better change out of your school uniform if you are going out in the field.'

In the end, I go with him ‌ I'd like to see these lambs too. The sky is clouding over now - looks like I just got that digging done in time - and the wind is starting to get up a little. A couple of the lambs come over to see what we are and Duncan strokes their soft, greasy fleeces. We trudge up the field trying to avoid the sheep poo – as my son so delicately calls it - Duncan counting the lambs as we go - but by the time we get to the far end of the field, it is drizzling slightly and, speeding up our pace slightly, we turn back to the house.

'Can I play on the computer, Mum?' Duncan asks when we get back inside.

I can see I am going to have to start putting newspaper down for outside boots now ... in the winter I tend to have a thick layer by the back door so that boots can be stood on it. It helps enormously in the seasonal battle against mud.

'Yes, love, of course you can, but only until dinner time.'

Toby speeds through the cat flap. He hates the rain and takes it as a personal affront if I don't actually arrange for it to be dry when he wants to go out. Whenever it is raining, we go through the absurd pantomime of him refusing to go out the back (because it is raining) and demanding to be let out the front door only to find that it is raining out there as well. He has been known to sulk for hours.

69

My mind on what we are having for dinner tonight, I automatically step over the cat as he calmly sits down in the middle of the floor and starts grooming.

'Mum, there's a message on the answerphone ... The light's flashing.' Duncan called from the office.

I'd forgotten all about that phone call … must have inadvertently turned off the beep which reminds me that there is a message … going quickly into the office, I hit the play button … it’s Sam Dehaney … he's asking if I can call him as soon as possible, and giving me his direct dial number.

I glance at the clock … just before five. I wonder if he’d still be in the office … I’ll give it a go. I quickly call his number … listening while it rings and rings … damn! I’ve missed him!

However, just as I am about to hang up, the phone is answered and I ask to speak to Sam Dehaney, giving my name and explaining that I am returning his call. The woman on the other end explains that he’s away from his desk at the moment and asks me to wait while she goes to find him.

'Hello, Mrs Jones. Thanks for coming back to me.' he said in his friendly manner when he picks up the phone 'I was wondering if you might be able to come into the office tomorrow morning.'

'Yes, I could do that - is there some problem with the paperwork?'

'No, nothing like that. We’d like to talk to you about a possible placement. What time could you get here?'

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'Well, I've got to drop Duncan off at school, but could come down straight after that.' I said, slightly stunned by his request - I'd been so sure they had written me off.

'That would be fine, Mrs Jones - you know where we are?' he said, and gives me directions which I hurriedly scribble down. 'We'll see you tomorrow, then. Bye' 'Who was that, Mum?' Duncan asked, concentrating on setting up the game which is currently his favourite.

'That was one of the social workers who came round to see me the other day. He wants me to go into the office tomorrow to talk about a placement.' I said, adjusting my thoughts back into fostering mode. I register his blank expression: ‘That means they want us to have someone here, Duncan.’

'Oh, are we having someone – I didn’t think we were.' Duncan asked, his attention diverted from the screen for a moment.

'Possibly. I don't know, Duncan, but I shall find out tomorrow by the look of it. Is that still okay with you?'

'Yeah.' he said vaguely, turning back to the game again.

He doesn't seem too bothered at the moment … but the reality might be different. Pondering this, I go back into the kitchen to organise a meal.

Bearing in mind the meeting I have arranged with Sam Dehaney this morning, I decide not to talk to Sally Richards just yet, after all, it is entirely possible I might have to register someone else … who knows.

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Caroline isn’t at the gate this morning, so I can't tell her about this development which is disappointing, I was looking forward to talking to someone about it. I see Jan from a distance but she doesn’t hear me calling her and, remembering she was pretty antagonistic to the idea last time I mentioned it, I don't go chasing after her.

As I drive into town, I feel a little nervous - what am I getting myself into?

By the time I get to Sam Dehaney's offices, I’m later than I intended, the road I usually park in was disrupted by roadworks with the parking coned off, and I had to go down to the multi-storey car park in the end, paying for the privilege and guessing at how long I would be. Oh well, if I finish before the two hours are up, I can always have a potter round the shops. I take a deep breath and consciously straighten my shoulders as I walk through the door into the reception area, announcing my arrival to the woman on the desk.

'Please take a seat, Mrs Jones.' she said pleasantly 'I'll tell him you're here.'

I take off my coat – it’s warm in here - and sit down on one of the chairs in the waiting area, draping my coat on the one next to it; I feel uncharacteristically flustered and try to compose myself.

A few minutes later, Sam Dehaney appears and invites me to follow him to his office. Ms Jeavons is sitting in there on one chair of three round a small table in one corner of the office; a paper-strewn desk taking up most of the room.

I smile at her, getting no

appreciable response, and grit my teeth. Sam Dehaney directs me to 72

one of the chairs and, pausing to pick up a file from his desk, takes the third chair. I put my bag and coat on the floor beside me and wait expectantly.

'Thanks for coming along at such short notice, Mrs Jones.' Sam Dehaney said with a smile 'Only something has come up which we feel you would be the ideal person to pick up.'

'All the forms were all right then?'

'Oh, yes, in fact, your referees were very complimentary about your suitability, Mrs Jones.' he replied opening the file and quickly scanning the page in front of him, as though refreshing his memory on what it contains. 'You did specify that you would prefer a child roughly the same age as your son.' he went on and I nod. 'Would you consider two children, Mrs Jones?'

I'd not thought of more than one.

'It's just that we have a brother and sister who are in need of short term care while their grandmother goes into hospital for an operation. The boy is the same age as your son and attends the village primary school. His sister is slightly older, but for obvious reasons, we want to keep them together.' He waits while I digest this information.

'How long would their … grandmother, was it? ... be in hospital?' I asked wondering just how long ‘short term care’ would mean.

'Well, she will only be in hospital for a week or so, but won’t be fit enough to have the children back for at least three months, possibly 73

four. She’s having some fairly major surgery which will mean she can’t lift or drive and, rather than take risks and do long term damage, she’s sensibly organising care for the children.'

I sneak a glance at Ms Jeavons - she's sitting there very quietly … I find it unnerving.

'Are there no parents?' I asked.

'Mum is an alcoholic – she’s is currently in rehabilitation - and Dad disappeared from the scene some years ago. He's not been heard of for three years now, it is believed that he has left the country.

Mum does keep in touch with the children but her mother has care and control and has been looking after them really well for several years. She is understandably extremely concerned about what is going to happen to the children while she is in hospital, even more so if it means that the children will have to move out of the village.' he answered - oh, I see where I come in.

'I think I could deal with that. How old is the girl?'

Sam Dehaney referred to his file. 'She's thirteen - she attends the comprehensive.' he replied 'If you feel you would be able to take them, their grandmother would like to visit you to meet you.'

'Of course, that's not a problem. In her shoes I’d want to do the same. When does she go in for her operation?'

'That's the difficulty, originally they anticipated it would be after Christmas, but now it's been re-scheduled for next week - this has all come rather fast and her condition, though not life-threatening, does need to be dealt with as soon as possible.' He replied.

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I blink rather shaken by the speed at which this is all going.

'That’s partly why we have rushed your forms through so quickly, they usually take a lot longer to process. If possible, we would like to see the children settled with you this weekend.'

Today’s Wednesday … that doesn't give me very long to get organised.

I wonder who the boy in Duncan's class is … 'We'd

better get moving, then.' I find myself saying, 'What’s the next step?'

'We'll contact the family and tell them that you’re willing to take the children and discuss the proposed visit. I'll ring you later today to let you know when the visit is to take place. Is any time which is no good for you?' Sam Dehaney went on, pen poised 'No, I don’t think so. Only school finishing time.' I said slowly, trying to think if there is anything I have forgotten. 'Can you tell me who the family are?'

'Not right now, but I will give you all the information once I have spoken to the grandmother.' He replied.

I am slightly dazed as I walk out of the offices. I have filled in a few more forms, mainly relating to my bank details, fortunately I had my cheque book with me. So much for you and your disapproval, Ms Jeavons!

I do hope the boy concerned is one Duncan gets on with. I rack my brains trying to think of any child in his class who lives with his grandmother. Surely, I would have seen the woman waiting outside the school gates … maybe I have. enough.

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Oh well, I'll find out soon

When I get home, all thought of shopping now decidedly irrelevant, I go up and look at the two spare bedrooms. Thank goodness Matt moved all his stuff out last week. Both rooms have single beds (Matt always preferred a single - though he could have had a double bed if he'd wanted it, the room is bi g enough to take one) and wardrobe space. There is a table in one of them … might be better for the girl, if she has homework she might want somewhere to work. I desperately try to remember all I can about being thirteen … it’s not a lot. I'll have to ask Caroline, her oldest girl is about that age. While I am contemplating the second room, I hear the phone ringing and dash into my bedroom to pick up the extension. It's Sam Dehaney.

'Mrs Jones? I've been in touch with the family, Mrs Benson would like to come and see you this afternoon if possible. Is that all right with you? I'll bring her over myself and introduce you.'

'Yes, what time?'

'About one thirty? 'That’ll give you time to have a good chat before you have to go down to the school.'

Mrs Benson? I don't know anyone called that … the children must have a different surname. I spend the rest of the morning, pushing the vacuum round and tidying up the house – logic tells me that I only did it a couple of days ago so it cannot possibly need doing … but I really want Mrs Benson to think that her grandchildren will be looked after properly. Naturally, just as the doorbell goes at one

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thirty, Toby comes in from the garden, leaving muddy pawprints all over the kitchen floor. Bloody cat!

Sam Dehaney comes in, accompanied by a capable looking woman in her fifties I would guess. Funny, I had pictured her as being older, probably to do with the grandparent bit. I have seen her at the school gates but we've never spoken. I smile a welcome and take them into the kitchen apologising for the muddy paw prints as the culprit sits on the rug and calmly washes himself.

'Don't worry, Mrs Jones, I've had cats, I know what they are like. It's a fine tomcat you've got here.' Mrs Benson said in answer to my apology, bending down to scratch Toby behind his ears.

I warm to this the woman. Why I should have been expecting criticism, I don't know, probably down to Ms Jeavons, I imagine.

'Can I offer you a cup of tea?' I asked and they both accept, sitting down at the table - it all feels very friendly.

Glancing at Mrs Benson while I prepare the tea, I note that she looks slightly pale round the edges, at least that’s the best way I can describe it. Probably why she has to have this operation so soon.

'You have a very nice house, Mrs Jones.' she said as I carry the tray of mugs over to the table. 'I remember when your uncle used to live here, though I've not been inside before.'

'Really?' I said, pleased at her friendliness 'That’s going back a long way now. We've made a few changes since his time.'

'Yes, I expect you have.' she said reflectively, 'Time passes so quickly these days. Oh, that makes me sound like an old lady!'

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'Well, you don't look like one.' I replied offering her the sugar bowl 'And if it is any consolation, I find the weeks fly past incredibly fast as well. I hear you’re going into hospital for an operation.'

'Yes,' she said, and her smile disappears. 'Sam here says you are willing to look after Jenna and Mickey for me.'

'Yes, that's right.' I replied, suddenly feeling very sorry for the woman. 'I'll show you round the house properly when you've finished your tea so you can see the bedrooms and everything. I believe Mickey is in the same class as my son, Duncan.'

We chat about the teacher and the school generally while we drink out tea, with me desperately trying to think if I have met a boy called Mickey, and Sam Dehaney just sitting and letting us get to know each other. It seems Mrs Benson has lived in the village for about thirty years; originally when she got a job here, then later with her husband, though they divorced just over ten years ago, and later, when her daughter's relationship broke up six years ago, with her daughter and the two children. She is quite up front about her daughter's drink problem, telling me that the woman is in rehabilitation at a place some twenty-five miles away. It's not going particularly well though and I commiserate with her, wondering just what it must be like for her.

Mrs Benson is very complimentary about the bedrooms and agrees that the one with the table would be very suitable for Jenna, assuring me that Jenna is a very quiet girl and no trouble at all.

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'How much of this land is yours, Mrs Jones?' she asked pausing to look out of the windows on the first floor.

'Just the field you can see, Mrs Benson. Fred Plaister is grazing his sheep there at the moment. The horses belong to a family in the village.'

As we settle down again in the kitchen, Mrs Benson turns to me. 'I was really worried about what was going to happen to Jenna and Mickey, but you’ve put my mind at rest now, Mrs Jones. I feel I can go into hospital now and just concentrate on what is happening there. But, if it's all right with you, I'll bring them both up tomorrow evening - would that be convenient?'

'Yes, that's a very good idea. They'll settle better if they know what they are coming to. It must be a worrying time for them too.' I replied We arrange that she will come over just after seven. As we walk to the door, Sam Dehaney turns to me and thanks me for being so accommodating.

'That's all right.' I said, 'I'm glad I can help. To be honest, I didn't think you'd accept me. Your colleague didn't seem too happy about it.'

'Ah.' he said, an understanding gleam in his eye 'You don't want to go by appearances, Mrs Jones. I'll be in touch.'

I watch as they drive away and go into the house musing over the conversation we had this afternoon. From my limited experience,

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few thirteen year old girls are very quiet ‌ I know I wasn't. I wonder what Jenna will be like.

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Chapter 5

I look at the calendar … where are we … it’s the 5 th November … that’s funny, Jan usually has a firework party on the Friday nearest to the 5 th … she hasn’t been in touch about it. Come to think about it, I’ve not seen her lately. I know I saw her as I came out of school the other morning and called out to her but she didn’t hear me.

I hope

everything is okay with them. I’ll ask Caroline if I see her.

As it happens, Caroline is just walking down the road towards the school when I meet up with her.

‘What are you looking so thrilled about, Maggie?’ she asked, waiting for me as I run down the road towards her.

'Caroline, you'll never guess!' I said excitedly as I catch my breath.

Smiling, she turns to look at me. 'I bet I can.' she replied with a grin, 'They've accepted you as a foster parent?'

'More than that.' I exclaimed as we reach the school crossing and wait for the lollipop lady to let us across. 'I've got two children coming at the weekend.'

'Two!' Caroline exclaimed 'Tell me more.'

As we walk towards the school gates, I tell her all about my meeting with Sam Dehaney yesterday and how Mrs Benson came round this afternoon. 'She's a really nice woman, I did feel for her, Caroline.'

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'Mrs Benson? I don't think I know her.' she said thoughtfully, 'You say the boy is in the same class as Duncan and Daisy?'

'Yes, his name’s Mickey.'

'Oh, I know who you mean now. She lives down by the church.

Her daughter’s the one who caused all that rumpus at the pub last year - you know, got blind drunk and started throwing chairs around when they refused to serve her any more alcohol. So she's in rehab now is she? That's good.' she said 'I didn’t think I had seen her around for a while.'

'I hope the kids don't behave like that.'

'They'll be fine, Maggie. I've never heard anything negative about them … or Mrs Benson for that matter.' Caroline replied confidently, 'And I tend to hear most things.'

‘Talking about hearing things – is Jan okay? Only I’ve not seen her for ages.’ Caroline looks awkward but doesn’t say anything. ‘I was looking at the calendar before I came out and noticed that it’s this Friday coming when they usually have their firework party … I’ve not heard from her, are they having one this year?’ I went on.

Before she can answer, Duncan comes out of class, sees me, and dashes over, 'Mum, what did they say?' he asked excitedly 'Are we having someone?'

I exchange a surprised glance with Caroline, I hadn't expected this level of enthusiasm from Duncan … a tinge of worry that he really is lonely hits me again.

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'Yes, Duncan, we're having a boy your age and his older sister.'

I said, reluctant to tell him who it is until we are away from the school gates, there are a lot of flapping ears around us.

'I'll leave you to it, Maggie.' Caroline said giving Daisy a hug of welcome, 'We're off to the library. See you in the morning.'

Duncan manages to contain his curiosity until we have crossed the main road, but as soon as we start walking through the estate, he bursts out. ‘Who is it, Mum? Do I know them?'

'Yes, the boy is in your class, Duncan. His name’s Mickey, though I am not sure what his surname is.' I replied anxiously.

I don't know if he gets on with this child and there is always the possibility that he might not.

'Mickey?' he said enthusiastically,

'Oh cool! He's brill at

football.'

Relieved, I smile at him as he tells me all about Mickey Thompson. Not that the information he imparts is particularl y useful from my point of view, but at least Duncan is happy with the idea.

The school has a football trainer come in a couple of times a week to coach the kids, Duncan is keen and the sessions are one of the high spots of his week. It appears that Mickey is one of the stars of Year 6. It also becomes clear that he is something of a rascal with a reputation for teasing the girls. Hmmm … might need watching.

'Keep it under your hat for the time being, Duncan.' I said, feeling it better that Mrs Benson should call the shots, so to speak.

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'But they are coming over tomorrow evening to see us, I should think that you can talk about it after that.'

I hear Duncan enthusing to Matt over the phone later. Matt asks to speak to me and, reluctantly handing over the phone, Duncan goes off to do his homework.

'He's rather full of it, Maggie.' Matt commented 'What's exactly happening? Duncan was enthusiastic but apart from the fact this kid is apparently an England player in the making, he wasn't terribly informative.'

'We are having two children, Matt. Jenna who is 13 and Mickey who’s 10. They live with their grandmother - Caroline says they've got a cottage down by the church. But Mrs Benson, the grandmother, has to go into hospital for an operation and won't be able to look after the children for a few months. Obviously, they want to keep continuity going with regards to school and such like so I was the obvious candidate.'

'Oh, I see. Sounds fairly reasonable.

Where are the kids'

parents?'

'Dad disappeared some years ago and mum is an alcoholic she's in rehab somewhere.

The family seem quite respectable

though. Mrs Benson came round this afternoon - she's a nice woman.

Mid-fifties I should think and very up together. It must have been a horrendous worry for her when this op came up.'

'Have you met the kids yet?'

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'No, but Mrs Benson is going to bring them over tomorrow night to show them the house and introduce us.'

'Well, it all sounds okay.' he commented thoughtfully, 'You hear such horror stories about wild children, but it looks as though you have landed on your feet, Maggie. Anyway, it is only for a few months.'

'I'm sure it will be fine, Matt.' I said firmly, 'How are things up in Cumbria?'

'Good. I'm getting to know my way around now and found a really nice little pub last night - does reasonably priced, home made food. Though I dare not eat there too often, I'll put on weight! They have a quiz once a week, I’m thinking of going along. Are you taking Duncan to Jan’s for fireworks on Friday?'

‘I’ve not seen Jan for ages, Matt. I don’t even know if they are having a firework do this year.’ I replied

‘I hope there’s nothing

wrong between her and Dave. As for fireworks, I’ll probably take Duncan to the village display.’

Lying in bed, where I do a lot of my thinking, I go back over the day – I’m a little concerned about Jan … it’s very odd that I haven’t heard from her. Oh well, we’ll just go to the village fireworks this year. Duncan won’t mind.

My mind turns to the more pressing problem of having Jenna and Mickey here … it’ll solve the financial problem for the moment, thank goodness. Okay, it is only for a few months, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. I do hope the children will settle here – I’ve 85

not had a lot to do with other people’s children … not away from their parents anyway. I wonder how they are feeling about it.

Maggie, anticipation is invariably worse than the reality – stop worrying about it. I tell myself firmly. The trouble is I don’t think I’m listening very well. I wake in the middle of the night – the clock says 2.47 a.m. which is an unholy hour of the day. Despite my best efforts to clear my mind and go back to sleep, I see the clock reading 4.43 before I manage to drop off again. When the alarm goes off, I don’t want to know. But that’s not an option – Mums don’t get days off ….

I don’t know if it is as a result of my bad night, my nerves or what, but I'm more than slightly on edge by the time the doorbell rings, signalling the arrival of Mrs Benson and her grandchildren.

Duncan bounds down the stairs excitedly – ‘Calm down, Duncan!’

He can be a little too bouncy at times … Tigger on speed describes it quite well.

Smiling a welcome, I open the door and usher our visitors into the hall. Mrs Benson is looking decidedly wan, poor woman. She introduces Jenna and Mickey to me, Duncan immediately asking if he can take Mickey up to his room.

'That's fine with me.' I answered, glancing at Mrs Benson who smiles.

The boys disappear upstairs and I take Mrs Benson and her granddaughter through to the kitchen. Jenna’s tall for her age - at 86

least she is taller than Caroline's Bryony who is about the same age – she is an attractive girl, slim and dark haired. She looks around with a slightly timid air but her eyes light up when she spots Toby.

'Please may I stroke your cat?' she asked nervously, obviously on her best behaviour.

'Of course, Jenna - he'll probably let you pick him up and cuddle him, if you want to, but I'll warn you he weighs a bit.' I replied.

I watch as she goes over to where Toby is sprawled on the rug and, sitting down beside him, she reaches out her hand to stroke him.

He immediately starts purring, and the girl smiles - Toby is quite content to accept anyone daft enough to give him attention, but there's no need to tell Jenna that.

'Can I offer you a cup of something, Mrs Benson?' I asked once she has settled herself on a chair at the table.

She opts for coffee.

'Gran, he likes me.' Jenna said blissfully, 'What's his name, Mrs Jones?'

'He's called Toby, Jenna. But please don't call me Mrs Jones - it sounds horribly formal. My name's Maggie.'

'I think you should call Mrs Jones ‘Aunt Maggie’, don't you, Jenna?' Mrs Benson put in quickly with a glance at me for approval.

I’m okay about that – I was brought up with several honorary aunts and uncles.

'My name's Marian, by the way.' She finished.

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'Would you like a drink at all, Jenna?' I asked now that this is all settled. 'I've got squash if you prefer it to tea or coffee.'

'Could I have a cup of tea, please ‌ Aunt Maggie?' she asked shyly, pausing in her stroking of Toby's tummy.

The stupid cat has rolled over on his back now. He bats her hand to remind her that he’s still there, making her giggle. She's looking a lot less tense now.

'Come and sit down properly, Jenna.' Marian said when I've made the tea; the girl reluctantly leaves Toby and comes to join us at the table. 'Maggie, I've explained to Jenna and Mickey that they'll be coming to stay with you while I am getting this operation over and done with. They understand that they must behave themselves and I have stressed that if they don't, you will tell me and I will deal with them.'

'I'm sure they will be fine.' I replied anxiously as Jenna looks at me nervously. ‘Yes, I'm sure they will be too, but I just wanted to make the point.' Marian said practically 'Now, Jenna, you'll be able to get the same school bus as usual - perhaps over the weekend you could see how long it will take you to walk down there from here. The bus goes at eight, Maggie, it is fairly reliable.'

'What time do you generally get home after school, Jenna?'

'The bus gets back to the village at about four twenty.' she replied 'But I sometimes stay late for orchestra'

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‘You'll have to give me a note of when you will be doing that, Jenna, then I won't worry. Do you carry a mobile phone?' I asked.

'Yes, she does.' Marian interrupted, 'But they aren’t supposed to have them turned on when at school. Mickey doesn't have one.'

'You'll have to let me have the number - I'll give you mine, Jenna, so if you have a change of plan for any reason, you can let me know If you've finished your tea, shall we go and have a look at your room?'

We all go upstairs - I can hear noises from Duncan's room which suggest that they have got his Scaletrix out. Jenna doesn't comment when I show her the room intended for her use; she just stands looking round with large eyes taking in the somewhat bare furnishings. I don't know what it is about bookshelves but if they are empty they make a room look desolate.

'It will look better when you have all your stuff here.' I said seeing it through her eyes. 'Will you need any help bringing it over, Marian?' I asked suddenly wondering how she is going to manage shifting their belongings.

'No, I've got some volunteers, thanks Maggie. You've got plenty of space for your books, Jenna. Maggie, would it help if I sent over their duvets and the covers? I shouldn't think you have enough.'

'That would be very helpful, Marian.' I said realising this is another aspect I haven't thought of ... it would also be something familiar for the children, I think to myself.

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I show Jenna round the rest of the top floor - as I thought, the boys have set up the track all over Duncan's bedroom floor and are busily engrossed in racing cars round it. Dragging Mickey away for a moment, we show him where his bedroom will be and the washing facilities. Not that he’s particular interested - he escapes back to Duncan's room as soon as he can.

Marian beams after him as he disappears, commenting that he's not going to be bothered by the move, the fact that she obviously dotes on the boy very clear. Maybe that accounts in some way for the fact that Jenna is so downright unsure of herself.

'I'm really looking forward to having you here, Jenna.' I said as we go down the stairs,'It’ll be nice to have another female in the place.'

The surprised look on her face says it all … she smiles at me tentatively.

Back in the kitchen again, we go over arrangements for the weekend. Marian will bring the children over after lunch on Saturday - it seems that Sally Richards' family are helping with the move – I don’t quite know the connection between Marian and Sally but doubtless it will come to light in due course. Marian has mentioned to Sally already that I am going to be having the children but we agree that it would be sensible for me to go in and have a quick word with her confirming arrangements.

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Duncan and Mickey come rampaging down the stairs and into the kitchen, 'Mum, can I go and show Mickey the lambs?' Duncan asked.

'Only if you keep off the mud, Duncan ‌ and you'll need the flashlight now, it's getting dark. Have they got any boots, Marian?'

'They’ve got wellies - will they do?'

'Oh yes, that would be fine. It's just that it gets pretty mucky out there and I don't like it trodden into the kitchen.' I explained, 'Jenna do you want to go with them?'

The girl is looking keen so I tell Duncan that Jenna wants to go too and am pleased to see that he cheerfully includes her in the party.

'When do you go into hospital, Marian?' I asked now that the kids are out of earshot.

'Tuesday.' she replied with a sigh. 'It is a great relief knowing that those two will be all right, Maggie. Thank you.'

'Will we be able to ring the hospital or something?' I asked, remembering what it was like when my mum went in for a minor op a couple of years ago. 'Only the kids will be worried and need to know how you are. What are the visiting arrangements?'

'Would you bring them in to see me?'

'Of course, I will.' I said, astonished that she would doubt it.

'Perhaps you could let the hospital know that I'll be ringing - I know how difficult it is getting information out of them if you are not a relation. I'll take them in to visit you after the op and then, once you

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are home, I'll bring them down to visit you. It would be horrid for all of you not to have any contact.'

'Oh, Maggie! You angel!' she said, close to tears. 'That would be wonderful.'

'Well, you just make sure I have all the contact details when you come on Saturday, Marian.' I said embarrassed by her reaction, 'Once they are settled here, you can concentrate on getting yourself well again.'

The kitchen door bursts open and the kids, faces flushed by the chilly air, rush noisily back into the kitchen. Even Jenna is looking animated.

'Gran, one of the sheep came over and nibbled my fingers!' she said as I herd them all over to the sink to wash their hands.

Despite their excitement they have all carefully scraped their shoes on the door mat outside, keeping the mud to a minimum ‌ I'm impressed. Mickey seems to be a normal boy - I've not seen much of him so far and have a look at him as Duncan passes round the biscuits. Dark like his sister, Mickey is slightly shorter than Duncan with a ready charming smile.

As we wave them goodbye, I ask Duncan why it is that I've not heard of Mickey before. 'It just seems odd, you seem to be very good friends.' I commented, closing the door.

'Well, he lives down by the church and the kids down there tend to hang out together just like we do up here. But he's a great guy.'

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Later, as I sit in the quiet of the kitchen after Duncan has gone to get ready for bed, I contemplate the two children. Mickey - full of confidence and charm … doubtless I will have the odd run-in with him - I get the impression he thinks he can charm his way through life … and then there’s Jenna - animal mad, shy and withdrawn.

I can understand that Marian would have a soft spot for her grandson, especially if she only had one daughter and that one appears to have gone off the rails at an early age, but … it doesn't seem fair. From what I have seen, Jenna is a pleasant, well-mannered girl - I wonder what she is interested in … she mentioned orchestra, she must play an instrument of some sort. I'm quite looking forward to having them here.

Marian must feel very isolated at times … she was really surprised that I was willing to take the kids to visit her … it will be lonely for her being convalescent in the house on her own. Maybe I could have her here for a meal sometimes. Glancing at the calendar, I suddenly realise that they will definitely be here for Christmas … now that’s a thought. I'll talk to Jenna and see what we can come up with.

Now that it is all settled, I'd better ring my parents and tell them what is going on. There'd be hell to pay if they found out by some other means, and they do have contacts in the village.

Do it now, Maggie.

Dad answers the phone - he tells me how much they enjoyed having Duncan at the weekend, asking if he can go over again sometime soon.

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'I'm not sure, Dad, did Mum tell you I was looking into the idea of fostering children?' I said when I can get a word in.

'Hmmm, she mentioned it.' he replied, 'Has anything come of it?'

Enthusiastically, I tell him about Mrs Benson and her problems and how we are having Jenna and Mickey for a few months.

'They sound all right.' he said dubiously 'I hope it all works out for you, Maggie.'

'Don't be so negative, Dad. Just think how you and Mum would feel if you were in Mrs Benson’s position. She's doing her best for the kids - its not their fault their mother has a problem.' I retaliated 'Hmmm … I'll get your mother, shall I?' he said conceding the point reluctantly.

Mum comes on the line and I go through the explanation all over again.

'Marian Benson?' she said, slowly, when I have finished, 'I think I know of her, Maggie. Now who told me about her?' she thinks for a moment, 'Oh yes, it was Fred Plaister, I bumped into him in Bristol sometime last year … no, it wasn’t, it was the year before … he was full of how the woman had given up a prestigious job to make a home for her grandchildren. It stuck in my mind because I used to go to school with a girl of the same name, though there’s no link as far as I know.

Your Mrs Benson was a high flyer

professionally, so he said. What are the children like?'

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'Jenna is very shy and unsure of herself, Mum, her brother is a typical boy and charming to boot - he and Duncan get on like a house on fire. I think Jenna is in his shadow to some extent. She's animal mad and plays a musical instrument of some sort. I'm looking forward to having her around.'

'You seem quite taken with the girl, Maggie.' my mother commented 'You'll have to bring them over here sometime - your Dad can occupy the boys I have no doubt.'

'Thanks, Mum.' I replied relieved that they have accepted the situation – due no doubt partly to the fact that the old village grapevine has been positive with regard to Marian. 'I'll leave it for a week or so until they have settled in - they are bound to be a bit upset with Marian going into hospital and all that.'

'Bring them over one Sunday, Maggie, I'll do lunch.' Mum offered. 'That would be lovely, Mum. I'll give you a ring and we'll organise a date once they have settled in.'

'But how are you, Maggie?' she asked 'How are you coping now that Matt is gone?'

'Fine, Matt talks to Duncan most evenings. He says he is settling in up there. I hardly miss him at all, Mum. Things are good.'

'I'm relieved to hear that.' she said with a sigh - it doesn’t take a genius to realise that she was hoping Matt and I would stay together.

But it's not going to be like that.

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Chapter 6

I drop Duncan at the playground gate as usual, then go into the school building and wait in the queue by the hatch to the office.

When it is my turn, I tell Caroline, who mans the front office, that I want to speak to Sally Richards.

‘Mrs Richards! Someone to see you.’ she called through to Sally's office, quickly turning to the next person in the queue; Sally appears.

‘Come on through, Maggie.’ She said with a smile - clearly she has some idea why I am here … of course, she would have, she's helping move Jenna and Mickey.

'Morning, Maggie, how are things?' Sally asked pleasantly as I take the spare seat by her desk.

'Fine, thanks.' I replied with a smile. 'Lots going on at the moment.'

'So I hear.' she said, 'Marian Benson came in yesterday to explain what is happening with regard to Mickey and, of course, we’re helping with the move on Saturday.'

'Yes, she mentioned that last night. But that is not all, Sally, I don’t know if I have to fill in a form or something, but my husband and I have split up.'

'Oh Maggie, I'm sorry to hear that.' Sally replied in a concerned voice, making a note on her pad.

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'Oh, it's nothing to get upset about.' I said, smiling at her, 'Matt’s working in Cumbria now; he moved up there last week. It's all very friendly.'

'How has Duncan taken it?' she asked, looking a little confused by my comment.

'Very well, Matt rings him most evenings and now that we have Mickey and Jenna coming, Duncan is quite happy. Matt’s been away so much over the years, that it is not very different now that he's living somewhere else.'

'What are you going to do with yourself now, Maggie?' Sally asked. ‘It’s not easy starting again.’

She sounds concerned … oh … of course, Sally’s been on her own for several years. Her husband died of cancer, I believe, and she's got two children … a boy a few years older than Duncan and a girl older than that.

'I've been thinking about it, Sally, but I haven't really come up with any ideas. I've never had to do this before, you see. There was always a group of us as kids and Matt was part of that, somehow we drifted into marriage and then Duncan came along … it's never been just me on my own and I'm not sure how one goes about meeting people.' I confessed somewhat sheepishly - it sounds so pathetic.

'Hmmmm … ' she said thoughtfully, 'I'll give it some thought and let you know if I come up with anything. But we’ll see you on Saturday anyway.'

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'Thanks, Sally.' I said, rising to leave. 'Is there anyone else I ought to inform about the separation?'

'No, I'll make sure Duncan’s teacher is aware of the situation and let the Head know as well.' she replied efficiently - she is a very reassuring person is Sally Richards.

We have a snack tea after school.

There was a poster

advertising the village fireworks on the school notice board fortunately giving all the details I need – they are taking place at the open ground the other side of the church and start at 6.30 p.m.

According to the poster, there will be a bonfire, fireworks and hot dogs.

Dressing warmly, with scarves and gloves, we walk down through the November darkness. It isn’t raining, though there is a slight dampness in the air. We’re not the only ones heading for the field by the look of it and by the time we get to the lane leading to the field, we are in a large crowd of adults with excited children.

Duncan sees a couple of his friends. ‘Mum, can I go off with them?’

‘Of course, Duncan.’ … perhaps I shall see someone I know once we are inside the field. The excited crowd slowly makes its way through the gate where we buy the tickets which will entitle us to our hot dogs, and then, once into the field, spreading out into small groups of people – families … I don’t see anyone else on their own, though there must be … surely. Duncan has to come back to my side in order

98

to get through the gate and hangs around with me for a few minutes before asking if he can go off again.

‘I’ll stay here so you’ll know where to find me.’ I replied, pleased to see him enjoying himself though wishing that he wanted to stay with me.

I’m feeling isolated – I’ve never felt like this before.

I take up a position standing by a large tree not very far from the bonfire which is just being lit. There are flares stuck into the ground behind the fenced off area which shed some light and, as the bonfire takes, the field becomes illuminated, showing dark shadows of people moving against the background of the leaping flames. To the right of the fire, there’s a roped off area with notices warning people to stay out … that must be where they are going to set off the fireworks. On the other side, there’s a hot dog stall but, although a few people wander over there, it is clear that they are not ready to start serving yet.

Sticking my hands in my pockets and trying to look nonchalant, I stand watching the crowd as it swirls around the field. Most people are in clumps of four or more adults with sundry children running around them, though there are several families consisting of two adults with children. I spot a few groups which are all women or all men, clearly friends who have combined forces for the occasion … I smile at anyone who wanders within sight but I don’t see anyone I recognise.

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The wind is bitter – typical Guy Fawkes weather - and I shiver though whether that is with the cold or the isolation, I am not sure.

Duncan comes running over just before they start the fireworks.

‘Mum, are you okay?’

‘Yes, I’m fine.’ I replied, pleased to have him back. ‘Lots of people here tonight.’

‘Yeah! It’s great!’ he said enthusiastically. ‘Is it okay if I go to stand with my friends, Mum?

Only they’ve got a place near the

fireworks.’

‘You go ahead, Duncan.’ I answered, hoping he doesn’t realise how much I want him to stay with me. ‘When you want your hot dog, let me know.’

Giving me a hug, he runs off just as the first rocket shoots up into the sky. It is a strange feeling being part of a crowd yet being totally alone. I haven’t seen a soul I know.

I feel panic rising, have I become invisible?

Common sense reasserts itself and I take a deep breath, concentrating on the fireworks. It is difficult, not having anyone to comment on them to … no-one to appreciate them with. Oblivious to the display, I go over in my mind all the displays I have seen … usually Matt was there to share them with … or my parents … that time he had been abroad, I’d been with my best friend from school.

‘Well, you are bloody lucky, Maggie.’ I told myself, ‘If this is the first time you’ve been alone, that is pretty good going.’

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Duncan enthuses all the way home, going over how much he enjoyed the display, commenting that it was much better than the ones at Jan’s. I try to respond but it is an effort.

He goes to bed after a supper of toast and milk and I sit in the kitchen, horribly aware for the first time of how alone I now am.

Later, lying in bed, I hug my pillow and cry myself to sleep.

I wake on Saturday morning feeling foul, but by dint of giving myself a damned good talking to while I shower, I manage to achieve a certain degree of normality. Breakfast helps and after a couple of mugs of coffee, I feel okay, thanking my lucky stars that I have a fairly equable temperament and bounce back quickly.

Duncan doesn’t notice, fortunately, he is far too excited at the thought of Jenna and Mickey moving in … okay, let's make that Mickey … I don't think he has really considered Jenna much. Marian rang yesterday afternoon to confirm that everything was all right and told me that Mickey was just the same. She sounds a lot more relaxed about the whole thing now.

I wonder how Jenna’s feeling.

Although I have told Duncan that they won't be here until after lunch, he insists on taking his sandwiches up to his room so he can watch out of the window to see them arriving. An hour later a whoop followed by the thunder of footsteps down the stairs, tells me clearly that they have arrived.

'Duncan, calm down!' I commanded, as I open the door to welcome them.

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Three cars have pulled into my driveway - Marian is driving one, Sally another and a man I don't know the third. Putting the door on the latch, I go out to see what I can do to help.

'Hello, Maggie.' Sally said with a smile as she gets out of her car, 'I don't know if you have met my son, Ben.' A friendly-looking lad grins at me … probably mid teens … and we say hello to each other. 'Ben, this is Maggie's son, Duncan.' Sally went on.

Mickey leaps out of his grandmother's car and bounds over to Duncan and they immediately start jabbering to each other. Jenna, I note, is standing look a little lost, while her grandmother gets herself out of the car.

Sally goes over to the third car, bringing back the man I don't know and a pretty teenage girl. 'Maggie, I don't know if you know Gary. And this is my niece, Abi, who lives with me.'

'Where shall we start?' I asked slightly confused, 'Do you want a cup of something to begin with …?'

'No, I think that would be better when we've unloaded, Maggie.'

Sally replied, firmly in control of the situation, 'How would it be if you take Marian into the house while we unload all the stuff? Abi perhaps you and Ben could help Jenna with her things - they are all in my car, I think … the boxes of books are on the heavy side, Ben, perhaps you could carry those. Gary and the boys can do Mickey's … would that be all right? Marian, we put the bedding in your boot - if you leave me with the keys, I'll get that unloaded.'

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Everyone leaps into action and, I lead a somewhat relieved Marian into the house. She looks worse every time I see her.

'It’s very kind of Sally and her family to help like this.' Marian said as I sit her down at the kitchen table. 'Of course, I know Gary from the days when I used to work. Thank you, Maggie, coffee would be lovely.' She said as I offer her a drink.

'What did you do for a living, Marian?'

'I was a solicitor in Gary's firm.' she replied, her colour improving slightly, ‘Do you know him at all?’

'No, I've not met him before.' I commented, joining her at the table. 'You must miss it, not working.'

'Yes, but the children needed me and that was more important.

I'd done pretty well in the firm anyway, so it wasn't as though I had career aims I didn't achieve.' she replied sipping her coffee. 'Gary's a senior partner in Mansfield Blake in Bath.'

'Oh.' I said, impressed – they’re one of the more prestigious firms around here from the little I know.

'He's a nice, down-to-earth man, though, Maggie.' she said clearly amused by my reaction. 'It's good to see him and Sally getting on so well. They've been going out with each other for about six months now. They got together just after her brother was killed, you know - Gary helped her sort out the legalities. Abi's a lovely girl.

Ah, you look puzzled, Maggie, you don't know about all this? No? Sally's brother and his wife were killed in an earthquake somewhere exotic last Easter. Abi, their daughter, was staying with Sally at the 103

time and Sally, being her only relation, has taken her in - Abi is the same age as Sally's son, Ben.' 'Oh, I see.' I said, taking this all on board, 'I thought Sally had a daughter.'

'She has, Katie is a year older than Ben and Abi.' Marian replied, pulling a file out of the bag she has brought in with her.

‘Now I’d better go through this lot with you, Maggie.’

We sit in there, Marian showing me various papers and bits of information which she has arranged very systematically in a ring binder for me. She tells me that Jenna plays flute and has lessons at school – they have been paid for up until the end of the term.

All the while, the sound of the unloading goes on in the hall.

Toby comes in through his cat flap but, after standing listening for a few minutes, decides that it is probably better if he were elsewhere, and slides out again.

Gradually the noise dies down and, after ten minutes of relative silence, Gary sticks his head round the door: 'We've brought everything in, Marian. The girls are making beds and Sally is locking up the cars.'

'Gary, do come in - would you like something to drink?' I offered.

'Thanks, coffee would be great.' he said, sitting down at the table beside Marian. ‘How are you feeling now, Marian?'

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'Better thanks, Gary.' she replied, 'I wasn't feeling too good this morning - it will be a massive relief when this operation is out of the way.'

'I bet.' Gary said, 'It's good of you taking Jenna and Mickey like this, Maggie,' 'Well, it suits all of us pretty well.' I replied, handing him a mug and holding the sugar bowl as he helps himself to several spoonfuls.

'I'm quite looking forward to having another female in the house.'

'You're going to have your hands full with those two boys.'

Gary said thoughtfully, 'Mind you, they are rather excited at the moment, once they have settled down it shouldn't be so bad.'

The boys in question explode into the kitchen and stand panting … it looks as though they raced each other down the stairs and I’m sure I heard at least one of them jump the last few steps.

'Mum, can we …' Duncan began, but I pounce on him before he can finish his question.

'Duncan, I have told you before - it is dangerous running and jumping down those stairs. Mickey, you didn't know so I will let you off this time, but please both of you remember that you walk down the stairs in future.' I said firmly, ignoring Gary's twitching mouth.

He has his back to the boys so they can't see him, thank goodness.

'Sorry, Mum.' Duncan said calming down suddenly. 'I forgot.'

'Sorry, Aunt Maggie.' Mickey echoed, obviously struck by my tone. Had he got me written down as a soft touch, I wonder?

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'Don't forget next time, please. I do not want to have to take either of you down to the A&E department.' I continued. 'Now what did you want to ask, Duncan?'

'Mickey wanted to know if we could go out in the field.' my devious son asked, working on the theory that I won’t deny the visitor whereas I might refuse him.

'Have you finished unpacking all your clothes and things, Mickey?' I asked. He and Duncan exchange looks. 'No? Well, when you've unpacked and put it all away, and I've inspected to check it is all tidy, maybe then you can go outside.'

The boys slope off.

'I take it all back, Maggie.' Gary said grinning,'You'll not have any trouble.'

'Marian, I didn't ‌' I stammered suddenly wondering if I have stepped out of line ordering her grandson around, but I needn't have worried 'Maggie, he is in your house now and under your jurisdiction you must do what you think fit. He can be a little terror at times and needs a firm hand.'

'A typical boy, in fact.' Gary commented dryly and Marian laughs.

'Do you think they will manage to unpack on their own?' I asked, suddenly having second thoughts about the wisdom of this.

'Probably not.' Gary replied, 'But I'll go up in a minute and oversee them.'

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He’s just about to go upstairs when the kitchen door opens and Sally comes in closely followed by Abi and Jenna. Gary explains that he is off to see what the boys are up to.

'They were making quite a row, Gary, so I sent Ben in to see what they were up to. I don't think it was anything dire, but I daresay you will have a calming influence.' Sally said, 'Maggie, we've unpacked almost all Jenna's things, and made the beds. There's only your books now, I think, Jenna, and you can arrange those as you want to later on.'

'That’s brilliant.' I said, pleased to see Jenna looking less stressed, she seems to have hit it off with Abi – come to think of it, they have a certain amount in common. 'Drinks anyone?'

While I get the various drinks ready, I listen to Jenna telling Marian how nice her room looks. Marian says she will to go up and see it before she goes.

'Maggie, I'll give you my phone number before we go, if you ever need a babysitter, let me know.' Sally said coming over to where I am pouring boiling water into mugs. 'It is difficult with kids this age to some extent, they don't think they need minding, but I frequently think that this is the worst age - they get into all sorts of pickles and don't know how to get themselves out – especially boys.'

'Thanks, Sally, I appreciate that.' I said gratefully, 'I've not got anywhere to go as yet, but I’m working on it.'

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Gary and the boys materialise about fifteen minutes later, Mickey carrying his wellies. 'We’ve done it, Aunt Maggie.' he said 'And I've brought my boots down.'

'Is it all tidy up there, Gary?' I asked, 'Do I need to check it?'

'I think it will do, Maggie.' he said with a grin.

The boys immediately look brighter and Duncan opens his mouth, but I jump in before he can ask.

'Yes, Duncan, you can go out in the field now if you wish. But boots on - I'll put some newspaper down for when you come back.

Please remember you must not, repeat not, frighten the animals and don't go out of the field without asking permission first.' I said looking at both of the boys to check they understand.

Grinning at each other, they boot up and rush out of the bac k door, leaving it wide open … Oh well. I go to close it as Ben comes into the room.

'I just rang Jake, Mum.' he said, putting his mobile back into his pocket 'They haven't finished yet and he said that they'll get something to eat down there.'

'Jake’s Katie's boyfriend,' Sally explained 'He and Katie are helping out backstage at the theatre this afternoon - they're running a technical rehearsal or something for the operatic society - I don't know the ins and outs of it all - but Jake's dad is the musical director.

The society is putting on a show called 'Mack & Mabel' all next week.'

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'Well, I think we have done all we can here.' Gary announced.

'We'd better leave you in peace, Maggie.'

Jenna suddenly looks tense ‌ she's not the only one. Marian gives her a hug while I go to the back door and call Mickey - he quickly runs across to the back door, gives his Gran a hug and dashes back to rejoin Duncan. Within five minutes, they have all got into their cars, leaving Jenna and I watching as they manoeuvre their way out of the gates. I suddenly remember that Marian said she would go up and look at Jenna's room ‌ damn, she forgot.

Together we go back into the kitchen and I start gathering up the mugs.

'Can you wipe this lot up for me, Jenna?' I said filling the bowl with soapy water. 'There's a tea towel over there. I thought we'd have spaghetti bolognese for dinner, tonight. Is that all right for you?' I asked as she starts wiping the mugs I have washed. 'The mugs go on the hooks over there.'

'Oh, I see.' she said, 'Yes, spaghetti would be great.'

'Do you like cooking?' I asked, watching her as she carefully hangs the mugs on the hooks as though terrified of breaking something.

'I've not done any. Gran did all the cooking.'

'Oh, well, if you'd like to, I'd be pleased for you to help me - I've never had a daughter and Duncan isn't particularly interested in food except from the point of view of eating it.' I commented

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'Yes, please. I’d like that …' she said with a shy smile, 'if it's not a nuisance.'

'You're not a nuisance, Jenna, but you must let me know if there's anything you and Mickey are used to doing or not doing - I want you to feel at home here.' I replied. 'Right, we need to make the bolognese sauce …. If you'd like to wash your hands, Jenna, I'll show you how I do that.'

She's not joking when she says she doesn't know anything about cooking. I have to take her back to basics, showing her how to prepare and chop the onions, how to brown the minced beef and all the rest of it. She learns fast, asking intelligent questions. By the time the bolognese sauce is simmering on the hob, we have got used to each other. She’s opened up a little, telling me that she is working for her grade 4 flute exam and asking if it will be all right for her to practice in the house.

'Of course, it will, Jenna.' I confirmed, as we wash up the utensils we have used. 'What else do you like doing?'

It transpires that she reads a lot and generally keeps out of the way from what I can gather, though she doesn't put it like that.

Hmmm… Her response to my query as to whether she would like some friends over doesn't come as any surprise - she doesn't mix much with the other kids at school.

The boys erupt into the kitchen, almost painfully standing on the newspaper in their effort to please, causing me to wonder what they have been up to. But I am maligning them, a little tactful questioning 110

reveals nothing worse than swinging on the bough of the apple tree resulting in green smears down their jeans: perfectly reasonable behaviour for two ten year old boys. I send them upstairs to clean up a little while Jenna and I cook the spaghetti and lay the table.

The girl blushes as I explain to the boys that she prepared most of the dinner and their appreciative comments as they tuck into the food make her glow with pride. While we eat, I outline the rules of the house.

'No. 1 is that no-one tells lies.' I said, 'I don't care what you have done, just don't lie about it. Apart from that, don't leave the house without asking me first and please be considerate of each other and each other's property. We all have to live in this house - let's make it pleasant for all of us. Is there anything I've missed, Duncan?'

'Only about doing a job properly without complaining or having to be asked again.'

'Right,' I responded, not entirely sure that I remember ever saying that ‌ funny the things kids take on board sometimes. 'We’ll all help with the washing up after dinner tonight - okay?'

I don't know if our little cooking session has given her more confidence or if it is just that she knows where things go now, but Jenna self-assuredly shows Mickey where to put the dishes after he and Duncan have dried them up. I have promised to go and help her unpack her books after dinner. The boys ask if they can play on the computer and I have to smother a giggle as I overhear Duncan pointing out to Mickey that I will strangle him if he so much as 111

touches anything of mine on there, including the internet.

Jenna

looks at me curiously and we smile at each other.

I sit on Jenna's bed while she kneels on the floor in what used to be Matt's room, unpacking her two boxes of books and stacking them on the shelves. She has an eclectic collection of books ranging over classics like Jane Eyre and The Little White Horse to The Hobbit and Harry Potter. She talks about the books as she arranges them, explaining the plots of the ones I don't know and telling me why she likes them. Her flute has pride of place on the table and there is a music stand over by the window.

'I hope you'll be happy here, Jenna.' I said as she starts on the second box.

She looks up at me and smiles. 'Thank you.' she said quietly 'You've been very kind, Aunt Maggie.'

'Do you see much of your mother, Jenna?'

She sits back on her heels, an inscrutable look on her face. 'No, Mum doesn't often come to see us.' she said defensively 'She can't help it, you know. It's an illness.'

'I've heard that.' I replied, treading very carefully. 'You must miss her, Jenna.'

'Yes … but she's not Mum these days … the drink has changed her.' she replied, her face down, 'She only started drinking too much after Dad left. Mickey doesn't remember Dad, he was only about six at the time, but I do. Mum was ever so upset when Dad went, she used to talk to me a lot … one minute saying how much she missed 112

him and the next telling me what a bastard he was. It was wine at first, she'd sit and drink her way through a bottle while I sat with her.

Then she started on gin. She hated sitting up on her own though and I'd stay up with her, keeping her company. She said it made her feel less alone.'

'How old were you, Jenna?' I asked, various aspects of Jenna are starting to make sense now.

'Ten … Dad went out to get me a birthday present and never came

back

…

at

least

that

was

what

he

said.'

she

replied unemotionally … far to intentionally so. 'It was all right for a while but then Mum lost her job, she was drinking too much, and Gran moved us all in with her. Mum used to fight with Gran over the drink - Gran wouldn't let her drink in the house, you see. In the end, Gran managed to get Mum to go for some help and she's been in rehab ever since. But she doesn't seem to get any better - she gets off the drink for a while then something will happen, she has one drink, gets drunk again and has to start all over.'

'That must be very hard for your Gran. How does Mickey cope with it?'

'He doesn't really care much, as long as someone looks after him, he's happy.' she said pragmatically 'He's more like my Dad.' 'But you're like your Gran, aren't you, Jenna?' I said - she looks up at me suddenly.

'Really?' she asked, hope flaring in her eyes.

Is the child afraid she might turn out like her mother?

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'Yes, you both cope with things and do your best, don't you?' I replied, she stares at the book in her hands digesting this. ‘Even I’ve noticed that and I’ve only known you a short time.’

'But Gran is clever … and interesting … and attractive.' she protested, her brow frowning slightly.

'Jenna, you are certainly not stupid and neither are you unattractive.' I pointed out. 'At thirteen that's not bad going. I was a right mess when I was thirteen - all spots and podge. Mind you, I've still got the podge. You'll have to encourage me to diet a little.'

'You look all right, Aunt Maggie.' she said - I raise an eyebrow ironically at her tactful comment and she grins 'Okay, so maybe you could lose a little bit round the middle.'

'I think we'll go for a tramp on the hills tomorrow - get some exercise.' I said robustly and she laughs.

Getting the boys quietened down for bed takes some doing but in the end, by threatening them with dire consequences if they don't settle down, I succeed in getting them both into bed in their respective rooms.

Jenna goes up quite happily, giving me a shy hug as she says goodnight.

Sunday dawns bright and sunny though, if the pale blue of the sky is anything to go by, somewhat chilly. As the boys demolish breakfast, I suggest that we go for a tramp along the Cotswold Way it runs across the village and we can walk for about five miles in a circuit … with a picnic it would be pleasant. I had chatted to Jenna 114

before the boys came down, showing her on the map the route I usually take and she is already enthusiastic. I shouldn’t imagine that Marian has felt up to taking them out for walks and the like much recently.

From what Jenna has said, Marian has been getting

progressively more poorly for nearly a year now. Poor woman … I wonder how she is feeling.

The picnic suggestion goes down well with the boys - unlike my request that they make their beds … properly. Mickey is definitely not impressed when I insist that he straightens the bottom sheet before throwing the duvet at the bed, but by the third attempt he has got the hang of it - I am nothing if not persistent.

I’m pretty sure that washing was pretty nominal as far as the boys went today, but I’ll fight that battle tomorrow.

Jenna and I prepare some sandwiches and, with the promise that they can all select the beverage of their choice at the local supermarket on the way, we load up Duncan's backpack - the boys are going to share the carrying until lunch, and then I will carry it back. It was agreed that they will do half hour shifts - I have my watch primed.

‘Aunt Maggie, we need to time how long it takes to get to the bus stop.’ Jenna reminded me as we set off down the road ‘It’s a good job you’re on the ball, Jenna, I’d completely forgotten about it.’ I said, quickly checking my watch.

She grins at me and comments that I have lots to think about.

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I insist that we walk together through the estate, even though it is a Sunday, there are a lot of cars around and the boys are still slightly hyper. I have to call Duncan back a couple of times but by the time we get to the supermarket, they are calmer. We stand looking at the drinks on offer for a full ten minutes while they make up their minds, by which time, I am beginning to wonder if this was a sensible idea. However, we eventually get to the checkout and, pausing to pack the drinks in the backpack, are soon on our way.

Once we are on the bridleway, I let the boys run - with the proviso that they don’t go too far ahead - like dogs let off the leash, they rush off together; Jenna and I following at a more sedate pace.

There are still blackberries on the hedgerows and, when the boys come back to check if it is time to swop the backpack, I notice t he tell-tale purple stains round their mouths - well, it won't do them any harm.

Jenna and I talk about all sorts of things but most of all she talks about her mother and some of the things they used to do together before she started drinking.

‘What’s your mum’s name?’ I asked at one point, no-one has mentioned this before.

‘Fiona. It’s Scottish, I think. I was born in Scotland.’

‘Oh? Why was that?’

‘Dad was working up there – he works in the oil industry and was on the oil rigs at the time.’ Jenna answered, ‘We lived up there until I was about six. I can just about remember Mum taking me up 116

to a hill somewhere and showing me the sea, telling me that my daddy was out there somewhere.’

‘What happened after that?’

‘Dad’s job finished or something, but anyway, we came down to Bristol. Mickey was about three at the time. Mum and Dad moved into a small house in a village called Pill. I went to the school there and Mickey went to the nursery. There were two schools on the same site – the infants with a nursery class and the juniors.

It was a nice

school. I liked it there. Mum was working in the local Co-op. Of course, when we came here, I went straight to the comprehensive.’

‘So you didn’t know anyone at all when you started there?’ I said, understanding to some extent why she is so isolated at school.

‘No … and then they found out about Mum.’ She said, falling silent as the boys come running back to show me some conkers they have found.

The two boys barely take breath before dashing off again.

Jenna and I stop at a bench to look at the view - the village is laid out below us like a model village and, after taking a few minutes to orientate herself, Jenna points out their Gran's cottage. There is washing flapping in the garden. It seems strange seeing it, though I can’t say why.

'I was talking to Abi yesterday, Aunt Maggie.' Jenna said apropos of nothing as far as I can see. 'She wants to be a solicitor like Gary, she was telling me about it.'

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'Your Gran was a solicitor before she stopped work.'

I

commented, seeing the connection now. 'She was a very good one, so I've been told.'

'Was she?' Jenna asked, 'I know she used to work with Gary, but she never talks about it.'

We sit there for a few minutes watching a dog running about in a field below us. Its master is throwing a stick for it.

'Aunt Maggie, Abi was saying that she hasn't got any parents.'

'Yes, I believe her parents were killed in an earthquake a couple of years ago. She lives with Mrs Richards.'

'She hasn’t got a Mum or Dad to encourage her … yet she wants to be a solicitor.' Jenna went on. 'I reckon she'll do it, too.'

'I don't know Abi well, Jenna, but if she really wants to do it badly enough and is good enough to achieve it, there's no reason why she shouldn't.' I said, 'Anyone can do that. Having parents isn't a prerequisite for success.'

'But the girls at school go on about how I'll never be anything because my Mum's an alcoholic.' she said bleakly.

No wonder the girl is so negative … I can see I shall have to ring up the school and have a little chat with them.

'That is ridiculous, Jenna.' I replied stoutly, 'On that basis, your Mum should have been successful because her mother definitely was.

If negatives count then positives should too - you can't have it both ways. What do you want to do when you leave school? Have you got any ideas?'

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'I’d like to be a writer or a journalist.' she replied shyly, 'I like words.'

'Have you written anything yet?' I asked, intrigued by this girl.

'A few things.' she admitted, as though owning up to some sort of questionable habit.

'I'd like to have a look sometime. If you don't mind, that is.'

The boys run back down the path, time to change the backpack again. We move on again.

There is a wood about halfway round the circuit, it's on the top of a small hill, a little way off the path, and we decide to eat our picnic there.

The boys discover yet another horse chestnut tree and start hunting for more conkers on the ground underneath it. I love conkers, the beautiful sheen on them appeals to me. I have a vague idea that I read somewhere that they can be used in a dye … I mention this to Jenna, explaining how I fancy trying some spinning, that leads us onto my weaving and from thence to knitting and crochet .. she’s never tried any of them and is interested.

After lunch the boys are fractionally less rumbustuous, obviously worn out by all their running around earlier, Duncan walks with me for a stretch while Mickey talks to Jenna. It is very reassuring to see how positive Duncan is about having Mickey to live with us. If anything, the effect is positive – Duncan’s been a lot more boylike than I am used to seeing, that's good. No child, boy or girl, should be too restrained at the age of ten.

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Chapter 7

The walk seems to have worn the boys out - they are content to sit watching a DVD when we get back while Jenna helps me to prepare dinner. While we eat, I suggest that they might like to give their Gran a ring and have a little chat. Jenna is enthusi astic.

‘But Duncan and I want to finish watching that DVD…’ Mickey moaned, screwing up his nose ‘That’s thoughtless of you, Mickey.’ I said, ‘Your Gran does a lot for you. I’d have thought the least you could do would be to give her a few minutes of your time. Especially as I’m sure she’d be delighted to hear from you … you should think less about what you want and more about what she would like.’

He sits sullen at the table until the ice cream they are having for dessert is produced. Once the dishes have been done after dinner, I hear Mickey whisper to Duncan that they should sneak off and finish the DVD but, before I can intervene, Duncan (bless him!) tells Mickey that he ought to ring his Gran.

'Yes, Mickey, you know she’ll be missing you.' Jenna said overhearing this interchange.

In the face of all this opposition, he reluctantly gives in and follows Jenna into the office to make the call. They are on the phone for about twenty minutes.

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'I told you Gran would be pleased to hear from you, Mickey.'

Jenna said as they come out of the office. 'Gran sends her love, Aunt Maggie. Is it okay if I go to do some flute practice?'

'Of course, Jenna. Did you tell your Gran what you’ve been doing today?' I asked, watching Mickey, who is still sulking a little.

He nods but doesn't say anything, just standing there.

'What did she say, Mickey?' I continued, determined that he is not going to get away with this display of showing off.

'She was pleased I'd enjoyed the picnic.' he said morosely, his lack of enthusiasm robbing the words of any meaning.

'Good.' I replied with a smile, if through gritted teeth - sulking drives me potty. 'But that walk must have worn you out, Mickey.

You obviously need an early night ‌ go on, up to bed with you.'

That brings him to life.

'But I want to see the end of the film.' He protested, animated for the first time since I suggested he rings his Gran.

'Perhaps if you had been as enthusiastic about ringing your Gran as you are about the film, I would be more sympathetic.' I said cuttingly.

The sullen look descends again.

'Mickey, sulking just does not cut any ice with me and the sooner you learn that the better - you just go into the office and have a good look in the mirror on the wall. Then come back and tell me just how much you would want to be nice to someone with a look like that on their face.'

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The sullen look becomes a glare but he goes off obediently enough. He is in there for several minutes while I debate with myself whether I have gone too far - that's the problem with other people's children, you never quite know.

Hearing a movement in the office, I concentrate on looking as nonchalant as I can, stroking Toby, who is sitting on my lap. I don't look at Mickey when he comes back into the room, but continue giving the cat my full attention.

He stands in front of me, silent, I glance up at him. He is looking uncertain of himself - a first for Mickey, at least since he has been here.

'It's not a very nice face, is it, Mickey?'

He’s apparently intent on looking at his feet, but shakes his head. For a moment, I wonder if perhaps this is an act for my benefit then dismiss the thought as being cynical.

'I don't want to see it again, if you don't mind, Mickey.'

He looks up at me, his eyes enormous.

'Can you try to do that?'

'I'll try.' he said slowly, 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude.'

'I realise that, but you must try not to do it - it is most unattractive, Mickey.' I replied as Duncan sticks his head round the kitchen door, 'Mum, can we watch the end of the film?'

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Glancing at the clock, I see it is nearly eight thirty - I'd like them to be in bed by nine tonight. They’ve got school tomorrow and this weekend has been rather disjointed ...

'Not tonight, Duncan. There isn't time before bedtime - perhaps tomorrow night.' I replied.

'Oh …' Mickey started, his face sulky.

I look at him and raise an eyebrow … he stops, looks rather embarrassed and makes a determined effort to change his expression.

'Okay, Mum.' Duncan said resignedly - he can sulk at times as well but thank goodness not right now.

'Well, we can look forward

to it tomorrow. The circuit’s still out, Mickey - let's go and have a race. I bet I can beat you this time.'

The boys go off together arguing in a friendly fashion, their footsteps sounding up the stairs.

With the kitchen door open I can just hear the sound of the flute as Jenna practises. It sounds nice … no, that bit can’t be right … ah, she’s realised and is going over that phrase again … yes, that’s better.

I sit in the kitchen, stroking Toby and thinking about the day … that conversation with Jenna was enlightening. She’s had a rough time of it over the past few years by the look of it … and I was feeling sorry for myself on Friday night at the fireworks … just goes to show.

The boys don’t make a fuss when I go up to tell them it is time for bed – frankly I think the walk in the fresh air has genuinely tired

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them out.

After a brief skirmish about face washing and teeth

cleaning, I tuck them both up in their beds.

For a second, I hesitate outside Jenna’s room before knocking gently and sticking my head round the door. Jenna is sitting at the table reading.

‘Jenna, love, you don’t have to sit up here on your own. Bring your book down and sit in comfort in the lounge. Would you like any supper?’

She settles in the lounge with Toby on her lap while I go and make her a hot chocolate.

On my way back with her drink, I hear her talking to Toby, and pause in the hall for a moment, listening: ‘Toby, you are a beautiful cat. Did you know that? Are you going to be my friend? … I’d like that.’

As I stand there, a sudden thought occurs to me – I don’t usually allow Toby to sleep on beds, but maybe Jenna would appreciate it … noisily bumping the lounge door to warn her that I am about to enter, I carry her drink into the lounge.

We sit in a companiable silence

each reading our own book for half an hour. Toby purring loudly the whole time as Jenna strokes him, only breaking off when she stops to turn a page. When it is time for her to go to bed, I casually suggest that she might like to take Toby up with her, though she’ll have to leave the bedroom door open so he can get out if he needs to.

‘Oh, can I?’ she said, her face lighting up with delight ‘Oh, that’d be lovely. Thank you.’

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Hugging the still purring cat, she goes up the stairs, whispering to him as she goes. Yes, that was a good idea.

When I go up to my own bed later on, I check on all three children. The boys are sound asleep, Mickey spreadeagled, one arm hanging over the side of the bed. Jenna is asleep too, Toby curled up happily in the bend of her knees.

I get Jenna up in plenty of time for school - she looks disorientated when I wake her, clearly not registering where she is, but soon comes to and, with a bleary grin in my direction, she goes off to have a shower. Toby isn’t there – clearly he went out at some stage in the night, but I daresay that as the nights get colder, he’ll stay in more often, especially as he has a bed to sleep on. The boys don't need to be up yet so Jenna can have free range in the bathroom.

We had a long talk yesterday about what everyone would like for breakfast - the general consensus being that cereal and toast would suit all of them which makes my life a little easier. Cooking breakfast is so fussy and I'm not terribly wide awake in the mornings. I can cope with bowls for cereal and plates for toast. If it gets really cold, I shall let them have porridge, I can manage that.

Jenna appears showered and dressed just as I am putting the last of the plates on the table in the kitchen. While she helps herself to cereal, I go up to rouse the boys. As per usual, Duncan is impossible to wake - I open the curtains as noisily as I can, call his name and ruthlessly strip the duvet off his top half with the result that he groans feebly, suggesting to me that he is partly awake although his eyes are 125

obstinately closed. I leave him to come round and go off to try my luck with Mickey. He is easier than Duncan but doesn't look impressed when I suggest he should have a shower. Duncan is going to use the shower cubical off my bedroom so there is no possible excuse for either of them to say they haven’t got time to shower.

Leaving Mickey looking for his dressing gown, I go back into Duncan’s room to find he’s sitting groggily on the edge of his bed mission accomplished …

Leaving them to it, I go back downstairs.

As I expected, Jenna’s ready in good time and it is with a degree of pride that I give her a hug and watch as she goes off to get her school bus. Now to get those boys moving. The water on the bathroom floor suggests that a shower has taken place so I give Mickey the benefit of the doubt … he doesn’t know it yet, but he is at a disadvantage as I am a time-honoured winner in the battle to get a boy to wash. Duncan went through a phase last year when contact with any form of clean, warm water was an anathema to him, especially if there was any soap in the vicinity; it amazed me the lengths he would go to convince me that he had washed properly … more than twice the effort it would have taken to do what he had been asked to do in the first place! However, looking them both over as they sit at the breakfast table, they don't look too bad.

'More toast, anyone?' I asked as they demolish the food on the table.

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Both boys ask for another round … I had better get some more bread on my way back from school this morning.

'Is there anything special you need for school today?' I asked I've always tried to make Duncan self-sufficient when it comes to remembering for himself but I doubt Mickey is used to that.

The boys confer for a moment and come to the conclusion that, apart from dinner money for Duncan (Mickey qualifies for free school meals), they don't need anything particular. The all important football training, for which they have to take their kit, is on Tuesday and Friday - that much I do know. It helps that they are in the same class – we stand a good chance of remembering if they need to take anything special. Duncan is a past master at ‘forgetting’ to give me letters from school informing me that he needs something specific on a certain day until the last minute, which has resulted in some frantic moments.

Caroline and Daisy are just walking out of their driveway as we come down the road and they pause to wait for us. 'How’s it going?'

Caroline asked as we follow the three children along the pavement.

'Okay, I think.' I replied, 'They’re nice kids.'

'Good. Have you got time for coffee today?' she said, raising her voice as her daughter reaches the main road 'Daisy, wait for me at the crossing!'

'Yes, why don't you come up to me for a change.' I suggested, I've been down to her place the last couple of times. 'That reminds

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me, Caroline, the comprehensive school - should I contact them about Jenna?'

'Yes, that would be a good idea - if only so that they know who you are. They’re very helpful up there I’ve always found.' Caroline answered. 'How about if I come up to your place about twoish? Then we can walk down to school together afterwards.'

Sally waves a hello to me as I pass her office window after dropping Duncan - I cheerfully wave back.

When I call in at the bakers to get some bread, I notice that they have current buns on offer – after hesitating for a moment, I decide to get a bagful … the kids will enjoy those. It's rather fun having a large family.

I whiz through tidying up the house and give the kitchen floor a wash. We spend a lot of time in the kitchen and the floor gets plenty of punishment. As I go through the bedrooms, collecting the odd dirty mug, I note Mickey hasn't made his bed … I'll have to talk to that young man. Poor kid - he's having to cope with a lot at the moment.

Right … what’s next? Oh yes …. I go into the office and dig out the telephone directory, flicking through the pages looking for the phone number for Jenna’s school …. Hang on a moment, didn't Marian give me that information in the file she gave me the other day. I put the directory down and reach down the file from the shelf where I put it for safe keeping, laying it on the desk to leaf through the contents. Medical cards … birth certificates …. ah yes, a sheet 128

showing school details.

I stand reading through the information,

looking for the name of a contact … deputy head - Mrs Bailey … then reach for the phone.

'May I speak to Mrs Bailey, please?' I asked.

'I'll just put you through to her office.' the woman on the other end of the phone said, 'Who’s calling, please?'

I give my name … then wonder if it will mean anything to Mrs Bailey. Oh well.

'Mrs Jones, what can I do for you?' a pleasant voice asked a few moments later.

'We’ve not met, Mrs Bailey, I'm fostering Jenna Thompson.' I started not quite sure how to introduce myself.

'Oh, yes.' Mrs Bailey said, her tone changing as the penny drops. 'Her grandmother phoned us the other day and gave us your details. Thank you for contacting me, Mrs Jones. Can I just check that we've got everything we need … if you'll just hang on while I log into the right screen … ah yes, here we are Jenna Thompson.'

She reads out my address and landline number then asks for my mobile telephone number. 'Now, is there anything specific you’re calling for, Mrs Jones?'

'Well, yes, there is.' I replied, slightly uncertain of my ground.

'I'm a little concerned about Jenna. I hope you don't think I'm being foolish … I’ve noticed that she's got very low opinion of herself and, while I was talking to her yesterday about what she wants to do when she grows up, she mentioned that the other girls in her class keep 129

telling her she will never be anything because her mother's an alcoholic. She wasn’t complaining just stating it as a fact. I don’t think she is the sort to complain.'

'Oh dear.' Mrs Bailey said, 'No, I don't think you’re being foolish, Mrs Jones. We’ve been concerned about Jenna here in school but we've not been able to get anything out of her. As you say, she is not one to complain. That’s very useful, what you’ve told me, Mrs Jones - I'll have a word with her tutor.'

'I'm also a little worried that she doesn't appear to have any friends.' I added, encouraged by the woman's reaction.

'Hmmm … I think I shall have a chat with Jenna, just something friendly. When is it her grandmother goes into hospital?'

'Tomorrow. I gather the op will be about lunchtime. I'm going to ring the hospital later in the afternoon.'

'I'll arrange to see Jenna tomorrow afternoon then, I imagine she’ll be worried about her grandmother - perhaps you would let me know the outcome of the operation, Mrs Jones.'

We discuss the likely options and how Jenna might be affected.

Mrs Bailey is very helpful and I find myself warming to her.

'If you have any other concerns, please contact me, Mrs Jones.'

'Of course. Thank you, you have been most helpful.'

Satisfied, I make myself a coffee … nice to know the comprehensive is that approachable … Duncan will be going there next year … I suppose Mickey will too. Mrs Bailey seems very nice.

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When Caroline comes over just before two, I tell her about my impressions of the school and why I phoned them up in the first place.

You can talk to Caroline about that sort of thing, she’s discretion itself and her experience through work makes her opinion worth having; she’s a very sensible woman.

'Yes, I've always found them very helpful.' she said, making herself comfortable at the kitchen table. 'We had a spot of bother with bullying when Bryony first went there but once we found out and told them, they jumped on it very effectively. We’ve not had any trouble since then. Kids are horrible to each other sometimes. Poor Jenna! It must have been dreadful for her believing that rubbish. Didn't her Gran do anything about it?'

'I don't think she knew about it, Caroline, I think Jenna’s one of those kids that just accepts things and doesn't complain or ask for help.' I replied thoughtfully. 'Mind you, Mickey’s very much his Gran's favourite - not that Marian would neglect Jenna deliberately, I think it is more that he's a boy. He's quite charming and uses it to get his own way from what I have seen. We had a minor bust up last night when I insisted he did something he didn't want to do - he sulked and I had to take him to task over it.'

'Sounds as though you have taken to this like a duck to water, Maggie!' Caroline commented with a laugh, 'You have found your mission in life!'

'Idiot!' I replied laughing with her.

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It is not until I am walking back with Duncan that I remember I meant to ask Caroline about Jan. We’d spent most of the afternoon talking about Caroline’s husband, Jim. She’s worried about him – he’s getting some odd aches and pains and being obstinate about going to see the doctor. From there we sidetracked into discussing the new appointment arrangements at the local surgery.

I get the kids to ring their Gran again after school while I get their dinner ready - it is noticeable that Mickey is a lot less antagonistic to the idea today. He and Duncan have a little homework - after a brief discussion, it is agreed that they should finish their homework and then, assuming it has been done properly, they can watch the rest of the DVD from last night. Negotiating with them seems to work quite well – it’s a tactic I have always used with Duncan and, although Mickey is clearly unaccustomed to being consulted about things, he seems to be getting the hang of how it works. The boys ask if they can do their homework together … I am dubious about this but they promise they'll do it properly, so I allow them to work in the dining room … with the door to the kitchen open so I can hear what is going on.

Jenna takes hers upstairs to her room.

By the time dinner is ready the boys are nearly finished. While they finish off, I go upstairs to see how Jenna is doing. Her door is slightly ajar and, as I go up the stairs, I’m disturbed to hear the sound of muffled crying.

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'Jenna, whatever is the matter?' I asked rushing into her room and putting my arms round the girl.

She is sitting at the table, her head in her hands. After a few minutes, she stops sobbing and, wiping the back of her hand across her eyes, pulls herself together.

'What's wrong?' I asked again.

'Sorry.' she said gruffly, 'I was just being silly.'

'Possibly, but what about?' I said gently smoothing the hair off her forehead.

'It just suddenly struck me that Gran is going into hospital tomorrow … I know she'll be all right … but …' She sniffs as the tears threaten again.

'Oh Jenna.' I said, wondering what I can say to help her, 'That's not silly, it's human. Of course, you’re worried about your Gran, but the operation she's having is a fairly common one, lots of people have it done. The doctors know what they are doing - she'll be fine.'

'Do you think so?' she asked, looking at me, her eyes drowned in tears.

'I am sure of it, Jenna.' I said, hoping against hope that nothing goes wrong tomorrow - oh well, if it does we’ll cope - the main thing is that Jenna stops worrying now. 'Now why don't you go and wash your face – dinner’s ready.'

The boys are waiting at the table by the time I go downstairs with Jenna, I wouldn't say they are actually banging their cutlery on the table, but the effect is similar. Duncan gives Jenna a concerned 133

look, registering her red eyes, but Mickey is far more interested in what I am dishing up onto his plate.

I don’t blame him, he’s never

been taught to consider anyone other than himself from the look of it.

I deliberately don’t listen while Duncan chats to Matt after dinner, but

happen to

overhear Duncan telling his father

enthusiastically about the new additions to the household, going on to mention that Marian is having her op tomorrow – it’s obviously got through to him that this is a cause for concern and I am absurdly pleased that he realises it.

Mickey has come as a shock, not because he’s badly behaved … because he’s not really … more that his grandmother’s care for him has given him a crooked outlook on life … a selfishness which is completely unintentional … that’s not fair on a child. But there again, life has not been entirely fair on Marian either – she brought up her daughter as well as she could, she’s now having to bring up her grandchildren because her daughter can’t … she’s only doing what all of us have to do – our best with what we’ve got.

Jenna seems more stable now, though I keep an eye on her, asking if I can come up and listen to her when she asks if she can practise her flute. As I realised when I heard her last night, she’s quite good. I’ve never been particularly musical myself and certainly never participated actively in making music, though I like listening to it, but the sounds she produces certainly seem pleasant to my ears. I tell her so, enjoying the glow of sheer delight which my pedestrian

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praise produces. I make a point of tucking her up at bedtime – Toby happily curled up as before.

Surprisingly, it is Mickey who is in a tizz over breakfast. I don’t know if it is Jenna’s upset the night before or what, but I’m bothered to see that he is only playing with his cereal (a notable circumstance for one who normally clears his plate and asks for more.).

Fortunately, Jenna has already left for school – she was quiet but calm.

‘Gran will be all right, won’t she?’ he asked ‘I mean, she’s not going to … um …’

‘I’m sure your Gran will be fine, Mickey. I’ll ring the hospital later and find out how the operation went.’ I promised, ‘I doubt we’ll be able to go and see her tonight because she’ll still be groggy from the anaesthetic, but I’ll take you both in tomorrow.’

This seems to placate him and, although he is quieter than usual, he is not so obviously uptight by the time I get him to school. I drop into the school office to see Sally – they should know what’s going on just in case he is upset. Mind you, the thought of football training has gone a long way towards to comforting him. Sally is very practical and makes a note to tell Mickey’s teacher – although it is unlikely, it would be as well to avoid references to hospitals, illness and death today for the class generally.

‘So have you given any thought to how you are going to make a social life for yourself yet, Maggie?’ she asked, leaning against her desk.

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‘Not really.’ I replied with a sigh, remembering only too clearly how awful it was at the firework display.

‘It’s difficult, isn’t it?’ she said sympathetically,‘I know just what it’s like, I was trying to sort out what I was going to do when Gary came along. Not that I’m suggesting that it is any good sitting around waiting for Prince Charming to come along, but at least you can have your eyes open so if he does, you don’t miss it.’

I laugh and comment that I doubt very much that any Prince Charming is going to come along for me.

‘You never know, Maggie.’ She commented with a smile.

Marian told me that it was pointless ringing the hospital before three in the afternoon but that doesn’t stop me thinking about it from midday onwards.

Sally is hanging round the school entrance when I go down to pick up Duncan and Mickey.

‘Any news?’ she asked anxiously

‘Only Gary’s worrying.’

‘No, I’ll ring the hospital when I get home.’ I replied ‘I’ll call you if you like.’

‘Thanks – I’ll probably still be here, Maggie.’ Sally replied.

‘But you’ve got my home number haven’t you?’

I promise to let her know as soon as I know something. Nice of Gary to be concerned.

Mickey doesn’t ask but his not asking is very loud.

Conversationally, I say to both of the boys that I’ll ring the hospital when we get home and his brow clears slightly.

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When I do eventually get through to the appropriate ward, I’m very surprised that I have no trouble getting the information I want. I anticipated having to prove who I was but no, the nurse or whoever it is I speak to, is very helpful once I have given my name, and informs me that Mrs Benson came through the op very well and is comfortable, though I reserve my judgement on that bit. I doubt very much she is comfortable but hospitals use the word to mean anything up to screaming in agony from what I can see. She tells me that I’ll be able to bring the children in to visit tomorrow night at six thirty. I make a note of the ward number and pass the news on to Mickey who reacts by challenging Duncan to another race on the circuit.

The phone rings virtually as soon as I hang up – it’s Mrs Bailey from the secondary school.

‘I’m calling partly to find out how Mrs Benson is, and partly to tell you that I’ve had Jenna with me most of the afternoon, Mrs Jones, she’s been in a state – not surprisingly – but I think it’s been a positive process. I’m just ringing to warn you that she’s on edge.’

She said kindly.

‘Thanks for ringing.’ I said, glancing at the clock.

It’s too late to catch Sally at school … I quickly ring her home number … it’s engaged; I leave a message on her voice mail.

I wonder if I should walk down to meet Jenna from the bus … I call up to the boys – they are content to be left here on their own and promise to be good while I’m out. minutes anyway, half an hour at most.

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I’m only going to be a few

The sun is starting to head towards the horizon now and there is a definite nip in the air despite the fact that it has been a sunny day today – might be a frost tonight. As I approach the bus stop, I see the school bus arrive and deposit its load of young people. I quickly spot Jenna – she’s on her own whereas most of the others are chattering – she looks dejected. She’s almost level with me before she sees me and for a second I see panic cross her face.

‘Your gran’s fine.’ I said and see her relax with relief. ‘I rang the hospital just now and they say the operation has gone very well.’

‘Oh thank goodness!’ she said, sounding years older than her age. I put my arm round her shoulder and give her a hug. ‘Thank you for coming to meet me, Aunt Maggie.’

‘It’s all right, Jenna.’ I replied, ‘Mrs Bailey rang to say you were worrying.’

‘Did she?’ Jenna asked, looking at me sharply ‘I spent the afternoon in her office. I’m not in trouble or something, am I?’ ‘No, not at all, Jenna.’ I replied with a smile ‘Far from it, Mrs Bailey was just aware that you would be worrying and thought you might be better off out of the class this afternoon.’

‘She was very kind. We talked a lot … How’s Mickey?’

‘He’s fine.’ I reassured her.

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Chapter 8

Both Mickey and Jenna are excited after school on Wednesday – we have dinner early and set off for the hospital. Marian’s in the main hospital in Bristol so I have to fight my way through the rush hour traffic – not my favourite exercise. However, despite a hold up on the A4 due to a broken down lorry, we arrive in the vicinity of the hospital just after six thirty and, once I have parked (no easy feat) make our way through the labyrinth of corridors to the ward where Marian is being cared for.

Mickey is very quiet, overawed perhaps by the hospital – I doubt his life has included this particular experience before and hospitals are pretty awesome places, especially if you are only ten years old. Duncan is a lot more confident, telling Mickey all about the time he came to visit his Gran when she was ill a few years ago.

I’m surprised he remembers that, to be honest … but it would be unfair to say that he was making it up.

Despite the fact she had surgery yesterday, Marian has more colour than when I saw her last week – obviously the benefits of the treatment are making themselves felt. Both children cling to her for several minutes while Marian hugs them and beams at me over their heads. I’m glad I brought them in.

The visit goes well with the children telling her all about the things they have been doing – Mickey and Duncan saw Fred Plaister after school yesterday and have elicited a promise from Fred that they 139

can go up to the farm at weekends to ‘help’. Not entirely sure what they are going to help with, but Fred was happy for them to go and I’m not going to discourage them. Marian obviously appreciates this but listens to Mickey with a grave sincerity. Jenna just hangs onto her Gran’s hand.

We stay for an hour but by that time Marian is looking tired so I take the children home. The quick word I had with the nurse suggests that Marian will be allowed home by the weekend if she continues to progress as she is at the moment.

Maybe we’ll have her over for

lunch on Sunday … she’ll be lonely at home all on her own and doubtless not up to cooking properly. I’ll have a word with Sally.

Thursday, we go to visit again – no lorry this time but even so, the traffic is so heavy we don’t arrive any earlier.

Come Friday, I’m almost blasé about the whole driving to Bristol in the rush hour thing. As predicted, Marian tells us that she is going home on Saturday afternoon – Gary is going to collect her.

When I spoke to Sally during the week, she said that they were going to take a meal over to Marian on Sunday and we agreed that it was probably sensible for her to stay at home for at least another week – she went on to say that various people in the village would be going round to see Marian so, if I can ensure that the children call in to see her regularly, she should be all right.

After discussion with Mickey and Jenna,

we come to the

conclusion that it would be sensible for me to take Mickey down to see her after school one day and for Jenna to go there after school the 140

next, with me driving down to pick her up an hour later. That way, Marian will get to see both the children on a regular basis but not be too worn out by the process.

I've not been down to Marian's cottage before but, after school on Monday, I walk the boys there. Mickey is full of showing Duncan his home ground - it is very gratifying to see how close the two boys have become. So much so that, when I mention to Duncan the possibility of going up to see Matt, he’s not particularly enthusiastic as it would mean leaving Mickey behind.

Marian greets us with a big smile at the cottage door and I am pleased to see Mickey give her a genuinely loving hug - he is thinking less about himself these days though he still has lapses. He's not stupid though and has realised that he actually benefits by cooperating and considering other people; whilst this may not be the best reason for being nice, it is a start.

The cottage is one of the older properties with a narrow frontage onto

the

lane leading to the church. The house is a lot larger than it looks, going back quite a long way before opening out onto a pleasant garden with a couple of small trees. Marian offers the boys a snack and, each clutching a chocolate biscuit, they escape into the garden.

'Coffee, Maggie?' Marian suggested, watching through the kitchen window as the boys chase around the garden.

'Yes, please. How are you feeling, Marian?'

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'A lot better, though I get tired very quickly.' she admitted, waiting for the kettle to boil. 'The nurse came round today to check I was okay and she’s pleased with the way the wound’s healing, so it's all going according to plan ... it's just frustrating that I can't get back to normal as quickly as I'd like.'

'You can't expect to have that sort of operation and just walk away as though nothing has happened, Marian, frustrating though that is.' I commiserated, 'There's no point pushing yourself and doing some damage which will only make the process longer.'

'I know.' she said with a sigh. 'But it’s frustrating all the same.

I'm not used to sitting around doing nothing all day.'

'Well, make the most of it, Marian, it won't last long.' I said taking the mug she is offering me.

'I suppose not.' she said with a reluctant grin. 'Let's go and sit down in the lounge, Maggie. I can't stand for too long at the moment and although this kitchen is easy to work in, it is not big enough to sit down in.'

She leads me into the lounge – a pretty room with a delightful inglenook fireplace in which an open fire is burning merrily - we settle comfortably.

'And how are you getting on now that you are footloose and fancy free, Maggie?'

'Not really doing anything about it at the moment, Marian. Not entirely sure what I can do, if truth be told. I've never been in this position before.'

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'What never? Surely as a teenager you had to think about some sort of social life.'

'No, not really.' I replied, explaining how it had been for me.

'Oh dear! You'll need to build up a social life of some sort.'

Marian said thoughtfully, 'I'm afraid you're going to find that some of the couples you used to spend time with no longer invite you to things now you are on your own, Maggie. It came as a dreadful shock to me when I discovered that.'

I blink at her, surely that won't happen ... then I remember that Jan’s firework party … that would explain why I haven't seen her lately.

'So it’s happened already.’ Marian said reading my face all too clearly. ‘You can't really blame them, Maggie. For a start, you make the numbers uneven and then there’s the fact that married couples feel uneasy with a stray female in their midst - the women don't trust their husbands necessarily and they definitely don't trust you.' Her face becomes very grim for a moment before she goes on, ‘I even received propositions from men who were working on the basis that I should be grateful to be noticed by them. It’s no joke, believe me.'

'But that’s gross!' I commented, appalled. 'You're not serious.'

'Perfectly serious, Maggie.' she said, sipping her tea 'But I was slightly older than you are, in my forties when I split up with my husband, so the circumstances were different. You must start thinking seriously about getting out though. Perhaps, I could help out by babysitting for you.'

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'That's very kind of you, Marian, I'd appreciate that.' I replied, still reeling slightly from the impact of her words and the realisation that I’d been left out deliberately by Jan. The boys dash into the lounge breathlessly, Mickey asking if it is all right for him to take Duncan up to his room. With a smile, Marian tells him it is fine and they disappear again, thundering up the stairs like a herd of buffalo.

We chat a little longer and I remember that I was intending to go to a lecture at the Institute. I mention it to Marian.

‘When is it, Maggie?’

‘Thursday of this week, but you can’t babysit, Marian, so don’t even suggest it. You need to get better before you even contemplate doing anything. Oh well, never mind.’

Jenna helps me prepare dinner – she’s becoming quite a capable cook now. I’m toying with the idea of teaching her how to knit.

When I mention it, she is enthusiastic and I promise to get the needles and wool out sometime this week.

The phone rings just as we finish our meal . Duncan runs into the office to pick it up, expecting it to be Matt. However, he reappears quickly, telling me that it is for me.

‘Who is it, Duncan?’

‘Mrs Richards.’

As I take the phone from him, I wonder what Sally wants.

‘Hello, Sally. What can I do for you?’

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‘I think it is more a case of what we can do for you, Maggie.’

She said cheerfully. ‘I understand you need a babysitter for Thursday night – Marian rang me.’

‘Oh, that was kind of her. Yes, I’m thinking of going to a lecture at the Institute.’

I replied, greatly touched by Marian’s

kindness.

‘I can let you have Abi or Ben.’ She said ‘Either should be able to cope though I think perhaps it might be good if Abi came over.

She seemed to think that Jenna might appreciate it. I gather they’ve been talking to each other at school.’

‘That would be lovely, Sally.’ I answered, pleased that Jenna appears to have made a friend, even if it is not in her school year.

‘The lecture’s at 7.30.’

‘I’ll send Abi over for seven then.’ Sally said and I can hear her writing it down. ‘What’s the lecture on?’

‘Jane Austen and her influence on modern literature.’

‘High brow stuff, eh!’ Sally laughed, ‘Well, I hope you enjoy it.

It will do you good getting away from the kids if nothing else.’

Matt rings an hour later and I smile as I hear Duncan tell his dad about the football practice success. Leaving him to it, I go and sit in the lounge, making the most of some time with Mickey on his own.

Jenna is working upstairs on her homework. It isn’t easy getting Mickey talking, we haven’t a lot of common ground, but I have the brainwave of asking if he is enjoying working with Fred Plaister and that gets him going. It says a lot that I am still unsure what exactly 145

the boys did up at the farm when he has finished, but that’s not important.

'Mum, Dad wants a word.' Duncan said, sticking his head round the door.

‘Oh, all right.’ I said slightly surprised.

'Hi, Matt. How are things?' I said picking up the receiver.

'Fine, fine, Maggie. Duncan says everything is going well with Mickey and Jenna - he seems to be enjoying having them there.' Matt commented – not sure why but I get the feeling he is nervous about something.

'Yes, it's all going well - now that their Gran is getting over the operation, they have settled in well. New job still going okay?'

'Yes, though I've got a disciplinary problem with one of the managers – he doesn't think the rules about timekeeping apply to him and has been more or less turning up as and then he feels like it. His deputy is tearing her hair out trying to cover for him. Still, I'm hoping he'll pull up his socks without me having to resort to anything really nasty.'

Matt hates having to take people to task, working very much on the basis of reasonableness with his staff. It works most of the time but occasionally, as now apparently, he gets one person who thinks that his easy-going nature is an invitation to take advantage. When Matt does jump on people, he jumps hard so I imagine the chap concerned is going to have a very rude awakening.

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'But there are two things I wanted to talk to you about, Maggie.'

Matt went on 'Firstly, can you give some thought to when Duncan can come up to visit - I was thinking perhaps a weekend. Not sure about transport ... what do you think about him travelling on the train on his own?'

'I don't know about that, Matt, it is a long way and he's only ten.' I said, thinking about it. 'It would be several hours on the train and that's a long time for him to be on his own in a strange place.'

'I suppose you're right, Maggie. I'd not thought of it like that.

No ... that wouldn't be appropriate. I'll have another think about that.'

He clears his throat slightly - a sure sign he is unsure about something. I wait to hear what is coming but I think I can guess.

'Maggie ... I've met someone.' he finally blurted out.

'That's nice.' I replied in as reassuring a fashion as I can, ‘Tell me about her.' His relief comes down the phone line in waves ... silly man!

'She's divorced, Maggie, and works as a secretary - I met her at a quiz they held at the pub the other week.' he said, enthusiastic now that it seems I am not going to be upset. 'Her name's Denny.'

'I'm really pleased for you, Matt.' I said smiling at his tone.

'Have you told Duncan?'

'No, I thought it better not to just yet - after all, we've only known each other for a couple of weeks.'

He chats on a little longer telling me about a day out they had at a local museum then, reminding me that I'm to let him know about 147

Duncan visiting, rings off.

I'm genuinely pleased that he's found

someone - it must be incredibly lonely up there, not knowing people and in a new job. From what he said of her, she sounds nice. It is no great surprise that he's found a girl friend: although he is no Adonis, Matt is a pleasant looking bloke and ki nd with it. I chuckle to myself, thinking about the absurdity of our marriage - if I can be so unaffected by the information that Matt has found another woman, it really does underline how right we are to separate.

For a moment, I feel a pang of loneliness ... it is one thing both of us being on our own, but now it’s just me … that’s different … I catch sight of myself in the mirror here in the office ... I see a dark haired woman ... not unpleasant to look at but no great beauty either ... it’s undeniable that I look my age but as I'm only 35, that's no great disadvantage. I smile at myself ... I'm not unattractive when I do that.

I really must get my act together and find some sort of social activity.

I tell the kids that I am going out on Thursday evening over breakfast on Tuesday. Mickey looks uncertain for a moment, but his anxiety disappears as soon as I explain that Abi is coming over to babysit. Jenna looks positively pleased; Duncan merely gets on with demolishing his cereal.

I spend the morning looking for the box containing my knitting needles and wool … I could have sworn I’d put it in the cupboard under the stairs but it’s not there. Now where could it be? Sitting back on my heels on the hall floor, I think … when did I last use them? It must have been just before last Christmas – I made a scarf to 148

stick in Duncan’s stocking, that’s right. Perhaps the knitting stuff got put away with the Christmas things …. I go upstairs to the cupboard on the landing and dig around in there. Ah yes! There it is.

Carrying the box carefully downstairs – one side is starting to disintegrate by the looks of it – I take it into the kitchen and dig out the packing tape, taping the box together more securely. Yes, that’s better. Right, when we get a moment I shall get Jenna started on that … she can knit a scarf for starters.

I spend the afternoon cooking, using some of the eggs which Fred has left on my doorstep using the last of the loaf to make a bread and butter pudding and putting a casserole i n the over to cook slowly.

That should warm the kids up tonight.

It is bitterly cold today – maybe I should think about turning up the thermostats on the storage heaters.

The boys are full of football practice when I pick them up from school. Mickey telling me enthusiastically how good Duncan was at a specific move they were taught today. It is nice hearing Duncan’s praises sung and watching his eyes bright with pride. This is where Matt was always good – he shared Duncan’s enthusiasm for football whereas I don’t have a clue about it. However, they settle down to do their homework while I go down to collect Jenna from Marian’s.

Duncan greets me at the door on Tuesday as we get back. ‘A man came to see you, Mum.’ He said.

‘What man?’

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I mentally check that I haven’t inadvertently forgotten someone was calling about something. We don’t tend to get stray callers up this end of the street so it’s unlikely to have been a salesman of any kind.

‘I don’t know, he said he’d come back later.’ Duncan said unhelpfully turning his mind to other, more vital, subjects. ‘What’s for dinner?’

The doorbell goes just as I am clearing up after dinner – the casserole and pudding went down very well with Jenna asking intelligent questions about how you go about making a bread and butter pudding. Drying my hands on the towel – I’d just been running a bowl of hot water – I go to answer it.

There is a man standing outside the front door. He’s about six foot tall, with long, dark hair tied back in a ponytail and the makings of a beard. At a guess, I’d say he is probably about my age … but I don’t recognise him at all.

‘Hello.’ I said – is this Duncan’s mystery man? ‘Can I help you?’

‘I hope so, Mrs Jones.’ He said with a smile. ‘Fred Plaister seemed to think you could.’

Confused, but reassured by this reference, I invite him to follow me into the house. While he removes his sturdy boots, leaving them tidily in the porch, I give him a good look over – jeans which have seen serious duty, though they are clean enough, a seriously chunky fisherman’s rib jersey in deep blue - slightly frayed around the cuffs 150

and a business-like, well-worn leather bumbag round his waist. I can’t make him out at all – he looks pretty disreputable but that doesn’t tie in with his manners and with him knowing Fred. Fred is many things but he has zero tolerance for dubious characters.

‘I’m just clearing up dinner.’ I explained, leading him into the kitchen.

On second thoughts, it would have been more appropriate to take him into the lounge I suppose ... oh well, if he doesn’t appreciate domesticity, too bad!

‘Can I offer you a coffee or something?’

‘No, I’m fine, thanks.’ He said, still smiling, ‘But don’t let me hold you up. Can I help at all?’

He starts piling up plates in a very practical way and, slightly bemused, I take the pile from him and begin washing them.

‘What can I do for you, Mr … I’m sorry I don’t know your name.’ I said heaping the clean dishes up on the draining board as he systematically brings over the other things from the table.

Whatever else he may be, he’s certainly domesticated!

‘Tregarran, Pete Tregarran.’

He said, leaning against the

cupboard beside me ‘I rent one of the units up at the Plaister farm.

But please call me Pete.’

‘Nice to meet you, Pete. I’m Maggie, by the way.’ I replied, grinning at him, my hands in the soapy water working at a particularly stubborn residue on the casserole.

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‘As to why I am here,’ he went on ‘I run a small business – commercial horticulture I suppose you’d call it.

I handle grounds

maintenance for commercial businesses, though I do a few private ones as well, and provide and maintain plants – both live and artificial for offices and the like. The business is doing well and I’ve just taken on a part time assistant.’

‘Sounds good.’ I commented, gesturing to him to sit down at the table as I wipe it over with a damp cloth. I rinse the cloth and go to join him at the table, drying my hands now I have finished. ‘But where do I come in?’

‘Well, up until now I’ve been doing my own accounts, invoicing and such like. It’s not been ideal because I’m not that computer literate, but I’ve managed. However, I’ve recently landed a couple of biggish contracts … that’s why I’m taking on an assistant. It’s going to bump up the paperwork and, on top of that, my computer has blown up. I thought about replacing it but I got talking to Fred who mentioned the possibility of getting someone to do my accounts for me. I weighed up the financial aspects and, adding in the fact it is worth getting my evenings back, decided it’s probably sensible to employ someone who knows what they are doing … Fred suggested you might be willing to take me on.’

‘What exactly would you want me to do?’

‘The lot really – invoicing, chasing creditors, processing payments and sorting out the accounts generally.’ He said, ‘Oh, no PAYE – Bob is self employed and my accountant sorts out my tax 152

when he audits the accounts …. I could drop the information down to you regularly … it wouldn’t be a lot, probably only about three or four hours a week at most once you get going. It used to take me a lot longer, but I really didn’t have that much of an idea what I was doing and had to go over everything twice if not more.’

‘It sounds feasible.’ I said slowly, ‘You’d have to be organised about letting me have the information – I won’t have time to go chasing after you all the time.’

‘Great!’ He exclaimed, his face lighting up. ‘I can do that – no problem. I’ve been quite organised so far, it’s just that I spend all day working in the business then all evening trying to type with two fingers … it’s silly. What do you charge?’

We talk about hourly rates and reach agreement. It will take me a few hours to get the system up and running so, initially it may be more expensive, but he’s happy about that, promising to bring all his paperwork down so he can explain what’s what.

‘I owe Fred a drink.’ He said happily once we have agreed on how we are going to do this. ‘He said you’d be ideal, and he was right.’

‘What did he say exactly?’

He looks slightly embarrassed. ‘He mentioned that you were a little short of cash after the break up of your marriage.’ He admitted, clearly not entirely sure of his ground.

‘Well, that’s true enough.’ I said, taking pity on him.

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It would be foolish of me to expect my affairs not to be common knowledge in the village.

The kitchen door flies open and Jenna

rushes in a book in her hand, stopping short when she sees Pete sitting at the table.

‘Sorry Aunt Maggie, I didn’t know you had a visitor.’ She stammered, blushing bright red.

‘That’s okay, Jenna, Pete here wants me to do some work for him.’ I explained, introducing them. ‘What do you want, love?’

‘I can’t work out how to do this … can you help me?’ she asked shyly, holding out her book.

‘What is it?’ I asked taking the book from her, laying it on the table and looking at it.

Oh heavens, it’s chemistry. I never managed to get the hang of that. Pete glances across the table, taking in my reaction.

‘That’s not difficult.’ He said helpfully ‘Here I’ll show you.’

After a quick glance at me to see if this is okay, Jenna goes round to where he is sitting and watches as he explains what she should be doing, pointing out where she is going wrong. He has to go over it a couple of times before she gets the hang of it, but is very patient with her.

‘Oh, I see.’ She said when he had finished, ‘Thank you.’

With a fleeting smile, she quietly closes the door behind her and goes back upstairs.

‘Thanks for that, Pete.’ I said gratefully ‘I can manage most things, but chemistry is my bugbear.’

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‘I gathered that much.’ He replied, grinning. ‘She’s a nice girl.’

‘Jenna? Yes, she’s a darling.’ I agreed, going on to explain who she is and why she’s living with me.

‘Oh, so it’s her brother who Fred was talking about …’ Pete said ‘Was he? Yes, that’s Mickey and my son, Duncan. It’s very good of Fred having them up there, I’m certain they are more of a hindrance than anything else.’

‘Not at all, they were up there last Saturday being very useful.

Fred likes kids. From what I could see, he was working them quite hard.’ Pete commented. ‘But anyway, I’ve taken up enough of your time, Maggie. When shall I bring the paperwork over?’

‘Let me think – when is most convenient for you? I suppose daytime is no good?’ I replied ‘Yes, that would be fine at the moment, the grass cutting is in abeyance and Bob, my assistant, can handle the rest of the outdoor work.

I could bring it over tomorrow or Thursday if you like,

Maggie.’

‘Let’s make it tomorrow morning then – I get back from taking the boys to school just after nine – any time after that would be fine.’

‘I’ll see you tomorrow then.’ He said rising and holding out his hand ‘Thank you, Maggie. Nice meeting you.’

What a nice man … I think as I close the door behind him … I’ll go to find Jenna. If she’s finished her homework, I’ll induct her into the mysteries of knitting, then ... as I walk up the stairs, I take myself

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to task for wondering if Pete’s married. What are you turning into, Magdalena? Some sort of middle-aged, man-eater?

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Chapter 9

I remind myself of this when Pete rings just after ten on Wednesday morning to tell me that something’s come up and he won’t be able to get over until Friday morning ... and then lecture severely myself on how absurd it is to be so disappointed.

I give myself strict instructions to get on with some more work on the vegetable patch.

If nothing else it keeps my hands busy

although my mind does freewheel rather.

My experience at the

firework display has impacted rather largely on my outlook … to say it has shaken me would be an understatement. I have never in my life felt to desperately alone as I did standing in that field. I didn’t know it was possible to feel like that.

Still, I comfort myself, I have

Thursday night to look forward to though a little voice tells me that it is entirely possible that it will just be a re-run of the firework display.

It’s a relief that Jenna’s happy about Abi is coming over to mind them while I go to the lecture. I was worried that she might feel she was being treated as a child, after all Abi can only be four years older than her at most, but she wasn’t bothered at all, commenting that the boys would behave better for Abi in a rather relieved tone of voice.

So what shall I wear to this lecture? I contemplate that thought for a few minutes, standing up and stretching my aching back.

Bending over weeding is a painful process. Probably, trousers and a jumper would be best – casual … the unaccustomed thought spins into my head that I am consciously giving thought to attracting a man 157

… though it would be nice to make some female friends as well … women who are unattached and might be up for going out somewhere.

While in the library with the boys the other day, I had picked up a couple of self-help books … how to pick yourself up after divorce, that was one of them. It talked about doing things with friends, and how important it is … but I don’t have any friends who are single.

The book didn’t explain how you are supposed to find these friends … I looked. I can just see Jim being pleased that Caroline wants to go out on the town with me, even if she were up for it …. realistically though, there must be lots of women in this situation; one reads how the divorce rate is one in three these days and, even allowing for the fact that a proportion of the women concerned are leaving their husbands for other men, that still leaves a lot of women on their own, having to start again. Do they all have single friends to fall back on?

Take Sally, for example, she was on her own for several years … but she had the kids and, from what I can gather, didn’t do anything socially … meeting Gary was almost an accident from what she said.

I wonder what Marian did after her divorce … she can only have been in her forties at the time … and she’s still an attractive woman now so must have been then.

I work in the garden until lunchtime, by which time it is starting to drizzle slightly. Taking my after lunch coffee into the office with the intention of doing some more work on the garage finances, I 158

notice that the answer machine is blinking … that blasted beep has been turned off again. I must have missed the call while I was in the garden.

Hitting the play button, I listen to a message from Sam

Dehaney asking how things are going and asking me to ring him sometime. I call his number but am told that he is out of the office at the moment so, leaving a message that I rang, I hang up.

Determined not to let my despondent mood get the upper hand, I work on the latest batch of grubby pieces of paper, reaching a satisfactory conclusion which gives me a warm glow just as it is time for me to think about going to pick Duncan and Mickey up from school. It is Wednesday, so I shall take the boys round to see Marian.

It will be nice to have a chat with her.

It’s raining properly by the time I leave the house. I toy with the idea of taking the car, deciding against it in the end and opting for the big golf umbrella instead. It will keep the worst of the rain off the three of us; at least the rain is coming straight down and not being blown around.

Jan’s talking to Caroline as I reach the school.

She greets me

somewhat brashly as though expecting me to be on the offensive, going into a unsolicited and rather specious rigmarole about why she felt it best not to invite me to their firework party this year. ‘… you’d only have felt out of it, Maggie, being the only one there not in a couple.’ She said, obviously pleased to have justified her reasons, if only to herself.

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I am tempted to give her a sharp response but decide it is not worth it. Caroline is looking rather embarrassed; it’s not fair of Jan to put her in this position. ‘I’m sure you’re right, Jan.’ I said, grateful that the children are now coming out of school. ‘Oh, there are the boys. See you around.’

Marian opens the front door to us as we turn into the gate – she must have been watching for us. I herd the boys in and remind them to wipe their feet. The last stretch of the lane was muddy and I daresay Marian isn’t up to serious housework yet. She produces some squash and some biscuits for them and they settle happily beside her on the sofa in the lounge chatting about their day.

Duncan has

accepted Marian as a sort of pseudo granny now … she doesn’t appear to mind. As usual, Mickey asks if they can go and play in his room for a while once they have finished their snack and Marian waves them off with an understanding grin.

‘So how are things with you, Maggie?’

‘Oh I’m all right.’ I said with a smile.

‘You don’t seem as perky as usual, is there something wrong?’ she asked, her eyes concerned.

‘No, not really. I’m just adjusting to being on my own.’

I’ve not told her about the firework display … I’ve not told anyone actually … it seems so very pathetic.

‘Ah.’ Marian said, her concern deepening. ‘It’s not a nice process that.’

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‘No.’ I said with a sigh, giving up all pretence of being okay ‘What did you do, Marian?’

‘When we got divorced?’

I nod. She looks thoughtful for a moment as though re-visiting something she has not looked at for a long time.

‘At first, I buried myself in my work, Maggie.

But it was

different for me, I was nursing a broken heart … that sounds melodramatic, and in a way it is, but that’s what I told myself. My husband went off with another woman you see, Maggie. That was hard – not because he loved her, but because he didn’t love me.

There I was, a highly qualified, efficient, professional woman and I couldn’t even keep my man … I felt unwanted and somehow inferior … it was not a pleasant experience … it didn’t help that she wasn’t a career woman in any way. But my problem was more hurt pride than anything else, as I later realised.’ She paused, ‘It helped that I was happy with my work and it gave me the company I needed – a sort of pseudo social life, if you like.

It also helped that I’d lived in the

village for some years – ever since I qualified in fact. So I’d had a life here before I married and it wasn’t long before I got used to being on my own again; in fact I quite enjoyed it as a counterpoint to my professional life, but it would have been hell if I hadn’t been working.’

Aware that I am probably looking as disappointed as I feel – I had somehow hoped that she would come up with a magic formula

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which I could adopt – I don’t quite know what to say in response to this. Marian looks at me for a several minutes before going on.

‘You will find your feet, Maggie. Give yourself time.’

‘I know. It’s just come as rather a shock, that’s all. Thanks for ringing Sally for me, Marian, Abi’s coming to babysit tomorrow night. She and Jenna get on and Jenna is looking forward to it.’

‘It seemed the obvious thing to do.’ She commented, ‘You’ve done a lot for Jenna, Maggie. She’s changed and it has been for the better.

It’s made me wonder if I have been fair on the child.

Parenting is difficult … I don’t seem to have made a particularly good job of it with my daughter.’

‘You shouldn’t blame yourself for that, Marian. I daresay you did your best – that’s all any of us can do. As for Jenna, I think a lot of it has been things the girls at school have been saying, Marian, and I doubt she feels comfortable talking about her mother to you.’ I responded as tactfully as I can, the last thing I want is for Marian to feel guilty, after all she hasn’t exactly neglected the child.

‘I’m

enjoying playing mother to a daughter.’

‘Yes, I can see that. Jenna is full of how adept she is getting at cooking.’ Marian responded.

I nearly jump in and tell her that I’m teaching Jenna to knit now but remember just in time that the scarf Jenna is making is for her grandmother as a surprise.

‘You’re a much better mother in that respect than I ever was, Maggie.’ I open my mouth to protest, but she jumps in before I can 162

get the words out. ‘It’s true, Maggie, take this cooking business for example, I don’t particularly enjoy cooking myself so it never occurred to me to show either Fiona or Jenna. I sometimes wonder if that was why Fiona went off the rails.’

‘Oh surely not, Marian. You can’t take the blame for that – alcoholism is a chemical thing, whatever you did wouldn’t have changed that. It’s not your fault that she turned to drink when her husband left her. After all, you didn’t.’

‘Hmmm …. I suppose so.’ Marian said with a sigh. ‘But to get back to Jenna, Maggie, it’s obvious that you really enjoy cooking and are passing that enthusiasm on to her. It’s building her confidence in herself as well as teaching her useful skills – maybe this operation of mine has been all for the good.’

‘Have you thought about going back to work at all?’ I asked ‘It has crossed my mind, Maggie, especially now that you’re on the scene. I don’t want to abandon the children but I have been wondering if we might be able to come to some sort of arrangement for after school.’ She confessed, ‘Gary’s said that there’s a part-time position for me if ever I want it and it would make such a difference financially.’

‘I think we could work something out, Marian. Have a chat with Gary next time you see him – I’ve been wondering how Duncan and Mickey will cope when Mickey comes back here.

They’ve

become very close, almost brothers. That would be one way round it.’

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‘Yes, Jenna has mentioned that.’ Marian replied consideringly, ‘Maggie, it would be the answer to prayer in lots of ways if I could go back to work.’

I grin at her, the thought of keeping regular contact with Jenna and Mickey is appealing. ‘As I said, Marian, have a think about it and we’ll see what we can do. But the first thing is to get you fit.’ I said, rising to call the boys – it is time for us to go.

By the time we leave Marian’s place, the rain has eased off though it is bitterly cold. As we walk along to the bus stop w here we are going to meet Jenna off the school bus, the boys occupy themselves watching their breath made visible in the freezing air – I have to call them a couple of times, they’re concentrating so much that both of them, at separate times, nearly walk into lamp posts – honestly, boys!

With Marian’s words echoing in my mind, I find myself comparing the girl who gets off the bus with the one who moved into my house a few weeks ago. Yes, she is more confident – she even waves to a couple of the girls as she walks towards us.

‘We had a terrific tutor session today.’

She told me

enthusiastically as we walk up the road. ‘It was all about how we communicate with each other. We had to talk about how we feel when people said negative things – it was a bit silly at first. We had to pretend that everyone sitting in the left side of the room was thick and make comments about how they’d never pass their exams. Then they had a go at telling us how rubbish we are. Our tutor made us talk 164

about how it felt being run down and then we had to do the same thing only making positive comments – finding something complimentary to say.’

‘How did the rest of the class feel about that?’

I asked,

recognising the hand of Mrs Bailey here.

‘I think it made some of them think, Aunt Maggie.’ She said thoughtfully ‘Two of the girls who used to pick on me, talked to me on the bus coming home.’

‘That’s nice.’ I replied, reaching into my pocket for my keys.

‘Your Gran sends her love, by the way. She says she’ll see you on Friday – you’ve got orchestra tomorrow night so you’ll be late home anyway and, as I’m going out, I said you would ring her instead.’

‘Oh great!’ Jenna grinned.

We spend the evening comfortably together – me, re-reading Persuasion, Jenna concentrating on her knitting and the boys playing a board game on the lounge floor. We have an enormous cupboard under the stairs where I stow all the odds and sods, and when I was digging for the knitting stuff the other day, I came across a box of games and, doubtless because of the novelty factor, Duncan and Mickey have been working their way through games like Ludo, Monopoly and Cluedo. At the moment Monopoly has the upper hand and it is funny watching them so engrossed in something which I remember so clearly from my childhood.

Interesting to see that

Duncan cheats the same way Matt used to when we were kids.

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The phone rings and Jenna, who has got to the end of a row conveniently enough, goes to answer it. ‘It’s your dad, Duncan.’ She announced picking up her needles again.

This does not go down well with the boys – interfering with their game - but after a little ‘persuasion’ on my part, Duncan goes to talk to his father. While he is out, I keep an eye on Mickey – he’s not above cheating either. Duncan rushes back into the room, ‘Dad sends his love, Mum.’ He said, his eyes on the board, checking that it is as he left it.

Matt rarely asks to speak to me these days and I find I don’t mind … funny really, after so many years of spending time together.

Thursday afternoon Sam Dehaney rings to ask how things are going.

‘Very well,’ I replied sitting down at the desk in the office.

‘Jenna and Mickey seem quite happy and Marian is recovering nicely.’

‘Good. I’m pleased to hear that. I’m just about to give her a ring. I hope you don’t mind me checking up every now and then.’

‘No, not at all.’

Abi turns up just before seven clutching a bag full of books which she explains is her homework. Over dinner, I stressed to the boys that they must behave for her so I don’t think she will have any great problems. Jenna’s looking forward to spending the evening with Abi … don’t know how much homework Abi will get done.

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I park in the big car park near Queen Square – it’s free after six and I don’t want to have to walk too far after the lecture. I’m not used to wandering around the town on my own in the dark and with the local paper full of a stories about a pervert attacking women in this area of the town, I’m a little wary. It’s one thing wandering round country lanes after dark but quite another in the town.

Light from the interior of the Institute is falling onto the pavement outside and, although I don’t see anyone else going up the steps into the doorway as I walk down the road, at least I am reassured that there is appears to be something going on there this evening. The chap collecting the ticket money is very friendly asking if I have been here before and inviting me to write down my e-mail address so that they can let me know what is going on, and giving me several leaflets.

The lecture is taking place in one of the rooms

upstairs and, following another couple who appear know where they are going, I go through the entrance hall and up the stairs.

There are about thirty people in the room, which is a small hall with about sixty chairs set out in rows facing a projector screen at one end. The room is beautiful with plaster mouldings round the ceiling and the walls painted a delightfully pale shade of blue. This must have been a lovely house once.

Pulling myself back into the present day, I look round the room.

A table is set up near the screen and a couple of ladies are fiddling about with a laptop computer, trying to get it to project something. I hesitate in the doorway for a moment, not quite knowing where I 167

should sit. A quick glance round the hall tells me that everyone else here is with someone else – they are all sitting in pairs or groups chatting.

My heart sinks at the thought of a repeat of the firework display.

Kicking myself metaphorically for being so negative, I decide to sit in the middle of the hall, taking a seat halfway along a row, a few places up from a couple who briefly look up as I approach and smile vaguely at me. Settling myself with my coat on the seat beside me, I check that my mobile phone is turned to silent – there’s a big notice on the wall reminding people to turn phones off – and study the rest of the audience. Most of the people here are retired, I should think, though there is a group of younger people, relatively speaking, possibly forties, sitting on one side, and another lot of what I can only assume are students from one of the universities sitting right at the front. Glancing at the sheet of paper I picked up from the chair before I sat down, I see that our lecturer works at the university so assume the students have come along in support. Just as the lights dim, a trio of men rushes in and, with a rustling of coats and whispered asides, sits down in the seats beside me.

The lecturer launches into her

introduction.

She speaks well and grips my attention from the start, talking about how literature might have developed if Jane Austen had never written anything. Then, she outlines the points she is intending to cover, going over my head in places, especially when she mentions some modern writers I have never heard of … I must get down to the 168

library and have a look for them. However, we are only some ten minutes into the talk when the man sitting next to me makes a sotto voce comment to the guy on his right … dryly picking up on something she said and turning it round. From then on, my attention is split between what the speaker is saying and this man’s witty asides, which keep me highly amused, though one particularly cynical comment catches me totally unawares and I have to pretend that my splutter of laughter is a cough. The culprit only grins at me as I try to cover my embarrassment – his grin infectious.

At the end of the lecture, as I am gathering my belongings together and checking my mobile to see if there are any messages from home, he turns to me.

‘I’ve not seen you here before.’ He said in a friendly tone ‘I’m Glyn, Glyn Harriss with a double ess.’

‘Maggie Jones.’ I replied, grinning at him, ‘But only one ess!

No, I’ve not been here before.’

‘Enjoy it?’ he asked as his companions go up to talk to the lecturer. ‘I thought she made some good points.’

‘Yes, very much, though she lost me once or twice. I’ve not kept up with modern literature.’

‘Coming for a cuppa?’ he asked, ‘They serve decent coffee but I recommend you give the tea a wide berth unless you are a builder.’

Chatting about one or two points from the talk, I walk down the stairs with him. While we wait in the queue for drinks, he introduces

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me to his friends – James and Charlie – and explains that the three of them work together at Pennington House.

‘Oh, are you teachers?’ I asked.

Pennington House is a very select private school on the other side of the city. It’s got an excellent reputation and is dreadfully expensive.

James nods and explains that he and Charlie teach

languages while Glyn teaches English. No wonder he felt able to comment on what was being said! It’s great fun chatting to them while we drink out coffee. Charlie, the oldest of the trio – probably fifty something I would think – tells me that the school encourages staff to attend these lectures.

‘We live in, so it’s rather nice to get out into the real world.’ He added, ‘Glyn here is a house master too, so is doubly grateful for the opportunity to escape.’

‘What’s it like living in?’

Charlie makes a face but the other two assure me that it is not too bad … considering.

‘What about you, Maggie?’ Glyn asked, ‘What do you do?’

‘I’m a housewife. I live with my son and foster a couple of other children, though I do take in accountancy work as well.’

‘Sounds idyllic.’ Charlie commented enviously, ‘Only three children!’

‘Yes, but there’s only me!’ I retaliated, ‘I bet you don’t have to do all the housework at school as well as everything else!’

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‘There is that.’ Charlie conceded reluctantly, ‘How old are your young people?’

‘Duncan, that’s my son, he’s ten, as is Mickey whom I foster.

Mickey’s sister, Jenna, is thirteen. Which reminds me, I ought to be making tracks to relieve my babysitter.’

‘That’s a pity.’ Glyn commented, ‘Look, Maggie, we three sometimes get out – perhaps we could meet up sometime. I’ll give you my mobile number shall I? If you ever feel like a drink, let me know.’

We exchange mobile numbers and, leaving them munching their way happily through a plate of chocolate biscuits, I make my way through the now thinning crowd. Much to my immense relief, my car is still there when I get back to the car park – there’s no reason why it shouldn’t be really but as I was walking towards the car park I suddenly had a fit of terror that it might have been stolen. After all, it’s not as though I could ring Matt to ask him to come to collect me now – I’m beginning to feel the draught in lots of ways now that there is just me.

I unlock the car and, waiting for the car behind me to reverse out of its space, I contemplate my evening. The lecture was interesting, though the company was more so.

Grinning to myself in the

darkness, I drive out of the car park and go home. The house is quiet as I close the front door behind me.

The lounge is in darkness but there’s a light showing under the kitchen door. Abi is sitting at the table, her books spread around her, 171

working at something. However, as I go in, she turns and, seeing who it is, smiles at me. ‘Hi, Maggie. How was the lecture?’

‘Great fun, Abi. I met some complete loonies.’ She raises her eyebrows at this and I go on.

‘Three teachers from Pennington

House – mad as hatters, all of them! But it was good fun. Everything all right here?’

‘Yes, fine.

The boys went off to bed without any great

argument, though I’m not sure if they washed or cleaned their teeth.

Jenna stayed up until about ten – we did a lot of talking.’ Abi answered ‘Oh, about anything in particular?’ I asked, her tone suggesting something momentous.

‘Yes, we were comparing notes.’ Abi said, her brow slightly furrowed as she thinks about the conversation she had with Jenna.

‘She gets a lot of stick from the kids in her class about her mum. It doesn’t help about her dad either – she can’t get her head round him disappearing like that. I was luckier, though it sounds crazy to say so ... it is one thing your parents being killed, quite another when they chose to walk away from you. And I can talk to Aunt Sally too …

Jenna doesn’t feel she can talk to her Gran about her parents.’

‘I’ve gleaned a little of that, Abi. What can I do to help her?’ I asked sitting down at the table beside this very adult teenager.

‘Oh you’re doing a lot all ready, Maggie. Jenna was full of all the things you do with her. It’s given her a different view of life, you know. Up until now, she’s not seen herself as someone who can do 172

things but you’ve changed all that, shown her that she can have a go at something.’ Abi answered, starting to close her books and pile them up. ‘You give her your time and share your enthusiasm with her – Aunt Sally does it with me – it makes the difference. You see, my mum never did things with me either, though for a different reason.

Dad was great, we did a lot together, but that’s not the same. Aunt Sally did much as you do with Jenna - basic, ordinary skills … making a cake, cooking a meal … homemaking, I suppose you’d call it.’

‘I’ve never thought of it like that, Abi. I grew up knowing how to do these things and it just seems normal to pass it on. I’m enjoying it actually, boys are all very well, but having a girl around the place has been fun for me too.’ I said thoughtfully, ‘I’ll miss her when they go back to live with their gran.’

‘I doubt you’ll lose touch, Maggie.’ Abi said ‘It’s a very small village and I get the feeling Jenna and Mickey will be around regardless. Jenna’s very fond of you and Mickey and Duncan have built up a very strong relationship, almost like brothers, I’d say … much like Ben and I.’ ‘Hmmm, Duncan’s going to feel it when Mickey goes.’ I said ruefully. ‘We’ll probably have some other child, at least I hope so.’

‘An ever growing family eh, Maggie?’ Abi said with a grin, ‘What a fantastic idea.’

‘I’d not thought of it like that.’ I replied. ‘Abi, how are you getting home?’ I asked suddenly struck by the thought.

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‘Aunt Sally will come and fetch me.’ She said, getting her mobile phone out of her bag. ‘It’s all arranged.’

While we wait for Sally to drive over in response to her call, Abi tells me that Toby caused some hilarity earlier on by dashing in through the cat flap, hitting the rug at a rate of knots and causing it to skid across the floor, dumping him in a heap by the cooker, looking very annoyed.

‘Ben’s got two kittens – they’re getting quite big now but are still completely batty.’ She explained as we see the headlights of a car drive in through the gates.

As Abi gets in the passenger seat, I go over to the driver’s side of the car to thank Sally.

‘That’s all right, Maggie, more importantly, did you have a good time,?’ she asked and I tell her about Glyn and his cronies. ‘Crumbs!

You go out to a lecture and pick up three men … that is good going, Maggie!’

I’m still laughing as I close the front door behind me and, as I go through the house, turning off lights and checking as I go, I reflect on her comment and grin to myself.

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Chapter 10

Pete turns up just before ten on Friday morning, apologising again for having to cancel the other day. It seems his assistant, Bob, was laid low with sudden and excruciating toothache so Pete had to take on his work while Bob besieged his dentist and got the crisis sorted out. I assure him it is not a problem and we settle down in the kitchen over coffee so that I can assimilate the magnitude of the situation.

He brings in several boxes and goes through explaining

what they all contain.

‘This box is all invoices I’ve sent out and records of payments received.’ He explained, showing me the contents of what we used to call a banker’s box when I used to work in an office. ‘Now … this lot is stationery … and this file here is petty cash records.’

‘It all looks pretty well organised to me, Pete.’ I said half an hour later, vastly relieved to find it all in order. ‘I was anticipating a mess, to be honest.’

‘Oh, I hate a muddle.’ Pete said, ‘I like to be able to put my hand on something when I want it, so organisation is the only way.

I’ve made a list of the clients I have contracts with, how often they need to be invoiced and the amounts. One or two of the contracts are on an ‘as and when’ basis but I’ll let you know about those.’

‘It looks quite straightforward.’ I commented slowly, casting my eye down the page and seeing a name which rings bells – Pennington House – so he does the grounds there, does he? ‘I’ll set 175

up some spreadsheets on my computer, Pete … I reckon I’ll need to see you once a week to collect any invoices for payment and to get cheques signed. I could come up to the farm, if it is easier – how would that be?

‘Are you sure? It would certainly save me time, I do the rounds of the offices early in the week but tend to be working up at the unit on Thursday mornings – would that be any good?’

‘That would be perfect, Pete – that would mean I could turn the stuff round and get it in the post for the end of the week. As for going up to the farm it would do be good for me to walk up the hill.’ I laughed, ‘I need the exercise! Pete, when does your financial year run?’

‘Oh the usual – April to March.’ He replied moving onto the next box, ‘Now this file has all the bank statements and the cheque books are in this box. I have been keeping all the invoices I pay in alphabetical order in this file.’

We spend over an hour going over his accounts and I have to say I am impressed by the order I find. Compared with the garage accounts, this is going to be a doddle.

‘So, apart from managing the grounds at Pennington House, what else do you do?’ I asked, refilling our mugs.

‘I’ve got three … no, four grass cutting contracts but the rest is maintaining displays in offices.’

‘Potted plants, you mean?’ I asked, handing him his mug and sitting down at the table again.

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‘Sort of.’ He said, ‘More troughs of large plants, really – that’s the live stuff. I also make artificial trees.’

‘What?’ I asked fascinated. ‘How do you do that?’

‘Well,’ he said scratching his head, ‘It’s one of those things that’s straightforward to do but difficult to explain. You’ll have to come up and see for yourself sometime.’

‘I’d like that. I am a bit of a gardener myself.’

‘I’d noticed that. I spotted your veg patch through the window – it looks rather impressive.’

‘Thanks, want to come and have a look?’ I asked, pleased to have another gardening maniac to hand.

Matt used to appreciate what I did but was not particularly interested in the finer points of double digging. Together Pete and I go out into the garden and inspect the vegetable patch. Pete admires my anti-slug defences and I tell him how effective they have been.

‘The sprouts haven’t done at all well though and the caterpillars have had a feast.’

He commiserates with me, promising to look into the question of organic control for cabbage white butterflies for me. He uses predatory bugs to control pests on his plants in the offices and has a vague idea that the same method might work on my cabbages next year.

‘You’ve got a good sized bit of land here, Maggie.’ Pete said, looking around, taking in the fields beyond the garden. ‘Fred tells me your family used to farm here.’

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‘Yes, though my uncle let the place go to a large extent – he was the one who sold most of the land off for development.

My

grandfather was the last one to farm properly. I sometimes think Duncan is a throwback to him. Are you from farming stock?’

‘No, not at all. My father is an engineer.’ Pete replied as we make our way back into the kitchen; it’s chilly out here without a coat. ‘And his father was a sea fisherman – I don’t know where I got the urge to work with plants.’

‘Where did your grandfather fish?’ I asked, ‘Not around here, surely!’

‘No,’ he said with a grin, ‘My family come from Dorset – down Lyme Regis way. My parents still live down there.’

‘That’s a lovely area, don’t you miss it?’

‘Yes … and no. It’s a beautiful area but can be pretty dead socially and although it is great living out in the sticks, it means commuting considerable distances along country lanes for work.

Anyway, I have a sister up this way.’

‘Oh? Where does she live?’

‘Tracey lives up Stroud way.

She and her husband run a

restaurant up there. When I get fed up with my own cooking, I go and visit them. ’ he explained with another grin ‘I really envy you your garden, Maggie. I rent a flat and the most it has is a window box.

The flat’s as basement one, you see, but one of these days, I shall aspire to something with a garden.’

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The ache in his voice tells me clearly how much he longs for a garden of his own, but he covers it by going on to tell me about the flower beds he is working on up at the school. The latest project there is a small kitchen garden which the pupils are helping with … not as a playground, but properly, learning the skills of a gardener. Pete is enjoying working with them and goes on to explain that, ultimately, the school wants to create a small farm unit.

‘Well, I’d better be going.’ He said eventually. ‘I’ve enjoyed talking to you, Maggie. I’ll give you my mobile phone number – if you have any queries about any of this, let me know.

I’ll look

forward to seeing you up at the unit on Thursday morning next.’

I spend the afternoon setting up spreadsheets for Pete’s accounts on the computer, the vision of a certain pony-tailed gentleman lurking in the back of my head.

I am brought back to earth with a bump when I pick the boys up from school. Both of them are looking heavy-eyed and their teacher tells me that there is a particularly nasty virus going around at the moment. I don’t dare take them round to Marian’s but whisk them straight home and ring her as soon as I get in. She is very grateful and, after angsting about Mickey, agrees that I have done the right thing not taking him to see her tonight.

‘I daren’t get ill at the moment, Maggie.’ She said worriedly, ‘I just hope that they weren’t infectious when I saw them last.’

‘I hope so too, Marian. Fingers crossed you’ll be all right.’

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The boys are not interested in food, which says a lot about how lousy they are feeling. I force some home-made chicken soup down them before tucking them, unresisting, into their beds. Jenna is okay so far, I’m relieved to see.

Saturday morning, the boys are worse, running temperatures and generally complaining about feeling grotty. They’re getting through tissues at a rate of knots, so I dose them up with tablets to bring their temperatures down and leave them in bed, ringing Fred up at the farm to tell him that his helpers won’t be around today.

‘Just keep them in the warm, Maggie.’ He said, ‘It’s a nasty bug; my grandson went down with it last week. I reckon he’ll be coughing for the rest of the winter now.’

‘I do hope not.’ I responded worriedly, ‘But they’re tough kids … I expect they’ll be on their feet in a day or so.’

By Saturday evening, both boys are feeling a little better and get up, sitting in the lounge lethargically watching a film on TV. After a couple of hours, they are both more than ready to go back to bed … a sure sign that they are unwell.

By Sunday lunchtime, they are well enough to get up but not well enough to occupy themselves and end up driving Jenna and I completely crackers with their pleas for something to do. In the end, I dig out some jigsaw puzzles in the hope that they might like to do those. Thankfully, it works and the two of them take over the dining room table while Jenna and I cook an evening meal we hope might tempt the boys’ appetites.

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‘Aunt Maggie, there’s a message on your mobile.’ Jenna said as she moves things off the kitchen table so that she can lay it for our meal.

I take the phone from her and open the text message wondering who it might be. Oh, it’s from Glyn.

Hi Maggie, have escape plan arranged for this evening – any chance you can get out? Glyn

Reluctantly, I send back a reply explaining that I have sick children, but thanking him for the invitation and suggesting that another time would be nice. His reply is understanding.

Tough luck. That is a nasty bug – it has been going through our lot here too. Hope you escape it. Another time, perhaps. Glyn.

Neither of the boys is fit for school on Monday. When I ring the school to explain why Mickey and Duncan will be absent, I get Sally on the phone.

‘I’m not surprised, Maggie.’ She said, ‘It’s hitting the staff too – my assistant is off with it, as are a good proportion of the kids.

Keep them home until they’re fit, the ones who come back too early are only relapsing.’

‘I’ll do that.’ I replied, wondering what the hell I am going to do to keep them occupied.

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Providentially, the jigsaw idea has taken off and the boys are happily working their way through the pile of jigsaws in the cupboard. Jenna continues to be healthy, though I’m keep a close eye on her. She’s phoning Marian these days – we’re not going near Marian until I am sure that the kids are over the bug, just in case. So far, the ploy seems to be working and Marian has escaped infection.

Another concern is that I can’t go out – I wouldn’t feel happy leaving the boys here on their own. Luckily, I keep a fairly well stocked cupboard and the freezer was topped up last time I went to the supermarket. Jenna helps by picking up bread from the supermarket on her way home after school, but it is yet another facet of being on my own which I had not considered before. I make mental notes to keep a stock of tinned food just in case. Goodness knows what would happen if I was taken ill myself … it doesn’t bear thinking of.

As I am housebound, I decide now would be a good time to write Christmas cards. When Matt rang the other day, we had a short chat about this … we haven’t actually notified our friends and distant family that we have separated. Matt offered to write a letter to go in with the cards but after some discussion on the logistics of this – I have all the addresses for a start – we decided that I would do the honours for most people, sending him a list of names and addresses so that he can send a separate card and people can make up their own minds about who they want to keep in touch with.

It takes me some time to draft a letter … nothing in life has given me the slightest idea how to put news like that … but in the end 182

I manage something which seems reasonable. Matt was happy with it when I read it over to him. I’ve put in his address so that people can send to him if they want to and to underline the friendliness of the whole situation. All the same, it is a long and laborious job and I am extremely relieved when I have finished it.

By mid week, the boys are a lot better though they tire easily which is very unlike their normal state. Thursday morning, I take them up to the farm with me – the fresh air won’t do them any harm if they are wrapped up properly and the change of scene will do them good. Fred seems pleased to see them and takes them off to ‘help’ while I go to see Pete. His unit’s in what used to be a large barn abutting the cattle shed. Fred has split it into three separate units with Pete renting the end one. A carpenter, knee deep in shavings, looks up from the table he is working on and waves to me merrily as I walk past the open door of the first of the other units but the middle one appears to be locked up.

Pete is in the middle of potting up some plants when I arrive and, quickly closing the door behind me to keep the heat in, I stand watching him as he firms down the soil round a very large specimen of a palm. By the look of it, he has done three others already.

‘What sort of palm is that?’ I asked as he washes his hands to get the soil off.

‘Kentia – they’re pretty tough and don’t mind being neglected.’

He replied with a grin. ‘There’s a stool over there if you want to sit down, Maggie. Fancy a coffee?’

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‘Thanks, that would be nice.’ I said, settling myself on the sturdy if grubby stool offered.

It is rather refreshing to have adult company after being with Mickey and Duncan all week.

‘White, no sugar, please.’

The unit is a space approximately twelve feet by fifteen with an old fashioned deep sink along one side under a window, storage shelves running across the back and a selection of pots and containers stacked in one corner. Because it is a corner unit, there are two windows – one to the front and one to the side, giving a decent amount of light. A pile of bags of compost stands against one wall and various gardening utensils hang tidily on a rack. By the sink is an old kitchen unit on which is a kettle and coffee-making supplies as well as some nasty looking containers of chemicals with all sorts of warnings signs on them.

Pete hands me a mug of coffee and I nurse it, warming my hands, as he drags across a large wooden box to sit on. Even with the door shut, it’s not particularly warm in here, though there is a portable gas heater chucking out heat.

Sipping the coffee, we swop tales of

how our respective weeks have been. He’s sorry to hear that I have been tied to the house with the boys having to subsist on what food supplies I have in the house.

‘Oh Maggie, you idiot!’ he exclaimed ‘You should have let me know. I can always come over and sit for a while so you can get to the shops.’

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‘That’s kind of you, Pete.

I’ve never had the problem before

but will bear it in mind if it happens again. I’m just relieved that I haven’t gone down with the bug. But down to business, have you got any paperwork for me?’

‘Yes, I’ve been putting it in that box file over there’

he

answered, putting his mug down and going across to pick up the file in question. ‘There are half a dozen invoices to be paid and I’ve made a list of the clients who should be billed this week with the amounts; is that all right?’

‘Terrific! If you’ll sign some cheques then, Pete, I can get them sent off.’ I said, looking through the file he has handed me. ‘It all seems pretty straightforward – have you ordered any stuff this week?’

Together we go through the papers.

‘You’ve no idea how much I appreciate not having to do all this.’ he said when we had finished ‘I’ve actually started reading some books after work now. It’s an amazing luxury after years of struggling with paperwork.’

‘How long have you been doing this?’

He stares into the distance for a moment, eyes narrowed, calculating. ‘Ten years now.’ He said slowly, ‘Yes, that’s right. I was over at the workshop in Twerton for seven years and came here nearly three years ago. It has taken that long to build up the business but I’m getting there now.’

‘It must have been hard work.’ I commented, ‘What made you chose this area?’

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‘I don’t know exactly. I didn’t want to stay in Dorset or further down country, and equally didn’t want to work in Bristol if I could help it, so when I landed the job working on the grounds up at the school, which was my first big contract, that sort of made the choice for me.’

‘Didn’t you think of taking a job with another firm?’ I asked, it must have been very hard work building up a business from scratch.

He grins at me, his eyes twinkling, ‘I don’t like working for other people, Maggie. When I left college, I started with one of the big garden centre chains but I found it very frustrating – I’m just not a corporate person - so I decided to be my own boss. The first few years were a bit hairy at times, but slowly the work started coming in and now it is doing nicely. I even have time to read a book!’

he

finished triumphantly.

‘What are you reading?’ I asked, smiling at his obvious delight.

‘I’m re-reading a set of books by Azimov – the Foundation series.’ He said, ‘Do you know it? It’s fantasy of a sort.’

I’ve not come across this particular series before but it sounds interesting and he promises to let me have a borrow of the first in the series once he has finished reading it.

The sound of boys’ voices

reaches us; there’s a knock at the door and, in response to Pete’s cheerful invitation to come in, Mickey and Duncan walk in. Duncan looks around curiously while Mickey tells me what they have been doing with Fred.

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‘I’d better get these two home, Pete.’ I said, gathering together all the paperwork I have to take home with me.

‘Thanks for the

coffee.’

I glance back at the unit as we walk across the farmyard to the lane, Pete is standing in the doorway watching us and waves.

The boys are both fractious after lunch; I pack them off to their beds for a nap. This is a nasty bug they have picked up. It’s certainly knocked them both for six. I’m hoping they will be fit for school on Monday but, at the moment, it is not a foregone conclusion by a long chalk.

What now? Oh, I know … I’d better sit down and make a shopping list for the food supplies … I have my head in the depths of the freezer trying to ascertain what we have in the frozen vegetable line when the phone rings.

Cursing slightly, I go to answer it.

‘Oh hi, Mum.’ I said, glad that I didn’t leave the freezer door open. Mum doesn’t often ring during the day unless the office is very quiet, but makes a meal of it when she does. ‘How are you?’

‘We’re fine, Maggie. Work is a bit slow today though.’ She said confirming my assumption. ‘How are things with you?’

‘Fine, Mum, though the boys have been ill with this fluey thing all week. They’re over the worst now and I’m hoping they’ll be fit for school next week.’

I replied, ‘Fortunately Jenna and I have

escaped it.’

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‘That’s a relief, Maggie, it would be difficult for you if you were ill.’ She said, ‘But to get down to the reason I’m ringing, I was wondering if you would like to come over for lunch on Sunday.

We’ve not met your charges yet. Do you think they would be well enough?’

‘Oh yes, they are a lot better now, they just get tired easily.

That would be nice, Mum. Are you sure you can manage all of us?’

‘Yes, of course I can, Maggie. Is there anything they don’t eat?’

‘Not that I know of, Mum. What time do you want us?’

‘About twelve thirty? We’ll eat about one. Maggie, I’ve got to go, a client has materialised. See you on Sunday. ‘bye’ I put the phone down and make a note to stick on the calend ar … Sunday lunch with my parents. It will be nice to see them … okay, so there’s also a certain amount of wanting to show off Mickey and Jenna to them. I can’t remember what it was like just having Duncan at home now.

Maybe Dad will have some idea of how we can get Duncan up to see Matt. Matt and I have talked about it several times now and the only viable possibility we can see is for Matt to drive all the way down to collect him and then reverse the process to bring him back again.

For a weekend that is rather ridiculous, not to mention

exhausting and horribly expensive. We’ve idly talked about Duncan going up there for Christmas but although Matt is keen to have him, and I am not particularly against the idea in principle, it would be odd

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not having Duncan here and Matt is anxious that I am not left on my own over Christmas which is kind of him.

Glyn texts me suggesting we meet up on Saturday night – the three of them are thinking of going to see the new Wallace and Gromit film. I’d like to see that. Mind you, so would the kids. For a moment I debate whether I should suggest taking them along … no, perhaps not.

I don’t like to ask Sally again … not that I asked her

last time actually … I wonder if Marian would be able to come over.

She hasn’t seen the kids all week and they’re not infectious now.

I

quickly call her number and explain what I am after.

‘Yes, Maggie, that would be fine. The only problem is that I’m not supposed to drive yet.’

‘I could come and pick you up, Marian, and take you back again after - the children would be fine on their own for ten minutes or so.’

I suggested.

‘Perfect!’ Marian commented sounding pleased. ‘I have to say the thought of spending the evening somewhere else is rather appealing. I am getting a little fed up with these four walls.’

I reply to Glyn’s text and we arrange to meet outside the cinema at seven forty-five on Saturday.

Naturally, when I tell the kids they

are disappointed that I am not taking them, the boys making a fuss which makes me wonder if I am being reasonable.

Jenna, however, leaps to my defence. ‘Come off it, you two, Aunt Maggie has done nothing but run around after you for over a

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week now – she deserves an evening off.’ She said stoutly ‘Anyway, it will be fun having Gran here for the evening.’

Mickey takes a bit of convincing and sulks for a while, merely convincing me that he is not as well as I thought – he hasn’t sulked for some time now.

Duncan picks up slightly more quickly,

especially when I tell him that we are all going over to Clevedon for Sunday lunch. I hear him enthusing to Mickey how great Grandpa is which helps a little with Mickey’s mood. Jenna is wide-eyed and nervous when I tell her about the proposed lunch on Sunday and even more so when I suggest that she might like to bake one of her fruit cakes to take over with us. However, I win my point and we spend the evening baking : a fruit cake for Clevedon and some flapjack for Marian’s visit.

The kids are out of kilter on Saturday. I know Jenna’s nervous about going to my parents … nothing I say seems to reassure her so I leave her to it, secure in the knowledge that her fears will be proved pointless when she actually gets there.

The boys are a different matter. For the first time since Mickey moved in, he and Duncan have an argument. It started when they were finishing off the latest jigsaw – I’m not entirely sure what sparked it and asking them does not clarify matters either as they both claim different things. Out of sheer desperation, I send them to their rooms, in the hope that they will calm down and become reasonable again.

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Lunch is a stilted and silent affair, with Jenna lost in a world of her own and the boys studiously ignoring each other. By the time they have finished eating, I could willingly strangle the lot of them.

Toby doesn’t seem impressed either. He came in as we started eating (as is his usual practice when there is food around) but, taking one look at the assembled children, went straight out again.

I envy him his freedom.

I wouldn’t mind leaving this lot to

stew for a while but, of course, I can’t do that.

As if this isn’t enough, the weather’s conspiring against me as well – it’s raining, not particularly heavily, but sufficiently to make working outside an impossibility.

Reminding myself that I am

having a few hours away from the house tonight, I get on with some work. I am up to date with Pete’s accounts, and the garage is okay, but Carrie dropped her latest month’s papers through the door sometime during the evening last night – she didn’t ring the bell and, having had a look in the envelope she left, I am not surprised. Talk about a mess.

Half an hour into the work, I am just beginning to make headway when I hear the doorbell go. Whoever it is appears to be leaning on the blasted thing.

Annoyed, I go to open the door, passing Jenna halfway down the stairs and seeing the boys hanging over the banister on the landing. I open the door to find a woman standing there, her finger firmly on the doorbell button … her hair is dripping with the rain and her coat soaked in patches.

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‘Do you mind!’ I asked, reaching out to remove her hand from the bell. ‘Can I help you?’

‘You’ve got my babies here … I wanna see them.’

She

announced, swaying slightly.

Suddenly realising who it is, I stand for a moment not quite knowing what to do.

Jenna comes up behind me. ‘It’s all right, Aunt Maggie. It’s only Mum come to say hello.’ She said, ducking under my arm and flashing me a warning look as she does so. ‘Hello, Mum.’ ‘Jenna … my baby …’ Fiona Thompson said, throwing her arms round Jenna and nearly knocking her over. ‘Your mummy has come to see you.’

‘Jenna, do you want to bring your mother into the kitchen so we can get to know each other?’ I suggested, meeting Jenna’s eyes; she nods slightly.

With the brightest smile I can muster, I lead the way to the kitchen, Jenna, holding her mother firmly by one arm, chatting about nothing in particular as she follows. The boys have disappeared.

‘Jenna, what do we do now?’ I hissed at the girl under cover of filling the kettle.

Fiona is sitting at the table and Jenna has come over to the sink to help me prepare coffee.

‘I’ll keep her talking … you ring Gran.’ Jenna hissed back, raising her voice to continue chatting to her mother. ‘Mum, do you want sugar in your coffee?’

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With a smile in Fiona’s general direction, I walk as calmly as I can towards the office as Jenna offers her mother a piece of the flapjack she made last night. Fiona is as drunk as they come but seems fairly friendly. Closing the office door, I sprint over to the phone and call Marian’s number.

I wait for what seems like an

interminable amount of time before she answers the phone.

‘Marian, it’s Maggie – Fiona has turned up here.’ I blurted out, annoyed that I sound so panic-stricken.

‘Oh … from your tone, I take it she’s drunk.’ Marian answered with a sigh.

‘Yes, Jenna’s making her coffee in the kitchen. What do we do?’

‘I’ll ring Sam Dehaney, Maggie.

But don’t worry, Fiona

doesn’t usually get aggressive or violent. Jenna knows how to handle her. I’ll ring you back in a few minutes.’

I put the phone down and take a deep breath. This is beyond my experience and although I realise it is absurd of me to be panicking like this, that doesn’t actually help. Trying hard to relax, I go back into the kitchen where Fiona is relating a long and somewhat convoluted story to Jenna about how she got here.

‘Where’s Mickey?’

Fiona suddenly asked, stopping mid-

sentence and looking around as though she expects him to be in the room.

‘He’s out with his friends, Mum.’ Jenna lied, looking to me for backing.

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‘Yes, Fiona, he goes up to the farm to help on a Saturday.’ I said brightly, launching into a long, and mostly imaginary, spiel about what Mickey and Duncan do up at the farm.

Fiona nods understandingly and comments that Mickey likes animals before resuming her tale. I see Jenna relax slightly – she’s obviously trying to keep Mickey away from Fiona.

‘Jenna, I’ve left a tap running upstairs.’ I said when I can get a word in. ‘I’ll just go up and turn it off.’

Jenna smiles at me understanding what I mean and immediately grabs her mother’s attention by asking about the trains between here and Bristol. I quickly leave the room and run upstairs – guessing rightly that the boys would have forgotten their differences of the morning, I go into Duncan’s room and find both boys sitting on the floor looks slightly scared.

‘Mickey, we’ve let your mother think that you and Duncan are up at the farm – can you two keep out of sight?’

Duncan glances anxiously at Mickey who nods.

‘We’ll stay in here, Mum.’ Duncan said.

‘Good boys!’

As I leave the room, I hear the phone ring and dash into my bedroom to pick it up. It’s Sam Dehaney.

‘Maggie?’ he said quickly, ‘Marian just rang. I gather you have a visitor.’

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‘Yes, Jenna’s holding the fort with her in the kitchen at the moment. We’ve told her that Mickey is out. She’s pretty far gone. I don’t know how she got here to be honest.’

‘She’s very good at it, Maggie.’ Sam said with a sigh. ‘I’ll be over as soon as I can. Just hold on to her, will you?’

Not wanting to leave Jenna alone for too long, I go back downstairs, though my over-riding impulse is to go and hide in my bedroom.

By the time I get back into the kitchen, Jenna is talking

about school. She glances across at me and I smile – the girl relaxes slightly.

I sit down at the table again and look at Jenna’s mother. I know that Fiona is about my age but she looks a good ten years older. She’s shorter than me and looks like a female version of Mickey oddly enough, though why that should surprise me I don’t know. She is very thin, scrawny almost, her jeans and thin jumper underlining her emaciation.

Suddenly, she turns to me, her gaze a little disorientated. ‘You are a good woman, Mrs Jones, looking after my babies.’ She said graciously, patting my arm in a friendly fashion ‘I’m sure my mother will reward you when she is out of hospital.’

‘They are lovely children, Mrs Thompson.’

I replied,

wondering just how long it will take Sam to get here. ‘I am pleased to have them here.’

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She smiles at me delighted at the compliment to her children and, unexpectedly, I feel very sorry for her. What sort of life must she have?

The hands on the clock move very slowly as Jenna and I work at keeping the conversational ball rolling.

Fiona veers from almost

sober understanding to mind-boggling leaps of subject.

After an eternity, the doorbell rings and, with an apologetic smile, I leave the kitchen, relief washing over me as I open the door to Sam. Standing in the hallway, he hurriedly ascertains the state of play, and then follows me into the kitchen.

‘Hello Fiona.’ He said in a friendly tone, sitting down beside her at the table. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I wanted to visit my babies.’

She explained as though

travelling some thirty miles on public transport whilst as drunk as they come is a normal activity. I am still amazed that she got here … from what she was telling Jenna, she had to change trains at Temple Meads. I get mixed up doing that when I’m stone cold sober.

‘You know, you’re supposed to tell me when you want to see the children, Fiona.’ Sam pointed out gently.

‘But I wanted to see them.’ She said, tears starting in her eyes.

‘I was very clever finding them, wasn’t I?’ ‘Yes, you were.’ He replied ruefully ‘Well you’ve seen Jenna now, so it’s time to take you back again.’

To my surprise, Fiona takes this very well, picking up her coat and, ignoring Jenna completely, bidding me a long if cordial farewell 196

as Sam has a quick word with Jenna. Sam leads Fiona out to his car; I stand at the door with my arm round Jenna, and we both wave goodbye as the car drives out of the gateway.

‘Jenna, you were marvellous.’ I said, giving her a hug.

She clings to me, shaking slightly.

‘Are you all right?’

She takes a deep breath and looks at me, the pain in her eyes shakes me. ‘Yes,’ she said with a massive sigh, ‘Poor mum, I keep hoping that she’ll get better but it’s not going to happen, is it?’

‘I don’t know, Jenna, I know very little about alcoholism.’ I replied honestly, ‘Shall I tell Mickey the coast’s clear now?’

‘Yes – thanks for that. He’s terrified of mum when she’s drunk.

When he was very small, she rampaged round the fl at throwing things and he’s never got over it.’ Jenna explained. ‘He’s okay when she’s sober but he’s never really known her properly. She’s been drinking as long as he can remember.’

I call up the stairs to Duncan and a few minutes later both boys, looking uneasy, come down to join us in the hall. Deciding that cake therapy is probably appropriate, I jolly them all along into the kitchen and sacrifice Jenna’s fruit cake.

‘You can make another one tonight if you want to, Jenna.’ I said as I make up some squash to accompany the cake. ‘Your Gran might enjoy seeing you cooking and you know the recipe well enough to do it on your own.’

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For the rest of the day, I keep a close eye on the children; reassuringly, they appear to be more or less back to normal … though I intend to keep an eye on Jenna. I’m still jittery … shaken by the whole episode … it’s so totally outside my experience … funny the things you take for granted … when I was Jenna’s age, my biggest worry was whether I should go with my girlfriends to the shops or watch a football match with Matt … and Jenna has been dealing with this for years.

At seven I get the car out and go to pick up Marian. She’s looking anxious but I assure her that everything is fine, thanking her for ringing Sam so quickly.

We talk about the visit and I give her as

clear a picture of the episode as I can, stressing how well Jenna coped with the situation.

‘Yes, well, she’s had a lot of experience of that.’

Marian

commented starkly, ‘Thank goodness Mickey was not around when Fiona arrived.’

‘Yes, he and Duncan lay low upstairs until she had gone. Jenna explained about that.’

‘Well, it’s all over now.’ Marian said as we get to the house, ‘You go out and enjoy yourself, Maggie. Don’t worry about what time you get home either.’

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Chapter 11

I arrive at the cinema a few minutes earlier than we arranged which gives me a chance to unwind a little – I’m still trying to get my head round this afternoon’s events.

At least things were calm at home when I left … Jenna was getting stuff out ready to bake another cake, with Marian sitting at the kitchen table almost glowing with pride in her granddaughter … that was nice to see … the boys were back in the dining room starting another jigsaw … Marian should have a peaceful evening, I hope …

‘Maggie!’

I turn to see Glyn, Charlie and James walking towards me waving their arms in the air.

‘We’ve got the tickets.’ Glyn announced.

‘But ….’ I stammered, reaching into my bag for my purse.

‘You must let me reimburse you’ I spend the next ten minutes trying in vain to get them to accept my ticket money.

‘Nonsense, Maggie. Allow us to be gentlemen.’ Charlie stated finally, completely sweeping the ground from under me. ‘We don’t often get the chance.’

‘We’ve just got time for a quick drink before the film starts.’

James put in. ‘Stop arguing, Maggie, we’re wasting good drinking time.’

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‘I’m driving tonight, so mine’s a lemonade.’

Glyn put in,

explaining that they take it in turns to drive.

‘So am I – it’d better be a pineapple juice for me, please.’ I replied ‘Though, after the events of this afternoon, I could certainly use something stronger.’

‘Oh?’ Charlie asked as James goes to the bar to get the drinks ‘What happened today?’ I explain about Jenna and Mickey and their mother and how she turned up unexpectedly.

‘Oh lord, that’s

unpleasant.’ He commented, dropping the village idiot im pression and revealing the responsible teacher he really is.

‘Yes … but the worst bit’s knowing that Jenna has been dealing with it for years.’

I said soberly, ‘Her brother is terrified of his

mother when she’s drunk.’

‘Not nice.’ He agreed, ‘Makes you grateful for what you had, doesn’t it? Unfortunately, that’s how the world is for some people, Maggie. We see a lot of it at school. Neglect doesn’t have to be linked to poverty or lack of education in parents, you know.’ He sighs then gives himself a shake as though removing a nasty memory, going on in a more positive tone of voice. ‘It sounds as though your two have got a fairly effective support network though.

Their

grandmother’s okay isn’t she?’

‘Oh yes, she’s sound. But it’s not fair on her either. She had to give up a very successful career as a solicitor to look after the kids.’

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‘But life isn’t fair, Maggie.’ Charlie went on, ‘That’s one of the first things I learned. My mother used to say that it isn’t written anywhere that it should be fair. She was a wise woman.’

‘I know, but …’ I grin at him ruefully, as the others come back with the drinks.

‘Now, Maggie, you are to forget all about your responsibilities for a few hours.’ Glyn announced seriously, ‘We find that a highly necessary and very effective way of dealing with the slings and arrows that life chucks at us.’

‘I’ll drink to that.’ I said with a grin and we all raise out glasses.

This trio may be crackers but they are extremely therapeutic idiots.

Glyn asks if the boys are over their illness.

‘Oh yes, they’re fine now. How are the kids at your school?

You said the bug was going round them too.’

‘We’re starting to crawl out of it now, I think.’ He replied, ‘As you can imagine, a bug like that sweeps through everyone. Half the staff have been down with it too. That’s the worst of working in a school.’

‘We’d better go into see the film, don’t you think?’ James said, looking at his watch ‘It starts in five minutes.’

The cinema is fairly full. We have to get half a row of sweetmunching, happily settled people to stand up so we can get to our seats … to the accompaniment of their disgruntled looks and sotto

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voce comments.

James thanks them all in fluent Russian. I can’t

help grinning at the reaction this elicits from the poor sods.

I end up sitting between Glyn and James. The film is great fun and I laugh a lot, feeling the stress of the last week or so falling away as I do so. As the lights go up, Glyn suggests another drink and we all pile into the pub next door to the cinema. Again, my attempt at buying a round is firmly rejected … this lot are certainly good at authority.

I learn a little more about them as we chat over our drinks and, as they bounce insults off each other in a very relaxed and friendly way, I have a chance to study them.

Charlie, as I thought, is the oldest of them and has been teaching at the school since Noah launched the ark according to James. Both his parents were teachers and, despite his protestations to the contrary, he loves his profession – that much is clear. He looks his age – late fifties – tubby and hair thinning on top; he reminds me of Harry Secombe though I can’t quite pinpoint why.

James, the youngest of the trio, is in his middle twenties and has only been teaching for three years.

As his accent suggests, he

originates from Cardiff where his parents run a pub. He has several brothers and sisters and although he relates all their names and ages, I get totally lost. He is one of the youngest, that much I do grasp.

Short, stocky and dark haired, James is as typical a Welshman to look at as you can get.

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Glyn is a local and actually attended Pennington House as a boy, his parents living near Box where his father is a vicar. Glyn’s a couple of years older than me I’d guess. Taller than the other two, he has fair colouring and blue eyes which laugh a lot. Like me, he is a little heavier than modern fashion decrees – I don’t think he’s very fond of exercise from what he says about the sports regime at the school.

‘So don’t any of you gentlemen have wives or girlfriends?’ I asked during a hiatus in the insult throwing.

‘Charlie here used to be married but saw the light and persuaded his wife to divorce him.’ James answered.

Concerned that I might have asked the wrong question, I glance at Charlie who is grinning at me happily.

‘I keep trying to talk James out of marriage.’ He said, shaking his head, ‘He’s engaged, silly man!’

‘Where’s your fiancée?’ I asked smiling at his tone, sipping my fruit juice.

‘Away at university – she’s studying medicine.’ He replied, ‘She’s got another two years to go before she qualifies. What about you, Maggie?’

‘I’m separated.’ I answered, ‘Matt, my husband, works up in Cumbria. It’s all very amicable though. He’s found a nice girlfriend up there; I’m ever so pleased for him.’

‘There you are, Glyn, the lady is available.’

James said

cheekily, making me blush. ‘Glyn was going out with one of the 203

matrons at school but she upped and left for pastures new last term, leaving him alone and weeping into his beer, Maggie. Take pity on the poor man.’

‘We split up well before she left.’ Glyn protested, ‘Maggie, don’t listen to a word this idiot says!’

It’s eleven thirty by the time we leave the pub – the boys have to be back in school before midnight … causing several comments about glass slippers, pumpkins and nubile young women, which have me giggling. They walk me to my car, insisting that they must protect me from the terrors of the night, James challenging every shadow to ‘come out and fight like a man!’ - I’m nearly wetting myself by the time we get to the car … I can’t remember when I laughed so much.

Charlie and James shake hands with me formally, thanking me for a delightful evening while Glyn stands by shaking his head.

‘Glyn, be a good boy and give the lady a hug.’

Charlie

instructed, very much in a school master tone of voice.

With an ironic glance, Glyn gives me a hug and kisses me on the cheek as the other two applaud and I don’t know whether to die of embarrassment or laughter. They wave madly as I drive off, my grin as broad as theirs.

I am still grinning when I get back to the house, a fact which Marian comments on, saying it is good to see. Over coffee, I tell her about the evening and the mad trio I have met up with.

‘What’s Charlie’s surname?’ she asked curiously.

‘No idea, why?’

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‘I’ve a vague idea I might know him. See if you can find out next time you see them. ’ She replied thoughtfully. ‘But never mind that now, Jenna tells me you are all going over to Clevedon for lunch tomorrow. That’s very kind of your parents, Maggie.’

‘Jenna’s been really nervous about it, Marian, any idea why?’ I asked, glad she’s brought the subject up.

‘She worries about making a bad impression, Maggie. Jenna tends to expect the world to dislike her. It makes meeting new people terrifying for her … she was in a hell of a tizz when I told her she would be coming here … it was your Toby who broke the ice.’

Marian replied slowly, her deep concern written all over her face.

‘But why? She’s a lovely girl.’

‘I don’t know … she’s been like it since they moved down from Scotland … I can only assume it was something which happened up there. Possibly something to do with her father … I don’t know.’

‘She’s been okay here.’

‘I think that’s down to your hands-on attitude, Maggie. It’s given her confidence. I was very impressed by how self-assured she was making that cake tonight.’

‘She’s turning into a capable little cook. You must come over for a meal now you’re more mobile.’

‘That would be nice, Maggie, thank you.’ Marian said, clearly pleased by the invitation. ‘It was nice being here with them tonight.

Your Duncan is a lovely lad – we had a long chat.’

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‘He’s turning out all right, I think.

I was worried that the

separation would affect him but he seems to have sorted it all out in his head.’ I replied, gratified at her praise.

‘That’s very much what he said, Maggie. He’s been very good for Mickey too … I think it’s given him a different outlook. Oh life is so complicated at times! Anyway, Maggie, you’d better take me home before we get too comfortable here.’

‘Heavens! It’s nearly one fifteen.’ I exclaimed glancing at the clock and reaching for my car keys.

‘Thank you so much for

babysitting, Marian.’

‘I enjoyed it – we’ll do it again.’ She said with a smile.

We are a motley crew of dressing-gown clad people over breakfast. I, for one, am feeling the after effects of my late night – I’d woken to hear Duncan and Mickey talking outside my room. The clock had revealed the horrible fact it was only ten to eight but, as I frequently remind myself, mothers don’t get a day off.

The boys are keen to hear all about the film as they munch their breakfast. Jenna materialises looking rather heavy-eyed … is she going down with the bug the boys have had?

‘Are you all right, Jenna?’

I asked anxiously as she helps

herself to some toast rather lethargically.

‘Yes, I’m fine, Aunt Maggie. I just didn’t sleep very well last night.’ She admitted with a yawn.

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‘Why don’t you go back to bed for a while, Jenna? We don’t have to leave until eleven, you could have another hour or so. Take your tea and toast up with you.’

‘That would be great,’ she said, stifling another yawn.

She shuffles sleepily back upstairs while the boys make up for their lack of appetite last week. Reminding them to be quiet because Jenna is dozing, I send them upstairs to shower and dress.

‘You’ll have to take turns in the bathroom today, boys. I’ll need my shower in a few minutes, Duncan.’ I said as they get to the kitchen door. ‘Please don’t leave a mess in the bathroom.’

I clear away the breakfast things and stack them on the draining board debating whether I can get away with leaving the washing up … no, Maggie, it will look even worse when you come back.

Reluctantly, I run a bowl of hot water and, my mind dozing, I get all the dirty dishes out of the way.

When I go upstairs to shower, I hear the boys talking in loud whispers … their efforts at being quiet are decidedly non-effective but at least they are trying. With a bit of luck, Jenna will get some sleep.

My bed looks very welcoming but I firmly resist its lures and, hoping the hot water will revive me a little, step into the shower. I gasp as the water hits me … it’s freezing!

Realising that the

temperature control is set to cold, I quickly turn it, shivering while the water warms up. Well, that woke me up if nothing else.

By the time I get back downstairs, I am feeling much more normal. The boys are being very good, working quietly on their 207

jigsaw. I allow myself the luxury of reading yesterday’s newspaper over another cup of coffee.

Jenna’s room is dim and silent when I go up to rouse her just before ten thirty. She’s sound asleep … Toby curled up beside her.

‘Jenna, love, it’s time to get up.’ I said gently.

She stirs and groans disturbing the cat who immediately stands on top of the lump under the duvet which is Jenna and starts purring as he pads his paws into the duvet cover.

‘Urghhhh .’ Jenna protested, ‘Toby … don’t!’

‘You’ve got half an hour to get yourself ready.’ I told her.

She looks brighter than she did earlier … the sleep’s done her good.

While she sorts herself out, I check the boys over. They don’t look too bad, although I do have to send Duncan up to change his jumper, the one he’s chosen has something spilt all down the front and clearly has not been through the washing machine. He complains – this jumper is his favourite.

‘Duncan – just get yourself up those stairs and find a clean one.

‘Oh Mum ….’

I look at him. Defeated, he trails up to his room and changes, promising that he’ll put the dirty one in the laundry basket. He’s coming back down as Jenna materialises, looking pretty in a denim skirt and jumper – she wears trousers to school and rarely wears a skirt. She smiles at me shyly asking if her outfit is suitable.

‘Very much so.’ I replied, ‘You look lovely.’

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Fruit cake safely in the cake tin, we set off for my parents’ house.

‘I hear you had a nice time with your Gran last night, kids.’ I remarked conversationally once we are on our way. ‘She enjoyed herself.’

‘Hmmm …’ Jenna replied ‘It was nice. She’s a lot better now – that operation’s made a big difference. We had a long talk … she was saying that she might go back to work.’

‘Yes, she mentioned that to me the other day … the idea is that you two would come to me after school then she’d pick you up when she finishes at the office.

I’d have you here during the school

holidays and if you were unwell. How do you feel about that?’

‘That’d be great.’ Mickey announced happily from the back seat.

‘What do you think, Jenna?’ I repeated, glancing at the girl beside me.

‘I like it.’ She said in a very satisfied tone, ‘It would be the best of both worlds – both you and Gran.’

Her use of words stuns me a little, I’ve become very fond of both her and Mickey over the past few weeks; it hadn’t dawned on me that they might feel the same way about me. Digesting this, I drive in silence, half listening to the boys in the back talking about football, while Jenna gazes out at the passing countryside, lost in a world of her own. Funny how we’ve shaken down into such a solid group; I never thought it would be like this.

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As I park outside Mum and Dad’s house, I see Jenna’s grip on the cake tin tense, her knuckles white.

‘Hang on there, Jenna, I’ll come round and open the door for you.’ I said, remembering what Marion said last night.

The boys leap out of the car enthusiastically, Mickey carried along by Duncan’s confidence. Mum was obviously watching for us, for, before I can get round to Jenna’s side of the car, Mum has opened the front door of the house and is welcoming the boys.

Taking my time, I open the car door for Jenna and hold the cake tin while she gets out of the car, handing it back to her with an encouraging smile. Together we walk up the path to the house.

‘Maggie, lovely to see you.’ Mum said giving me a hug,‘And is this Jenna?’ she went on, ‘How nice to meet you, my dear. But come on into the house, it is freezing out here. The boys have gone to find Dad in the shed.’

‘Jenna’s made a cake for you, Mum.’ I said, taking pity on Jenna who is standing there not quite knowing what to do with the cake tin.

I could have hugged Mum for her response – with a beaming smile, she turns to Jenna, taking the tin and just lifting the lid so she can see what is inside.

‘Thank you, that is kind of you, Jenna … oh … that looks nice.

We’re very fond of fruit cake.’ She said. ‘Just hang your coat up there, dear.’

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We follow Mum into the kitchen where, as I anticipated, everything is very much under control.

I learned my kitchen

management from my mother who was an excellent example.

Putting the cake tin down on the side, Mum chats away to Jenna, telling her how much she has heard from me about her cooking expertise.

‘You can give me a hand with lunch, if you like, Jenna.’ Mum said ‘I’ve not had a granddaughter and Duncan isn’t really interested in female things.’

Jenna, looking more relaxed now, shyly says she would be pleased to help with anything.

‘Maggie, why don’t you go and see what the menfolk are doing, Jenna and I can get to know each other while we finish off lunch preparations.’

Taking this for the hint it is, I go out of the kitchen into the garden. Dad has a large shed near the house where, as Mum puts it, he plays with his toys. Dad’s always been a potterer, doing a bit of this and a bit of that as the fancy takes him. When I was younger, he got involved in amateur radio, taking the exam and getting properly qualified. I remember being transfixed by hearing squeaky voices coming out of the speaker and being told that they were somewhere in the middle of Europe … the tall, metal pole where he mounted an enormous aerial still stands by the shed, a mute reminder of one of Dad’s many interests.

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The boys are deep in conversation with Dad when I go into the shed, the three of them looking up as the door creaks.

‘Ah, Maggie, come in. I have been talking to these young men of yours.’ Dad said – he’s in his element with children, Mum reckons it’s because he’s never grown up. ‘They’ve been telling me about the jigsaws they have been doing.’

‘Grandpa says we could make one, Mum.’

Duncan said, his

eyes wide with excitement.

‘That’s a good idea.’ I replied, giving my father a hug. ‘It would take rather a long time though, wouldn’t it?’

‘I reckon we could make one in a day.’

Dad said, ‘I’ve

suggested to Mickey here that he might like to make one for his Gran for Christmas.’

‘Now that’s a good idea.’ I replied, ‘But how are you going to manage that, Dad?’ ‘Well, the office is closed next Saturday because the water supply is off ... they are relaying the mains pipe or something, so I was wondering if these two might like to come over on Friday night and stay until Sunday.’ Dad suggested, glancing at the boys who are standing beside him.

‘What does Mum say to that?’ I asked and they all look slightly sheepish.

‘I’ve not mentioned it to her yet.’ Dad admitted, ‘But we’ll have a word over dinner.’ A buzzer sounds in the shed – Mum got Dad to rig it up after one particularly foul winter when she got very 212

cold and wet traipsing out to haul Dad inside for meals. ‘Sounds as though dinner is ready, boys. Come on, let’s go and wash our hands’ The boys don’t need telling twice, not with food in the offing, Dad sharing their enthusiasm. Feeling like the only adult in the party, I trail behind the three of them back to the house, grinning to myself … and Dad thought fostering kids was a duff idea?

Jenna greets me with a beaming smile as I go back into the kitchen, a tea towel tied round her waist to protect her clothes, just as I used to have when I helped Mum. ‘Go and sit down, Maggie,’ Mum said, ‘We’ve got everything under control, haven’t we, Jenna?’

Feeling like a spare part, I go through to the dining room where the table is laid for six. Dad offers me a glass of wine.

‘Thanks, Dad. You seem to have hit it off with Mickey.’ I commented, sipping my wine and enjoying the warming glow.

‘He’s a nice kid.’ Dad replied, ‘It would be fun having them here next weekend. Anyway, it won’t do you any harm to have a couple of days to yourself.’

It is a very pleasant, relaxed meal and, by the time we get to pudding, I am feeling so proud of my three kids that I could burst.

Mum compliments Jenna a couple of times, Jenna almost glowing under the praise.

I didn’t know what to tell Jenna and Mickey to call my parents, it would be inappropriate for them to use Grandpa/Grandma, especially as they have a Grandma of their own, but it looks as though 213

the problem has been solved … Jenna is happily calling my mother ‘Granny Cooper’ and before long, Mickey has adapted this to ‘Grampy Cooper’ for my father.

Dad introduces the idea of the boys coming here next weekend as Mum dishes the pudding (apple pie with custard, the latter made by Jenna), explaining that they want to work on a jigsaw project and going on to say that Mickey wants to make one for his grandmother for Christmas.

‘The office is going to be closed on Saturday anyway, so we could spend the whole day on the project.’ He finished.

Mum grins at me and we exchange a knowing look – Dad used to be much the same with the boys in the crowd I grew up with.

‘I don’t see why not. Could you bring them over on Friday night, Maggie?’ she asked, giving in to the inevitable, but looking fairly happy about it – come to think of it, Mum used to love it when I brought the crowd back here for coffee after an evening out. ‘One of you boys would have to sleep on the floor – there’s only one bed in the spare room.’

‘They could both bring sleeping bags.’ I suggested, earning grateful looks from the boys, who clearly consider sleeping in a bed too boring for words when there is a sleeping bag on the floor in the offing. ‘Then they could both sleep on the floor.’

‘I’ll bring them back to you on Sunday afternoon, shall I?’ Dad offered. ‘I could have a look at that sticking door of yours at the same time.’

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‘Thanks, that would be useful, Dad. Now that the weather is damper, the shed door is almost impossible to open.’ I replied. ‘I have to really yank on it and am concerned that I might do some damage … not least to me.’

Jenna is looking very thoughtful – I find out why as we help Mum wash up after dinner. The male contingent has gone off to make plans for next weekend.

‘Aunt Maggie …’ she said, apparently concentrating on wiping up the plate in her hands, ‘Gran suggested that it might be possible for me to go and stay with her for a night … if the boys are coming here, how would it be if I were to go to Gran’s on Friday night.’

‘That’s a lovely idea, Jenna. Your Gran would love to have you to stay, I’m sure.’ I replied, ‘You can ask her next time you see her.’

‘You wouldn’t be lonely being on your own, would you?’ Jenna went on anxiously ‘No … not at all. It’ll be nice to have some time to myself.’ I said, wondering if it would be.

Maybe I could arrange to go out somewhere … the thought of Pete Tregarran comes into my mind; I kick it firmly out again. One thing I have discovered from his paperwork, is that he is five years younger than me, why would he want to look at me?

Maybe the mad trio will be up for going somewhere.

After lunch, Mum suggests that the kids might like to go for a walk down to the sea. She’d checked with me that I was happy for them to go out on their own while we washed up and Jenna had been 215

quite keen on the idea.

Duncan knows his way around, so they

shouldn’t get lost, and they are sensible children.

‘Now, stay together and be sensible.’ I said firmly, as they stand ready to go, ‘You are to be back here by three thirty at the latest – understand?’

‘I gave Duncan some money for ice creams, Maggie – hope that was okay.’ Dad owned up as we sit down with a cup of tea once they have gone.

‘That was kind of you, Dad.

They’ll enjoy that.’

I said,

relaxing into the armchair. ‘Lovely meal, Mum, thank you.’

‘My pleasure, Maggie.’ Mum replied, ‘I like Jenna, though I see what you mean about lacking confidence.

That Mickey’s a

character – he has all the confidence his sister lacks, by the look of it.

But they’ve both got nice manners.’ …the ultimate accolade from my mother.

‘How is their grandmother doing?’ Dad asked.

‘She’s recovering well but it is a slow and frustrating business and she can’t drive yet.’ I replied, ‘She came and babysat for me last night and was pathetically grateful to get out of her cottage.’

‘I’m not surprised.’ Mum commented. ‘It’d drive me potty being tied to the house like that.’

‘It was made worse because we couldn’t go and visit her last week what with the boys being ill. She didn’t even have that to look forward to.’

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‘Jenna mentioned that their mother called on you yesterday.’

Mum said, surprising me, I should imagine that this would have been the last thing for Jenna to volunteer to a relative stranger.

‘That the alcoholic?’ Dad asked.

‘Yes, and she was extremely drunk.’ I answered with a sigh, ‘It was very difficult. Mickey was upstairs with Duncan fortunately, he’s frightened of his mother when she’s drunk, but Jenna took charge very competently. I was somewhat at a loss, not knowing what to do.’

‘Why is he afraid of his mother?’ Dad asked ‘Jenna says that once when he was tiny, Fiona got very drunk and threw things around their home. Not surprisingly, it scared him rigid. He can’t remember a time when his mother wasn’t drinking and doesn’t remember his father at all.’ I told him. ‘From what Jenna has said, her mother used to lean very heavily on the girl after her father left.’

‘That’s terribly sad, Maggie.’ Mum commented, ‘It’s not fair to do that to children.’

‘No, it made me very grateful for my trouble-free childhood, I can tell you. I’ve never really thought about it before, just taken it for granted, but I’m now realising just how lucky I was.’

My parents

exchange a glance I cannot read. One rarely considers one’s parents in the same light as one’s own relationships but for an instant I recognize that they must sometimes have wondered if they were

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bringing me up properly. ‘I was very fortunate with my parents – I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you for that.’ I finished.

‘You don’t have to thank us, Maggie.’

Dad said after a

moment’s embarrassed silence, ‘We’ve been very lucky with our daughter. When all this separation business came up, we wondered if perhaps we’d pushed you into that marriage. It seemed so sensible at the time … secure and safe. Your Mum and I have been talking about it quite a lot lately, wondering if we should have seen how things were.’

‘I don’t think you pushed me, Dad … as you say, it seemed the logical thing to do at the time.

I think Matt and I would have

pootered along quite happily if this job in Cumbria hadn’t come along but at some stage I daresay we’d have realised how things were, and it might have been too late for either of us by then. At least this way, we both have a chance of finding a real relationship with someone else. Matt has found a girlfriend, by the way – did I tell you? I’m ever so pleased for him.’

‘What about you, Maggie?’ Mum asked, her concern masked … but showing round the edges, ‘It’s going to be much harder for you with Duncan.’

‘I know, I realise that … there have been one or two … um … difficult moments over the past few weeks. I’ve never been so very much on my own before and it’s come as a shock. But I’m making new friends and getting out a little, so it’s not so bad.’ I answered,

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going on to tell them about the mad trio. ‘I’m getting some regular work in the accountancy line too which helps.’

‘Well, don’t forget we are here if you ever have a crisis.’ Dad said firmly. ‘We’re proud of you, Maggie, just remember that.’

The disturbance caused by the doorbell ringing gives me the seconds I need to fight back the tears.

This has been a rather

emotional conversation – most unusual for my parents – and the reappearance of the children is a relief. Mum goes off to let them in and fusses over them a little.

‘Thank you so much for the ice cream, Grampy Cooper.’

Mickey said bouncing into the lounge. ‘I had one with a chocolate flake in it. It was scrummy.’

‘I’m glad you enjoyed it, Mickey.’ Dad said delighted, ‘We’ll have to see what treats we can fit into next weekend, won’t we?’

Before we go home, Mum insists that the children have a drink and a biscuit though it is not that long since they had a massive lunch – a fact I bring up with little effect.

‘They are growing children, Maggie.’ Mum replied, earning grateful smiles from all three kids.

Jenna, her cheeks red from the cold air, her eyes sparkling, munches on her biscuit with as much enthusiasm as the boys.

I insist that they all have an early night and, despite their initial objections, by eight thirty they are all yawning.

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‘I don’t mind if you read for a while, but I want you all to go to bed and be quiet.’ I said sternly. ‘It has been a busy weekend and I want you to be fit for school tomorrow.’

Just after nine, I go round to check on them. Mickey is sound asleep, his book lying where it fell out of his hands ; I gently remove it and tuck him in … funny how boys always look so angelic when they are asleep.

Duncan is much the same. He stirs briefly as I tuck him in, opens his eyes and smiles at me before turning over and going straight back to sleep.

Jenna is sitting up in bed reading. I go in and sit on the end of her bed, Toby is curled up on the duvet and gives me a filthy look as I disturb him, making a big thing of moving over slightly.

‘Good day?’ I asked as she puts her bookmark where she has got to and closes the book.

‘Very good.’

She said, hugging her knees.

‘Your mum’s

lovely. I was silly being so nervous about going to Clevedon.’

‘Just a bit.’ I conceded, not wanting to be too negative. ‘Next time you get nervous about something remember that. It might help.’

‘Hmmm …’ she smiled ‘Do you realise we’ll have been here a month next weekend.’

‘Really? Hasn’t it gone quickly.’ I replied doing some quick calculations ... she’s right. ‘Were you nervous about coming here?’

‘Terrified.

It was scary enough when Gran took over from

Mum, everything changed, but I got used to that and then it all 220

changed again. It began to feel as though nothing was permanent … as soon as I got used to something it altered.’

‘I’m not surprised you were scared. In your place I’d have been much the same.’

‘Would you?’ she asked looking up at me searchingly. ‘You never seem to be scared of anything, Aunt Maggie.’

‘Believe me, I get scared, Jenna. But it’s one thing being scared and quite another letting that stop you doing whatever it is that scares you.’ I replied

‘I was pretty scared on Saturday when your Mum

appeared. I didn’t have the foggiest idea what to do.’

‘But you looked so confident, Aunt Maggie.’

‘That is the secret, Jenna, half the time, if you can convince everyone else that you are confident, you get away with whatever it is.’ I confided, ‘It also boosts your own confidence and the pretence frequently becomes fact.

Anyway, it never helps to panic and

collapse in a heap.’

Jenna laughs, commenting that she can’t imagine me panicking, let alone collapsing in a heap.

‘I don’t know about that, but I think it is time for you to snuggle down and go to sleep, young lady.’ I said, kissing her on the forehead and tucking her in. ‘sleep well.’ ‘’Night, Aunt Maggie.’

Taking my own advice, I go downstairs, turn everything off and get myself off to bed. As I close my eyes and start drifting off to

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sleep, I remember that I’ve got a weekend off …. I wonder what I can do with it ….. not surprisingly, I dream about Pete Tregarran …

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Chapter 12

We bump into Caroline on the way to school – I’ve not seen her for weeks … at least that’s what it feels like … it’s good to see her.

She’s equally pleased to see me and we talk animatedly all the way down the road, catching up on events.

‘At least you escaped that frightful bug, Maggie.’ She said, sounding slightly hoarse. ‘I caught it off Daisy and was really rough with it, I’m still coughing.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that, Caroline.

How on earth did you

manage?’ I asked, suddenly very aware of how fortunate I have been.

‘Jim covered the school run in the mornings and Jan fielded Daisy – naturally my daughter was fit long before I was!’ she replied, breaking off to cough. ‘Oh, this blasted cough! But, enough of that, I’ll survive. Any chance you can come round for coffee? We haven’t had a good chat for ages.’

‘Yes, I’d love to, when do you suggest?’

‘I’ve got to get some bits at the shop on the way back from school, but should be back by ten … do you want to come over then?’

Caroline suggested ‘That would suit me – I really ought to push the vacuum round but don’t feel over inspired by housework this morning.’ I said and she grins understanding exactly what I mean.

With that to look forward to, I am spurred into action as soon as I get home, whizzing round with a duster and then running the 223

vacuum over the carpets. Mickey’s room is starting to look untidy …

I’ll have a word with him about that. We had this problem when he first came here, he seems to think that there is some sort of magic which will tidy things up for him. Duncan’s room is presentable, more or less … maybe it’s time for a word with him too.

As usual,

Jenna has left everything neat and tidy. She takes a pride in keeping her things straight.

It is pleasant walking down to Caroline’s house. The sun’s come out today and although there is a nip in the air, it’s slightly milder than it has been of late. Considering it’s early December that’s pretty good going.

‘So how are things with you, Maggie?’ Caroline asked once we are comfortably seated with coffee and some wonderfully chocolatey biscuits she ‘just happened’ to pick up in the shop while she was there.

‘Fine, thanks. The kids have settled in really well now … it’s funny how quickly they’ve become part of the family. We all went to lunch with my parents yesterday.’

‘Really? How did that go? I know you said that they weren’t terrible in favour of you fostering originally.’

‘Well, that’s all changed now, Caroline. Mum and Jenna hit it off immediately and Dad was in his element with two boys instead of the usual one to play with. In fact, the boys are going over there at the weekend to do some woodwork with Dad. They’re really excited about the prospect of sleeping on the floor in their sleeping bags.’

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We both laugh.

‘That’s brilliant, Maggie. I’m so glad it’s working out for you.

Another biscuit?’

‘Better not – I’m trying to watch my weight a bit at the moment.’

‘Oh? Any nice men on the horizon?’ Caroline teased ‘Well, I met up with three loonies at the Institute lecture I went to last week … don’t know if you’d count them.’ I replied with a grin.

‘What sort of loonies?’

‘Teachers on the loose from Pennington House.’

I replied,

telling her about the antics Charlie, James and Glyn got up to and how we’d gone to the cinema on Saturday night.

‘It was a pleasant

antidote to the visitation we had in the afternoon, I can tell you.’

‘What was that all about?’

‘Fiona Thompson, the kids’ mother appeared on the doorstep, though how she got to my place at all as drunk as she was, I have no idea. It was lucky that Jenna knew how to deal with the situation, Mickey was upstairs with Duncan, lying very low and I was in a flat panic, not knowing what to do at all.’

‘Whatever did you do with her, Maggie?’

‘Well … while Jenna kept her mother occupied in the kitchen, I rang the kid’s Gran, and she contacted Sam Dehaney. He came out to take Fiona back to wherever it is she is staying. Considering it was a

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Saturday afternoon, it was very good of him to come out so quickly.

Don’t they ever get any time when they’re not on call?’

‘It depends, Maggie, if you are dedicated to your clients – as Sam is – it can take over your life.’

‘Heavens, that must play havoc with your personal life.’

‘Yes, it does.

I think Sam’s marriage broke down mainly

because of that, his wife didn’t understand how he feels about his work. I’m afraid it can be one of those jobs where you marry the job as well as the person, a bit like a vicar or a teacher. I know Jim had some trouble coming to terms with it when we first got together – clients don’t necessarily have their crises at convenient times. Of course, it helped that Jim works with students, so understood how it is to a large extent.’ Caroline explained, ‘I bet Sam had an interesting journey back to Weston-super-Mare though – don’t envy him that one little bit.’

‘Is that where she’s in rehab?’

‘I expect so, there are several centres there – the locals don’t like it at all and I can see their point to some extent, but everyone has to be somewhere. How did the kids cope with it?’

‘Better than I did, in some ways, Jenna was far too familiar with having to deal with her mother in that state. It has made me very aware of how trouble-free my childhood was.’

‘It can get you like that. I felt much the same when I started my first caseload. Oh Maggie, it is nice talking to you – Jan only ever wants to gossip and talk about TV programmes she has seen.’

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‘Well, it’s all she’s got to think about, isn’t it?’

‘Ouch!’ Caroline winced.

‘Oh, I’m sorry, Caroline, it just hurt being left out.’

I’m not usually bitchy about people and it doesn’t feel very comfortable.

‘I can imagine. That was a nasty little episode, Maggie … Jim and I were amazed. I have to say that the party wasn’t the same without you there.’

‘Thanks, I’d been warned that this sort of thing might happen, but it came as a shock all the same.’

It’s enjoyable sitting chatting to Caroline. I mention that Jenna is hoping to stay with her Gran for the weekend.

‘So you’ll be child-free for a couple of days, Maggie.’ Caroline commented ‘What are you going to do with yourself?’

‘I don’t know. I might see if the mad trio are around … or go up and watch Pete working.’

‘Pete? And who is Pete?’ Caroline pounced with an inquisitive smile on her face ‘One of my clientele.’

I said self-consciously, ‘He runs a

commercial horticultural business from one of Fred Plaister’s barns. I do his accounts.’

‘And that explains why you’re blushing, I suppose.’ Caroline commented wryly.

‘I’m not!’ I declared rushing over to look in the mirror which hangs above the fireplace, much to Caroline’s amusement.

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‘So tell me about this man.’ She invited, her grin wide.

As nonchalantly as I can, I briefly tell her a little about Pete, stressing that we are just two people who have a love for gardening in common. ‘He’s a lot younger than me, anyway, Caroline.’ I finished, explaining the five year age gap.

‘I don’t think five years counts as a lot younger, Maggie.’

Caroline teased ‘What’s he look like?’

‘Tallish, thinnish, with a ponytail.’

‘Oh, the interesting type.

All right I’ll stop teasing you now,

Maggie. But you must keep me posted on any developments.’

Once I get home, I quickly prepare myself something to eat, then, munching on my sandwich, get down to some serious work on the latest bundle of garage papers which have been dropped through my letter box.

The phone rings just before three ... I reach for it, grateful for the interruption.

'Maggie?' said Pete's voice , 'Just thought I’d give you a ring to check that everything’s okay.'

'Yes, it's all fine. I got those cheques sent off on Friday and we're up to date on the invoices for your clients.' I replied, kicking myself for the way my stomach turned over at the sound of his voice.

'How's your week going? Are the boys better now?' he asked, obviously keen to have a chat.

'Yes, they've gone back to school today. The weekend was eventful though.' I replied, settling back comfortably in my chair.

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'In what way?'

he asked and I tell him about Fiona's

appearance. 'That must have been difficult for you, Maggie.'

'Yes, it shook me a little but an evening at the cinema sorted me out.'

'What did you go to see?'

I kick myself again … I don’t want to give him the idea that there is a man on the scene … so go into a complicated explanation of how I met up with the mad trio in the first place, stressing their threesomeness.

'Sounds like you had fun.'

‘I did. In fact, the weekend was one long social whirl - I took the kids over to my parents' for lunch on Sunday as well. The boys are going over there to stay next weekend.’ … I must remember to tell Fred he won’t have his helpers.

'Wow - so you’re having a girly weekend with Jenna, are you?'

'No, we're hoping that Jenna is going to stay with her Gran, so I shall be all on my own.' I replied, hoping that doesn't sound as though I am angling to see him.

'When are they all abandoning you?

Only I'm going to be

having a tree-building session on Friday night … you said you wanted to see how it’s done … you'd be more than welcome to come up then.'

'I've got to take the boys over to Clevedon after school on Friday - so I could take you up on that.' I answered, sticking my tongue out at my all too delighted reflection in the mirror. 'What sort of time?'

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'Any time after seven-thirty would be fine, Maggie. But I'll see you on Thursday morning anyway, won't I?' 'Yes, of course. Pete, I'd love to sit here chatting but I've got to go - it's nearly time to pick the boys up from school.'

'I'd better let you go then, mustn't get in the way of the busy mother! See you on Thursday.'

Glyn rings me on Tuesday evening. We chat about nothing in particular for half an hour and then I remember what Marian said.

‘Glyn, what’s Charlie’s surname?’

‘Berring … why?’ he very reasonably asked.

‘A friend of mine was asking.’ I said, scribbling the name down on the pad by the phone – I know I shall never remember it otherwise.

‘Marian Benson. She lives in the village.’

‘Oh, I’ll ask him if he knows her.’ Glyn said.

I can almost see the mischievous look on his face as he anticipates the teasing possibilities.

‘Hey, Maggie, are you doing anything on Friday night?’

'Sorry, Glyn, I’m busy Friday night. The rest of the weekend is pretty vacant at the moment, though.'

'I can't help you there, Maggie. We're all tied up here at the weekend - the school is hosting a visit from a similar establishment in Italy and we are all required to be here in our best bib and tuckers.' he moaned, 'Oh well, another time perhaps.'

'I'll look forward to it.'

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Wednesday morning, on my way back from dro pping the boys off at school, I call in at the baker's to get some bread. Those boys get through so much; they finished off what stock I had at breakfast this morning. I honestly don't know where they put the amount they eat sometimes ... they don't seem to put on any excess weight - still, I suppose they are fairly active.

Dave, Jan's husband, is in there and I join the queue behind him.

'Hello, Maggie.' he said warmly 'Not seen you for a while.'

'No.' I replied shortly, the sting from being left out of their firework party still hurting, then, feeling guilty at being so offhand, I go on. 'How are things with you?'

'Fine, fine. What about you? You must be feeling the draught now that you are on your own.'

'It is a little strange at times.' I said as we shuffle forward towards the counter – it’s busy in here today. 'But I’m getting used to it.'

Dave has reached the head of the queue and has to attend to the girl serving. It is soon my turn and, clutching a still-warm loaf, I’m soon walking out of the shop. To my surprise, Dave has waited for me. We stand outside the shop, resuming our conversation.

'Not having a man around the place must be difficult, Maggie.'

'Oh, I am fairly handy when it comes to DIY.' I replied, not quite comfortable with the glint in his eye and wondering where exactly this conversation is going.

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'I didn't mean that.' He said with a leer, 'I expect you get chilly on your own at night. Let me know if you ever want any company.'

It takes me a moment to realise what he is meaning ‌ the bastard!

'Thanks for the offer, Dave, but I doubt I shall ever get that desperate.' I said as bitingly as I can - furious that he should think I’d welcome such an offer from the husband of a friend. 'Excuse me, I have things to do.'

As I march off down the street, I am fuming. How dare he!

'You look pretty angry about something.' An amused voice said.

I stop in my headlong rush along the pavement to find Jane Hammond standing in the doorway of the newsagent’s beside me.

'Sorry, Jane, I didn't see you there.'

'I'm not surprised - you look absolutely furious about something, Maggie.' she replied as we move slowly along the footpath together.

'I am.' I said in an outraged voice, 'I think I've just been propositioned.'

'Really?' Jane said, laughing slightly, 'Wow! That's never happened to me.'

Her reaction dissipates my anger a little. 'But

joking apart, don't let it upset you, Maggie.'

'I know I'm over-reacting, but it shook me, Jane. I suppose it wouldn't have been so bad if his wife, who's a longstanding friend of mine, hadn't deliberately not invited me to a recent party of theirs.'

'That's nasty.

But even so, don't let it upset you that other

people are so insensitive. Have you got time for a coffee?'

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'Yes, I suppose I have.'

It would probably be better not to be on my own at the moment ... I anticipate that conversation with Dave will go round and round in my head for some time to come.

I don't often go into the café in the village, it seems so very silly when I live only ten minutes away but I’ve heard good reports from those who use it regularly. The woman behind the counter greets Jane warmly … looks as though Jane is a regular in here. Thinking about it, her encountering people much as she did me, must be a regular event in her life as the Vicar's wife.

I firmly resist the cakes on offer, earning Jane's admiration.

'I don't usually manage to be so strong minded ... and it shows.' she confided as we carry out coffees over to a table by the window and sit down. 'So, apart from being the local scarlet woman, how are things with you?'

'Good.' I replied, sipping my coffee - they serve a decent brew in here. 'Jenna and Mickey have settled in well – it’s fun having a large family.'

'Do you think you’ll go on to look after more children once they go back to their grandmother?' Jane asked, revealing an intimate knowledge of the situation which really should not surprise me. But that’s village life for you.

'I'd certainly be up for it. But I’ve been spoilt – they’re very nice children - I doubt I’d be as lucky again. However, I think the link with the Thompsons will carry on, their Gran is thinking of going 233

back to work now that I’m available to cover after school and during the holidays.'

'Oh that's a wonderful idea.' Jane exclaimed, 'So what are you up to socially - found anything to get you out of the house yet?' … I wonder just what she has heard ... with a grin, I tell her about my attendance at the recent lecture and how I met up with the mad trio, making her laugh at the description of the trip to the cinema.

We sit chatting for a little longer then, waking up to the

realisation that it is nearly eleven and we both have things we should be doing, split up and go our separate ways.

The boys are full of the fun they had with my father when we get to Marian's place after school, Mickey being painfully and very obviously secretive about the project which the three of them are going to work on and Marian deliberately not picking up on it.

‘I think he would have burst if he’d had to stay down here much longer.’

Marian commented with amusement, once they have

disappeared to play upstairs, ‘It is kind of your father to take such an interest, Maggie.’

‘Oh Dad loves kids – believe me, it’s no great hardship for him having two boys to play with instead of just the one.’

‘It must be good for Mickey having a man around … he’s always lived in a very female household.’ Marian said thoughtfully, ‘I’ve never thought about that before. Anyway, I’ve had a chat with Gary Blackford, Maggie, about the possibility of me going back to work. It’s still only a tentative suggestion, but he’s going to talk to 234

the other partners and see what they can come up with. I have to say I’m rather excited about it; I never thought I would be able to go back to work and I do so love the intellectual challenge of legal work.’

‘The kids seem up for it too – I believe it would work very well for all of us.’ I stated.

We grin at each other. It is a short hop from there to the idea of Jenna coming to stay on Friday evening; Marian is delighted at the suggestion. She saw her doctor today and he has told her that all is well - it is only a question of time until she is well enough to have them home again. We arrange that Jenna will come home to me after school so that she can pack an overnight bag and that I will run her down. That way, I will know that she gets here safely.

'What are you intending to do with yourself over the weekend, Maggie?'

'I don't know. I'm going up to watch Pete making artificial trees on Friday night but apart from that, I haven't anything planned.’

'That should be interesting.' she said, a twinkle lurking in her eye 'Is this the horticultural version of 'come and see my etchings'?’

'You have a suspicious mind, Marian.' I replied tartly. 'Mind you, I did have a pass made at me by a married man this morning.'

'Really? How very unpleasant for you.' Marian said with distaste, the twinkle disappearing completely. 'I trust you told him where he could stick his suggestion.'

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'You bet!' I replied with vigour. 'It made me very angry but coffee with Jane Hammond soon calmed me down. She’s a godsend, that woman.'

‘Hmmm ... we’re very lucky in our vicar.' Marian replied, 'He's been organising a team of volunteers to come round and talk to me I'd have gone crackers without that. It's not even as though I’m a regular at church.'

‘He doesn’t seem to differentiate … he came round to see me as soon as he heard that Matt and I were splitting up and has been ringing me every now and then just to ask how things are going. It’s nice to feel that it matters. By the way, Marian, I found out what Charlie’s surname is – it’s Berring.’

‘Really.’ She said, her face lighting up. ‘How funny.’

‘Now, you’ve just got to explain, Marian.’ I said completely at sea. ‘What’s this all about – do you know him?’

‘Hmmm … I knew Charlie Berring some years ago. Didn’t know he’d come back to this neck of the woods.’ She said slowly, her mind obviously somewhere else.

‘From what I heard, he’s never left the area.’ I commented, ‘I got the impression that he’s been working at the school since the year dot.’

‘He has … sort of …’ she said incomprehensibly.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Let me think,’ she said, pausing for a moment to get her thoughts straight.

‘He started at Pennington House when he left 236

university. He must have been there for about five years … that’s when I got to know him. Charlie left the area then, taking a job over in Essex … he met his wife over there. I didn’t know he had come back here.’

She doesn’t say any more than that and, although it’s clear that there is a lot more to the matter than she is letting on, I don’t like to ask any more questions. Most curious …

It's pouring with rain on Thursday morning so, I take the easy way out and, although it’s considerably further by road than on foot, I drive up to Fred's farm with Pete's paperwork. Parking in the yard, I dash across the concrete, splashing through a puddle which is considerably deeper than I anticipated and consequently explode into Pete's unit, swearing loudly.

'Nice to see you too, Maggie.' Pete grinned appreciatively, 'What's got your goat?'

'Water in my trainers and soggy jeans.' I replied with a grimace as my feet register just how wet my socks are. 'That puddle was deceptive.'

'I'd suggest you take them off and dry them by the fire but it's not that warm in here.' Pete replied sympathetically as I explain about the socks.

'It's all right, I'll survive.' I said, putting the papers down while I take my coat off. Anticipating that it would be chilly here, I have a warm sweatshirt on over my shirt. 'Good job I put the papers in a plastic file, isn't it? So how is life in the horticultural world today?'

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'Mucky.' he replied, holding up his hands which are covered in compost. 'I'm potting up some bulbs. A couple of the offices like seasonal displays if they can get them ‌ these are dwarf, scented narcissis.'

'I like the sound of that, spring seems a very long way away at the moment.' I commented as the sound of the rain beating against the window intensifies.

He has a large shallow container, half full of compost and is placing bulbs in what will probably look like a haphazard arrangement when they come up. As I watch, he fills in all the gaps and starts topping the container up with compost. He then stows the finished article in a corner of the room along with three other similar containers.

'Coffee?' he offered, rinsing his hands under the tap 'Yes, please. Any post for my attention?'

'Yes, it's that heap over there.' he replied, gesticulating with a teaspoon towards a pile of envelopes on one of the shelves. 'There's quite a lot this week as I've been ordering stuff for Christmas. Part of my remit is putting up Christmas trees in some of the offices and they always like the latest style in decorations so I have to buy in new every year.'

I look through the contents of the envelopes briefly, four invoices for payment, a bank statement and some delivery notes. Pete is very good checking off the deliveries against the notes but part of my job is to check that the invoices match the delivery notes.

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There’s also a list of clients who need invoicing this week. Pete staggers his invoices through the month, ensuring that the larger organisations who invariably pay at the latest possible moment are all invoiced at the beginning of the month and the smaller companies, who tend to pay on demand as their cash flow works much the same way as his, are invoiced throughout the month, thus ensuring he has a fairly good chance of a certain amount of income in any one month.

I’ve rigged a spreadsheet which shows orders, deliveries and invoices which makes tracking stuff possible.

‘I’ve been asked to quote for some new work.’

Pete said,

bringing my coffee over to where I am standing. ‘Any chance you can create something that looks half-decent if I give you the information?’

‘Don’t know about half-decent,’ I said grinning at him ‘I only do high quality work, you understand.’

‘Oho! The lady gets bolshie!’ he laughed, ‘Apologies … but you know what I mean.’

‘Let me have the information and I’ll put something together for you. I could bring it up for your approval tomorrow night, if you like.’

‘You’re definitely coming, then?’ he asked, his eyes smiling at me over his mug.

‘If it’s still okay with you.’

‘Absolutely, I’ll get a bottle of wine in, shall I? It gets chilly up here evenings.’

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‘That would be very nice, but you don’t have to go to that much trouble.’

‘No trouble, Maggie. ‘Now what do you need me to sign this morning?’

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Chapter 13

Thursday afternoon, just as I am in the middle of rolling pastry for a pie and trying to keep my mind on what I am doing, the doorbell rings. Cursing slightly, I go to answer it - Sam Dehaney is standing there. Seeing my floury hands, he apologises for disturbing me.

'If it's inconvenient, Maggie, I'll come back another time.' he said anxiously – he looks tired, poor man.

'No, no, it's fine. Come on in. As long as you don't mind me finishing the pastry.'

He follows me into the kitchen, and I point him in the direction of the coffee-making facilities while I finish the meat pie I am making.

'Did you manage to get Fiona back okay?' I asked as he waits for the kettle to boil.

'Yes, once she was in the car, she dozed off. Were the kids all right?'

'A bit ruffled, but we went over to my parents' for lunch on Sunday and that soon took their minds off it.' I said, going over to the fridge to get some milk to glaze the pie. 'Do you want some milk in your coffee?'

'No thanks,' he said, watching me pour a little milk into a cup and then taking the container from me and putting it back in the fridge for me. 'It went well at your parents' then?'

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'Very, so well, in fact, that Mickey and Duncan are going over for the weekend to play with my Dad.' I said, smiling at him, 'Dad's over the moon at having two boys instead of just the one. They’re planning some serious carpentry, I gather.'

'Sounds very positive - Mickey will benefit from some adult male company, I should think. The boy hasn't known much.' he commented thoughtfully, sitting down at the table with his mug. ‘He never knew his father.’

'Marian said something much the same.'

I’m concentrating on carrying the pie over to the oven – being a large pie, it is a two-handed carry ... damn! I forgot to open the oven door before I picked it up … but, even as I’m trying to juggle the load, Sam leaps to his feet.

'Hang on, Maggie, I'll do that for you.'

'Thanks,' I said, putting the pie on the shelf in the oven and closing the door on it. I glance at the clock ... yes, that should be done before I go to pick the boys up from school, then I can warm it up for dinner. 'Jenna’s going to stay with her Gran for a couple of nights at the weekend as well.'

'Oh really? I didn't know that.' he said, sitting down again and sipping his coffee, 'I bet Marian's pleased about that.'

'Yes, but Jenna's looking forward to it as well ... she's learned to cook since she came here and is anxious to show off her new skills.' I explained, rinsing my hands and getting myself a coffee. 'Any special reason for you coming round today? Or is it just a routine visit?'

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'A bit of both really.' he said with a smile. 'I saw Marian earlier and she mentioned the idea you've cooked up between you for her going back to work. Are you happy with that?'

'Oh very, I was starting to realise how much we are going to miss Jenna and Mickey when they go back to Marian ... especially Duncan - he and Mickey have built up a really strong bond - and Jenna and Mickey have become attached to us too, I think. This idea would keep the link going. It’s funny, but I can hardly remember that it was like only having one child now.'

'I can imagine. Would you consider taking any more full time children, Maggie?' I look at him curiously, he sounds as though he as a definite prospect in mind. 'I might. 'It depends what you are about to offer me.'

He looks at me and laughs. 'No flies on you, Maggie.' he said, 'But you're right, I have got something particular in mind. It's a similar sort of set up to Jenna and Mickey, the sole carer of the child will be unable to look after the child for a period of about six to nine months. The child's younger though - she's six.'

'Go on, tell me about it.

'The situation is this, Maggie,' he went on, 'Single mum in her twenties, dad was a one-night stand from what I can gather. Despite this, Mum has done a reasonable job of bringing up the child, who’s a well-behaved little girl. Mum picked up a job working part time now that the child is at school but, unfortunately, has just been charged with stealing from her employers. Without being sentimental about it, 243

I’d say that the employers were partly to blame, it was far too easy for the woman to take the money - she's not the brightest of people and made no effort to hide the fact she’d taken it – the temptation was just too much for her, which is no excuse, I know, but ... well ... she hasn’t spent most of it … bought a winter coat for the child.’ He sighed and shook his head. ‘Anyway, it’s likely that when the case comes to court, she’ll go down for some months.'

'When do they anticipate the case coming up?'

'In the New Year. She's now panicking because of the child. As I said, she's done her best for the child and is worrying that the child will end up being taken away from the village and that she’ll lose her.

There's no family for her to fall back on – she lost touch with them years ago and isn’t from this area in the first place.'

'They live in the village then?’

'Yes, one of the council flats down past the school. Not sure if she will be allowed to keep it yet - I'm hoping so. Do you think you could help out? As I said, the child is a nice little girl, no nasty tendencies that I know of - her mother is from a good background though not terribly bright, as I said.'

'Yes, I think I could.' I said thoughtfully, 'I didn’t realise how much of a difference it could make to a child before Jenna and Mickey came here. I’m not saying that I have been a miracle worker but just giving them a bit of ordinary life has helped them cope with the situation. I’ve made a friend in Marian too … funny how it goes like that. Does that always happen?’

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‘Not always, it depends on the family. Some foster parents don’t want to get involved, concentrating on the children … and then again some of the children’s parents don’t want to have anything to do with their kids which is why they are being looked after for a start off.’

‘It must be a very worthwhile job.’

‘At times.’ He said with a sigh, looking wearier than ever, ‘But other times it is sheer hell. My priority is the children – trying to get the best outcome for them but it’s not always easy. Some parents see their children more as fashion accessories than small people for whom they have responsibility. You wouldn’t believe some of the situations I see.’

‘No wonder you look tired.’ I replied struck by his uncharacteristic lack of spirits ‘Have you had any lunch?’

‘No, I had to attend an emergency case conference.’

He

admitted, ‘Then I had to dash off to an appointment and never got round to it.’

‘Can I get you a sandwich at least?’ I offered and he grins at me.

‘Maggie, you spoil me!

That would be wonderful. Are you

sure it’s not an inconvenience?’

‘Don’t be daft, Sam Dehaney!’ I replied, going over to the fridge, ‘I’ve got some salad and cheese … and there’s a slice of ham if you’d like it.’

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‘Cheese and salad would be just right.’ He said gratefully, ‘Oh, I am so tired! Sorry, I shouldn’t be landing this on you.’

‘Rubbish!’ I replied with a smile, ‘Forget the professional bit for a while, pretend that you’re just a friend who’s come over for a friendly chat.’ I slice the cheese and add it to the lettuce I’ve already put onto the bread ‘Mayonnaise?’

‘Yes, please. You are very kind, Maggie.’

‘More coffee?’ I asked, carrying the plate of sandwiches over to him and removing his mug to refill it. Without asking, I get down the cake tin and cut a slice of Jenna’s latest effort – gingerbread.

‘Just

you get yourself outside that.’

‘Yes, Maggie.’ He said grinning, ‘I’d not dare refuse! You remind me of my mother.’

‘Is that another way of saying I am being bossy?’

I asked

feigning affront.

‘Would I dare suggest as much?’ he replied grinning.

‘So, my friend, tell me about yourself.’ I invited, sitting down opposite him watching him demolish the sandwiches hungrily. ‘Are you a local?’

‘No, I’m a Londoner – born and bred in Hackney.’ He told me, ‘My family are still up there – I have two brothers.’

‘Where do you come in the family?’ I asked, guessing that he’s the oldest … his reply confirms my guess was correct. brought you to this area?’

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‘So what

‘I went to Bristol uni for my degree.’ He said sipping his coffee before starting on the gingerbread. ‘I grew up in an inner-city, builtup area, so it was a considerable surprise to find that I have an affinity with the countryside … I spent a good bit of my first year exploring.

I got to know the area pretty well and, after I qualified, when a job came up in Bath, I leapt at it. I’d just got married at the time so it was a chance to settle down. I’ve been here for nearly fifteen years now.’

‘Do you have any children?’ I asked, suddenly remembering what Caroline said about his marriage.

‘No, my wife and I split up about six years ago … we never got round to it.

This job can be tough on a marriage, working all odd

hours, being on call ... it doesn’t make for a regular existence.’

‘So you live on your own and don’t bother with meals now?’

‘Something like that.’ He replied with a laugh,‘Though I’ll have you know that I can cook for myself and generally manage regular meals, Miss Bossy! This cake is delicious, by the way.’

‘It’s one of Jenna’s efforts.’ I explained, ‘I’ll get her to make you one, shall I?’ ‘I’d only get fat.’

‘I doubt very much you stand still long enough for that to be a problem.’ I commented dryly, ‘Would you like anything else to eat?’

‘No, I’m fine – that was just right, any more and I’ll probably doze off. I had a call out in the wee small hours earlier this week and haven’t caught up with myself yet.’ He said rubbing his hands over

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his face. ‘It doesn’t happen often, thank goodness. What about you – did you grow up round here?’

‘Not exactly, though my family have farmed here for generations. I grew up in Clevedon – my parents still live there. But I was an only child. It must have been fun having brothers.’

‘Sometimes,’ he said gazing into the distance, ‘My recollections centre round my mother telling me I should have known better because I was the oldest one, but that may just be selective memory!’

‘Children do suffer from that.’ I said with a chuckle.

‘I’d better be moving on, Maggie.’ He said, stretching like a cat. ‘Phew … an early night for me tonight, I think. Thanks again for the food. I owe you a meal.’

‘That would be nice.

And let me know about that child when

you have more information.’

‘Will do.’ He said rising and reaching for his coat, ‘I’ll give you a ring sometime.’

As I wash up the baking bits and pieces, I think about Sam. He’s a nice guy. It would be rather pleasant to have a meal with him.

And what about Glyn and Pete? A little voice in the back of my head said … how many more men do you want? Laughing at myself, I wipe the table down and check the pie isn’t burning.

Thursday evening all the kids are in a state of excitement, packing their overnight bags for the coming weekend. Mickey has to be persuaded that he really does need to pack a w ashing kit and Duncan lets the side down by making a fuss about taking more than 248

one pair of socks. However, eventually they are ready. I’m going to take them over to Clevedon immediately after school tomorrow so should miss the rush hour both going and coming back, getting back in time to take Jenna down to Marian’s. Jenna has a key anyway so can let herself in and wait for me.

I tell her how much Sam Dehaney enjoyed her gingerbread and, pre-empting me, she offers to bake one for him. I promise she can sometime next week.

When Matt calls for his daily chat with Duncan, I hear my son enthusing about the weekend … ‘Dad wants a word with you, Mum.’ He said coming into the kitchen where I am washing up the dinner things with Mickey’s not very enthusiastic assistance.

‘Hi Matt.

How are things?’

I asked, expecting a further

instalment in the ongoing sage of his relationship with Denny which appears to be developing rather well.

‘Great. I was just wondering if you had given any thought to Duncan coming up to visit.’

‘I think that it will have to be a week at Christmas, Matt. I’ve found out that it only takes about an hour to fly up to the airport near you and there’s no risk of him getting lost, if I hand him over this end and you pick him up your end. What do you think?’

‘Sounds wonderful.

I’m looking forward to seeing him.

Maggie, do you think it’d be appropriate for Mickey to come too?

Duncan and he seem to be almost like brothers and I don’t want to break into that.’

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‘It’s an idea, Matt. You’d probably find it easier having both of them – they occupy themselves to a large extent – and Mickey is a nicely behaved boy. I’d have to clear it with his grandmother though.

She might not like the idea of him being away.’ I replied slowly.

‘Shall I sound her out on it?’

‘Yes, do that.

How about if we say the 27 th December

provisionally for a week? So you would have them for Christmas but I’d have them for New Year.’

‘Yes, that would give you a chance to spend some time with Duncan.’ I replied, wondering what I would do with a week without the boys … and various ideas popping into my head. ‘I’ll have a chat with Marian and see what she says. We’d have to pick up the tab for the flights, Matt, Marian really doesn’t have much cash.’

‘Of course, that’s no problem.’ He said cheerfully. ‘Talking about cash, how are you managing for money, Maggie?’

‘It’s going okay. The money I get for looking after the kids and the accountancy work seems to be doing the trick. I had the social worker round this afternoon asking if I would take another child when Jenna and Mickey go back to Marian so it looks as though I have my foot in the door there.‘ ‘I have to take my hat off to you, Maggie, I’m ever so proud of the way you are coping. Any boyfriends on the scene yet?’ Matt asked ‘Not as such.’ I replied, going on to tell him about the mad trio.

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‘Trust you!’ he commented when he has stopped laughing at my description of the three of them in the pub after the film. ‘But, joking apart, I’m really pleased you are getting out a bit, Maggie. I’d hate to think of you sitting at home on your own.

Do you see

anything of Jan or Caroline?’

‘I see Caroline fairly often – she’s been poorly with that bug which knocked the boys out – but I’ve become persona non grata with Jan … especially now.’

‘Why especially now?’ Matt asked, despite my best efforts to skim over it, he worms out of me an account of the incident with Dave. ‘The bastard!’ he said angrily ‘Just wait until I see that … that …’

‘Matt!’ I said not knowing whether to be touched or to laugh, ‘Matt, it’s okay, I sent him off with a flea in his ear, don’t you worry.

It was just unpleasant.’

‘What are you doing with yourself this weekend with the kids away?’

‘Oh, nothing much. I’m going over to see how artificial trees are made tomorrow night … nothing much organised for Saturday … but it will be nice just to have the time to myself.’ I said casually.

‘Artificial trees? What on earth are you talking about?’

‘One of my accountancy people is a commercial horticulturalist and makes artificial trees which he puts in offices.’ I explained.

‘He’s got a unit up at Fred Plaister’s farm … in fact it was Fred suggested I might take on his accounts.’

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‘And does this mysterious ‘he’ have a name?’ asked the chap who has known me since I was eight. ‘Maggie, you don’t kid me.

Tell me about him.’

‘His name’s Pete Tregarran and he’s thirty. As I said he runs his own business.’

‘Maggie, I haven’t known you all these years without knowing when you are up to something – is he attached?’

‘Not that I know of.’ I replied, feeling like a small child – Matt always did come the big brother on me when we were younger.

‘Well, you just be careful, Maggie.’ Matt said, sounding like my father.

I’m still laughing to myself when I put the phone down after ten minutes of Matt reading me a lecture on looking after myself.

Honestly!

Friday drags.

I spend the morning working on Pete's accounts, preparing the invoices to be sent out, processing the payments and making the spreadsheets up to date. I’m quite pleased with the quote he has asked me to prepare … even to my critical eyes, it looks professional.

After lunch, I walk down to the post office with the letters to be posted and, it being a sunny day, decide to go for a walk to try and get the fidgets out of my head. makes me breathless.

Climbing the hill behind the church

I stop by the bench to recover, looking down

on the village below me much as Jenna and I did before. Here and there, lines of washing wave in the breeze though I doubt they will 252

dry much, it is far too cold today.

The landscape is all muddy

greenish brown … winter is well and truly with us and will be for the next few months.

I trudge on, gloved hands stuffed comfortably into my pockets.

The holly along the footpath is covered in red berries … does that signify a hard winter? I can’t remember. The old man’s beard is still dangling its fluffy seeds and the ivy has sprays of hard black berries.

The exercise is exhilarating … my face is burning slightly from the chilly air but I am enjoying myself. It was nice of Glyn to ring earlier in the week … he’s a nice guy … interesting. We had a long talk about books … nice to meet a man who likes books. Pete likes books too … he’s going to lend me that series he was talking about the other day. Hmmm… Glyn might be interesting but it’s Pete who makes my pulse race. Funny how Matt never did that – I was always pleased to see him but this heady excitement I get whenever I contemplate seeing Pete never happened with Matt.

Suddenly a vision of Sam springs into my mind … sitting at the kitchen table munching on his sandwiches … I like him too. Now what was it my mother always used to say? Oh yes, things always come in threes … just like buses.

Laughing to myself, I head along the path at a good pace … I shall have to be at the school in half an hour and have another mile or two to go.

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The boys bound out of school ahead of the rest of their class, their enthusiasm to get on the road lending wings to their feet. I drive them crackers by insisting that they wash their faces and get changed out of their school uniforms, before loading up the car with their overnight kit and sleeping bags.

As I anticipated, the early start

means we get to Clevedon in good time and, although mum would like me to stay for a cuppa, I insist on getting straight back thus avoiding the rush hour traffic; I get back to the farmhouse ten minutes after Jenna. She makes me a cup of coffee and insists on me sitting down for a short while before I take her down to Marian’s house.

‘You’re a nag, Jenna!’ I exclaimed, thankfully collapsing into the chair and accepting the mug she offers She laughs … funny how fond I have become of this girl.

Much as I love Duncan, a daughter would have been nice.

It feels strange coming back to the empty farmhouse. It’s nearly six, so I’ve got time to organise something to eat before I go up to the unit. I’m going to walk up with my flashlight. Pete mentioned a bottle of wine and I don’t want to have to worry about driving.

Anyway, unless it is raining, the footpath is a pleasant way to go and it’ll be nice walking along in the dark with only the stars for company.

Should take me about fifteen minutes to walk up to the

farm … he said about seven thirty… so if I leave at about ten past that would be about right.

I check my flashlight is fully charged – it is one of those rechargeable goodness knows how many million candlepower efforts 254

but serves a double duty as a light and a cosh should I need it. Not that I anticipate having to use it for that. Anyone hanging around on the footpath waiting to ambush a pedestrian could wait several days before seeing anyone ... especially this time of year.

Right, I’ve got the light, that quotation is safely in my pocket … keys in my hand … warm scarf, gloves … hell, what’s that?

The phone …. I rush into the office and pick it up.

‘Vicky, is that you?’ a young girl said.

‘No, I’m afraid not. I think you must have the wrong number.’

‘So sorry.’ She said and rang off.

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Chapter 14

Picking up my lamp, I leave the house, making sure the front door’s firmly pulled shut behind me and start walking up the path. It is a lovely clear night, the sky, unpolluted by street lamps, full of stars … there’s Orien with the three stars in his belt …

The lamp comes in useful as I negotiate the occasional muddy patch but, my boots virtually unclogged by mud and feeling decidedly invigorated by my walk, I arrive safely at the unit, light from inside, flooding out onto the yard through the windows.

‘Hi, Maggie.’ Pete said welcomingly, ‘Come on into the warm.’

Taking my coat off, I look around for somewhere to put it.

'There's a hook on the back of the door, Maggie.' Pete suggested, 'How are things?'

I do as I am bidden … intrigued by what he’s doing ... as a child I used to make plaster of Paris models so I recognise the white gooey mess he is mixing up in a bucket ....what on earth is he going to do with that?

'Fine, thanks. The good news is that Sam Dehaney, the social worker, came round yesterday to ask if I would be up for another child when Jenna and Mickey go back to their Gran.'

'And are you?' he asked, concentrating on pouring the white goo into a large flowerpot and quickly sticking what look like two four foot long branches from a tree into it.

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'There. That should do

it.' he said in a satisfied tone, holding the branches for a moment while the plaster sets enough to hold them in place.

'Yes, I think I shall. What are you doing, Pete?'

He explains that he’s making artificial weeping fig trees, waving his hand at the two pots of branches in plaster which he obviously made earlier as the plaster has set solid by the look of it, going on to explain that are destined for a windowless waiting room in one of the offices he has as a client.

'I’ve tried everything in there but nothing thrives in the artificial light they have in the room, so I am giving up on live plants and resorting to this.’

‘What sort of tree are these from?’

I asked inspecting the

branches more closely.

‘I use ash branches usually, they tend to be the right sort of shape.' he replied, 'Once they are secure in the pots, I drill little holes in them where I want the leaves to be, inserting these in the holes and gluing them in place.'

He has a long cardboard box open on one of the shelves behind him and gestures towards it; I go over to see what 'these' might be.

They are wire-coated plastic branches with silk leaves. He hands me one ... they look very realistic and are bendy too, so he can tweak them into the shape he wants.

'The secret is knowing where to put the holes so that the end result looks natural.' He said picking up a small electric drill. 'This will be a little noisy, I'm afraid, Maggie, but it won't take long.'

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I sit down on the stool and watch as he drills tiny holes in the branches of one of his 'trees', standing back and looking at it through narrowed eyes every now and then, as though judging the effect which is going to be created.

'That should do it.' he said thoughtfully 'Now what about opening that bottle of wine?'

He goes over to where he keeps the coffee-making things and picks up a bottle of wine, wielding the bottle opener with a practised hand and pouring the contents into two wine glasses.

'There you go, Maggie.' he said bringing one over to me. 'What shall we drink to?'

'I don't know ....how about new friends.'

He grins at me and my stomach turns somersaults.

'Brilliant! I like that.' he said enthusiastically, raising his glass 'Here's to new friendships!'

The wine is good. I sip it as I watch him, glue gun in hand, carefully insert the silk leaves into the holes he has just drilled then gluing them in place, tweaking the branches as he goes to create the effect he wants. It looks very easy but I have a feeling that it is like all crafts which look simple when you are watching them being done but which are downright impossible when you try them yourself. The 'tree' slowly takes shape under my eyes.

'How are you finding the single life, Maggie?' he asked, pausing in his labours and picking up his glass of wine.

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'It's not that different from my married life, actually. The only difference is that Matt isn't around. He rings to talk to Duncan every day though and I still nags me like a big brother - he's always done that.'

'How on earth did you get into such a marriage?' Pete asked, picking up his glue gun again. 'If you don't mind me asking.'

'I don't mind, Pete. Matt and I grew up together, I met him when I was about eight and we were in the same group of friends all the way through childhood and teenage. We've always been close friends and when the group started pairing up, we just drifted into being a couple. It was a short step from there into marriage, but we realised this year that we've never been more than good friends. This job offer in the north crystallised things - nothing has changed between us.'

'But surely there was more than that.' he protested, 'After all, Duncan exists. Sorry, that sounds rude.'

'No, it's okay, Pete, I've been wondering about that myself ... I suppose to some extent we thought it was expected of us ... though I wouldn't call it passion ... I got pregnant fairly quickly and after Duncan was born, we opted for separate rooms ... looking back I think we were both rather relieved. I expect that sounds odd.' I faltered, feeling rather foolish.

'No, just sad, Maggie.' he said, standing looking at me 'So, you've never been in love.'

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'I suppose I haven't. That's rather pathetic at my age. Have you?'

'Me? Yes ... several times …. at least that’s what I thought at the time, though, with hindsight, if I take out the infatuations, I suppose it comes down to twice.' he answered, getting on with his sticking. 'Now the first time ... oh it must be about nine years ago now ... just after I moved up to this area. I was besotted with her and thought she was a goddess ... shows how young I was, I suppose.'

'What happened?' I asked, sipping my wine and wondering how any woman could possibly have turned him down.

'We went out for about a year. As I said, I thought she was wonderful ... then I ran into her draped all over another guy in a pub one evening when she'd told me she was staying home with her sister. It was a terrible shock and it didn't help that she laughed at me for being so upset.'

'That was cruel!' I commented, much touched by this simple story. I’ve never understood how women can be cruel to the men they are going out with … I don’t go much for the kiss and tell idea either … maybe I am just old fashioned or something.

‘In retrospect, I think I was probably just naive and blind to reality. I believed what I wanted to believe.' he said thoughtfully, 'But it took me a long time to get over it. In fact, I have resisted getting emotionally involved with any other woman until now.'

His words hit me like a sledgehammer and time suddenly slows down as I reel under the blow. Hoping that it doesn't show, and 260

grateful for the fact he has his back to me at the moment, I busy myself drinking the last of my wine, desperately working to maintain my composure.

'So you are involved with someone now?' I asked in what I hope is a light-hearted tone of voice.

'Well ... not exactly.' he said looking embarrassed. 'It's more that I've fallen for someone ...'

'Does she feel the same way?' I asked, the little voice in the back of my head telling me in exquisite detail just what sort of an idiot I am to think that he might look at me.

'I don't know.' he admitted, 'I doubt it.'

'So you haven't said anything to her?' I said surprised, 'Why not?'

'We're good friends and I don't want to lose that.' he said, his voice reflecting his deep concern. 'Anyway, she's not indicated in any way that she might be interested in more than friendship.'

'But how could she? She probably thinks you’re not interested in her.'

'Hmmm ... I'd not thought of that. Bit of a stalemate.'

'You ought to let her know how you feel, or at least give her an idea that you'd like to move things up a notch.'

How any woman could possibly not want this man, I just do not know ‌ I fight to maintain an unconcerned expression, split between wanting to strangle this unknown woman and wanting to shut myself away somewhere I can cry ... which is ridiculous.

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'I'll think about it.' he said, concentrating on his work again.

'But, I'm neglecting you, Maggie - help yourself to some more wine.'

'Thanks, do you want a top up?' I asked, grateful for something to do.

Part of me is numb ... I hadn't realised just how much this man had got under my skin ... You fool, Magdalena! So you have to go and fall for a man who’s in love with someone else, I rage at myself, as I calmly pour some more wine into my glass. I feel close to tears, then my pride takes over and, with a smile, I carry the bottle over and top up his glass. He need never know.

The next couple of hours are very strange. On the one hand, I’m chatting to Pete, laughing and joking with him ... by tacit consent the conversation turns to less emotional channels after this somewhat intense talk ... and on the other, I am weeping inside, my heart aching as I watch him ... the way his muscles move under his jumper ... the quick smile which lights his eyes ... the way his hair falls across his face and he unconsciously flicks it back again with a toss of his head.

He usually wears it tied back, but this evening it’s loose and

falling round his shoulders, waving slightly at the ends. We work our way through the bottle of wine, the alcohol numbing the dull ache inside me.

Once he has finished the trees, he parks himself on an upturned box and we chat - it is very comfortable and friendly – a good second best, I tell myself … ignoring the little voice which is saying that all I ever seem to get is second best.

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'I suppose I ought to be making tracks.' I said, catching sight of my watch and noticing that it is just after ten.

'I'll walk you down. And don't say you'll be all right, I am not letting you walk around darkened country paths on your own at this time of night.'

'Okay, I won't.' I said with a grin, reaching for my coat.

Automatically, I pat my pocket checking I've got my house keys. Odd, they're not in the right hand one where I usually put them. I check the other pockets, a cold feeling running down my spine as I gradually come to the realisation that I don't have them.

'What's wrong?' Pete asked registering my distress.

'I haven't got my keys.' I replied, desperately thinking back to when I left the house. ‘I had them in my hand with the flashlight just before I left the house ... then the phone rang ... shit! I put them down on the table and didn't pick them up again!'

'Don't look so devastated, Maggie, it's not the end of the world.'

Pete said comfortingly. 'Do you keep a spare set outside the house anywhere?'

'No, I've not thought about that ... I've never needed to.' I wailed, truly shaken, 'And the house is all locked up. Oh, whatever am I going to do?'

'Hey, stop panicking!' he said, taking me by the shoulders 'I'm here, remember? We'll sort it out.' He stands thinking for a moment.

'Are you sure the house is secure?'

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'Yes, I made sure I closed the front door properly and checked it as I left.' I replied bitterly.

'In that case, there's no point going down there tonight, we can't do anything in the dark. You'd better come back to my place and we'll sort it out in the morning.' he said firmly.

'I can't do that.' I protested, allowing him to usher me out of the unit and watching as he carefully locks the door.

'Why not?' he said standing in front of me.

The moonlight is bright and I can see his face clearly, my stomach turning flip flops at his closeness.

'Well, why not?

‌. Can't come up with a reason? No, I

thought not. Come on, Maggie.'

'But....' I said feebly, as he unlocks the van and holds the passenger door open for me.

'But nothing. We can't do anything about it tonight in the dark, Maggie. In daylight we'll be able to do something.'

Helplessly, I get into the van and put on the seatbelt. His flat is a couple of miles away, in what used to be a grand Georgian mansion. He parks on the road outside; I follow him down the uneven steps to his basement flat, grateful for the flashlight I have in my hand.

'You can have the bed,' he said, ‘I'll take the sofa.'

'There's no need for that, I can't throw you out of your bed!'

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'You're not. I'm volunteering.' he replied with a smile 'Stop being so hard on yourself, Maggie, it could happen to anyone. You'd better let me have a spare set of keys to look after for you after this.'

'Thanks, Pete. I'm sorry to be such a nuisance ... I'm not ungrateful, honest.'

'I know.

How about a hot drink? I'll show you where

everything is and you can make some coffee while I dig out my sleeping bag.'

His flat’s larger than I thought - obviously converted from the kitchen and working parts of the mansion when it was a family residence. There is a tiny entrance hallway leading into a large lounge which does service as a dining room too, judging by the table under the window. The kitchen is a tiny cubbyhole off one corner of the lounge - just about big enough to get one person in.

Unsurprisingly - because I am realising that Pete is one very organised man - it is efficiently laid out and scrupulously clean and tidy. There is a corridor off the lounge opposite the kitchen leading to the bathroom, the bedroom door being halfway between the lounge and the bathroom.

There is an air of tidiness about the whole flat

although it has a definite lived-in feel to it, with a book lying open on the sofa and a heap of clean washing in a basket by the bedroom door.

By the time the kettle has boiled, Pete has piled up a

substantial-looking sleeping bag and a couple of pillows on the sofa.

'I thought I had a new toothbrush somewhere.' he commented in a pleased tone of voice, waving a plastic wrapped package at me.

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'Can't have you going to bed with dirty gnashers, can we? And I've dug out an old t-shirt which you can use as a nightie - it's not very glamorous but I daresay it will do. This flat is not very warm, I'm afraid.'

'You idiot!' I laughed, handing him a steaming mug. 'This is very kind of you.'

'It's what friends are for, isn't it?' he said warmly. ‘You’re in luck, I changed the bedding this morning.’

It is very strange lying in Pete's bed staring at what I can see of the ceiling by the light filtering in through the curtains. Now I am on my own, disappointment floods through me and I find tears threatening ... which is absurd. How could I have developed such a crush on the man after such a short time ... and you felt you had missed out by not having been in love before ... well, you're not enjoying it much now, are you?

I daresay I shall survive.

Funny ... if this were a film, we'd probably have had a moment of mutual realisation standing in the lounge together and ended up in a passionate clinch ... instead of which, here I am lying alone in his bed and he's on the sofa.

Laughing to myself a little bitterly at the absurdity of the whole situation, I turn over, snuggle down and go to sleep.

The sound of a loo flushing wakes me … where am I? … oh … oh, yes …the events of last night flood back into my mind. I'd better get up. I wonder what the time is ... a quick squint at my watch, tells 266

me that it is just after seven, which explains the dim dawn light coming through the curtains.

There is a knock at the door: 'Come in.' I said quickly sitting up and pulling the duvet up as Pete comes in, dressed in his jeans and jumper, carrying a mug of coffee for me.

'Good morning. Did you sleep all right?' he asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed and handing me the coffee.

'Thanks. Yes, like a log - did you?' I asked, taking a slurp of the coffee.

'Yes. That sofa is surprisingly comfortable. Maggie, I thought it best if we get moving fairly early, we don't want to cause comment arriving at your house or being seen to leave here together.'

'No, that's sensible.' I replied, ridiculously hurt that he wouldn't want to be linked with me ... I daresay he’s worried that it might get to the ears of the woman he loves. It is just after seven thirty by the time we leave the flat; we don't see anyone I recognise on the way back to my place.

‘What’s the plan of action?’ I asked as he drove through the gates.

‘I was thinking that it might be better to try round the back – is the back door likely to be locked?’ he asked and I thought for a moment.

‘Yes, I remember locking it, but the key’s in the lock.’

‘Hmm .. you’ve got a cat flap, haven’t you? … I wonder …’

We stand looking at the six foot high, wooden side gate which is 267

locked. ‘I reckon I could climb over that.’ He said giving it a shove to see how sturdy it is.

‘Do you think it will take your weight?’

‘Are you suggesting I might be overweight.’ He said huffil y, but he’s laughing. ‘I think it will be all right, Maggie, but if I do fall and break something you’ll have to call an ambulance – my mobile phone is in the van.’

‘Oh, all right.’ I replied in a similar vein.

He braces himself, grabs the top of the gate and, hauling on his arms, slowly raises himself to the top. Once he has got one leg over the top of the gate, he turns to me and grins.

‘So far so good. Now into the unknown … farewell, fair lady …’ he continued with an expansive gesture which nearl y unbalances him. ‘Whoops! Less of the melodrama, I think.’

He lets himself down the other side, calls out that he’s safely down and I hear his footsteps disappear round the back of the house.

I wander round to the front of the house and stand in the porch. It is chilly in the early morning air and I’ve not had any breakfast yet.

I don’t know how long I stand there but after what seems like a long time, I hear footsteps crossing the hall and the front door opens suddenly with a victorious ‘Ta-ra!’ from Pete.

‘Come on in, Maggie.’ He said; I quickly do as he says.

‘Thank you so much, Pete.’ I said gratefully, ‘How did you do it ?’

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‘I nicked one of your bamboos off the veg patch and poked the thin end through the key hole to knock the key out and then groped through the cat flap to pick it up. Mind you, it wasn’t quite as easy as that. The bloody thing fell very nearly out of reach and I had to go through some considerable contortions to get it. You really shouldn’t leave the key in the lock like that – anyone could break in.’

‘I suppose so.’ I sighed, ‘Can I offer you some breakfast to make up for it? Or are you busy today?’

He stands thinking for a moment. ‘Breakfast would be very nice, thanks, Maggie.’

He replied eventually and I wonder what

exactly he was thinking about.

‘I could do a full English, I think,’ I said, rooting through the fridge. ‘Yes, I’ve even got some mushrooms.’

‘That sounds absolutely marvellous, Maggie.’ He grinned, ‘Can I wash my hands somewhere?’ I direct him towards the downstairs loo and start organising food. Happily humming to myself, I count out some sausages and put them in the frying pan.

‘This is some

house you have here.’ Pete said, coming back into the kitchen. ‘How old is it?’

‘Bits of it go back to the seventeenth century, I believe.’ I answered as the sausages start sizzling. I know the current fashion is for grilling things but I don’t think you can beat a good old fry up occasionally – blow the calories! ‘The main hall and this section are the oldest, with the first floor being added sometime in the eighteenth century and the lounge and rooms above it by the middle Victorians.

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At least that is what I have been told; I’m not sure how true that is.

Of course the bathrooms were installed a lot later. There’s still a building out back which used to be the loo, though the plumbing was removed by my uncle years ago.’

Pete dodges out into the hall, returning a few minutes later. ‘ I see what you mean. That side of the house looks so much as though it belongs, you have to look really hard to see the join.’

‘Are you interested in architecture, then?’ I asked as I turn the bacon over and add the mushrooms to the frying pan.

‘Yes, it’s a bit of a hobby of mine.’ He said, wandering over to where the fireplace used to be and studying the wall. ‘That and archaeology.’

‘I’ll show you over the house after breakfast, if you like.’ I offered. ‘You can see the roof timbers in the boys’ rooms. For some reason, my uncle boxed them in in the other two bedrooms.’

‘Thanks, I’d like that. Anything I can do to help?’

‘You can lay the table if you like, the cutlery is in that drawer over there.’ I replied, concentrating on cracking eggs into the pan without breaking the yolks.

The sausages and bacon are keeping

warm under the grill. ‘The coffee pot can go on the table – I’ve made fresh coffee by way of celebration.’

‘Sounds heavenly.’ He said, putting knives and forks out for us.

‘Where are the cups and saucers kept?’

Five minutes later we are both sitting down at the table, tucking into heaped plates. I hadn’t realised how hungry I was. Pete chats to 270

me about his parents while we eat. It seems his mum has been ill … it is obvious that Pete is worried about her, bemoaning the fact that he can’t just drop everything and go down to see her.

'That was a wonderful meal, Maggie.’ He said, placing his knife and fork tidily on the plate. ‘Definitely worth sleeping on the sofa for – thank you.’

‘My pleasure – and thanks for coming to my rescue, Pete.’

‘What are you doing with the rest of the day, Maggie?' Pete asked as we enjoy the last of the coffee.

'I don't know.' I replied, my spirits rising at the thought maybe he might just suggest something. 'I've nothing planned.'

'Oh well, I expect you'll find something to occupy yourself.' he said reassuringly 'Well, I'd better make tracks - work to do - people to see. The work of the self-employed man is never done! Take care.'

After he's gone, I tear myself to shreds for being such a fool, clattering the dishes in the sink in a temper as I wash them up. By the time I've finished, I am exhausted, both emotionally and physically.

I stand in the middle of the kitchen and contemplate my options ... the kids are not back until tomorrow, so I have a full day to myself. I could go out somewhere I suppose, but first I shall go and have a shower and get myself changed. Standing under the shower revelling in the hot water, I let my mind wander over my various options. I could go shopping ... but I don't really need anything particular ... though I really ought to start on the Christmas shopping ... I’ve got to get my head round that sometime soon. I could even go 271

to Bristol and have a look round Broadmead ... thank goodness I did the Christmas cards when I did … I don’t know where the time goes to these days.

Pondering this, I dry myself, roughly towel my hair and, my dressing gown firmly knotted round me against the chill, I sit down at the dressing table and gaze at myself in the mirror. I was never a beauty ... just don't have the bones for it, but my face is not unpleasant ... at least that is what I have always been told ... it's difficult judging yourself. I look my age ... whatever that means.

Oh stop pandering to your self-pity, Magdalena!

I grin at myself and, feeling a little perkier, give some thought to what I am going to wear.

I am just contemplating having a slice of toast for lunch ... that breakfast was rather substantial and I am not really hungry ... when the phone rings.

Putting down the bread, I rush into the office and pick it up.

'Hello?' … it's Sam. 'Hi, Maggie, I was just wondering if you were busy today, only I appear to have some free time and it crossed my mind that I could pay my debt to you regarding that meal.' he said cheerfully.

'That would be very nice, Sam. What time do you suggest? I was just trying to work out what I’m going to do for the rest of the day - I'm not used to having time on my hands like this.'

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'Well, in that case, what about going out for some fresh air and picking up a meal later on?' he said enthusiastically. ‘I was thinking of going for a wander somewhere wild while the sun shines.’

'You're on! What time would suit you?'

'How about I pick you up at about one fifteen, only the daylight won't last long. Can you manage that?'

'Yes, no problem. I'll see you then.'

Smiling at myself in the mirror, the thought of the Christmas shopping flits into my mind and is speedily dismissed. If we are going out walking, I shall need something warm ... but if we are going out for a meal it also needs to be appropriate for that. It's looking like trousers and a double layer of shirt and jumper again ... hardly exciting but definitely practical.

While I change, I mull over what I know about Sam Dehaney.

Apart from the fact that his parents obviously originally came from somewhere hot I don’t know anything about him … his surname suggests possibly the West Indies … I wonder if they came over in the fifties with that group of immigrants.

He said he comes from

London … you’d never guess from his lack of accent, though there is the odd cockney inflection every now and then come to think of it.

Not considered that before … we’re so accustomed to hearing accents these days we don’t think twice about it.

I am ready and waiting by the time Sam gets here … I’ve even fed Toby just in case I’m not home until late.

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As I hang around in the lounge watching for his car, I smile at myself … talk about keen … Magdalena, you are making a complete exhibition of yourself … just as well there’s no-one to see it.

As Sam parks outside the house, I pick up my keys …not going to be caught that way twice … and my handbag, checking my gloves are in there – it is far to chilly to go out without those. Sam is half out of the car by the time I close the front door, and waits by the car as I check the door is properly shut … also double-checking my keys are in my bag.

Pete took the spare set with him when he went, but

having to call on him for assistance again would be more embarrassing than I could cope with.

‘Where are we going?’ I asked, getting into the passenger seat.

‘Ah, now that is a secret.’ He said with a grin, ‘See if you can guess before we get there.’

I settle happily into the seat, put my seatbelt on and relax.

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Chapter 15

It is gone one in the morning by the time I get to bed and even then, I find it hard to sleep, going over and over the events of the day in my head.

Leaving Bath on the A4, Sam had driven us a little way towards Bristol then turned off down some country lanes I didn’t know, ending up, nearly an hour later, parking in a layby apparently in the middle of nowhere while I tried to get my bearings.

‘You’ve no idea where you are, have you?’ he had asked quite accurately, a mischievous smile twitching his mouth.

It was a place I’d never seen before … and I thought myself fairly well up on the local area. Leaving the car, we had climbed over a stile and he’d explained how he had originally found this place some years ago when he was looking for a good place to view the Severn Bore. We’d walked across a grassy field where three horses were grazing – they took little notice of us, just lifting their heads and looking at us as we passed by, then getting back to the far more important task of grazing – another stile through a hedgerow had taken us into a wilder area where, some four or five feet from the hedgerow, the land abruptly stopped, sloping steeply down to a narrow shingle beach … and the sea lay sparkling before us. It was beautiful … not a sign of civilisation in sight or hearing. Sam had obviously been pleased by my delighted reaction, a little like a man presenting a bouquet of flowers or a box of chocolates.

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After standing, gazing at the panorama for a while, he had suggested that we should walk towards the low hill which rose to the south and, following the faintly delineated path in the grass, we had climbed its gentle slopes to the summit where we had found a rocky outcrop to sit on. As the waves ebbed and flowed some ten feet below us, we had, amongst other things, swopped life stories.

Sam had told me about his childhood in London. I was right, his parents had come over in the fifties and settled in Hackney, a down market area even in those days. Over the years, by dint of sheer hard work and taking the odd risk, his father had established a small grocery shop where Jed, the middle brother, still worked.

Sam’s

mother, it appeared, had done much as I do, taken odd jobs to help with the family finances, but being a housewife and mother more than anything, ensuring that the boys were fed and clothed, despite their efforts at tearing holes in their clothes at every opportunity.

I smile as I recall how he’d asked ‘And what about you, Margaret?’

I got a little of my own back by putting him right on that one, sparking a conversation about names … he’d loved my name, saying it was very graceful and deploring the ‘Maggie’ by which I am usually called. Slyly, he had then asked what I thought the Sam stood for. My obvious response of Samuel had raised a smile and the comment that I should try again …. I’d had to think for some time before I could come up with anything else which it could be short for and in the end he’d had to tell me – Samson. My rather tactless 276

astonished response, though clearly not a surprise to him, had led into a long story as to why his mother had called him that … she had wanted something from the Bible and wanted to bestow strength on her firstborn son. Considering that life was very hard for her and her husband at the time, not least because of the prejudice they faced, I am not surprised.

The other two boys also have Biblical names –

Jedekiah and Benjamin – though none of the three ever use their full names if they can avoid it.

I had teased him slightly about his short hair meaning that he had no strength which had landed me in deep trouble as he demonstrated very effectively just how strong he was ... holding me down with one hand and tickling me with the other until I had frantically retracted my words, by which time we had both been laughing our heads off.

When I’d asked him why he’d become a social worker, he’d thought for several minutes, gazing out to sea before answering. His answer, when it came, had surprised me a little.

‘It was a way of possibly ensuring that other kids didn’t end up like my brother Ben.’ He had said eventually, his face very serious and sad. ‘Ben’s the youngest of the three of us. He’s serving a prison sentence for armed robbery at the moment.

It nearly broke my

parents’ hearts when he went off the rails and got in with the wrong crowd.

It all started when Mum was taken into hospital for an

appendicitis operation. Dad had to keep running the shop and there was no-one to keep an eye on Ben. He was fourteen at the time – I 277

was seventeen and working for my A’levels when I wasn’t working in the shop, and Jed was working full time in the shop, having left school at sixteen. There was no-one to look after Ben, we’d no family here and we were the only black family in the area so had few friends.

As I said, Ben got in with the wrong crowd … got into drugs. All it would have taken was for a foster family to take him in for the few months Mum was out of the running – in those days, they kept you in hospital for a lot longer than they do now and there were complications of some sort. I’ve never forgiven myself for not doing something at the time …. anyway, when it came to choosing a career, I opted for social work in the hope that I might actually prevent another kid going down the same road. It makes me sound like a prissy do-gooder, I know that … you’re allowed to laugh, Maggie.’

I hadn’t laughed though.

He had gone on to tell me about some of the cases he has had on his hands, the successes and the failures which he feels so very much - few though they seemed to be.

When it got too cold to sit there any longer, we’d walked along the edge of the land. At one point we had stopped to look across the sea to Wales and, standing behind me, he had pointed out what it was I was looking at and, somehow, we’d walked along hand in hand after that.

It was dark by the time we’d got back to the car … walking across the field in the growing dusk had been hilarious, with us trying 278

to find the stile and not fall over tussocks of grass. It had been a minor miracle that neither of us stepped into something nasty but we managed to avoid that somehow.

Sam had driven us to a pub somewhere … I don’t know where it was. He’d obviously been there before though, assuring me that they didn’t mind the odd pair of muddy boots when I had bewailed my inappropriate footwear for going out for dinner, though we’d made a point of chipping off the worst of the mud before we went into the pub.

The place had a roaring open fire and, although it served excellent food, it was not crowded so we were able to sit and talk while we ate.

We hadn’t left there until closing time. As the night

before, the sky was clear when we came out of the pub and the stars were twinkling brightly. We had stood in the car park for several minutes, competing for who could name the various constellations sparkling above us … he’d had to concede that I knew more than he did!

Walking across the car park to the car, I had caught my foot and tripped … there was a bit of uneven tarmac or something … Sam had caught me, his reactions fast, and we’d stood there just staring at each other by the light of the moon, until a group of people coming out of the pub, brought us to our senses.

When we got back to the farmhouse, I’d invited him in and we’d sat in the kitchen over coffee for ages, still talking … though I can’t remember now what we’d talked about. It had been gone twelve 279

thirty by the time he had reluctantly decided that it was time he went.

We’d both been quite awkward standing by the front door going through the conventional ‘thank you for a lovely time’ exchange.

I don’t know if it was a result of all the alcohol I’d drunk during the evening or if it was the look in his eyes, but I’d reached up and gently kissed him on the cheek.

Lying here in bed, I recall how his arm had snaked round me as he had pulled me towards him and kissed me properly… I don’t know how long we stood there like that … it could have been years for all I cared … but in the end he had let me go and, assuring me that he would ring me soon, he went.

Still smiling, I turn over and snuggle down to sleep, the remembered warmth of his body close to mine making me tingle.

I wake feeling happy and for a moment I can’t remember why … then the memory of yesterday floods back … a glance at the clock tells me I’ve slept late … it’s nearly ten, almost as though underlining this fact, Toby pushes the bedroom door open and jumps onto the bed, miaouing loudly. Poor cat! He not only spent Friday night on his own but didn’t get much to eat yesterday either.

‘All right, all right! I’ve got the message … I’m getting up.’ I said, throwing back the bedclothes and quickly grabbing my dressing gown.

The mugs we used last night are still standing on the ta ble, the sight giving me a very warm glow as I get the cat food out of the box and empty the sachet into Toby’s bowl.

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‘Magdalena, you are an idiot!’ I told myself gathering up the evidence of last night and putting the mugs in the washing up bowl.

‘For heaven’s sake, first you get into a tizz about Pete and now the sight of two empty mugs on the table has you going doolally!’

While I drink my coffee, I try to concentrate on what I have to do today. I’m going down to Marian’s for lunch then bringing Je nna back here; Dad’s bringing the boys back at about three. I’d better get moving.

Jenna opens the door to me – she looks very pleased to see me and welcomes me into the house, explaining that Marian is in the lounge.

‘We’ve had a lovely time, Aunt Maggie.’ She said as she waits for me to take off my coat. ‘Gran dug out albums of photos of mum as a little girl and of me and Mickey when we small. I’ve never seen those before.’

‘That’s nice, Jenna. I’m pleased you’ve enjoyed yourself. How was the cooking?’ Jenna had been planning menus all week, asking my opinion of what would work well together and, although Marian was footing the bill for the food, Jenna had been in charge in the kitchen for the weekend.

‘Great.’ She replied, her satisfied grin saying it all, ‘My pastry wasn’t as good as yours, but Gran said that it was quite edible; I expect it will get better with practice.’

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‘I said nothing of the sort!’ Marian called from the lounge, ‘I said it was very tasty – you were the one who was saying it wasn’t as good as Maggie’s! Come in, Maggie.’

Marian is sitting in her usual chair, a heavy photograph album on her lap.

‘Excuse me not getting up, this thing weighs a ton.’

She

explained as Jenna rushes off to the kitchen muttering something about gravy.

‘No problem, Marian. You’ve had a pleasant weekend then?’ I said, taking a chair and making myself comfortable.

‘Very pleasant – Jenna is a very capable cook. That’s entirely down to you, Maggie – well done.’

‘I had an apt pupil. Jenna’s very practical – she takes after you in some ways.’

‘Do you think so?’

‘Hmmm … you cope efficiently without complaining and she does the same, she’s an intelligent girl too.’ I commented, enjoying her obvious astonishment. ‘She wants to be a writer, has she told you about that?’

‘Yes, she mentioned it on Saturday … Maggie, I feel I’ve really got to know Jenna as a person properly this weekend … though it makes me very ashamed that it has taken this long. I’ve always thought of her as a child and she is growing up fast. I shall miss her when she goes back with you … and not just because of her cooking skills!’

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‘Well, I don’t see why we shouldn’t repeat this, do you?

Mickey’s content being with Duncan and Jenna is clearly happy to be here with you.’

‘That sounds extremely attractive.’ Marian replied, delighted at the thought. ‘I’ll have a think about how we can go about it. But enough of me, how was your tree building session?’

Blushing slightly, I relate the events of Friday night … how I had managed to lock myself out. ‘Oh Marian, I could have died!’

‘Whatever did you do?’

‘Pete took me back to his place and insisted I had his bed for the night; he slept on the sofa in his lounge. He managed to climb over the fence and get the back door open once it was daylight.’

‘What, really on the sofa?’

‘Yes, really on the sofa.’ I replied wishing I had not been quite so public about my aspirations where Pete was concerned.

‘So what happened then?’

‘I cooked breakfast for us and he went off.’ I said, feeling again for a moment the awful disappointment I had experienced then, but it passes very quickly as the remembrance of the afternoon popped into my mind.

‘That’s not all, Maggie, something’s put a smile on your face.’

Marian laughed, ‘Come on, what happened then? Did he come back later?’

‘No, I haven’t seen him since.’ I said demurely – she snorts in disbelief. ‘Honest, Marian, I haven’t.’

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‘So what’s made you look like a cat that’s got the cream?’ she demanded, smiling ‘What’s his name … the teacher … he didn’t turn up did he?’

‘Who? Glyn? Oh no.’ I replied teasing her, ‘But I did spend the rest of the day with a very nice man.’

‘Oh?’ she said half laughing, ‘Stop being so annoying, Maggie – who was it?’

‘Sam Dehaney.’ I replied, satisfied with the stunned look this elicits from her.

‘And just how did that come to pass?’

I explain how Sam had appeared the other day and how I had fed him some sandwiches and how that had led to him offering to feed me sometime. ‘And he rang on Saturday.’ I finished.

‘So did you go out for a meal with him?’

‘Yes, after we’d spent the afternoon wandering around the countryside.’

‘Well, I’d never have guessed that.’

Marian said, as Jenna

comes in to tell us that dinner is ready.

I take the album off Marian’s lap and put it on the side table, and with Marian still making surprised comments, we follow Jenna into the dining room.

Jenna has pushed out the boat making the table look really nice, Marian compliments her on it, putting a deli ghted smile on the girl’s face. Although Marian doesn’t say anything else about Sam, it is

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obvious that she is thinking about what I have told her, giving me funny little looks every now and then.

‘Aunt Maggie, did Gran tell you about the phone call she had yesterday?’ Jenna asked halfway through the meal, a smile touching her lips.

‘No. What was that?’ I asked, looking at Marian curiously – she’s the one looking conscious now.

‘Well, you know that teacher you told us you met up with – Charlie something?’ Jenna went on, ‘He rang up.’

‘Oh really?’

I said archly, turning to Marian with an ill-

suppressed grin on my face ‘Yes, he said you had mentioned my name to Glyn when you spoke to him earlier this week and thought he’d give me a ring just to say hello.’ She said going slightly pink.

He must have looked her up in the phone book – now that shows keenness!

‘He’s going to come over for tea one day next week.’ Marion finished.

‘Oh how lovely!’ I commented, with an innocent, wide-eyed look, ‘He’s a very nice man.’

‘You are a vindictive woman, Maggie!’

Marian declared

laughing despite herself.

Jenna looks from one to the other clearly puzzled by our behaviour.

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As I drive Jenna home after lunch, I compliment her on her cooking and tell her how impressed Marian was by the meals all weekend.

‘I enjoyed it, Aunt Maggie, though it was a bit scary at first.’

She said, ‘I like cooking … I wonder if I could do something like that for a living when I’m older.’

‘It’s a thought, Jenna, you could certainly look into it – if you want to write books, you might find having a catering job of some sort would keep body and soul together until you have something the publishers want.’ I replied ‘Hmmm … I’ll have a look in the careers room when I get to school. Did you have a nice time all on your own?’

‘I had a lovely time, Jenna, though I wouldn’t want to be without you lot all the time.’ I answered watching the traffic, waiting as a car turns out of the road I want to go down.

Dad materialises just before three, the boys bounding excitedly out of the car and rushing over to tell me all about their weekend.

Once they have run down a little, I send them upstairs with instructions to put their dirty washing in the laundry basket … though I have grave doubts that this will be done.

‘Cup of tea, Dad?’ ‘I’ll have a look at that shed door of yours first, Maggie. The daylight won’t last much longer.’

We go out to the shed and I show Dad what the problem is with the door, leaving him to sort it out and going into the kitchen to put 286

the kettle on. It’s chilly out there now that the sun has gone over. We were very lucky with the weather yesterday … it would have been about this time that we were sitting on that rock looking at the sea. I wonder how he is today… he said he would phone soon …

‘All done.’ Dad declared in a satisfactory tone of voice, shaking me out of my reverie. ‘That veg patch of yours looks very tidy, Maggie. Your grandfather would have been proud of you.’

‘Thanks.’ I said, gratified by his comment. ‘You can wash your hands here if you like, Dad. The tea won’t be a moment.’

‘So what did you do with your weekend then, Maggie?’ he asked, a few minutes later, sipping his tea.

‘I went up to see a friend of mine making artificial trees on Friday evening and went out with another friend of mine on Saturday afternoon.’ I replied, deciding not to mention that I managed to lock myself out of the house – no point worrying him.

‘And which of these friends has put a spring into your step? ’ he asked, seeing far too much as usual.

‘Oh? Is there a spring in my step?’ I asked hoping to get away with it.

‘Don’t try that innocent look with me, my girl.’

He said

laughing, ‘It never worked when you were small either. Come on, spill the beans,’ Laughing with him, I tell him about Sam. Something flashes across his face when I mention Sam’s origins but he doesn’t say anything.

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‘I don’t know where it was that he took me, Dad, I’ve not been there before, but it was really lovely. Right off the beaten track and very peaceful.’

‘Hmm … out Portishead way, you say?’ Dad said, frowning a little. ‘I’ll have to think about that. Nothing springs to mind, though there are lots of little places along that coast which are fairly inaccessible. Sounds like a good sort of man.’

‘He is.’ I replied, hoping that Sam’s origins are not going to cause problems with my parents.

They’ve never been racially

prejudiced as far as I am aware, but there is a big difference between having friends who are of a different culture and having your daughter going out with one of them.

‘Must work very anti-social hours in that job.’ Dad observed thoughtfully ‘they’re on call most of the time, aren’t they?’

‘Yes, you have to be pretty dedicated to do it properly.’

‘Well, you’ll have to bring him over sometime. Is it okay for me to tell your mother about him?’

‘Yes, of course. But we’ve only been out the once, Dad.’ ‘Hmm ... that’s as may be, but you talk about him as though he’s going to be around for a fair while, Maggie.’

I have no answer to that … oh crikey … talk about out of the frying pan! I hope I’m not just being silly again.

‘Were the boys good?’ I asked changing the subject.

Dad’s face lights up as he tells me how much he and Mum enjoyed having them. ‘We got a lot done on the jigsaw project, 288

Maggie. Though we’ll have to have another session to finish it all off.

That Mickey was a very quick learner – seemed to like working with wood. Duncan plays at it but Mickey wanted to understand the how and why, if you know what I mean.’

‘That’s interesting, Dad, I’ll mention that to his grandmother.

Oh, no, I’d better not until after Christmas – that would let the cat out of the bag, wouldn’t it?’

‘It would rather, but there’s no rush. Let me know when they can come over again – it would have to be a Sunday ... maybe they could come over one Saturday evening after the office has closed and stay the night.’ He said consideringly, ‘Yes, that might work. Well, let me know, Maggie. I’d better be making tracks.’

I call the boys down to say goodbye and am impressed by Mickey’s sincere thanks for the weekend – he has nice manners when he remembers to use them. Despite their various adventures over the weekend, the kids appear to be pleased that they are home now.

Supper is animated with them all swopping stories about their weekends.

‘What did you do with yourself, Mum?’ Duncan asked.

‘Oh this and that.’ I replied cagily. ‘It was nice having the time to myself but, all the same, I’m glad to have you all home now.’

After the meal, I send them upstairs to prepare their school bags and generally calm down.

The phone rings and my pulse racing

slightly, I rush to pick it up.

‘Hi, Maggie.’ Matt said.

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… oh well, ‘How are things? Is Duncan back from your parents’ yet?’

‘Hello, Matt. Yes, he’s here – shall I get him?’

‘In a moment – how was your gardening friend?’ he asked and yet again I kick myself for having mentioned Pete to people.

‘Oh, it was very interesting watching him build the trees, Matt.

He’s good company.’ I replied casually, ‘We split a bottle of wine and chatted – it was very pleasant.’

‘Only pleasant, eh?

But you don’t seem too bothered, at any

rate.’

‘No, I’m not.’

I replied hoping he would drop the subject.

‘Shall I get Duncan?’

While Duncan chats to his father about his weekend, I sit at the kitchen table trying to work out what is going on in my head.

I am in a whirl about Sam, that much is clear; but I’m also confused as far as Pete goes. It still stings that he’s not available … can I care about two men at the same time? Am I just infatuated with them both? Is it just that I develop a crush on any man I meet who is not actually married? That would be horrible.

But I don’t feel like that about Glyn and he’s definitely available … oh, things were a lot simpler before!

‘But not nearly so

interesting.’ I remind myself.

It’s quiet in the house once the kids have gone to bed but differently so from when it was just me here. Odd that it should make a difference. Toby accompanied Jenna upstairs, making a big fuss of 290

her – he prefers a houseful of people at any rate. I make myself a cup of coffee and settle down at the kitchen table with the general knowledge crossword from the newspaper.

I try to do it every

weekend … with mixed success most of the time.

What the

compilers consider general knowledge certainly surprises me at times.

I’m just trying to remember what the capital of the country that used to be Rhodesia is called when the phone rings … still half concentrating on the puzzle, I wander into the office and pick up the receiver.

‘Evening, Magdalena – the brood all reinstated?’ Sam’s voice asked, driving all thought of capital cities out of my head instantly.

‘Yes, they’ve had a lovely time but are all tucked up in bed now.’

I replied inanely,

‘I’m just struggling with the general

knowledge crossword from yesterday’s paper.’

‘Sounds very demanding.’ I can hear the laugh in his voice and smile in response. ‘But I’m ringing to say how much I enjoyed yesterday.’

‘So did I. I’m still trying to work out where exactly you took me.’

‘I’ll show you on a map sometime, Maggie.’ He said and I can hear that he’s grinning. ‘Can we do something similar another time, perhaps?’

‘I’d love to, Sam.

But I hope you’ll pop in anytime you are

passing – I know how difficult it is for you to get any time off. I’m here most of the time.’

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‘I’d like that - can you give me your mobile number, Maggie, I don’t know when I’ll next be able to see you and at least that way I can keep in touch.’

I give him the number and ask him for his. I don’t want him to ring off but I can’t think of anything to say and after muttering inanities for several minutes on both sides, we hang up.

Normality hits me hard Monday morning, Duncan’s having one of his rare sullen fits and drives me to distraction over breakfast – doubtless the result of a weekend of grandmotherly spoiling. But whatever the cause, I am more than happy to leave him and Mickey at the school gates.

‘You look pretty pissed off, Maggie.’

Caroline commented

coming across the playground to where I am standing by the school gate.

‘Oh, it’s only Duncan having one of those days.’ I replied with a sigh ‘Kids are a pain at times!’

‘Come and have coffee with me, Maggie. I want to hear about your weekend.

How was your evening with the horticultural

specialist?’

As we walk back to Caroline’s house together, I tell her about the evening … how I’d got myself all psyched up and how he’d completely demolished my hopes, relating the saga of the forgotten keys and everything.

‘Bloody hell, Maggie. That’s some story’

she commented as

we go into her house. ‘Take your coat off … coffee?’

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‘Thanks, that would be nice.’ I replied as my mobile phone sounds out the arrival of a text message. Following Caroline into her kitchen, I quickly read the message.

Shall be in your vicinity lunchtime – may I call? S

Smiling, I key in a reply Of course, sandwiches off the menu – soup do? M

I look up to find Caroline watching me with curiosity all over her face … I realise that I am grinning like a maniac and probably looking pleased as well. Damn!

My mobile registering another text message a few minutes later doesn’t help either.

‘Well, you’d better see what he wants, hadn’t you?’ Caroline said wryly, pouring boiling water into mugs. I sneak a look.

Wonderful, see you later. S

We carry our coffee into the lounge and sit down.

‘So spill the beans, Maggie – who was that? I assume it wasn’t the gardener.’ Caroline demanded avidly.

‘No, it wasn’t Pete.’ I replied, sipping my coffee ‘Maggie!’

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‘If you want to know, it was Sam Dehaney.’ I replied, enjoying her incredulous expression.

‘Maggie Jones! You are having me on!’ I shake my head, unable to resist grinning at her. ‘Do you mean to tell me you have pulled the unattainable Mr Dehaney?’

‘Oh … is he unattainable? I didn’t realise that.’

‘Is he heck!

I know several people who’ve tried to get off with

him and he hasn’t even noticed them.’ She replied emphatically. ‘He hasn’t looked at a woman since his wife left him and that was years ago.’

I can’t resist smiling at that … it’s not as though I deliberately went out of my way to attract him. The thought of succeeding where all those women have failed certainly boosts my ego.

‘Maggie, stop sitting there looking so disgustingly smug and tell me all about it.’ Caroline demanded.

‘There’s not a lot to tell,’ I protested, ‘He came round to see me the other day – he was tired and hadn’t had any lunch so I made him some sandwiches and we got chatting … as you do. As a result, he said he owed me a meal … anyhow, he rang me on Saturday and when I said I wasn’t doing anything, he suggested we went for a walk and then had a meal somewhere. That’s what we did.’

‘Oh yeah!’ Caroline said sceptically ‘And just how much time did this innocent little outing cover?’

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‘Well, he picked me up just after one in the afternoon and finally went home just before one in the morning. He came in for coffee after we got back from the pub … we talked a lot.’

‘Maggie, Maggie, you never cease to amaze me!’

Caroline

spluttered, laughing ‘Sam Dehaney must be the most eligible guy in the entire social services for this area … and you land him by giving him sandwiches … I bet you nagged him while he ate them too.’

‘A little.’ I confessed, ‘He’s coming for lunch today as well – that’s what the text message was about.’

It’s several minutes before Caroline recovers from the coughing fit which follows my comment … she was drinking her coffee when I made it.

‘Are you all right, Caroline?’

‘Yes, it just went down the wrong way. How serious is this, Maggie?’

‘Oh heavens, Caroline, we’ve only had one date … if you can call it that.’ I cried. ‘I don’t know. We get on … I like his company … he seems to like mine.’

‘Sorry, Maggie, that was a stupid question. Anyway, it’s no business of mine.’ She apologised, ‘I won’t mention it to anyone, Maggie, I promise you.

He’ll have to give some thought to

professional ethics though – he can’t have you on his caseload if he’s dating you.’

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‘I hadn’t thought of that.

But I see what you mean. He came

round the other day to ask if I would take another child when Jenna and Mickey go back to their Gran.’

‘Great. That’s just what you need, Maggie.’ Caroline said.

‘What are you giving him for lunch?’

‘Soup … there’s not much in the sandwich filling line in the house at the moment. He said that would be okay.’ I replied, rather enjoying her reaction to the situation. ‘Which reminds me, I’d better get home and start making it.’

‘Homemade soup? You’ll have him proposing next.’ She said dryly. ‘Oh boy, there will be some very jealous women when this gets out.’

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Chapter 16

I’m still chuckling to myself about this when I get home and start chopping up vegetables to make soup. Fortunately, I keep a pretty good supply of veg in the house at any time.

Once they are

cooked, I liquidise most of it, leaving a few spoonfuls to put in the resultant puree to make it more interesting.

Yes, that’ll do.

I pour the result into the saucepan – I can warm it up when he gets here … then I dig in the freezer … I know there’s a couple of frozen, half-baked, baguettes somewhere … there they are … I’ll bake them to have with the soup.

I wonder what time he meant by lunchtime … it could be anything from twelve onwards. I glance at the clock … 11.50 … I turn on the oven and put the bread in. It will take about twenty minutes … I reckon I just have time to go and tidy myself up.

I quickly dash upstairs and run a comb through my hair … the jeans and jumper are not exactly seductive but they are practical and he’s seen me in them before … he’s hardly likely to expect me to be dressed up to the nines at lunchtime on a Monday! I hear a vehicle draw into the driveway and peep out of the window … yes, that’s him.

He rings the bell just as I get to the door and I make him jump as I open it.

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‘You weren’t hiding behind the door, were you, Maggie?’ he asked with a grin, as I let him in.

‘No, I was upstairs and when I heard the car, I peeped out of the window. You rang the bell as I reached the door.’ I explained, closing the door behind him. ‘How are you today?’

‘Much better for seeing you. A very welcome oasis of sanity in a crazy world.’

‘Not so sure about the sanity.’ I commented, leading him into the kitchen, where the soup is starting to bubble.

The aroma of baking bread fills the room as I open the oven door and get out the baguettes, laying them on the wire rack to cool slightly.

‘Is there somewhere I can wash my hands, Maggie?’

I direct him towards the downstairs loo. By the time he gets back, I have set the table and am in the throes of pouring the soup into bowls.

‘That smells absolutely wonderful, Maggie.’

‘If you’d like to sit down, Sam, I’ll bring it over.’ I replied concentrating on what I am doing.

‘Yes, Ma’am!’ he said, saluting.

I have to tell him off for making me laugh and slop the soup all over the floor.

‘Now you’re exaggerating, it’s only a dribble.’ He said. ‘So what have you been doing with yourself, Maggie?’

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‘I had coffee with Caroline Sykes this morning.’ demurely, watching him under my eyelashes.

I said

‘In fact I was there

when you sent your text message.’

‘I see … and what did our mutual friend have to say?’ he asked with a rueful grin.

‘Quite a lot actually.’ I said, unable to restrain myself from grinning back at him.

‘I bet she did.’

I must have appeared concerned because he

went on, ‘It’s all right, Maggie, don’t look so anxious. Just for the record, Caroline is someone I count as a friend of mine. No doubt she told you I have something of a reputation for being uninterested in the ladies.’

‘Something like that.’ I admitted, concentrating on my soup and wondering just what is coming.

‘You are not going to be the most popular woman in the vicinity, Maggie.

That is if you are daft enough to go out with me

again.’

I glance up at him and see that he is smiling at me.

‘Not ten

minutes ago you were telling me I was an oasis of sanity … how come I am suddenly daft? As for going out with you again … who am I to turn down another opportunity to wander around a field in the middle of nowhere in the dark?’

‘Magdalena, will you come wandering with me again?’

he

asked reaching across the table and taking my hand. Suddenly struck

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by a ridiculous attack of shyness, I glance up at him … he’s looking at me, a very serious look on his face. ‘Please?’

‘I’d love to.’ I replied and he visibly relaxes. Did he honestly think I would turn him down?

‘That’s all right then. Only, I couldn’t stop thinking about you yesterday.’ He said, completely taking my breath away.

‘That’s bad, Sam.’ I said, shaking my head sadly, anxious to lighten the atmosphere, if only for my own sake, ‘First sign of dementia, I reckon.’

‘You could well be right.’ He said in a similar tone, ‘You’ll just have to take pity on a poor madman and be nice to me, won’t you.’

‘Well, I don’t know about that …’ I said with a sigh, ‘I’ve got the children to consider, you know …’

I catch his eye across the

table and we both burst out laughing.

‘You really are an idiot, aren’t you?’ he said, shaking his head.

‘Well, now we’ve got that straight, I’d better have a chat with my superior and arrange for you to be moved to someone else’s caseload.’

‘Caroline said you’d have to do that.’ I said without thinking.

‘Oho … so you got that far did you?’ he said, delight written all over his face. ‘And there was me wondering if I was being optimistic.

What else did Caroline have to say?’

‘Not a lot, only that she’d not gossip. She’s a good friend of mine too. Do you want any more soup?’

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‘I reckon I could make room for a little more. It is extremely tasty – did you make it yourself?’

‘Yes.’ ‘Okay, what’s so amusing now?’ he asked seeing my sudden grin at the recollection of what Caroline had said.

‘Nothing.’ I lied – fortunately he doesn’t press the point. ‘What are you doing this afternoon?’

‘I’ve got a couple of visits over in Bradford on Avon.’ He said, after a moment’s thought. ‘Shouldn’t be too bad.’

‘You don’t mind me asking about your work, do you?’ I asked, sitting down again ‘Not if you’re interested.’ He replied tucking into his second bowlful with enthusiasm. ‘It might not always be comfortable though – I see some pretty frightful things sometimes.’

‘All the more reason for you to have someone to talk to then.’ I said practically. ‘I’ll probably bore the daylights out of you talking about the accounting work I do.’

‘Maggie, at the risk of sounding completely absurd, I doubt very much you could bore me talking about anything.’ He said earnestly.

‘I was thinking about it yesterday, do you know we talked non-stop for something approaching twelve hours yesterday?’

‘Yes, that dawned on me this morning when I was chatting to Caroline.

If you hadn’t realised what the time was, we’d probably

have gone on longer than that.’

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‘Talking about realising what the time is, I have to be moving.’

He said scraping his bowl for the last scraps. ‘Maggie, I don’t have to tell you that I can’t guarantee any arrangements we might make – the job just doesn’t allow it.’

‘I know, but I have the children too – so perhaps it would be as well for me to repeat that you are welcome to come over anytime you want to – privacy definitely not guaranteed, but at least we can talk if nothing else.’ I replied, walking with him across the hall to the front door.

‘And what else did you have in mind?’ he asked cheekily, putting his arms around me.

‘Oh, I don’t know … strip poker … or … Scrabble, perhaps.’ I said equally cheekily. Laughing, he pulls me towards him and we kiss. ‘Yes, something like that.’ I continued when he releases me.

‘If you want feeding, Sam, give me a little warning – dinner tends to be about six thirty in this household, but we can usually accommodate an extra one. Shall I see you this evening?’ I asked, not wanting him to go.

‘Possibly. I’ll let you know if not, how’s that?’

‘Fine.’

I said, kissing him.

We cling together for a few

moments, then with a little shake, I let go of him. ‘Mr Dehaney, you have work to do.’

‘Heartless woman! Throwing me out into the cold!’ he said dramatically and we both laugh.

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I watch him as he drives away, a ridiculously satisfied grin on my face.

Caroline is talking to Jan at the school gate when I get there, s he raises an eyebrow tacitly asking the question as I approach.

‘Mr Dehaney is seeing his superior about moving me off his caseload.’ I said and we exchange understanding glances. Jan looks puzzled. ‘He’s the social worker who manages the children I foster.’

I explained for her benefit.

‘Oh.’ She said, ‘I expect they do that from time to time.’

Caroline splutters and tries to turn it into a cough; I have to fight to keep a straight face but Jan doesn’t seem to notice.

It is Mickey’s day to visit his Gran after school today. All the way over he is trying to work out with Duncan how he can tell her what he did with my father at the weekend without letting the cat out of the bag about the jigsaw he is making for her.

In a little world of my own, I let them get on with it. Marian ushers us into the cottage quickly – it has turned quite damp and chilly now.

‘Mickey had a good time with your father, Maggie.’ She said appreciatively once the boys have gone upstairs to play, ‘It was very kind of him to spend so much time with the boy.’

‘Dad loved it, Marian, he wants them to go over again to finish whatever it is they are doing. He has suggested possibly a Saturday evening/Sunday stop over.’

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‘I’m all in favour, Maggie, just arrange it to suit yourself.’

Marian said ‘Once I’m fit again, I must have a party to thank all the people who have been so wonderful.’

‘That’s a lovely idea.’

‘Sam Dehaney popped in this afternoon, Maggie.’ Marian went on, ‘He said he’s going to transfer my case to another social worker.

He didn’t go into details and I didn’t like to ask him but I assume it is something to do with you.’

‘I’m afraid so, Marian. It’s not ethical for him to have me on his caseload now.’

‘So things are going well in that direction? Have you seen him since Saturday?’

‘Yes, he came over for lunch today. Oh Marian, you’d have laughed. My friend Caroline Sykes used to work with Sam … she’s still a friend of his … well, I had coffee with her this morning and when she heard that we’d been out together on Saturday she was stunned. From what she says, he’s been chased by every available female in the section … she reckons I’m going to be very unpopular when it gets out.’

‘Well, he’s an attractive man, Maggie.’ Marian commented, ‘A lonely one too from what I can see. You’ll be good for each other.’

‘I don’t know how the children will take it, especially Duncan, I’ve not said anything to them yet.’

I said concerned … I’d

deliberately not mentioned anything to them last night on the basis that it might not go anywhere.

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‘They’ll adapt, Maggie, and I’m sure Duncan will be all right when he sees how happy you are.’ Marian said comfortingly. I look up at her sharply.

‘Yes, you do look happier, Maggie, more

contented.’

We meet Jenna at the bus stop, by which time it is drizzling slightly and most unpleasant. Together we walk up the road to the house. My mobile phone signals a text message and, by the light of the street lamps, I read what it says.

If offer of a meal is still open, I’d love to come tonight. But it’s okay to say no. S Jenna looks at me curiously – I don’t usually get text messages.

‘We’re having an extra one for dinner tonight, Jenna.’ I said sending a quick reply.

‘Oh? Who’s that?’

Realising that my face is burning, and exceedingly grateful for the darkness, I desperately hunt for the right words – oh, what the heck.

‘Sam Dehaney … I … we went out for a meal on Saturday.’ I said wondering what her reaction will be.

‘Is he your boyfriend, Aunt Maggie?’ she asked in a far more relaxed tone than I can manage.

‘Hmmm… Yes, I suppose you could say that.’

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‘Oh good – he’s nice.’ She said happily. ‘What are we doing for dinner tonight?’

‘I don’t know, what do you reckon?’ I asked … I hope the boys take it in the same laid back way.

We discuss the possibilities all the way home, deciding that cottage pie with peas and carrots would be nice and warming, with rice pudding for afters. I’m not sure if there are any peas … I have a vague idea that I used up the last of them in the soup … well, there’ll be something else in the freezer. Some weeks ago I promised to show Jenna how to make a rice pudding the old fashioned way, as she reminds me.

I mention to the boys that we are having a visitor for dinner but they don’t seem to take it in.

As it happens, Duncan is nearest the door when Sam rings the doorbell and by the time I get into the hall, Duncan is taking Sam’s coat and hanging it up for him. I feel Duncan’s eyes on me as I greet Sam with a quick hug … I’ll have to explain things to Duncan, I can see that. I know Matt has told him about Denny, but Duncan doesn’t have to live with that particular fact of life. Sam is rather too big to overlook.

Mickey helps me dish up the dinner - I am starting to insist that he gives a hand occasionally and to his surprise (and mine) he’s beginning to take an interest in how meals are prepared as well as in eating them. I have sort of promised that he and Duncan can have a go at preparing a meal later in the week … probably spaghetti 306

bolognese; they can’t go far wrong with that. Sam chats to Duncan about school but, although his replies are polite, it doesn't escape my notice that Duncan’s not as forthcoming as he usually is.

Oh dear ... I'd not given any thought to how he would react to the appearance of a boyfriend on the scene ... Almost as though she has sussed the problem, Jenna is doing her best to keep the conversational ball rolling - bless the girl!

Sam smiles up at me as I put a plate down in front of him and invite him to help himself to the vegetables on the table. As I’d thought, we’re out of peas so I’ve resorted to sprouts, much to the disgust of the boys who don't like them.

'You know the rules, boys.' I said firmly, 'You have one and eat it without a fuss or else I give you a spoonful and you sit there until you have eaten them all.'

'Does that apply to me too?' Sam said nervously - Duncan's head comes up suddenly, a look of surprise on his face. 'Only I'm not overly keen on sprouts either.'

'Of course it does.' I said meeting his eyes and reading a certain amount of mischief lurking in the depths, 'Nobody is exempt.

Anyway, they’re good for you.'

With a heavy sigh, Sam takes a couple of sprouts and, saying in a heroic tone (with a conspiratorial glance at the boys) that a man has to do what a man has to do, he proceeds to eat them, commenting that it's just as well to get the worst over first. I see Duncan and Mickey look at each other and follow suit.

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Jenna is concentrating on her dinner but I can see a smile hovering around her mouth.

'They're not as bad as I thought they'd be.' Sam said in a surprised tone of voice. 'In fact, I think I might have a couple more.' he said spooning some more onto his plate. 'Duncan, Mickey – we can’t let the women beat us, can we?' indicating the heaps Jenna and I have on our plates.

'I'll have one,' Mickey said not wanting to be thought wanting in this demonstration of macho-ness. Backed into a corner and not wanting to look a wimp, Duncan has no choice but to do the same.

The rice pudding goes down a treat - the boys are initially suspicious of anything that looks like it has a 'skin' on it, but after Sam's enthusiastic 'Oh, my mum used to make rice pudding like that me and my brothers used to fight over the skin.' t hey suddenly became keen to dive in, finding somewhat to their disbelief, I think, that they like it.

'It's your turn to dry up, Duncan.' Mickey said at the end of the meal. 'I'll go and set up the track while you do it, shall I?' The boys have got back into their car racing now they have recovered from the bug.

'It's all right, Duncan, I'll help your mum wash up.' Sam announced, earning a spontaneous grin from my son, 'If that's all right with you, Maggie?'

'As long as you don't drop things.' I answered, wondering just how tricky this man is going prove. If this meal is anything to go by, 308

I shall have to watch out. The kids all scarper sharpish - Jenna moaning to the boys about homework and flute practice as they leave the room. 'Mr Dehaney, you are the most shameless manipulator!' I said as soon as the door is safely shut behind the youngsters.

'Who me?' he asked, putting his arms round my waist and drawing me closer. 'I don't know what you are talking about, Maggie.' When I have finished kissing him, he continued, ‘It didn’t escape me that Duncan was not particularly happy about my presence. I wanted to show him that I was no threat.'

'Well you did that well enough, I don't know how Jenna managed to keep a straight face. All that palaver about rice pudding!'

'Oh, that was true enough.' he said with a grin, 'Though I have to admit that I was stretching things a little with the sprouts. That was a lovely meal, thank you very much, Maggie.'

'Well, you can show me how grateful you are by drying up the dishes. The tea towel’s over there.'

‘I saw my boss this afternoon.’ Sam said, waiting for me to wash something so he can dry it. ‘It was a tad embarrassing having to explain why I can’t work with you any more.’

‘I bet it was. Sam this is all getting a little bit public, what with Caroline and everything.’ I said, looking at him.

‘Do you mind?’ he asked, wiping a plate.

I consider this for a moment, ‘No, it just feels rather odd that’s all. I’m not used to it. What did your boss say?’

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‘Apart from pulling my leg a little, he was very understanding and I got the general feeling he was pleased that I’d found someone to relate to … John’s a nice guy. You’ll like him.’

‘Shall I meet him then?’

‘Well, I’m rather hoping you’ll come to the section’s Christmas party with me, so yes, you’ll meet him.’ Sam said earnestly.

‘When is it?’ I asked, delighted at the thought and desperately trying not to appear too keen.

‘It’s this Friday – I know it’s short notice - it’s an evening do so you’ll need a babysitter.’

‘I’ll have a word with Marian and see if she can help. What’s the dress code?’

‘Oh just smart casual – we’re going out for a meal, that’s all.’

He answered while I desperately scan my wardrobe mentally … when was the last time I needed a smart casual outfit? ‘Where do you want this cutlery put, Maggie?’

He’s just finishing off the last of the plates when we hear footsteps on the stairs ... the kitchen door opens and Jenna appears carrying a book.

'Aunt Maggie, I can't work out how to do this.' she wailed.

Praying that it is not chemistry again, I quickly dry my hands and go over to see what the problem is. French, I can cope with that. While Sam finishes off the washing up, I sit at the table with her and together we work through the exercise she has been set.

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'I'm no good at languages.' Jenna moaned when we have finished.

'You'll get the hang of it, Jenna. Don't give up yet.'

I

encouraged, 'Have you got much more to do tonight?'

‘No, Aunt Maggie, only my flute practice.’

‘Sam was saying how much he enjoyed the meal, Jenna.

Especially the rice pudding. That was Jenna’s work, Sam.’ ‘Well done, young lady.’ Sam smiled, and Jenna glows under the compliment.

The phone rings in the office. ‘Jenna, hang on a moment, that’s probably Matt for Duncan.’ I said going into the office to answer it.

‘Hi Matt … yes, I’ll just get him for you.’ I go back into the kitchen, ‘Jenna, can you tell Duncan it’s his father on the phone as you go upstairs, please?’

We hear Duncan tearing down the stairs a couple of minutes later; he explodes into the kitchen and swerves into the office.

We

stand well back to let him pass.

‘Coffee?’ I offered, once the whirlwind has disappeared from the kitchen.

Sam and I take our mugs into the lounge, leaving Duncan to talk to his father in peace.

While we drink our coffee, Sam explains the

arrangements for Friday. The members of the section plus significant others, are meeting up at a local restaurant at seven thirty.

‘How many are there in the section?’

I’ve come to the

conclusion that I am going to have to go shopping for something to 311

wear for this event. Nothing in my wardrobe comes even close to suitable.

‘There’re four social workers – you’ve met April – the other two are Kim Turner and Sue Trake. Both Sue and Kim are single. In addition, there’s John Boyd, our overall boss. He’s married to Cherry and they’ve got a small child … about six, I think, though I may be wrong on that.

Then there is Alison who is our secretary – she’s

divorced – and Zoe our receptionist … you’ve met her, I think. We’re only one of the three teams operating in this area though. The others cover Bristol mainly though they do sometimes come to visit us in our rural fastness.’

The lounge door opens and Duncan comes in. Slightly unsure of himself, he hovers by the door. ‘Dad said to give you his love, Mum. I told him you had a visitor – he said he’ll catch up with you some other time.’

‘Thanks, Duncan.’ I replied, wondering just what Duncan might have said to his father about Sam. ‘Sam,’ Duncan started, then hesitates. ‘Sam, can I ask you something?’

Of course, Duncan.’ Sam replied warmly. ‘What do you want to know?’

Duncan hesitates again. ‘What’s it like being black?’

I open

my mouth to jump on him, but Sam, gets in first. ‘It’s okay, Maggie, he’s not being rude. That’s a good question, Duncan. But I don’t think I can answer it – I’ve never been anything else.’

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Duncan

frowns, puzzled by this answer. Sam continues ‘Perhaps you can tell me what it is like to be white.’

Duncan blinks at this then, as light begins to dawn, I see his face change. ‘Oh … I see.’ Turning to me, he goes on. ‘I wasn’t being rude, Mum, honest … I just wondered.’

I am left not knowing what to say but Sam is well and truly in the driver’s seat now.

‘Do you mind me coming to see your mum, Duncan?’ he asked.

‘No…’ Duncan replied slowly, ‘But it feels a bit strange.’

‘I expect it does. I hope you’ll get used to it though.’

Duncan stands there for a moment then, flashing a smile at both of us in turn, runs back upstairs.

‘You look a little staggered, Maggie.’ Sam commented.

‘I am.’ I replied, trying to get my head round this interchange.

‘You should have expected him to say something.’ Sam pointed out reasonably. ‘He’s old enough to feel protective towards you as the resident male and also young enough to feel threatened as your son. As for his question, that’s logical – the chances are people are going to comment to him about it once it becomes common knowledge, especially as I doubt everyone knows you and Matt have split up.’

‘Oh hell, I’d not thought of that. But I can’t go around with a placard round my neck saying ‘It’s okay I’m not being unfaithful.’

Can I?’

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‘Not really.’ He said with a laugh, ‘Mind you, I’d like to see what people said if you did. Does it bother you?’

‘What?’

‘The colour question.’

‘Don’t be daft!’ I replied emphatically, ‘I’ll have you know that you’ve even been invited over to meet my parents. Oh hell, that sounds dreadful!’

But he’s laughing and, after a moment’s

embarrassment, I join in.

‘How did that come about?’ he asked. I explain about my father bringing the boys back on Sunday. ‘Hmmm …’ he said when I’d finished ‘Maybe I could come with you when you next take the boys over there … the last thing I want is your parents to be worrying.’

‘I’m a big girl, Mr Dehaney! I can look after myself without my parents’ assistance!’ I exclaimed, honesty forcing me to add. ‘Well, most of the time at any rate.’

Before he can reply, his mobile rings.

His relaxed mode

disappears as he takes the call, ‘Hello … yes … I see … of course … about half an hour I should think ….No, don’t do that. Okay. ‘Bye.’ He sighs as he puts the phone back into his pocket. ‘Maggie, I have to go, I’m so sorry.’

‘Now you’re being daft again. Your work is important and I understand that. Nothing nasty, I hope.’

‘Not too bad.’ He replied as we take the empty mugs back into the kitchen. ‘Similar sort of situation to the one you had with Fiona 314

the other week.’ He is looking slightly lost, standing by the kitchen table. I go over to him and put my arms round him.

‘You know where I am, Sam Dehaney, come back again soon.’

We cling to each other for a few minutes then, looking less anxious, he smiles at me and with one last kiss, he starts moving towards the door.

‘Kids, come and say goodbye.’ I called up the stairs and three heads appear at the top of the stairs.

‘You aren’t going already are you?’ Mickey asked. ‘’fraid so, Mickey.’ Sam replied, ‘Someone needs me.’

‘Come back soon.’ Duncan put in, unconsciously echoing my words. ‘Bye.’ ‘Yes, come again.’ Jenna added.

‘There you see – unanimous vote.’ I said quietly to him as we stand in the porch.

‘I’ll ring you, Magdalena.’ He promised with a smile.

Tuesday, I spend all day working on the accounts for the garage … what with one thing and another, I haven’t been keeping up with Dave’s accounts. Still, it keeps me occupied.

Sam rings lunchtime from somewhere – he’s got a case conference all afternoon and needs to catch up on some housework afterwards, so won’t be able to get over. Oh well … probably just as well.

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I see Caroline at the school gate after school. ‘I need to get something to wear for this Christmas do – what on earth should I go for?’ I wailed helplessly at her.

‘What Christmas do?’ she asked very reasonably.

I realise I haven’t told her I’m going with Sam to the meal on Friday. I explain and, ignoring her amused expression, repeat my question.

‘Something sexy.’ She replied, ‘There’s lots of lovely outfits in the shops at the moment – when are you going shopping for it?’

‘I thought perhaps tomorrow.’ I faltered, a little staggered by her reply … sexy? … me?

‘Well, if you mean in the morning, I could come wit h you.’

I quickly accept her offer.

Thus it is that, Wednesday afternoon, I find myself standing in my bedroom looking at an outfit hanging on the wardrobe door and wondering just what I have let myself be talked into. Caroline had been very helpful, encouraging me to try on garments I would not have even thought about. Fortunately, my efforts at losing a bit of weight have paid off and I am less podgy round the middle now. I’d never in a month of Sundays have contemplated wearing the strappy satin top hanging in front of me, though the skirt is okay. Not so sure about the earrings but they do match the outfit, so Caroline was probably right about them too. If nothing else, it all fits me and even looks quite pretty … though I am not used to seeing myself in anything so impractical … I wonder what Sam will think of it. As 316

luck would have it, I have a pair of suitable strappy sandals which will go with it and an all purpose black coat which will go over the top. Caroline had been keen that I should make an impact … not sure what she meant by that.

When I talked to Marian about babysitting she suggested that instead of her coming up to my house, I should take the kids down to her place for the night. The boys can sleep in their sleeping bags as they did at my mother’s house.

‘You don’t have to worry about anything that way, Maggie.’

She pointed out very sensibly, ‘Not to mention that I’d love to have them here.

I can hang onto the kids until you pick them up on

Saturday morning.’

Sam had thought this a sensible idea when I told him about it – he rang late on Tuesday evening - he sounded tired, but said that he hoped to be able to get over on Wednesday for dinner. I warned him that the boys would be cooking but he only said that he’d be glad to add a bit of macho support to their efforts. I have to say that when I passed this on to Duncan and Mickey, they were pleased.

It’s hard work overseeing the boys as they make dinner. The impulse to say ‘here, let me do that.’ is enormous but I resist it and the end result looks as though it’ll be all right … there’s not a lot that can go wrong with bolognese.

Leaving them to lay the table, I go upstairs and show Jenna the outfit I’ve bought for Friday. She is very enthusiastic, insisting that I try it on so she can see it properly.

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‘That looks cool, Aunt Maggie.’ She said consideringly, her head on one side, ‘You’ve lost weight.’

‘Does it really look okay do you think?’ I asked, looking at myself in the mirror ‘More than okay.’ She replied encouragingly, ‘You look really nice when you dress up. You should do it more often.’

‘I don’t know about that.’ I retorted, ‘I don’t think an outfit like this would be right for digging the garden over.’

She’s still spluttering with laughter five minutes later as I put my jeans back on. The sound of a car driving onto the gravel draws her over to the window. ‘I think it’s Sam.’ She said, peering out.

‘Yes, it is.’ She waves to him. ‘I’ll go and let him in, shall I?’ ‘Thanks, Jenna.’ I replied, dragging a comb through my hair and checking that I don’t look too messy.

By the time I get downstairs, Sam is in the kitchen talking to the boys and hearing all about their culinary efforts. He looks over as I go through the door and the expression in his eyes makes my stomach turn over.

‘Hello.’

I said smiling at him like a complete idiot and

extremely aware that there are three pairs of eyes watching us. ‘How are things?’

‘Not so bad.’ He replied as the saucepan full of spaghetti boils over breaking the tension; Jenna rushes over to help Mickey rescue the situation.

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I don’t get a moment alone with Sam until after dinner – the kids escaping gratefully as Sam and I offer to attack the washing up.

As Jenna leaves, closing the door considerately behind her, we both heave a sigh of relief.

Putting down the dirty plates he’s stacking, he comes over to where I am starting to run a bowl of hot water and puts his arms round me. Winding my arms round him in return, I relax against him.

‘I like your kids very much, Maggie, but they are somewhat surplus to requirements sometimes.’ He commented, kissing me very satisfactorily. ‘Oh, it is good to hold you, Magdalena.’

‘I’ll second that.’ I replied with feeling.

Naturally, we only get five minutes peace – the phone ringing in the office brings us very quickly back to reality. Sam starts on the washing up as I go to answer it.

‘Maggie?’ Matt said chirpily ‘How are you? Not spoken to you for ages.’

‘I’m fine, thanks, Matt – and you?’ He tells me that he’s sorted out the idiot at the works who is now toeing the line. ‘Great. How are things with Denny?’

‘Fine, fine. What’s this Duncan was telling me about a visitor – he didn’t say much but I got the definite feeling that the visitor was of the male persuasion. Your gardener hasn’t materialised again, has he?’

‘No, it was Sam Dehaney, the social worker who was overseeing Jenna and Mickey.’ I said … well, it’s not a lie.

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‘Surely social workers don’t usually come for dinner?’ Matt asked, cutting to the chase immediately. ‘And you said ‘was’ – isn’t he doing that now?’

‘No …’

‘Maggie, don’t you try to pull the wool over my eyes!’ Matt said, ‘I take it you’re going out with this guy.’

‘Well …yes.’ I replied, feeling about ten years old.

‘Duncan seemed to think he was a nice guy.’ Matt commented.

Through the open office door I can see the subject of this conversation grinning appreciatively at me from the kitchen sink and I stick my tongue out at him. ‘I’m glad you’ve found someone, Maggie.’

‘Yes, he is a nice guy.’ I answered, watching as the guy in question bows gracefully at the compliment. ‘I’m going to his work’s Christmas do on Friday night. Marian’s having the kids to stay for the night.’

‘Got something nice to wear?’ Matt asked, ‘You want to do the bloke proud.’

‘Yes, I went shopping with Caroline this morning.’ I replied, my eyes watching Sam who is now concentrating on the washing up and has his back to me … never realised what a neat bum he has before … Maggie … what are you thinking!

‘So you staying at his place on Friday?’ conversationally.

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Matt went on

‘No, of course not, Matt! I exclaimed automatically, ‘At least … it hasn’t been mentioned.’

‘Well, you’d better bear in mind that it might, Maggie – don’t get caught out.’

Matt advised … another of those surreal

conversations that no-one would believe in a million years.

‘Of

course, he could always stay at the farmhouse.’

‘Matt, will you just get it into your head that …’ I falter, aware that I can be heard from the kitchen …

‘Ah, I deduce that the man is within earshot.’ Matt commented, amusement colouring his voice. ‘You’d better stop blushing, Maggie, and go find Duncan. Just remember what I said.’

A glance in the mirror confirms his assumption and, telling him that he is a horrible man, which only makes him laugh even more, I go to call Duncan. This at least gives me a chance to recover my equilibrium a little and, by the time, I rejoin Sam at the kitchen sink, I am feeling less ruffled.

‘I take it that your ‘big brother’ was dishing out the advice.’

Sam said.

The amusement in his voice sounds remarkably like Matt’s.

One of the things we’d talked about sitting on that rocky headland had been the brotherly/sisterly nature of the relationship between Matt and I. ‘Hmmm…’ I grunted in what I hoped was a non-committal sort of voice, busily piling up the clean, dry plates.

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‘I think I can probably hazard a guess at the nature of his advice.’ Sam said, his amusement increasing at the same rate as my discomfiture.

Swallowing hard, I concentrate on the dishes.

‘Matt’s a sensible man, by the sound of it, but then again, so am I.’ His tone stops me in my tracks, I turn and look at him. ‘Maggie, I don’t pretend to know where this is going but from where I’m standing it’s looking pretty good at the moment and I’d be a liar if I told you I hadn’t thought about the … the … um … possibilities available to us on Friday night.

But it’s equally clear that you

haven’t.’ He is picking his words very carefully … then I realise that the office door is slightly open and Duncan is in there. ‘Now, how about some coffee?’

Grateful for the change of subject, I busy myself getting out the coffee. I carry the kettle over to the sink feeling slightly nervous at approaching him – he’s right I’ve not given any thought to sex and the very genuine likelihood has shaken me. I know I fantasised about Pete that night but that wasn’t real, it was an impossibility and this … this is all too real and possible.

‘Hey, Maggie,’ Sam said softly, taking the kettle out of my hands and gently holding me, ‘Come here and stop looking so worried.’

Wrapped in his arms, I feel the tension evaporate. ‘Sorry, Sam, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.’

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‘There’s nothing wrong with you, Maggie, you’ve just never been here before. That’s about the crux of it. From what you’ve told me, that would appear to be the case at any rate.’

‘You’re right, Sam … I feel a total fool.’ I answered, burying my face in his jumper, the roughness of the wool somehow soothing.

‘I mean, to have got to my age and never actually …’ I fall silent, unable to find the words.

‘Never actually what?’

he whispered into my hair

‘Felt

passionate about a man? Been in love? Contemplated spending the night with someone? Oh Maggie, it’s not a crime, you know.’

‘All of that, I suppose.’ I mumbled into his jumper, ‘Oh, Sam! I must be a dreadful disappointment to you.’

‘Oh, how wrong you are!’ he said quietly, laughing a little.

‘You couldn’t be more wrong if you tried.’

‘Honestly?’ I asked, looking up at him wondering what is so funny.

‘Honestly.’ He replied, kissing me gently. ‘Now, what about that coffee?’

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Chapter 17

The weather is dry on Thursday morning so I decide to walk up to the farm with Pete’s stuff. I can’t help laughing at myself as I walk up the path, remembering the last time I walked up here.

Can it really be less than a week?

Can I only have known Sam for only six days? How absurd!

That conversation we had last night still bothers me a little. I am starting to wonder if I’m peculiar in some way … Sam assures me that I’m not, but what does he know? I was lying in bed last night trying to imagine what it would be like having Sam there with me … trying to put together my rather limited experience of sex with the way I feel when Sam kisses me. It is beyond my imagination. Oh well … wait and see what happens, I suppose.

Pete’s busy clearing up his unit when I arrive, there is a heap of rubbish in the middle of the floor and the shelves all look extremely tidy.

‘You’ve been busy.’ I commented as he smiles a welcome.

He’s wielding a broom and sweeping under the sink unit. ‘I do try to keep the place reasonable, but every now and then I have to give it a thorough going over.’ He said ‘How are you? Not mislaid your keys again?’

‘No, thank goodness! I’m fine.’

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‘What did you do with your day on Saturday?’ he went on, ‘I called in during the afternoon – your car was there but there was no answer from the house, so I assume you went out somewhere.’

Dismayed by the thought that he had called and not found me in, I mutter something about going out with a friend. Now I am with him, I realise that I’m still attracted to him.

Oh this is all very complicated!

I wouldn’t say I am in love with Sam, but I would guess that I am well on the way … yet Pete still pushes buttons with me. Again, I wonder how I can be attracted to two men at the same time. No-one has ever mentioned this to me before. I busy myself looking through the paperwork while he finishes the sweeping and bags up the rubbish. It all looks pretty straightforward.

‘How are the kids?’ Pete asked.

‘Oh, they’re fine. In fact they’re all going to Marian’s for the night on Friday.’ I said, concentrating on the invoice in my hand …

I’m sure I’ve paid this one.

‘Oh, so you are going to be on your own.’

‘Hmmm…’ I replied only half listening.

‘Don’t suppose you’d care to meet up for a drink on Friday night then, Maggie.’ He said – that percolates through to my brain very fast.

‘Oh Pete, I’m sorry, I’m going out on Friday night.’ I said glancing at him.

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‘Another time perhaps.’ He said brightly, ‘Where are you going on Friday?’

‘It’s a Christmas party of sorts.’ I replied, relieved that he’s not very bothered. I remind myself that he didn’t take advantage of the opportunity when I was at his flat … he’s only being friendly.

‘Should be fun.’ He commented, ‘I hope you have a good time.’

‘Thanks.’ I said, confused … I thought he was in love with someone … maybe he’s tried his luck and not got anywhere … not wanting to poke my nose in, I start talking to him about the accounts.

I am still confused about my feelings when I walk back down the path to the house. So much so, that I ring Caroline … she’s out … damn! … I know, I’ll call Marian. ‘Marian, would you mind if I came over to talk to you?’ I asked when she answers the phone.

‘Of course not, Maggie, is there something wrong?’ she asked anxiously ‘No … at least I don’t think so, I just need to talk to someone.’

We arrange that I’ll go over in about half an hour. We can have a bite of lunch together.

Marian is still looking concerned when I arrive, fussing around me a little which is endearing and rather comforting. We settle in the lounge over some sandwiches she has very ki ndly made. It is cosy in here with the fire going.

‘Now what’s the problem, Maggie?’

Hesitantly at first, I explain my problem with the two men. ‘…

I daresay this all sounds totally crazy to you, Marian, but I’ve never 326

been through this before and it is worrying me silly … I don’t want to hurt anyone.’

‘No, Maggie, not crazy, just human.’ .

She nibbles a sandwich, her mind obviously working on my dilemma. ‘Tell me about Pete.’ She said eventually.

‘Well, he tells me that he’s in love with someone but that he doesn’t know if she cares for him or not … it seems they are good friends and he doesn’t want to lose that.’ I said, ‘It’s odd, he says he called round to see me last Saturday afternoon and when I saw him this morning, he asked if I fancied going for a drink with him on Friday night … but didn’t seem too bothered when I said I was already booked.’

‘What about Sam?’ Marian went on.

‘Oh, Sam.’ I said smiling, ‘He’s a love. I feel comfortable with him but not like it was with Matt, there’s another dimension … he has a frightful effect on me at times … Oh Marian, I sound like a rather backward teenager, even to my ears!’

I sigh … this relationship stuff is rather complex.

‘Maggie, Maggie … don’t look so forlorn! It’s not uncommon to fancy two men at the same time, you know. The important thing is to decide which one you want to go with. It strikes me that you have the makings of a genuine relationship with Sam. If Pete wanted to go out with you, he should have said so. I think what you are suffering from with him is a crush – I daresay if he had done something about it last week it would have become something more concrete but from 327

what I can see, that’s about as far as it goes.’ She advised. ‘Just make sure that Sam is the one you want …you can get into a mess if you make the wrong decision.’ Something about her tone makes me look at her curiously. ‘I made the wrong decision in a similar situation once.’ She went on, her tone serious ‘I’m only finding out just how wrong it was now.’

‘What do you mean, Marian?’

‘I was in the same situation as you once. I married the wrong one.’

‘So what has happened recently to make you realise that?’ I asked, Then light dawns, ‘…Charlie! Wasn’t he coming over for tea sometime this week?’

‘Yes – he came round yesterday.’

She said, her expression

tender. ‘I was very silly all those years ago. The trouble is you don’t realise it at the time. You see, Maggie, I told Charlie about my dilemma and he got the impression that I preferred Jack so he let me go. I should have realised that he only did that because he cared.

Believing that Charlie didn’t love me, I agreed to marry Jack.’

‘What a mess!’ I exclaimed seeing just how easy it would be to fall into that one. ‘But how could you have known?’

‘I should have trusted my instinct - the fact I could talk to him about the situation at all should have told me that much. I knew I really cared for Charlie and that the thing with Jack was at least 50% wishful thinking, I just wasn’t honest with myself.’

‘So what’s happening now?’

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‘I don’t know … yesterday was very positive. We talked a lot – about why we had split up in the first place and what we had each done since then. He still cares and I find that I do too. We’re going to explore the concept a little.’

‘Marian, that’s fantastic!’ I said, really pleased for her.

As I walk away from her cottage on my way to the school, I ponder what she said. How to know though … what would I do if I had to make a straight choice between Pete and Sam? I think about it, if, for example, they both asked me out … which would I go with? My first thought is that I couldn’t hurt Sam by going out with Pete … is that the answer? I visualise both the men … mentally placing them side by side and analysing my reaction to each of them in turn … no doubt about it, Sam wins hands down.

That seems to be the answer then.

Content to go with that, I stride through the wintry chill feeling strangely liberated and looking forward to tomorrow night.

I am ready and waiting nervously in the lounge long before the time Sam said he would pick me up. After school, I’d bundled the excited kids into the car and driven them down to Marian's cottage to be greeted by their equally thrilled grandmother; Jenna had been sweet - giving me a loving hug and reminding me that my outfit looks good, before bustling off to organise the dinner with Marian.

The house had been very quiet when I got back. Munching on a slice of toast which I hoped would keep me going until dinner at eight, I fed Toby and then took myself upstairs to shower and dress.

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Jenna's reminder firmly in my mind, I put on a little make up ... just enough to brighten my eyes and make me look less like the farmer's wife I feel like.

By the time I'd finished, I’d been reasonably pleased with the effect ... but waiting in the lounge, my black coat on, my small black bag on the table, is nerve-wracking.

I’ve checked my keys are in the bag at least three times before the headlights of Sam's car sweep into the drive. Quickly doing up my coat and reminding myself I look fine, I rush out to meet him.

'So how are you this evening, Magdalena?' he asked, efficiently turning the car round.

He's taken to calling me that a lot; I like it.

'Nervous.’

'No need for that.' he said calmly, 'You should have heard the girls in the office today ... comparing notes on what they were going to wear and, when they thought I couldn't hear, asking April for information about you.'

'What did she say?' I asked, anticipating the sort of comment she would make.

'Not a lot, actually, and what she did say was complimentary.' he replied, surprising me. 'I know she came across as antagonistic, but she's impressed by the way you’ve handled Jenna and Mickey she told me so. I think she'll be taking my place.'

'I don't know that I like the sound of that.' I commented, 'Her hugs wouldn't be nearly so much fun.'

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'Idiot!' he laughed, 'You know I didn't mean it like that ... anyway, she’s going out with a doctor, so she’s not available!’

He manages to find a parking space not far from the restaurant so I have about fifty yards in which to pull together my confidence, such as it is and, by the time we walk into the restaurant, I feel I look relaxed and confident. Sam squeezes my hand comfortingly as he leads me across the room towards the bar where there is a small group of people chatting.

We’re intercepted on the way, 'May I take your coat, madam?' a very smart waiter asked me. I unbutton my coat and hand it to him.

Sam waits for me and, as I turn I receive the confirmation I need that my outfit looks all right.

'Magdalena, you do me proud.' Sam whispered as we continue towards the bar. ‘You look stunning.’

'Does it look all right?' I asked, glancing up at him.

'A lot better than all right.' he replied with feeling, 'They really are not going to like this - April stressed how homely you were when they were talking this afternoon - sexy didn't really come into the conversation.' … sexy eh?

My confidence bolstered by his comment not to

mention the appreciative look that came with it, I greet Sam's colleagues with a genuine smile. Kim is a short but slim, dark-haired woman with a sharp face ... her sweeping glance takes in every item of my clothing. Lying in my teeth, I tell her how nice it is to meet her and smile engagingly.

The woman standing next to her is the total 331

opposite of Kim - what I tend to call a wishy-washy blonde. I smile at her too as Sam introduces us. Her double-take and quick accusing glance at April says it all.

'Hello, April.' I said warmly, anticipating a chilly response but it seems that Sam was right about her change of opinion.

'Hi, Maggie, I gather you are going to come onto my jolly little caseload.' she replied, giving Sam a sideways look I cannot decipher.

'I'll come over and see you sometime - but enough of talking shop.

It's nice to see you.'

'Thanks.' I replied, staggered by her friendliness even though I’d been forewarned.

She introduces me to Mike, the man standing at her side – he’s quite a lot older than she is. Friendly guy … he comments on how we significant others have to stick together in this rather rarefied company which gets him swatted laughingly by April. She really does have another side … I’d never have guessed.

'Maggie, come and meet my boss.' Sam said, taking me by the elbow and leading me further along the bar. 'John and his wife, Cherry.'

John offers me a drink and I accept a glass of wine gratefully.

Cherry is an attractive woman and beautifully dressed.

She

compliments me on my top asking where I got it. John laughingly tells her not to be so boring, and asks me what I do with myself.

'I'm one of that dying breed, a full time housewife and mother.'

I replied, 'Though I do take in a little accountancy work as well.'

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'Really?' John said, turning to his wife, 'Maggie here might be the answer to your problem, Cherry. My wife works for Mansfield Blake part time, Maggie, but is also setting up a small business and needs some help with the financial paperwork.'

'You make me sound like I can’t add up!' Cherry protested laughing, 'Seriously though, Maggie, I just don't have time to process all the invoices and stuff properly - do you think this is something you could do?'

'It is precisely what I do, Cherry. Perhaps we could have a chat sometime.'

'Perhaps you could let me have Maggie's address and telephone number, Sam.' Cherry said ,'I really want to get it all sorted out before I get into a mess with it. I can do it, Maggie, but just don't have the time what with working at Mansfield Blake three days a week, running the business and keeping up with the kids.'

'I can imagine!' I commented, 'I think I know someone at Mansfield Blake – Gary Blackford, he’s the boyfriend of someone I know.’

‘Gary? Oh yes, he’s one of the senior partners.’ Cherry said, with the usual pleasure which accompanies the discovery of mutual acquaintance.

‘How old are your children?' I asked, now that common ground has been established. She explains that they have two girls aged five and seven - I'm on solid ground here and we discuss the problems of schools until the group is called to the table.

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Our numbers have been swelled by two – Alison, the secretary and Zoë, the woman I recognise from the reception desk. As we all move towards the table where we are sitting, I notice that Alison is deep in conversation with Kim, it doesn't take much to guess what they are talking about, judging by the glances in my direction.

Don't know if the wine has gone to my head or if I have just found my feet - after all I used to deal with this sort of gathering with Matt's colleagues - but I feel quite comfortable now.

Sam is

obviously pleased and keeps giving me proud little smiles, which is rather endearing. After the usual argy-bargy about who is going to sit where, I end up sitting between Sam and Sue, with Kim opposite ... a pity, I would have preferred to be near Cherry but I'll survive.

The meal is far more fun than I thought it would be - the food is excellent and although there is a certain edge to Kim's comments and Alison pointedly ignores me, Sue is okay and April unbelievably affable – possibly because Mike is beside her – of course, Sam is his usual chatty self. I work hard drawing Sue out, as I anticipated, she is wishy-washy, talking about the 'kiddies' she works with and telling me that she regularly goes back to visit her family in Weston-superMare. She has a married sister there as well as a mother and they are all very close ... phoning each other every day ... a thought which horrifies me. My family don’t live in each other’s pockets like that and I can’t imagine anything worse, but each to their own.

'So what do you do as a job, Maggie?' she asked when I have run out of things to ask her about her family. I haven't touched on the 334

‘significant other’ topic ... as she hasn't brought someone along, I presume there isn't one, which would go along with the concept that she has been trying to make it with Sam. 'I'm more or less a full time homemaker.' I replied, drawing on some of Caroline's jargon.

Kim's face takes on a slightly supercilious expression and I can almost read her thoughts.

'Oh, of course,' Sue tittered 'You look after two of Sam's children, don't you.'

'Yes.' I replied brightly, ignoring the rude sotto voce comment from Sam. From what I know of him, he doesn't suffer fluffy women very well and I imagine that Sue must try his patience at times.

'Don't you find your mind stagnates not working?' Kim asked smoothly.

'Well, it depends what you mean by not working.' I replied, smiling at her disingenuously, 'Maintaining three children is quite time consuming - not least because of the anti-social hours … and then I’m a keen gardener.'

She raises her eyebrows at me in

disbelief as I go on. 'Of course, I don't use my qualifications as much as I used to, but I manage to keep the old brain cells ticking over by taking in a little work.'

'What is your line of work, Maggie?' Sue asked, oblivious to her colleague's clear intention to make me feel inadequate.

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'Accountancy.' I replied, 'It's not exactly exciting but I have to say it is satisfying when the numbers work. What about you, Kim, are you a local?'

'Not exactly.' she said, 'I was brought up in Bristol.'

'Oh, what part?'

Sam is happily chatting to Cherry on his other

side though I am aware that he's listening.

'Bedminster.'

'I worked not far from there when I first qualified.' I said conversationally. 'Offices in Welsh Back. The firm have moved now though and the place has been converted into a health club. I was quite surprised when I went past there recently. So what do you do socially, Kim? It must be difficult having a proper social life in your job.'

'I manage.' she said, her expression suddenly ferocious 'I make a point of turning my phone off sometimes, unlike Sam.' 'I do turn it off sometimes, Kim.' Sam replied, grinning at me, 'After all, there are times when even I don't want to be disturbed.' The inference makes me blush slightly and increases Kim's annoyance ... I shall have words with that man later.

April, sitting beside Kim, adds fuel to the fire by commenting that at least now he has something to be disturbed at. I catch her eye and she winks at me. As Kim chews on her annoyance, April asks how the sheep are getting on ... for a moment I don't follow her train of thought, then remember that I mentioned the sheep living in my field when showing them over the house.

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'Fine, April. The boys enjoy helping the farmer with them and are very good about keeping their boots clean. It's been a bit of an eye opener for Mickey, I think.’

'Sheep shit is a real nuisance.' April commented knowledgably, not mincing her words, deliberately by the look on Kim's face. I get the feeling there is little love lost between those two.

'You know about these things?' I asked and she goes on to tell me that her brother works on a large farm in Dorset.

'It's mainly arable, of course, but they do have a few animals which are looked after by a local school.'

'That's great, Pennington House is thinking about doing that sort of thing.' I replied enthusiastically. 'I think it’s a brilliant idea - so many kids these days never learn about the fundamentals of life.'

'What do you mean by the fundamentals?' Sue asked, 'Sex and all that?'

'No, not at all, though I suppose that does come into it – animal husbandry does teach one a healthy attitude to sex.' I replied, gently kicking the man by my side who ought to be concentrating on his conversation with Cherry and not passing whispered comment on what I am talking about. 'But I’m talking about where food originates. Too many kids are ignorant of the realities of where the food on their plate comes from.'

'Isn't that a bit passé?' Kim asked trying for the bored, cosmopolitan look, 'Nobody cares about that sort of thing nowadays.'

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'But they do, Kim.' April said, 'Look at how massive the market is for organic produce.'

‘Yes, but that’s a world away from growing it yourself.’ Kim asserted, reluctant to give up her stance. ‘Surely you don’t expect people to dig their own vegetable patches, these days.’

‘Why not - if they’ve got the space to do it?’ I asked, ‘I do. I have a freezer full of home grown veg and believe me, they taste much better than the shop-bought variety. Anyway, it is very relaxing doing a bit of gardening at the end of a busy day.’

‘You’ll never convince Kim of that, Maggie.’ Sam commented, ‘She’s a proper little urbanite. I doubt you’ve ever got your hands dirty with soil, have you Kim?’ ‘No, thank goodness!’ Kim shuddered. I wonder what made her think she could possibly have any chance with Sam who, for all his upbringing in the city, is a country boy if ever I saw one.

After the meal, we move into one of the alcoves where we can mix a little more and I get a chance to talk to John Boyd. He’s a tall man, probably early fifties and clearly highly professional … he reminds me a bit of Matt’s managing director.

‘It’s really nice to meet you, Maggie.’ He said as Sam and April go off to get a round of drinks. ‘Sam hasn’t said a lot – he wouldn’t – but the difference in him has been noticeable. You’re very good for him.’

‘Thanks, he’s pretty good for me too.’ convinced than ever about Sam. 338

I replied, more

‘Cherry was saying over dinner that you two must come over for a meal sometime.’ He went on.

‘That would be nice. Sometime in the New Year, perhaps. I honestly don’t know where the time goes and really can’t believe it is only a couple of weeks until Christmas.’

‘What are you doing for Christmas, Maggie?’ John asked. ‘We have Cherry’s family coming to visit us. I anticipate we shall be knee deep in children!’

‘That should be fun, John.’ I said appreciatively. ‘As to what I’m doing, I don’t know to be honest – my son is going up to visit his father on the 27th and taking Mickey, the boy I look after, with him and I imagine that Jenna, Mickey’s sister, may well go to stay with her grandmother for a while.’ I replied as Sam appears with my drink.

He obviously catches the end of the conversation.

‘What are you doing over Christmas, Sam?’ John asked.

‘I was thinking of taking some of that leave you are always nagging me to take, John.’ He replied, ‘Somewhere warm could be rather pleasant after the cold spell we’ve had lately.’

‘Good idea, let me know when you know for definite.’ John said, turning away to talk to Alison and Cherry.

‘Is your passport up to date, Magdalena?’ Sam asked as we stand together, alone for the first time since we arrived here.

‘Yes, why?’

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‘How long is Duncan going to be at Matt’s place?’ he went on, not answering my question.

‘Just over the week – he goes on the 27 th, Matt’s booked both Duncan and Mickey on a flight, and they come back on about the 4 th I think, they’re back to school a couple of days after that.’

‘Do you think Marian would have Jenna for the same period?’

‘I should think so … Sam, what are you plotting?’

‘I thought we might grab a few days somewhere warm …

Tunisia maybe, or the Canaries.’ He said, the look in his eyes playing havoc with my thought processes. ‘If you’re up for it, that is.’

‘The man offers me a week in the sun and asks if I am up for it?’

I said, desperately trying to cover my emotional turmoil.

‘Well, are you?’ he persisted. ‘No, that’s not fair … think about it and let me know when you’ve had a think.’

‘So what are you two discussing so intently?’ April demanded, her grin all too knowing. ‘Sam, you really have gone and done it now. Do you realise that Alison is probably never going to make you a coffee again.’

Sam rolls his eyes in mock dismay ‘How shall I survive?’ he said despairingly as we both chuckle.

‘Sam’s had to put up with a horrifying degree of attention from Alison over the last few years, Maggie. It’s a miracle that he hasn’t become obese with all the home-made biscuits and treats which have come his way … and you go and blow all her hopes to smithereens.’

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‘She did with some cheese and salad sandwiches too.’ Sam interposed with a grin, ‘Just don’t tell Alison.’

‘Your secret is safe with me, Maggie.’ April replied. ‘Oho, here comes Zoë. She’s okay, Maggie, just a bit of a gossip – be warned!’

I watch as Zoë makes her way through the group across to where we are standing. She is a dumpy woman of middle fifties, I should think, and looks as though she is quite content with her lot, unlike Kim who looks dissatisfied a good bit of the time. Sam gives Zoë a hug as she arrives and tells her she is looking gorgeous.

‘Sam, don’t be so ridiculous.’ She replied affably, batting him gently on the chest. ‘How about introducing me to your lady friend here.’

‘Magdalena Jones – this is Zoë Barratt, the mainstay of our reception desk, our one bastion against unwanted visitors and a sure defence when we don’t want to take a telephone call.’

Sam

announced.

‘Cheeky so-and-so!’

she chuckled, ‘Nice to meet you,

Magdalena – that’s an unusual name.’

‘Nice to meet you too, Zoë.

Yes, my mother thought it a

romantic name, she was rebelling against being Practical Pat all her life and thought it would stand me in good stead, little thinking that it would be shortened to Maggie … and there is nothing much more prosaic than that!’

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‘Oh dear, names are a liability at times. I tried so hard with my daughter and she doesn’t like her name either!’ Zoë replied.

‘What’s her name?’

‘Jennifer … I thought Jenny was a nice gentle name and yet she hates it.’ Zoë complained. ‘You just can’t win with kids!’

‘Tell me about it!’ I commented with feeling.

The party starts breaking up just after one in the morning and we all start collecting our coats. I have spent the last half hour leaning comfortably against Sam as we sit together on a sofa, his arm loosely round my shoulders, chatting to Cherry about her work at Mansfield Blake – she works with trusts and probate. She’s hoping to reduce her hours and tells me that there is talk of a woman who used to work for the firm coming back so that they can do a job share, working half a week each and although it would only be a reduction of half a day, that would make a difference. I suddenly realise who she is probably talking about but don’t say anything.

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Chapter 18

Waving goodbye to the others, Sam and I walk hand in hand back to where he parked his car. It’s chilly but not unpleasantly so and there’s no ice on the windscreen which is a relief. He unlocks the passenger door, holding it open for me and, while I settle down, goes round to get into the driver’s seat.

‘Where to, Magdalena?’ he asked, starting the car.

I look across at him. ‘What are the options?’

‘Well, I could take you straight home and leave you in peace, or we could go back to my place and I can give you coffee and then take you home later or we can go back to your place and you can give me coffee and I’ll go home later.’ He outlined. ‘It’s up to you.’

‘I’ve not seen your place.’ I said after considering the choice for a few moments. ‘What’s the coffee like there?’

‘Drinkable.’ He replied with a grin, ‘My place then?’

‘If that’s okay with you.’ I replied, my grin matching his. I’ve never given any great through to where he lives before … it hasn’t come up … but for some reason I am surprised when he turns up Belvedere. ‘Where do you live, Sam?’ ‘Camden Road. It’s where all the aristocracy lived in Regency times and appealed to my romantic streak, though I have to say it’s a complete bugger walking back from town – uphill all the way. The plus point is that I’ve got a view to die for from my bedroom.’

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‘Is that where I say, I look forward to seeing it?’ I commented, amazed at my own daring.

‘I don’t know, is it?’ he asked equably. … I don’t answer.

He has a spot of bother parking – the houses don’t have off-road parking and most of the residents being home at this hour, the bulk of the available spaces are taken.

Nevertheless, he successfully

manages to manoeuvre his car into a spot I wouldn’t have even tried to get my car into and, hand in hand, we walk along to his place. He has a first floor flat in a large, well kept mansion. It has obviously been renovated and is tastefully decorated … the staircase sporting very nice potted palm trees that I recognise as being Kentia palms.

His flat occupies most of the first floor; the front door leading into a small hallway with doors leading off it.

‘Stick your coat on the hat stand, Magdalena.’ He suggested, as we go in. ‘The kitchen is through here.’

Sam’s bedroom

kitchen

spare room

bathroom Lounge/diner

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He quickly shows me round the flat, spare bedroom, bathroom, large lounge and indicating where his bedroom is with a throw-away ‘and my room’s through there.’

The rooms are well proportioned and his taste in furniture is unexpectedly in keeping with the Georgian décor. He has a computer in the spare room though there’s a bed in there as well, where, so he tells me, his brother Jed stays when he comes to visit. By contrast the kitchen is almost Spartan in its practicality.

‘Do your parents come down often?’

I asked as he busies

himself with the kettle.

‘No, Mum doesn’t find it too easy getting around now, so I tend to go up there to visit these days.’ He explained. ‘Georgian Bath isn’t really her thing anyway, it reminds her too much of the Big House where her mother worked as a servant on the plantation.’

He leans casually on the work surface while we wait for the kettle to boil. I don’t know why I do it, it just feels right, I suppose, but I quietly go over to him and put my arms around him, hugging him tightly. I close my eyes leaning against him, feeling his arms round me and just relax … it’s like coming home.

The realisation

makes me smile.

He’s tenderly kissing my neck … it tickles slightly … and I sigh with pleasure. Pulling back slightly, I reach up and run my fingers through his hair, as he gazes at me, his expression unreadable. His arms tightening round me, he kisses me … tenderly at first then with

345

growing fervour and I find myself in the throes of a passion I have never felt before.

The kettle boils and turns itself off but we take no notice.

‘Maggie, my love.’ He said eventually, ‘You are dynamite.’

Startled, I look at him. ‘That is not a criticism you understand ... I’m just not used to have a sexy woman kissing me that passionately.’

‘Do you think you could get used to it?’ I asked flirtatiously … a little voice in the back of my head demanding to know just where this sexually confident woman has materialised from.

‘Oh, I daresay I could make the effort.’

He replied with a

slightly forced laugh, ‘But I’m not sure how long I can restrain myself from carrying you off to the bedroom.’

‘We could find out.’

I said, concentrating my eyes on the

buttons of the shirt he’s wearing - at one and the same time wanting him so badly and yet afraid of what I am doing.

He is silent for a long moment during which time I almost count the strands in the warp of his shirt … holding my breath. He gently lifts my chin so I am looking at him.

‘I don’t leap into bed lightly, Magdalena.’ He said … then his tone changes slightly, ‘How much did you have to drink tonight?’

‘Mr Dehaney! Don’t you dare suggest that I am drunk! I may be a little more relaxed than usual but I’ m no more than slightly tipsy, I’ll have you know.’

‘Okay, don’t bite my head off.’ He said, his grin wide, ‘I’m only trying to protect you from yourself.’

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‘Bloody hell!’ I complained with a sigh, ‘I’ve spent my life with a man who treated me like a kid sister who isn’t safe let out on her own and now you come along and continue the process!’

‘I have no intention of treating you like a sister, Magdalena.’

He asserted firmly, ‘Believe me, I do not see you as a sister of any kind.’

‘That’s a relief.’ I said, kissing him, ‘You had me worried for a moment. … just for the record, I don’t leap into bed lightly either.’

‘I know that.’ He said looking searchingly into my eyes, ‘I just don’t want you to regret anything later.’

‘I would only regret allowing you to talk me into having a cup of coffee and going home like a good little girl, Sam.’ I said as honestly as I can, my face red with embarrassment.

A thought occurs to me …

‘Sam, when I was expecting Duncan, I worried that I wouldn’t know when I was in labour and everyone told me that I would know when the time came. I’ve been worrying in a similar way about whether I’d know when I wanted to …to … make love to a man … and I find the same applies.’

‘You don’t mess around, do you, my love?’ he said, kissing me.

Waking in an unfamiliar bed with a man’s arm thrown across me feels strange … my eyes closed, I lie there, listening to Sam’s even, quiet breathing and re-living our love-making … nothing like that has ever come my way before … despite the fact we had to be sensible with condoms which had its naff moments.

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I must do

something about contraception, having to mess around with those things is going to drive me potty. I’m no judge of technique, but as a lover Sam is certainly extremely satisfactory … well, I think so, anyway. He didn’t seem too disappointed with me either which is a relief … my experience is very limited and although I assume that instinct is a large part of the whole thing, there must be things I can learn.

‘What are you thinking about, Magdalena?’ a quiet voice in my ear asked.

I turn to see Sam looking at me. ‘Just what a fantastic lover you are. I thought you were still asleep.’

‘You thought wrong, my love.’ He said, drawing me closer; I snuggle against him contentedly. ‘What time do you need to pick up the kids?’

‘Mid morning.’ I replied, coming down to earth with a bump ‘Have you any idea what the time is?’

‘It’s nearly nine – considering what time we must have got to sleep, that is early.’ He said, after reaching across for his watch. ‘I ought to be getting you home.’

‘Can I use your shower?’

I asked contemplating the

practicalities of real life again and deciding that I have to get up. ‘No, perhaps not – I’d hate to put on my clothes again. I’ll have one when I get home. What are you doing for the rest of the day?’

‘Nothing – do you think we could do something with the kids this afternoon?’ he suggested, sitting up 348

‘That would be nice.’ I said reaching for my clothes. ‘You go and have a shower, I’ll get dressed and organise some coffee shall I?’ ‘Yes, Ma’am.’ He said saluting … while I’m looking round for something to throw at him he whisks round the side of the bed and grabs hold of me … his naked body against mine … I kiss him and, losing balance, we fall onto the bed where we lie entangled for a few minutes. ‘Magdalena, you are a wicked, wicked woman.’ He said extricating himself from what could have become a rather more passionate embrace than we have time for.

Grabbing his dressing

gown, he makes for the door, pausing as he gets there. ‘Now just what are you going to say to Matt when he asks, eh?’

‘You ….!’ I started but he scarpers off to the bathroom, his laughter ringing down the hallway.

It’s gone ten by the time we’re ready to leave and Sam suggests that I ring Marian to tell her that we are on our way, just in case she’s worrying. Without thinking about the implications, I call her number, realising just as she answers that I am going to have to explain a little … ‘Marian, just ringing to say that we’ll be picking the kids up shortly.’

I said, kicking myself for using the plural and

hoping that she won’t pick it up. That was stupid of me, wasn’t it?

‘We?’ she immediately asked, ‘You’ve made up your mind then?’

‘Yes, how’s Charlie? I retaliated.

‘Fine. But I didn’t spend the night with him.’

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‘And what makes you think that I might have done?’

I

challenged.

‘My phone displays the number of the caller, Maggie.’ Marian pointed out laughing. ‘See you soon.’

Laughing myself, I hang up ….

Sam drives me back to my place so that I can shower and get into something more suitable than my glad rags from the night before.

Toby is decidedly annoyed with me but, while I rush upstairs to shower, Sam feeds him and gives him a big cuddle.

All things

considered we make good time, getting to Marian’s cottage just before eleven. She welcomes us both in and offers coffee.

‘How have the kids been?’ I asked as the three of us squeeze into her kitchen while she makes the coffee.

The house is very quiet.

‘Fine. The boys were a little excitable at first, but calmed down quickly enough. They’ve gone to get my newspaper; I shouldn’t think they will be long. They helped Jenna with the dinner.’

Marian

replied, ‘You’ve been teaching Mickey to cook as well, I hear.’

‘He’s more interested than Duncan … seems to want to learn.’

‘Men need to be able to cook these days.’ Sam put in, ‘It’s only sensible to teach them to cook – my mother didn’t and I had to learn the hard way. I can tell you it wasn’t amusing.’

‘I was talking to someone you may know last night, Marian.’ I said remembering my conversation with Cherry Boyd as we carry out mugs into the lounge. Jenna’s in there, curled up reading a book in a 350

chair. She immediately comes over and gives me a hug asking how I enjoyed my evening.

‘It was lovely, Jenna, thanks.’ .

‘Did you like her outfit, Sam?’ she asked.

‘Very much.’ Sam confirmed. ‘She knocked spots off all the other women there.’

‘Good.’ Jenna said proudly, grinning at him.

‘Do you want a drink, Jenna?’ Marian asked.

‘No, I’m fine, thanks, Gran.’ Jenna said returning to her book – she looks very relaxed, I am pleased to see.

‘So who is this person I might know?’ Marian asked. I tell her about my conversation with Cherry Boyd.

‘Yes, I’ve met her a

couple of times, Maggie, Gary mentioned something about a job share … it would be ideal, don’t you think?’

Before I can reply, I hear the sound of the front door opening and being noisily closed. Duncan and Mickey erupt into the room, both of them looking red-cheeked from the cold.

‘Mum!’ Duncan exclaimed, coming over and hugging me. ‘I didn’t see your car outside.’

‘No, we came in Sam’s car.’ I replied, waiting for a negative reaction from my son …

‘Mum, when are we going to get a Christmas tree?’ Duncan went on, not at all interested in my travelling arrangements.

‘We could do that this afternoon, if you like.’ I replied, looking at Sam who nods.

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‘I’m sure I saw an ad in the paper for somewhere selling Christmas trees.’ Marian put in, ‘I’ll go and find it.’

While she is out, the boys tell me how much they have enjoyed themselves … going into detail about the midnight feast they had last night as a treat.

‘Mum, it was great fun – much more fun than what you were doing.’ Duncan said.

I meet Sam’s eyes over his head. ‘I’m sure it was.’ I agreed, watching Sam wide-eyed look of indignation behind Duncan’s back.

‘But we grown ups like to take our fun in different ways, you know.’

Marian comes back into the room waving a page from the Chronicle triumphantly.

‘Do you want to join us, Marian?’ I asked, perusing the ad … it seems there will be a massive Christmas tree sale up at the racecourse today.

‘No thanks, Maggie, I’m expecting a visitor this afternoon.’

‘Anyone I know?’

‘It’s Charlie.’ Mickey put in, oblivious to his grandmother’s embarrassment. ‘You know him, Aunt Maggie.’

‘Well, we won’t hold you up then.’ I said blandly. ‘I’m sure there are things you need to get ready.’

‘Touché!’ Marian replied with a smile.

‘We’d better take the kids’ stuff home and drop it off.’ I said to Sam as we walk out to the car. ‘How are we going to do this? Should we take both cars?’

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‘I can tie a tree onto the roof bars, Maggie.’ Sam said ‘It would be a pity if we couldn’t all go together. What do you want to do for lunch?’

‘Don’t know – what do you fancy?’ I replied, dropping the boys’ sleeping bags into the boot.

‘We could go out to a pub or pick up something from the chippy.’ Sam suggested, ‘What would you prefer?’

‘The chippy would be more sensible, I think. Sausage and chips all round, perhaps?’ I said as I get into the car.

‘Oh, wow!’ Mickey exclaimed, ‘That would be great!’

‘Problem solved.’ Sam said, starting the car.

The car park at the racecourse is heaving with people when we get there but in his usual sickening manner, Sam finds a parking space easily. We all pile out of the car, the boys immediately picking up the air of excitement which hangs over the place.

Apart from the

Christmas trees, there are stalls selling fast food and even a bar in a marquee … someone has really gone to town on this. A brass band playing carols adds to the festive atmosphere.

‘What size are we looking for?’ Sam asked as we stroll along past heaps of different sizes of tree.

‘I usually get a six footer.’ I replied, ‘It goes in the lounge and there’s plenty of space.’

Choosing a tree is a long drawn-out exercise, with Mickey and Duncan arguing the toss and even Jenna putting her three-ha’porth in.

Sam appears to find the whole process amusing … the wretch … even 353

egging the boys on a little.

In the end we select a tree which meets

the criteria and join the queue to have it bagged up for us … it’s funny that we haven’t seen anyone I know … oho ... I spoke to soon … that’s Jan and Dave over there … are they coming this way? No, thank goodness! What a surprise - they’re heading off towards the expensive, guaranteed not to drop all over the carpet section.

Sam produces some rope and, with the ‘help’ of the boys, ties the tree securely to the roof bars; we head for home. I’m feeling pretty shattered by now … the late night showing, I suppose; I insist on having a cuppa before we set the tree up. Duncan and Mickey go off to find the bucket I usually use … it’s in the shed somewhere … while Sam and I flop over the kitchen table and Jenna goes off to clear a corner of the lounge.

‘You look whacked, Maggie.’ Sam commented reaching out to take my hand, ‘Maybe we should have opted for the midnight feast ….’

‘If only I had known you would have preferred that …’ I replied and we laugh.

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Chapter 19

I drive the boys to school on Monday morning – I’m going straight off into town to get some serious Christmas shopping done.

The session on Saturday has reminded me how close the festive season is getting.

As I am letting the boys out of the car, Caroline comes running across, ‘How did it go on Friday?’ she asked eagerly ‘I was thinking of you.’

‘Brilliantly.’ I replied grinning at her while I give each of the boys a hug. ‘Off you go boys – have a good day.’

‘Can you manage coffee today?’ Caroline went on. ‘You’ve got to tell me all about it.’

‘I’m off shopping now but I could probably get to you about two thirty … how would that be? I’ll be dying for a coffee by then.’

‘You’re on! I shall look forward to see you, Maggie.’ She said with a grin, ‘Hope you get what you are looking for. I tried to do some Christmas shopping with the girls on Saturday. There were a couple of coachloads of tourists sauntering around with all the time in the world … it nearly drove me crackers.’

‘I’m hoping it will be quieter today. I’ll see you later.’

By the time I get to Caroline’s just after two thirty, the boot of the car satisfyingly full of bags, I am more than ready for a coffee.

I’d grabbed a hot sausage roll lunchtime and munched it as I traipsed between shops so have been on my feet all day.

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‘Successful day?’ Caroline asked as I take the weight off my complaining feet – sitting the car was a mistake … I have stiffened up horribly.

‘Highly successful. I think I’ve broken the back of the job.’

‘Oh well done …. I’m still not sure what I am going to get Jim … men are the very devil to buy for.’ She said, pouring boiling water into mugs. ‘Come on, let’s go and sit in the lounge – it’s warmer in there.’ We settle comfortably … ‘So tell me all about it.’

The next half hour is very enjoyable with me telling Caroline in detail all about the reactions of the various ladies on Friday night.

‘April Jeavons has become my bosom pal all of a sudden which took me rather by surprise. I’ve no idea what brought that about, I meant to ask Sam but forgot.’

‘And how did Sam like your outfit?’ … I smile, remembering the comment he made when he was undressing me in his bedroom on Friday night. ‘Oh, that good, eh?’

Before I can reply, my mobile phone starts jangling. I glance at it … I don’t recognise that number … I wonder who that can be?

Might be one of the schools … ‘Hello? I said tentatively.

‘Is that you Maggie?’ a man’s voice said … sounds vaguely familiar … though I can’t quite place it. ‘John Boyd here.’

‘Oh, hi, John.’ I said recognising his voice now, ‘What can I do for you?’

‘Well, it’s bad news actually, Maggie.’ He went on, ‘Sam’s been involved in an incident and is currently on his way to A&E.’ 356

‘What! Is he all right?’

‘I don’t know the details, Maggie, but I understand he’s in one piece. I’m just on my way down there now. Can you get there?’

‘What’s up, Maggie?’ Caroline asked.

‘Hold on a sec, John … Sam’s been hurt in an incident of some sort, Caroline. He’s on his way to hospital.’ I said looking at her, not quite knowing what to do … I’ve got the kids to look after … oh Sam. ‘You get on down there, Maggie, I’ll collect the boys. Jenna gets the same bus as Bryony, doesn’t she? I’ll meet her and bring her back here – don’t worry I’ll hold on to them until you get back. You get on down to the hospital.’ Caroline said wonderfully.

‘Thanks, Caroline. John … I’ll be there as soon as I can.’ I said ... staring at my mobile for a moment after he breaks the connection ... desperately trying to think. ‘Caroline, Marian will be expecting the boys after school – Sally Richards will have her phone number.’ I explained quickly going to get my coat, aching feet forgotten.

‘Don’t worry, Maggie, I’ll deal with it all – here, have a Mars bar just in case you get peckish.’ Caroline sensibly said, dashing into her kitchen, as I hurry towards the door.

Immensely grateful, I give her a hug as I rush out of the house.

Thank goodness I have the car here … trying hard not to panic, I quickly turn the car in the road … there’s a lot of traffic at the junction with the main road … come on … somebody let me out … thank you, sir! You are a gentleman!

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The hospital is only a mile away but it seems to take ages to get there … oh Sam … stop imagining the worst, Magdalena … concentrate … oh, where shall I park?

It’s not easy parking at the

hospital … that’s the A&E department entrance … oh, thank goodness, there are some designated spaces there. Relief flooding through me, I quickly park the car and dash towards the entrance.

Once inside I don’t know where to go … I’ve not been in here before.

I had thought there’d be a reception desk or something by the door but I find myself in a large waiting room. Oh, there’s the reception desk over there. I make my way over towards the hatch and join the queue of people.

‘Maggie!’ I turn quickly, looking around to see who is calling me. It’s John Boyd … leaving the queue I almost run over to where he is standing.

‘Where is he? Is he all right?’

‘I don’t know,’ he replied leading me over to some seats where we can sit ‘They’re examining him now. But he was conscious when they brought in him, I understand.’

‘What happened?’

‘I’m not entirely sure, but it looks as though he was attacked.’

John replied, his concern showing very plainly. ‘I haven’t had a chance to see him myself yet. The police will be along shortly. From what I can gather, Sam had just finished a visit and was walking back to his car when some men jumped him. They were frightened off by a

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woman who helped Sam into her house and she called an ambulance.

He also got her to call me.’

‘Mr Boyd?’ a nurse asked, coming over to where we are sitting and looking at me enquiringly.

‘Yes … oh, this is Mrs Jones, Mr Dehaney’s partner.’

John

explained, ‘How is Mr Dehaney?’

‘The doctor has just finished examining him – if you’d like to come this way.’ She replied, not giving anything away. We follow her through the double doors out of the waiting area and along a corridor. 'Please wait here.' the nurse asked, disappearing through a set of double doors a little further along, and leaving us standing in the corridor. A few moments later, a doctor comes out with the nurse. She indicates John and I to the doctor.

'Mr Boyd?' the doctor asked. John nods and introduces me as Sam's partner.

'Ah … is your name Magdalena by any chance?'

'Yes. I'm Magdalena Jones.' I replied slightly taken aback by his words, 'Why?' 'Mr Dehaney was a little disorientated when he first arrived here and kept asking for someone called Magdalena. At least we know he wasn't hallucinating.' the doctor replied with a smile.

'But how is he?' I asked, suddenly desperate to see Sam. 'He's rather battered but not too seriously, Mrs Jones.’ The doctor replied, referring to the file in his hand. ‘He has concussion

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and considerable grazing to his face, the ligaments of one knee appear to be damaged and he has a broken arm and a couple of broken ribs.'

'Good God!' John interposed as I take this information in ... what on earth could have happened? 'Doctor … is he conscious?

Only the police will want to take a statement when they get here.'

'Oh yes, he's perfectly lucid, though he has a nasty headache.

We want to keep him in for a couple of days, partly because of the concussion and partly because we can't plaster his arm until the swelling subsides.' the doctor replied.

'Can I see him?' I asked.

'Of course.' the doctor smiled, 'He's in there.'

'You go on in, Maggie,' John said tactfully, 'I want to talk to the doctor here.'

Nervously, not quite knowing what to expect, I push my way through the door into the room. Sam’s lying with his eyes closed on a bed. He’s dressed in a hospital gown and covered by a blanket; his own clothes are in a heap on the floor in a corner ... it looks as though they had to cut some of them off him. One side of his face is swollen and looks almost as though it has been grated ... they’ve slathered something on it and it looks gunky … his right arm is bandaged and supported in a sling.

Not sure if he is asleep or not, I creep across the room and stand beside the bed uncertain what to do. Tentatively, I reach out and touch the unharmed side of his face, reassured by the warmth; immediately his eyes open and, a little crookedly, he smiles.

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'I let you out of my sight for five minutes, Mr Dehaney, and look what a mess you get into.' I said trying to be upbeat, my voice cracking slightly as tears suddenly threaten. 'Oh, Sam.' Swallowing hard in an attempt to stop the tears flowing, I lean over and kiss him.

'Maggie, don't cry.' he replied, reaching up with his good hand to wipe away the treacherous tear running down my face. 'It looks worse than it is, at least that’s what they tell me.'

'How do you feel?' I asked, sitting down beside the bed, holding his hand firmly in mine.

'D'you want an honest answer? Or the polite version?'

'That bad?'

'I've been better.' he replied, wincing slightly. 'Everything aches and some bits are downright painful.'

The door opened and John Boyd came in. 'Hi Sam. You and your habit of doing things properly! The police’ll be along in a few minutes to take a statement. Can you cope with that?'

'Yes, of course. Has the doctor given you any idea what they intend doing with me, John?'

'They want to keep you in for a couple of days, Sam. They need to monitor your concussion and, of course, they can't plaster your arm yet.' John replied. 'The doctor said that, all being well, you can then go home as long as there is someone there to look after you.'

'But ...' Sam started ...

'You'd better come back to the farmhouse, then.' I interrupted, 'There's no way you can manage on your own in the flat.'

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'But ....' Sam repeated.

'Stop fussing, Sam Dehaney.' I said firmly.

The look he gives me is less than complimentary and reminds me forcibly of Mickey on a bad day, but at least he stops protesting.

The door opens again, and a police constable comes in, notebook in hand. He greets John as an old friend. 'I gather one of your lot is going to give us some work, John.' he said with a sympathetic glance at Sam. 'You've been in the wars, Sam.' 'Tell me about it, Tom!' Sam replied. 'What do you want to know?'

'Let's start by you telling me in your own words what happened, shall we?' Tom the policeman replied.

He hasn't queried my presence but I saw him look at the grip I have on Sam's hand … doubtless he’s drawn his own conclusions.

Sam closes his eyes for a moment, gathering his thoughts. 'I was in Jubilee Road - I'd just been to see a client in one of the flats in Montressor House - and was walking back to my car which was parked in the communal car park, you know, Tom, the one round the back of the building?’

he paused, gathering his thoughts, then

resumed his narrative. ‘As I turned the corner, two men suddenly blocked my way. I recognised one of them straight away, he's the brother of one of my clients … he's a registered heroine addict and used to beat up my client, encouraging his mates to abuse her. I helped her get an injunction stopping him going near her. Anyway, before I could say or do anything, he punched me in the stomach and 362

then he and his mate beat me to the ground. I rolled into a ball as recommended in the self-defence training you insisted we took, John, and used my arm to protect my head, but they kicked me and generally knocked me around, and ground my face into the gravel.

One of them had a stick or something I think. I'm not sure what would have happened if another resident in Montressor House hadn't come round the corner with her dog then. She saw what was going and the dog started growling ... the next thing I knew, the men had scarpered and the woman was bending over me asking if I could stand. With her help, I limped to her flat - luckily it was on the ground floor. I explained who I was, and showed her my ID. She rang for an ambulance. That's about it, I think.' Sam finished, sounding tired.

'Do you know the woman's name?' Tom asked.

'No, but she was in the ground floor flat to the right of the main side entrance. Older woman with an alsatian. I think she would probably be willing to give evidence.' Sam said, his eyes closed.

I squeeze his hand and he smiles slightly.

'You definitely recognised the men?' Tom asked. 'Have you a name?'

'I didn't know one of them, but the other was definitely Bruce Fielding. I don't know where he lives these days, but he used to live with his sister - her details are on the file, John.' Sam replied. 'The other guy was younger, white, probably late teens, skinny and about five foot eight, I reckon, he had dark hair ... very short and spiky.'

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'I reckon we can pull them in fairly quickly.'

Tom said,

scribbling in his notebook. 'You'll be pressing charges, I take it.'

'Definitely - all the way.' John replied before Sam can get a word in. 'I am not having my staff beaten up by any thug who thinks he’s got a grievance.'

Tom the policeman shuts his notebook and, saying that he will be in touch, leaves us.

‘John, did the doctor say how long I would be out of action?’

Sam asked, his eyes still closed … is his head aching badly?

‘He reckoned at least a month possibly longer, depending on your broken bones … the ligaments in your knee may take longer.’

John replied, his eyes on Sam’s face.

‘Shit!’ Sam exclaimed, ‘Maggie, I’m sorry that rather buggers any plans we had for Christmas.’

‘Don’t be silly, Sam.’ I said calmly, ‘It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that you are okay … it could have been a lot worse.’

‘I’m going to be making tracks, Sam.’ John said, looking at his watch. ‘The doctor said that he’d be finding a bed for you as soon as he could. Maggie, I’ll give you my phone number – let me know what happens, will you?’

‘It’s okay, John, I’ve already got it – you rang me and it’s on my mobile.

I’ll keep you posted.’

With a rather worried smile, John leaves us.

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‘What have you done with the kids?’ Sam asked, opening his eyes again. ‘I’ve lost track of what the ti me is but shouldn’t you be picking them up from school or something?’

‘It’s just gone five.’ I told him looking at my watch, ‘As for the kids, I was round at Caroline’s when John rang and she’s fielding them for me.’

‘Good … thanks for coming, Maggie.’ Sam said, ‘I didn’t know if John would ring you or not.’

I lean over and kiss him again. ‘As if I could stay away. It’s not often I have you tied to a bed.’

‘Magdalena! You just wait until I am feeling better.’ He said with a little more spirit. ‘But seriously though, I can’t go back to your place when they let me out of here.’

‘Sam, if you honestly don’t want to, then I’ll accept it. After all, we’ve not known each other very long and if you don’t feel you want to be with me that much, then that’s okay.’

I replied seriously,

pausing for a moment before going on. ‘But if you are just being awkward for the sake of it, you know just where you can stick that.

You couldn’t manage on your own, especially in a first floor flat, Sam Dehaney. I don’t know how bad your leg is, but you may well be limping for a while and apart from the practical side of shopping and the like, you’ll go crackers being on your own all day.’

‘Did anyone ever tell you that it is extremely annoying that you are right so often, Magdalena?’ he asked, his eyes closed again.

‘Yes, several people … frequently.’ I replied with a smile.

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‘Obnoxious, bossy woman.’ He muttered, ‘Why do I love you so much?’

‘Sheer good taste, I imagine.’

I replied flippantly as my

stomach lurches. ‘Do you?’

‘What, love you?’ he asked, ‘Yes. Mind you, you have bear in mind that I’m suffering from concussion and that can cause a man to have the most peculiar ideas, so I am told.’

‘In that case, you won’t have any problem if I tell you I’m pretty crazy about you too. What’s all this about asking for Magdalena?

The first thing the doctor said when I met him was ‘Is your name Magdalena?’’

‘Was I? I don’t remember. I don’t remember a vast amount after that woman with the dog took me into her flat to be honest. The dog kept licking me, I remember that.’

‘I’ll take her round some flowers when I find out who she is.’ I said, the tears threatening again. ‘Oh Sam, what if she hadn’t come along just then?’

‘Don’t think about it, my love.’ He said, opening his eyes ‘It didn’t happen, that’s all there is to it.’

‘Why did they do it?’ I asked, frowning as I try to imagine wanting to beat someone up this badly.

‘Drugs, vengeance … whatever … it’s how life is for some people.’ Sam said equably. ‘I’m afraid it’s the world I work with some of the time.

Attacking me is par for the course with that

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particular individual. You should have seen what he was doing to his sister and her kid … I got off lightly. Come here, my love.’

I lean over, burying my face in his shoulder as he winds his one good arm round me and kisses the top of my head. We stay like that for some time. The sound of the door opening, jolts me upright and I look round to see the doctor standing in the doorway. ‘We’ve got a bed for you Mr Dehaney.’ He announced, ‘We’ll be moving you up to the ward very shortly.’

‘You’d better get back to the kids, Maggie.’ Sam said, ‘Can you ring my parents? Would you mind?’

‘Of course not.’ I said, wondering just how much nerve that is going take. ‘Will they know who I am?’

‘Oh yes. I did nothing but talk about you when I rang them on Sunday. Take my mobile – the numbers are on there. Please impress on them that I’m okay. You’d better take my other bits and pieces as well. I won’t need any of that lot in here.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll do my best.’ I said, going through the heap of clothing … a lot of it bloodstained … emptying his pockets of his personal stuff. I put the cash on the bed beside him, adding some change from my purse. ‘You might need some money, Sam. I’ll find out when I can come and visit on my way out. Is there anyone else I should notify?’

‘No, I don’t think so. You’ve got my keys – you’ll have to get me some more clothes before they let me out of here.’ He said as two burly-looking porters come into the room. One of them has a black 367

bin bag in his hand and offers it to me to put Sam’s clothes in, adding the comment that I should take them home with me.

‘My car’s still over at Jubilee Road, Maggie … talk to John about that. He’ll probably arrange to collect it but he’d better do it fairly smartish or else it will get vandalised.’

Giving him a last kiss, I get out of the way, while the two men manhandle the bed out of the room; I stand in the corridor, clutching the black bag, watching as Sam disappears into the bowels of the hospital. Feeling emotionall overwhelmed, I start making my way back to the entrance to the department. The queue to the reception desk has gone now, though there’s a team from some TV company or other talking to one of the nurses. Skirting round them, determined to find out what I can, I go over and have a chat with the woman behind the desk, asking about visiting, wards and the like. She’s very helpful and kind.

It is dark and cold outside; I hurry over to my car … the fact I haven’t eaten properly becoming rather obvious. Remembering the Mars bar, Caroline gave me, I let the engine run while I quickly munch my way through it … chocolate’s a wonderful thing and although I know the kick it gives me won’t last long, at least I feel less light-headed now. Putting the car into gear, I manoeuvre it out of the parking bay and head for the main road.

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Chapter 20

The lights of Caroline’s house are very welcoming as I trudge up the path to her front door. The door opens before I get there – she obviously saw me from the kitchen window. Quickly drawing me into the warmth of the house, she bundles me into the kitchen.

‘Maggie, how is he?’ she asked anxiously, at the same time putting the kettle on.

‘It could be worse.’ I replied, sinking onto one of the high stools by her breakfast bar. ‘He’s got a broken arm, broken ribs, damaged ligaments in one knee, a grazed face and concussion.’

I

lean on the breakfast bar and burst into tears. Caroline rushes over and puts an arm round my shoulders, rocking me slightly against her comfortingly. ‘Oh, Caroline, he could have been killed.’

‘But he wasn’t, Maggie.’ She said firmly, ‘Are they keeping him in?’

‘Yes,’ I replied, sniffing and fumbling in my jeans pocket for a tissue. ‘For a couple of days or so … they might let him out then as long as he has someone to look after him. He’s coming back to my place. The silly sod argued about it.’

‘He would.’ She said with a laugh, leaving me and pouring boiling water into a mug. ‘Here, Maggie, have some coffee. Do you want something to eat? I fed the kids.’

‘No, I’ll be all right.

Thanks for that, Caroline. What did

Marian say?’ I asked, getting my bearings again.

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‘She was horrified but said not to worry and for you to let her know if there’s anything she can do to help. The kids were as good as gold, though obviously concerned. That Jenna’s a nice girl. She offered to help with preparing the dinner – put Bryony to shame, I can tell you.’ Caroline replied, as I drink my coffee, the warm liquid doing me good. ‘I’d better go and tell them you’re here – Duncan was worrying. You stay here and pull yourself together.’

She bustles out of the room while I finish my drink, better for my crying session. A few minutes later, the kitchen door swings open and Duncan comes in quietly … I’d have expected him to rush into the room … he looks very adult … all eyes and restraint.

‘Mum ….’ He ventured … I hold my arms out to him and he walks straight into them. We hug each other hard for several minutes.

‘Are you okay, Mum?’ ‘Yes, I’m fine … just a bit upset.’

‘How’s Sam?’ he asked, frowning with worry.

‘Poorly.’ I said with a sigh. ‘He was attacked by two men. He’s got a broken arm and some broken ribs as well as grazes and concussion.’

‘What’s concussion?’ I explain that if you bash your head your brain bounces around banging on the skull. ‘Oh. Is he going to be all right?’

‘Yes.’ I said, confidently. ‘Though they’re keeping him in hospital for a couple of days.’ Mickey and Jenna charge into the room, both of them asking how Sam is and trying to hug me at the 370

same time. ‘Hey, it’s all right, you two.’ I said trying to get my arms round all three of the children.

‘Sam’s got a broken arm.’ Duncan told the others, ‘And broken ribs. They’re keeping him in hospital.’

‘Can we visit him?’ Mickey asked.

‘Yes, can we visit him?’ Jenna seconded.

‘I don’t see why not.’ I replied, ‘He’ll only be there for a day or two ... at least that’s the plan. But he’ll need someone to look after him when he comes out of hospital.’

‘Then he’d better come and stay with us.’ Duncan said and the others nod their agreement. ‘Mickey and I can share a room and he can have mine.’

Mickey nods enthusiastically.

‘That is very kind of you, Duncan.’ I said, full of pride in my generous son. ‘We’ll see how it goes. But you lot had better go and collect all your stuff together – we’re going home in a minute.’

‘I hear you’ve had an unpleasant afternoon, Maggie.’ Jim said from the doorway as the kids go to do my bidding. ‘I’m really sorry to hear that. Sam Dehaney’s a good bloke. What happened?’

‘He was attacked by a couple of men with a stick. Fortunately, a woman came along with a dog and the men ran off … Sam was in a pretty bad way by then … If she hadn’t come along …’ The thought of what might have been is haunting me.

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‘Don’t think about it, Maggie.’ Caroline said firmly, pushing past her husband into the kitchen and taking me by the shoulders. She looks straight into my eyes. ‘It didn’t happen.’

‘No … it didn’t.’ I said, regaining control of my oscillating emotions.

‘What ward is he in, Maggie?’ I give her the details and thank her again for covering with the children for me. ‘You’d do as much for me, Maggie. They’ve been as good as gold.’

It is a relief to get home.

The boys disappear upstairs but Jenna quietly attends to feeding Toby while I unload the shopping from the car and stow everything in the dining room out of the way until tomorrow. I really cannot deal with that at the moment.

‘Have you had anything to eat, Aunt Maggie?’ she asked when I finally take my coat off.

‘No.’ I said with a sigh, suddenly realising just how tired I am.

‘I could knock you up an omelette if you’d like one.’

‘Jenna, that would be heavenly.’

I can hear beeping … the answerphone.

While she busies herself cooking, I go into the office and playback the messages … there’s one from Marian saying that she hopes all is well and looking forward to talking to me when I have a moment … another from Sally saying she saw the report on the TV news and hopes I am coping okay … one from the vicar saying he’s

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heard the news and if there is anything he or Jane can do, to let him know … one from Matt, sounding worried because I am not i n.

I ring him first. ‘Maggie, is everything all right?’ he asked once I get through. ‘It’s not like you to be out at tea time.’

‘No, it’s been a rather fraught day, Matt.’ I replied, telling him about the events of the day.

‘Bloody hell!’ he commented ,‘Poor bloke. Are you all right, Maggie?’

‘I will be when I have had something to eat, Matt. Jenna’s cooking something for me now.’ I replied, grateful for his concern, ‘Caroline was absolutely brilliant looking after the kids for me.’

‘She would be, Maggie – you’d have done the same for her.’

Matt said, unconsciously echoing her words.

‘What is going to

happen when Sam comes out of hospital?’

‘I’m going to have him here; he won’t be able to manage on his own … his place is a first floor flat – with a damaged knee that would be very difficult.’ I said, waiting for the storm to break. ‘Duncan suggested that he could share with Mickey and give his room to Sam. It might be a sensible solution.’

‘I take it that Friday went well, then.’ Matt said and I can almost see the amused expression on his face.

‘Where’s his first

floor flat?’

‘He lives in Camden Road – one of those large mansions that have been split into up-market flats.’

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‘Very nice.’ Matt commented, ‘I shall look forward to meeting this guy.’

‘I think you’ll get on.’ I said musing over the thought of the two men meeting. ‘Oh hell, I‘ve just remembered I’ve got to ring his parents and tell them what has happened.’

‘Do they live locally?’

‘No, they’re up in London. Matt, I’ve got to go – not only have I got to go and eat my omelette – and Jenna’s making faces at me from the kitchen – but I have lots of calls to make. I’ll get Duncan to ring you tomorrow shall I? It might be a bit later than usual, the kids want to visit Sam in hospital after school.’

‘That’ll be fine, Maggie. Give the bloke my best wishes, will you. Take care.’ .

Contemplating this, I wearily go back into the kitchen.

The omelette is just what I need though and I compliment Jenna on it – she’s becoming a very competent cook.

While she clears up

– her idea, not mine – I go back into the office to phone people. I have Sam’s mobile but before I ring his parents, I decide I had better ring John first about the car.

‘Thanks, Maggie.’ John said, ‘I’ve got a spare set of keys at the office – I’ll make sure the car is picked up. Can I bring it over to your place?’

‘Yes, that would be fine, John. You can leave it in the drive anytime.’ I replied. ‘And thank you for ringing me this afternoon.

We both appreciated it.’

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‘Standard practice, Maggie. Next of kin and all that – I know strictly speaking you’re not, but it seemed the best thing to do. Oh by the way, if the papers or TV start pestering you, let me know. They caught me as I was leaving the hospital – I gather it went out on the BBC news.’

‘I saw a film crew in the waiting area … didn’t realise that was why they were there. Surely they won’t bother me.’

‘Don’t know, Maggie, you know how they like a heartwarming story … as I said, if they bother you, ring me.’ He reiterated, ‘Cherry sends her love by the way. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.’

‘That’s kind of her – please send mine back. Thanks, John.’

Right ... that’s that one out of the way … I’ll shelve the thought of the media for the time being. I’d better ring Sam’s parents. I find the number on Sam’s mobile and write it down … oh, come on, Maggie, don’t be such a wuss … just think how your parents would feel if it were you. Emboldened, I key in the number and listen as it rings.

‘Hello?’ a voice said … the rich tones of the Caribbean … his father hasn’t lost the accent.

‘Mr Dehaney? My name’s Maggie Jones. Sam has asked me to ring you.’

‘Ah … the mysterious Magdalena …. but why has Sam asked you to ring? Has something happened?’

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‘Yes, I’m afraid so … there was an incident this afternoon, Sam was attacked by a couple of men He’s got some broken bones, but he’s all right … well, mostly.’

‘What happened?’ Mr Dehaney asked, his voice sharp with anxiety, and I tell him what I know. ‘Dear God!’ ‘They’re keeping him in hospital for a couple of days just to check everything is okay.’ I said as reassuringly as I can, ‘They can’t plaster his arm until the swelling goes down, you see.’

‘But what’s he going to do when they let him out of hospital?’ he said almost to himself, ‘He won’t be able to manage for himself, will he?’

‘He’s going to come here and I’ll look after him, Mr Dehaney.’

I replied, quickly adding, ‘My son, Duncan, has offered to let Sam have his room.’

‘That is very kind of Duncan. Maggie, can you hold on a moment while I tell Sam’s mother what’s happened. I expect she will want to talk to you herself.’

I hang on, reflecting on how like his father Sam sounds …without the accent …

‘Maggie?’ a woman’s voice said worriedly ‘This man says my Sam is injured … how badly is he hurt?’

‘His right arm is broken, but not seriously so, he has some broken ribs and there is damage to one of his knees, Mrs Dehaney, his face is a bit of a mess because he fell on gravel and you know how that grazes, and he has concussion but I saw him this afternoon and 376

he’s quite conscious, though not particularly comfortable.’ I gabbled, understanding her need to know details … if this were Duncan …

‘The ribs will take a while to heal ….’ She muttered almost to herself. ‘My man says you will be looking after Sam when he comes out of hospital.’

‘Yes, he won’t be able to look after himself for a while … we had a bit of an argument about it.’ She laughs at that, telling me that Sam always needed a firm hand.

‘I’d like to come and see him … if you don’t mind, Maggie.’

She asked uncertainly.

‘Of course, you would be more than welcome, Mrs Dehaney.

I’ll give you my phone number, shall I? When you know when you want to come, let me know and we’ll arrange something.’

‘You are a kind girl, Maggie.’ She said gratefully. ‘Sam said you were lovely, now I believe it.’

‘I know how I’d feel if it were my son, Mrs Dehaney. I’ll do my best to look after him for you.’

‘Give him my love when you see him tomorrow, Maggie … and thank you so much you for calling.’

I am just about to ring Marian when the doorbell rings.

Cautiously, I open the front door, John’s words ringing in my head.

But it’s Marian standing there with Charlie … as I welcome them into the house, I comment that I was just about to ring her, thanking her for her message.

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‘I couldn’t sit at home not knowing, Maggie, and after seeing it on the news …’ Marian said as I lead them into the lounge. Jenna offers to make some drinks … earning Marian’s appreciative smile.

‘How is Sam? It all sounded horrid on the TV.’ Again, I go through the list of his inuries and tell the story of how he got them. Marian is horrified, reinforcing my opinion that despite her experiences with Fiona, she’s led a fairly sheltered life.

Although I myself was appalled by the incident this afternoon, it was only because Sam was involved … I know these things happen Marian appears to be stunned at the event itself …

Charlie is

sympathetic and practical, asking how I am going to cope and offering his assistance should I need it. He seems very protective of Marian … it is nice to see.

Jenna has obviously told Mickey and Duncan that Marian is here … the boys join us in the lounge very shortly and the talk becomes more general, which is a relief.

Again, the phone rings … Duncan runs off to answer it, coming back after ten minutes to tell me that it is my mother.

Excusing myself to Marian and Charlie and leaving them to the children’s tender mercy, I go to take the call.

‘Maggie, Duncan says that there has been a terrible accident.’

Mum said when I picked up the phone. Yet again, I explain what has happened. ‘Poor man. He’s going to be all right though, isn’t he?’

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‘Yes, once the bones have healed.’ I replied, ‘He’s going to come here when they discharge him from hospital – he won’t be able to look after himself for a while.’

Mum is silent for a fraction too long … oh hell, is she going to make a fuss ... I really do not need it tonight.

‘You must do what you think best, Maggie.’

She said

eventually, ‘Perhaps we could come over and see you some time and meet him.’

‘That’s a good idea, Mum. Let me know when you want to come over.’ I said, giving in to the inevitable and wondering what would happen if they came over at the same time as Sam’s parents. I must be getting light-headed again …

‘But are you all right, Maggie?’ Mum asked, ‘It must have been a terrible shock when you heard.’

‘Yes, it was, but I’m okay now. People are rallying round and the kids are being great. We’ll have to give some thought to what we are going to do at Christmas, Mum … I know I’ve left it rather late to organise anything but perhaps you would like to come here for Christmas dinner.’

‘That would be lovely, Maggie. Thank you.’ She said and, after chatting a little more, she hangs up.

I am tired and lean on the desk for a moment. I hope Marian and Charlie don’t stay too long … all I want to do is get to bed. I haven’t rung Sally yet … oh damn … I’ll see her in the morning at school.

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When I get back into the lounge, Marian and Charlie are getting ready to leave … Alleluia!

‘Mum, you look really tired.’ Duncan commented as we close the door behind our visitors. ‘Why don’t you go to bed? We’ll check everything is locked up properly.’

Mickey chimes in offering to wash up the crockery we have just used and Jenna gently accompanies me upstairs, chatting to me while I get ready for bed. I remember to set the alarm … no mean feat considering I’m yawning my head off and having trouble keeping my eyes open … aftermath of the emotional day, I suppose.

‘I’ll check that the lights are all off properly.’ She said, turning back the duvet for me. ‘I’ll even make sure that the boys clean their teeth properly.’

‘You are a darling, Jenna.’

I said, sinking back against the

pillows. ‘Thank you.’

‘Goodnight, Aunt Maggie.’ She said then, turning off the light, she quietly leaves the room and closes the door behind her.

Chapter 21

I’m awake ten minutes before the alarm goes off … tears running down my face as I try to calm myself down after the dreadful nightmare I’ve just had … the woman with the dog didn’t turn up and all I could hear were Sam’s screams.

Feeling slightly sick and

horribly tense I stand under the warm water of the shower … it helps

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and, by the time I am getting outside my first coffee of the day, I feel a little more normal.

Jenna gets herself ready for school in her usual efficient way.

‘I’ll go over to Gran’s after school, Aunt Maggie.’

She said,

scrapping the last of her cereal out of the bowl. ‘Is that okay?’

‘Yes, Jenna. How would it be if I picked you up from there on the way to visit Sam?

Do you think your Gran could give you

something to eat to tide you over until we get home?’

‘I expect so.’ She replied, ‘I’ll have a good lunch, just in case.’

The boys are rather loud this morning … doubtless reaction to being so good yesterday … or maybe I’m just being over sensitive.

However, they get ready for school efficiently enough … joyfully reminding each other that they need their football gear.

We get to school slightly earlier than usual – I want to see Sally.

She’s in her office when I get there and thank her for her phone message. ‘When I saw the news on the TV last night, Maggie, I wondered … what with Caroline Sykes collecting the kids and everything.’ She said causing me to speculate on just how many people know Sam and I are an item.

‘It sounded dreadful on the

news … how is he?’

‘Poorly, but he’ll be okay once the bones knit.’ I replied and she winces. ‘Ribs and one arm.’

‘Oh, Maggie! That must be ghastly for you … Caroline said yesterday that it’s a risk with the job … but all the same.’ She said, clearly empathising with me.

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As I’m walking away from the school, I hear Jan’s voi ce calling my name … I’m not in the mood for her sycophancy so pretend I don’t hear and keep walking. … Oh Maggie, you idiot! Whatever is wrong with you? This isn’t like you at all … as I shut the front door behind me, I contemplate what I shall do with the morning … I know … I’ll go through the shopping I bought yesterday … a short while later I reluctantly have to admit my mind is not on the job. I sit back on my heels, gazing at the lights on the Christmas tree, remembering the fun we had on Saturday putting it up and hearing Sam’s laughter … again tears threaten … oh come on you silly woman,

get your head

straight! I blow my nose and recite what I’ve got to do today …. I’m going visit Sam this afternoon … and again with the children tonight … I ought to do some work on Dave’s bloody accounts but I doubt I would be able to concentrate ….

The doorbell ringing is a welcome diversion. It’s Fred.

‘Come on in, Fred.’ I said but he declines on the basis of his boots being covered in muck.

‘Just thought I’d drop round to see how you were.’ He said, ‘Saw the item on the news last night … how is the man? They said he was in hospital but didn’t go into details.’

‘He’s got some broken bones and is generally beaten up, Fred.’

I replied, appreciating his concern and leaning on the doorpost, my arms wrapped round me against the chilly air. ‘They hope he’ll be able to come home in a day or so though. He’s coming here – poor 382

bloke isn’t going to be terribly self-sufficient for a while. But how did you know he’s anything to do with me?’

‘I saw the two of you driving in here on Saturday morning.’

Fred replied, grinning ‘It didn’t take me long to find out who the black guy was. He’s well thought of.’

‘It’s deserved.’ I said with a sigh,‘He’s one straight guy, Fred.’

‘I’ll look forward to meeting him properly, Maggie. Keep your chin up, girl.’ Fred said, ‘I’d better be off – here’s your eggs. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.’

‘Thanks, Fred … and thanks for dropping in, I appreciate it.’

With a grin, he touches his old cap and saunters out of the gate.

So the village is talking is it … I tend to forget about that sometimes … mind you, I’ve not been the cause of the talk much … no wonder Jan was calling me … she can’t bear to miss out on a bit of gossip.

I’m nervous walking along the corridors of the hospital … he was so rough yesterday … a glance as I walk into his room tells me that Sam is looking a lot brighter today; I feel the tension evaporate a little.

‘How are you feeling?’ I asked, sitting by the bed and taking his hand. His other arm is properly plastered now. ‘You look better.’

‘The arm is much easier now, though the ribs are iffy.’ He replied ruefully, ‘My head has stopped aching as well which is wonderful … though I have strict instructions from the doc not to do too much reading or watching of TV for a couple of weeks … the knee is annoyingly wobbly.’

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‘Oh Sam! Well, I’ve been fielding lots of comments on your behalf … loads of people send best wishes.’ I told him, trying to remember everyone and what they have all said. ‘I spoke to your parents – they took the news remarkably well. They want to come down and visit you when you’re out of hospital … I said that would be fine and they are going to let me know when. Your mum sends her love. Oh, and John is going to sort out your car and get it brought over to my place.’

‘You have been busy, Maggie. Thank you … were the kids okay?’

‘Yes, they were as good as gold for Caroline. Duncan says you can have his room if you like – he offered completely off his own bat.

They want to come in to visit tonight – is that okay?’

Now I’m here the tension is fading fast which is a massive relief … I don’t usually get wound up like this and I don’t like it.

‘Of course, Maggie, it will be nice to see them. It’s a bit deadly in here, though I am dozing rather a lot.

I suppose that’s the

concussion.’

‘I’m surprised they’ve put you in a room on your own.

I

thought there was a shortage of hospital beds.’

‘It’s policy to keep us separate when this sort of thing happens, Maggie, security and all that. Also it’s easier to keep the media out than it would be in a large ward.’ Sam explained, ‘I’m sorry, Maggie … you didn’t realise just what you were taking on … I never thought about this side of things.’

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‘No, you didn’t, did you.’ I said woefully, ‘If only I had known …’ For a moment he looks at me doubtfully, not sure if I am serious or not.

‘You idiot, Sam Dehaney, as if it would have made a

difference! I just hope you.re not going to make a habit of this sort of thing.’

‘So do I, believe me!’

he said emphatically

‘If it’s any

consolation, it’s the first time it’s happened.’

‘And the last, I trust.’

I replied tartly.

‘By the way, it’s

common knowledge in the village that you and I are an item.’ He looks surprised. ‘You’re not used to village life, are you, Sam? I had Fred Plaister from the farm at the door with my eggs this morning asking after you.’

‘I don’t think I know him.’ Sam said thoughtfully.

‘He farms the land behind my place … his wife runs a greyhound sanctuary up there. He saw us on Saturday morning and made enquiries.’ I explained, ‘He’s looking forward to meeting you … as are my parents – they send commiserations by the way.’

‘Isn’t that where I start looking nervous and making excuses to be somewhere else?’ he joked.

‘Possibly … though I don’t see why you should … I’m still technically married to Matt ... oh he sends his best as well … and just what are you laughing at Mr Dehaney?’ I asked as Sam splutters with laughter and then yelps with pain as his ribs react.

‘Damn! Laughing hurts like hell. It’s just the thought … you don’t lead a very conventional life do you, Mrs Jones?’

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‘I have up to now.’ I replied feelingly as the door to the room opens and Peter Hammond, the vicar, comes in. ‘Hello, Peter.’

I’ve stopped being surprised by the people who are springing out of the woodwork now.

‘Hi, Maggie. I was visiting one of my flock and thought I would come along and see how you’re doing, Sam.’ … they already know each other … of course they would, silly me … ‘How are you feeling? The TV news was rather dramatic last night.’

‘I’ve been better, Peter.’ Sam replied, ‘As for the news people, you know how they jump on anything like this … I expect questions will be asked on the subject of drug addicts being allowed to carry sticks, what defence social workers should be able to use - after all a lot of them are women - and for all I know, on whether there should be a patrol of elderly women with dogs keeping the streets safe.’

‘Glad to see you haven’t let it affect your sense of humour.’

Peter commented with a grin. ‘How long are they going to keep you in here?’

‘I’m hoping they will let me out in a day or so. This idiot here insists I should let her look after me.’

‘Your mother thinks it is a good idea too.’

I protested,

‘Anyway, we’ve been though this before – there’s no way you can look after yourself at the moment.’

‘Sounds as though you don’t have much choice, Sam.’ Peter said with a smile, ‘When your mother and your girlfriend gang up on you, there’s not much hope.’

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‘You are remarkably unsympathetic for a man of the cloth.’

Sam complained, as Peter grins at him. ‘Ouch … don’t make me laugh.’

‘Sam, I’ve got to be going to collect the kids.’ I said looking at my watch, ‘I’ll be back later. I’ll leave you two to talk man talk, shall I?’ ‘Magdalena, if you think you are leaving without kissing me goodbye, you had better think again. Just because I am not as mobile as usual, it’s no reason to neglect me.’ Sam threatened, the amused twinkle in his eyes revealing just how much he is enjoying my discomfiture as I comply with his request.

As I walk up to the school gate, I am aware of a certain amount of unaccustomed attention from the gathered mums.

‘How’s Sam today?’ Caroline asked as I reach her side, feeling a little as though I have run the gauntlet, though no-one has said anything to my face.

I tell her about my visit this afternoon. ‘I’m taking the kids over to visit him tonight, Caroline. They suggested it.’

‘Maggie, you’re quite the centre of attention.’ Jan said, joining us, ‘I didn’t know you were going out with anyone ... let alone a celebrity.’

‘Well, I didn’t think it warranted a notice in the Chronicle.’ I replied dryly.

She laughs uncertainly, though Caroline grins appreciatively.

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‘The TV news said that the social worker who was attacked is a black guy.’ Jan went on avidly.

‘Yes, Sam’s family originally came from the West Indies.’ I replied … how could I ever have thought Jan a friend of mine.

‘Though he was born in the UK.’ ‘Is it true what they say about black men?’ Jan asked, her eyes glistening.

‘What do you mean?’ I asked, somewhat taken aback … what is she talking about?

‘You know … that they are very well endowed.’ She went on.

‘Oh Jan, don’t be so … so suburban.’ Caroline put in, her tone annoyed.

‘Well, I only asked.’ Jan spluttered defensively.

I see Mickey and Duncan running towards me and, with a quick grin to Caroline, I gather them up, seething inwardly.

Just how

would Jan have reacted if I had told her about her bloody husband and his suggestions?

‘Are you cross about something, Mum?’ Duncan asked warily as we wait for the lollipop lady to wave us across the road.

‘Sort of.’

I acknowledged, annoyed with myself that he’s

noticed. ‘Jan was being stupid. It’s nothing to worry about. I saw Sam this afternoon – he’s looking forward to seeing you tonight.’

Driving away from the hospital later that evening, the kids chattering happily in the car, I try to concentrate on the driving but my mind keeps replaying the scene at Sam’s bedside.

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Sam had been delighted with the chocolates which Jenna had passed on from Marian and immediately opened them and shared them with the kids, making me feel as though I was the only adult in the party … what is it about men?

It was after the daft session with

the kids writing messages on Sam’s plaster, that Duncan had dropped his bombshell.

‘Sam, you can have my room if you like when you come to stay.’ He’d said, ‘I can share with Mickey.’ He had paused and looked embarrassed before going on, ‘But if you and Mum want to share …’ He had faltered to a halt mid-sentence while I just sat there not knowing what to say. A quick glance at the other kids told me quite clearly that they’d been talking about this between themselves.

‘That’s very thoughtful of you, Duncan.’

Sam said after a

silence that lasted fractionally too long. ‘I might just take you up on it – my broken bones mean I’m not sleeping too well at the moment. It would be unfair to inflict that on anyone.’

The kids exchange glances and again, I reflect on what they have been saying to each other about this. Sam, reaches over and takes my hand, squeezing it slightly. ‘Your Mum and I’ll have a talk about what is best, shall we?’

I brake to let someone cross over the zebra crossing … and drive on again.

‘Hey, Aunt Maggie, there’s someone by the front door.’

Mickey said as I draw into the drive.

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‘You kids stay here for a moment while I go and see who it is.’

I said, warily getting out of the car and calling across, ‘Can I help you?’

Two people … a man and a woman … quickly move towards me. One is carrying a camera.

‘Mrs Jones … we’d just like a quick word with you …’ the woman said as the man lifts the camera.

‘Put that down!’ I said firmly and to my surprise he does, ‘And please leave my property.’

‘But we only want a quick word ….’ She persisted.

‘If you are not off my land by the time I count to three, I shall call the police.’ I said reaching into my pocket for my mobile phone.

‘Now, please leave me and the children alone.’

To my complete amazement, they go.

I quickly hustle the

children out of the car and into the house.

Shaking slightly, I

immediately call John Boyd and tell him what has happened.

‘Any idea who they were from, Maggie?’

‘No, I didn’t give them a chance to tell me and I couldn’t see any vans or anything.’ I replied as Jenna comes running down the stairs calling my name ‘Hang on a mo, John.’

‘There’s an ITV van at the gate, Aunt Maggie. I saw it as I was drawing my curtains.’ She gasped.

‘John, it looks like ITV.’ I said quickly into the phone. ‘What should we do?’

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‘Sit tight, don’t answer the door and keep away from the windows, Maggie.’ He replied, ‘They can’t hurt you and if they try filming the kids without permission, we’ve got them. I’ll call you shortly.’

Feeling besieged, I call the kids down to the kitchen and we get ourselves some food together. I send the boys into the front rooms to draw the curtains, with instructions to keep out of sight. They think it’s very exciting and have a great time crawling across the floor to the windows. Thank goodness for boys!

As we are sitting down to eat, the doorbell rings. Duncan runs into the dining room and, lifting one corner of the curtain, peeps out.

‘There’s a man with a camera and one of those big boom things they use on Time Team, Mum.’ He said when he came back. ‘I think there’s someone else as well but they’re standing in the porch.’

‘Well, they can’t hurt us.’ I said brightly, ‘Let’s eat our dinner, shall we?’

The phone rings in the office and, feeling absurdly nervous, I go to pick it up. It’s John. ‘I’ve been on to the powers that be, Maggie.

They’ll be shifted shortly though the best we can do is to get them off your property, I’m afraid, that and preventing them filming the kids. I don’t know who put them onto you.’

‘It could have been anyone, John, it seems to be common knowledge in the village about Sam and I.’ My thoughts immediately fly to Jan and that blasted husband of hers. It’s just the sort of thing he’d do to spite me.

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A flashing light outside the house draws me over to the window.

Peering round the edge of the curtain I see a police car has pulled into my drive and the two officers are rounding up the TV people and suggesting that they move along. I watch as they herd the media off my land. The doorbell rings again.

‘Mrs Jones?’ the policeman asked.

I nod, inviting them into the house. ‘We’ve moved them on for the moment, but there’s not a lot we can to about them hanging around in the road. Do you have a back entrance to the property?’

‘No, not really.’ I replied, ‘It’s open fields behind us.’ Then a thought strikes me. ‘I could have a word with a friend of mine … he runs his cows down the road sometimes. That might encourage them to move away.’

With a grin, the copper agrees that it might work and, wishing me luck, they leave me to phone Fred, adding that they’ll close my gates for me.

‘Not a problem, Maggie.’ Fred said , ‘I don’t usually move the herd this time of day but it won’t do them any harm … I might even get the bull out … silly old thing is too ancient to do any damage but he looks pretty impressive. Perhaps your boys would like to come up the field and meet me halfway along the path in about half an hour.’

‘Fred, you are an angel.’

A little later, Jenna and I sit in the dark peering out of the window in my bedroom watching the road outside. There are two TV

392

vans and several people carrying cameras and the like milling around in the road.

‘Aunt Maggie, they’ve seen the cows coming!’ Jenna cried, pointing out of the window.

She’s right, a couple of the men carrying cameras are starting to run towards the vans. Fred’s cows have got a serious turn of speed on them at times, especially when they are encouraged a little and it is not long before the road is full of cattle milling around … naturally they are doing what nervous cows do … all over the road. It is all very confused, with Fred and his cohorts wielding flashlights which merely add a surreal feel to the scene. We hear one or two of the women scream as the cows push against the vans – cows are pretty large animals and they can rock a vehicle without any great difficulty.

They’d never do any harm but it can be a bit scary, especially in the dark. The streetlights outside are not very bright either.

One of the men starts remonstrating with Fred who, from the little I can see, does a brilliant impression of a rustic idiot … Jenna and I laugh ourselves silly.

The boys slide back in through the back door later, filthy dirty but with massive grins on their faces.

‘Aunt Maggie! One of the women fell over in a great big cowpat ... it made an awful mess of her clothes.’ Mickey said with satisfaction, ‘You should have heard her swearing.’

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‘Where did Fred take the herd?’ I asked, insisting that the boys wash their hands before they do anything else … though possibly a bath might be more appropriate.

‘Oh, we drove them through the path which takes you over to the field by the wood.’ Duncan told me, ‘I heard him telling one of the men that he has to move the herd several times a day. The silly man believed him!’

‘Their vans were all muddy by the time the cows had finished.’

Mickey added, ‘It was great fun!’

‘They’d driven away before we’d finished moving the cows, Mum.’ Duncan said, ‘I don’t think they’ll be back in a hurry. Fred said to let him know if you need him again.’

Not taking any risks, I drive the kids to school in the morning earlier than usual and go in to have a word with Sally. She says she’ll keep an eye open for anyone hanging around the school. It’s unlikely that they would, but you never know these days.

It feels funny walking along the road towards Sam’s flat. If I’ve checked that his keys are in my pocket once, I’ve done it a dozen times, berating myself for being an idiot every time. Once in the building, I check his postbox … Several letters … that’s obviously spam … A bank statement, I think … Three brown envelopes which might be bills … I stow them in my bag … I’ll take them in to him tonight when we visit.

As I go up the stairs, there’s a very elegant woman walking down. She gives me a strange look as though saying ‘who are you 394

and what are you doing here?’ I smile at her but she doesn’t say anything.

I arrive outside Sam’s door … now which key is it? There are two yale type keys on his key ring … oh well, try both of them.

Naturally, the second one works.

Standing in the hallway, my back to the now-closed door, I listen to the silence … I feel like an interloper … as though the flat is saying … ‘what’s she doing here?’

Maggie, now you are being fanciful!

Right, he said there was a bag on top of his wardrobe. The bedroom is tidy … only a jumper hanging over the back of a chair indicating that the owner didn’t come back.

Stop it, Maggie! …

Yes, there’s the bag … I have to move the chair to stand on to get it down. Now then … he’ll need underwear … probably in the drawers over there ….yes, that’s right ….half a dozen pairs of underpants ….a similar number of pairs of socks … there’s a handful of odd ones here in the corner of the drawer … he obviously has the same problem as I do with Duncan’s socks …

It takes me a fair while to accumulate the clothes I think Sam will need for the next couple of weeks. It’s difficult not knowing which are his favourites and which not but I go for toning outfits with warm being an overriding theme. It doesn’t look as though he has any slippers … maybe they’re under the bed … oh yes, there they are … now for toiletries … Samson, you need a new toothbrush! I’ll 395

leave that one here and get another one for him … shower gel … shaving kit … the faint scent of his body spray hits me taking me back to the last time I was here in the flat … back to practicalities, Magdalena!

Charger for his mobile phone … turn TV off – he left it on standby … there’s a light flashing on his answerphone … should I play it?

It might be important … but … go on, Magdalena … hesitantly I hit the play button but all that is played back is the sound of someone who hung up. That’s all right then.

In the kitchen, I go through the fridge, that milk has seen better days … I’ll take the cheese back with me. I don’t think that half tin of baked beans is worth keeping …

I turn the radiators down to minimum and the hot water to off … no point leaving it all going crackers while he is away.

The bag weighs a ton but I can just about manage it. I carefully check I have his keys in my pocket before pulling the door shut behind me.

‘How is Sam?’ a voice asked from behind me as I bend to pick up the bag. Swiftly, I turn to see who it is. A middle aged woman is standing on the stairs, it looks as though she has just come in. ‘I saw on the news that he’d been attacked by some yobs.’

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‘Recovering.’ I replied, not sure how much I should say. ‘He’s got some broken bones though, so it will take time.’

‘Give him my best when you see him.’

‘Sorry …’ I stammered, ‘I don’t know who you are …’

‘Silly me. Of course you don’t.’ she said with a smile, pausing on the stairs. ‘I’m Emma from the flat above.’

‘I’ll give him your message, Emma.’ I said, picking up the bag, wishing I could look as elegant as that. ****** ‘You brutal woman!’ Sam said, when I tell him about Fred and the cows.

‘What for setting Fred on them?’

‘No, for making me laugh so much - it hurts like hell.’

He

complained, holding his side gingerly and trying not to laugh.

‘Thanks for getting my stuff from the flat. Was it all okay there?’

‘Yes, absolutely fine.

I’ve taken most of it home and just

brought in one outfit … I hope it’s all right. Oh by the way, Emma sends her best wishes.’

‘Oh, you saw her did you?’ he said, looking up from digging through the bag I have dumped on the bed. ‘This lot looks fine, Maggie.’

‘She was going upstairs as I was leaving. Who is she?’ I asked as I move the bag off the bed again.

‘Emma? Oh she lives in the flat above mine. She runs a very select dress shop in Milsom Street.’

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‘I can imagine … she looked very elegant.’

I commented

wistfully. ‘I wish I could look like that.’

‘I’m glad you don’t.’ Sam replied robustly, ‘You’d make me feel inadequate.’

‘Thanks for nothing! Remind me to ask you next time I need my ego boosted!’

‘You idiot! Come here and I’ll show you just how much your ego needs to boosting!’

‘When are they letting you out of here?’ I asked a little while later, sitting on the bed beside him, his one good arm firmly round my waist.

‘If I’m a good boy, they think it might be tomorrow. Now look, Maggie, we need to talk about this … Duncan’s little speech last night was …’

‘Gob-smacking?’ I suggested as he pauses, ‘Hmmm … that’ll do. Leaving everything else out of it, I’m serious when I say that I’m not sleeping well at the moment and I don’t want to disturb you. So it might be sensible for me to take up Duncan’s offer … and don’t go all quiet on me. It’s not because I don’t want to share your bed, Magdalena.’

‘Okay, we’ll give that a go then.’ I said, relaxing slightly … how had he known that’s what I was thinking?

‘When will you

know whether you can come home tomorrow or not?’

‘After the doctor has done his rounds in the morning, I imagine.

Can you ring about eleven thirty?’

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‘Yes, I should think so.’ I’ll have to tell Pete I can’t get up to the unit tomorrow morning … maybe he could bring the stuff down later on. ‘Sam, I won’t be along for visiting tonight – there’s a concert at the school.’

‘That’s okay, Maggie, John rang earlier and said he was bringing some of the office in to see me tonight. I shall not be unvisited!’ he replied, gently kissing me. ‘It won’t be the same as having you here but company all the same.’

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Chapter 22

John’s waiting for me when I get home.

‘I’ve brought Sam’s car over, Maggie.’ He said, following me into the house. ‘It’s none the worse for wear.’

‘Thanks, John.’

I said with a quick glance at the clock. ‘I’d

offer you a coffee but I’ve got to pick the kids up from school in twenty minutes.’

‘That’s okay, Maggie. April is picking me up from here in a few minutes anyway. Any idea when Sam is coming out of hospital?’

‘Probably tomorrow.’

‘Good … would it be all right if I came over to see him tomorrow evening?’ John asked. ‘I need to talk to him. They’ve caught the two blokes who attacked him … they were trying to blag their way onto a cross channel ferry of all things. The police will want him to identify them.’

‘I’m sure he will be okay about that.’

‘How is he, Maggie? I mean … in himself?’

‘He seems all right.’ I said perplexed … what does he mean?

‘I only ask because it’s likely that he’ll have some sort of aftermath of reaction, Maggie. Nightmares or something like that.

You’d better watch out for it – he’ll more than likely think it’s some sort of weakness and Sam doesn’t do that very well.’ He went on looking concerned. ‘I had a similar incident happen to me twenty

400

years ago, Maggie, it was years before the nightmares disappeared.

We men don’t cope too well when our nerves play up.’

‘I’ll keep an eye on him.’ I promised as April drives in through the gates.

‘Oh, April will be over to see you sometime for a professional visit, Maggie. She’s taken over your case.’ He said as we walk out to her car together. ‘I understand that you’re willing to take on another child after this particular placement ends.’

‘Yes, did you realise that the grandmother of my two kids is the woman who is going to job share with Cherry?’

‘No - really?’ he said with a grin ‘Small world, isn’t it?’

‘Do you want a lift down to the school, Maggie?’ April offered.

‘Thanks, that would be nice.’ I replied, checking my keys are in my pocket.

On the way down I tell them how we dealt with the TV people; they’re still chuckling as April drives off after leaving me at the school gate.

It’s Marian’s day for seeing the boys.

She’s standing

silhouetted in the light of the doorway as we walk up the path and ushers us into the warm house. It’s great that she’s looking so much better nowadays, especially since Charlie came onto the scene. Apart from the fact that her health is obviously improved, there’s a lightness about her which is more than just lack of physical problems.

‘How is Sam getting on, Maggie?’ she asked handing me a steaming mug.

401

‘He’s improving … we’re hoping he’ll be let out of hospital tomorrow.’ I replied, sipping the warm liquid gratefully. It’s cold outside and the walk from the school has chilled me.

‘That’s good. Perhaps I could come up and visit him sometime …’ she asked tentatively.

‘I’m sure he’d like that, Marian. He’s going to be bored stiff being tied down all the time. Thank goodness we’ve got Christmas coming – at least he’ll have something to keep him occupied.’

‘Yes, I’ve got to talk to you about the arrangements, Maggie.’

Marian said,

‘Now, you’re sure about me coming to you for

Christmas Day?’ ‘Yes, very sure. We’re going to be a big party, Marian. My parents are coming, Sam and the kids and you.

What’s Charlie

doing?’

‘He’s on duty on Christmas Day – they have a certain number of children who can’t be with their families for one reason or another, and he’s giving them a party. He’s coming here on Boxing Day though.’

‘We’re going over to my parents on Boxing Day, I think. You don’t mind me taking Jenna and Mickey over there, do you?’

‘Not at all.

It is very good of your parents to have them,

Maggie. Now, just run through the arrangements after that, would you?’

402

‘Duncan and Mickey are flying up to stay with Matt on the 28 th – they’ll be back on the 2 nd Jan, I think. Jenna will come here to you.

Are you still okay about that?’

‘Yes, it will be lovely having her here.

Charlie and I are

thinking of taking her up to London to see a show … do you think she’d like that?’

‘I’m sure she would love it. Which show were you thinking of?’

‘We thought ‘The Lion King’ would be about right … I’d like to see it anyway.’

‘I’m sure she’ll love it, Marian.’ I replied with a smile.

‘The doctor says I should be able to have the kids home by the middle of January.’ Marian said, her eyes shining at the prospect.

‘I’m hoping to start working part time in February – would that fit with you?’

‘Yes, I think that would be about right, Marian. I’m going to have a little girl living with us, I think.’ I told her, ‘Funny how things work out. If I’d not decided to go in for fostering, I’d never have met you.’

‘No, and I’d not be going back to work … I wouldn’t have met up with Charlie again either.’ She replied pensively.

‘How’s Glyn doing?’ I asked … I’ve been meaning to ask her as I feel a little guilty about him ‘He’s fine, Maggie. Charlie says he’s met a teacher from the comprehensive and is sort of going out with her.’

403

During the evening, I go through all the preparations for Christmas … all the presents are wrapped and stowed under the tree … the boys’ air tickets are safely pinned to the noticeboard in the kitchen … Fred’s going to let me have the turkey on Saturday …

Jenna has nearly finished the cake and the mince pies … Duncan has made room in his bedroom for Sam to move in … it will be odd him being here … odd, but nice.

The phone rings and Duncan, who is playing on the computer with Mickey, picks it up.

‘Mum … there’s a lady on the phone who wants to talk to you …she says she’s Sam’s mum.’ He said sticking his head round the door into the kitchen where I am sitting checking my lists of things to be done. ‘She knew my name, Mum.’ ‘I’m sure she did, Duncan.’ I replied, oddly gratified by this little touch ‘Hello, Mrs Dehaney. How are you?’

‘Fine, Maggie, fine.’ Sam’s mum said warmly, ‘How’s that boy of mine doing?’

‘He’s probably coming out of hospital tomorrow.’

‘Good … good … Maggie, your offer of us coming to visit …’ she went on, ‘Is that still all right?’

‘Of course, when do you want to come?’

‘I was wondering if we could come on Saturday … would that be too much of a nuisance … it’s getting close to Christmas and I’m sure you have loads to do.’

404

‘No, that would be fine, Mrs Dehaney. What sort of time do you think you will get to Bath? I assume you’ll come by train.’ I replied, scribbling on a piece of paper ‘Yes, it is easier to do that. My man says the train will get to Bath Spa at just after eleven.’ She went on, sounding slightly less tentative.

‘No, problem. I’ll meet you there. I’ll give you my mobile number just in case there’s a problem, shall I?’ ‘You are most kind, Maggie. I am looking forward to seeing you.’ She replied and I can hear her smiling.

‘I warn you, it’s a bit busy here …’ I warned but she only laughs saying that she likes children.

‘Is she coming to visit Sam?’ Duncan asked after I have put the phone down.

‘Yes, on Saturday. I expect Sam’s dad will come too.’

‘Why don’t they come for Christmas?’

‘Well … maybe we can ask them when they come on Saturday, Duncan.’ I replied wondering just where I would put another two people … and there’s Sam’s brother as well ...

Still, it’s not a bad idea … assuming we all get on … While I’m here, I had better ring Pete and see if he can bring the stuff down tomorrow afternoon.

‘Yes, no problem, Maggie.’ He said when I explained that I can’t get up to the unit in the morning. ‘I’ll come down about five shall I?’ 405

‘Yes … that’ll be fine, Pete.’ … if Sam is allowed home, I expect it will be early afternoon …

I can get him established here … then go and fetch the boys from school … they’re breaking up tomorrow … Jenna finishes at lunchtime but she’s going down to Marian’s for the afternoon, meeting me at the school … yes, it should all work out.

Oh hell, look at the time.

‘Boys, we’ve got to get back down to the school – run up and wash your face and hands and tell Jenna we’ve got to leave in ten minutes. Go on, I’ll turn the computer off.’

The school hall is over half full and the atmosphere electric by the time we get there.

Mickey and Duncan are involved in the

performance and they disappear to their classroom while Jenna and I look around for some seats. Caroline is there with Bryony and waves for us to join them. Grateful, we make our way through the throng of parents.

‘Hi Maggie. How are things?’ Caroline asked as Jenna and Bryony start chatting about something or other.

‘Busy – what do you expect this time of year? Sam should be out of hospital tomorrow though.’

‘Great – can I come and visit him sometime next week?’

‘Of course, give me a ring and I shall make an appointment on his social calendar.’ I answered haughtily …. ‘It’s beginning to feel a bit like that at the moment. I had his mum on the phone earlier.

They’re coming to visit on Saturday. Have you ever met them?’

406

‘No … though I imagine they must be nice people to have produced Sam.’ Caroline said very reasonably ‘Nervous?’

‘A bit. This whole thing with Sam coming back to the Old Farmhouse is …’ I hesitated trying to find the right word ‘Hurried?’ Caroline offered, ‘Premature?’

‘Something like that.’ I agreed with a slight sigh, ‘I’m sure it will all be fine but it’s going to be odd.’

‘Having second thoughts?’

‘Oh no, not at all.’ I quickly responded, ‘It’s just knocked me off my balance a little. We’ve decided he’ll have Duncan’s room … he says he’s not sleeping too well at the moment.’

I went on … only realising that she doesn’t know about me staying over at Sam’s place after the office dinner … oh damn!

‘Sounds eminently sensible.’ Caroline commented giving me a quick look, ‘I hope you’ve made appropriate arrangements though, Maggie, after all it’s just as well to be prepared for eventualities.’ I stare at her blankly for a moment … what’s she talking about. Her lips twitch … ‘Prevention being better than cure, Maggie.’ She went on cryptically. … oh heavens … I’d not thought of that …

‘I daresay Dr Jim could sort you out with something appropriate.’

‘Thanks, I’d forgotten about that.’ … I wonder if I could get an appointment at the doctor’s tomorrow morning before ringing the

407

hospital … mind you, Sam’s not going to be capable of anything athletic for some time … at least until his ribs and knee heal … ****** The news from the hospital is good – I can pick Sam up at 2.00 p.m.

He’s waiting for me in his room, dressed and ready to go.

Characteristically, we fight over who is going to carry his bag … I win.

‘Your parents are coming to see you on Saturday, Sam.’ I said conversationally as we walk in a somewhat stilted silence along the corridor of the hospital … his knee is getting a lot better but he’s still limping on it. ‘I said I’d meet their train.’

‘That’s kind of you, Maggie.’ He replied; we’re both of us on edge … not surprising really … we’ve not known each other very long … a fact which I worried about for too long in the wee small hours last night.

‘Duncan wondered if they would like to stay for Christmas.’ I went on valiantly ‘I thought I’d see how it goes before suggesting it.

They might not like me, after all.’

‘Don’t be daft, Maggie.’ He replied as we walk out of the main entrance of the hospital. ‘Crikey! Has it got colder or have I just got used to being in warm?’

‘It’s got colder.’ I grinned, ‘Welcome back to the real world.

The car’s over here.’

408

I unlock the car for him, put his bag on the back seat and go round to the driver’s door. As I get in, I glance at him … he’s still on edge … I don’t think it’s the situation between us … so what is it?

‘Sam, what’s wrong?’

He sits looking at his hands in his lap for a moment before replying. ‘Sorry, Maggie. Just the nerves playing up a little. John said they might.’

I reach over and give his hand a squeeze. ‘It’s bound to have some effect, Sam, you’ve been through a traumatic experience. Just as your bones will take a while to recover, your nerves will too. It’s okay.’ I said, trying to comfort him. Just what does he mean when he says ‘nerves playing up’ … I don’t know much about this sort of thing.

‘John said they’ve caught the two men.’ Sam said, obviously not wanting to talk about it any more. ‘I’ll have to go and identify them.’

‘Yes, he mentioned that when I saw him.’ I replied, steering the car into the traffic. ‘Did you have a good time with the office lot last night?’

‘Yes, it was nice to see them. April’s going to come over to see you tomorrow about that placement I mentioned to you, I think.’

‘Caroline said she wants to pop in, she thought probably Monday.’

The traffic is pretty heavy … must be Christmas shoppers.

409

He’s looking decidedly shaky by the time we get back to the Old Farmhouse. Mind you, it’s probably the longest he’ s been out of bed for some days.

I have to help him out of the car but he gets across to the house unaided … determined to, by the look of it. I follow with his bag and close the door on the winter afternoon, putting his bag down on the floor. He’s standing struggling to undo the zip on his jacket – his right hand is hampered by the plaster and he is clearly finding the whole thing very frustrating.

‘Here, let me.’ I said, going to help him.

I unzip him and hold the jacket while he takes it off. His jaw is rigid …

‘Sam.’ I said gently, putting my arms round him. ‘Go easy on yourself.’

‘I just feel so helpless.’ He said his exasperation showing. I hug him, trying not to hurt his ribs. ‘Oh Maggie, I’m not going to be particularly easy to live with, I’m afraid.’

‘So?’ I replied, kissing the end of his nose and actually raising a half smile from the man.

His left arm goes round me. ‘Can’t you do better than that?’ he asked plaintively. ****** I leave him unpacking his bits and pieces in Duncan’s room, while I go to collect the children from school. He seems a little more

410

like his usual self now. Even so, I ponder on the situation all the way to school.

The boys are pretty hyper when they burst out of the classroom looking for Jenna and I. It seems they had a good party in their class.

‘You mustn’t bounce all over Sam.’ I warned as we neared home.

The front door opens as we get to it, ‘I was watching for you.’

Sam said with a smile, making my stomach turn flip flops … it is a long time since anyone was waiting at home for me.

‘Sam ... we had a brill party today.’ Duncan started and, with Mickey throwing in extra details, he relates the events of the day while Jenna escapes upstairs to get out of her school uniform. I herd my men into the kitchen where Sam can at least take the weight off that knee of his, and feed them all biscuits while the boys go on at length about the party. I catch Sam’s eye at one point and he beams at me, I shouldn’t have worried … this hefty dose of family life is doing him good.

The house is a lot quieter by the time Pete arrives with his paperwork. He’s looking a lot smarter than usual … I wonder if he’s going out somewhere… I usher him into the kitchen where Sam is talking to Jenna.

‘Pete, I don’t know if you know Sam Dehaney.’

I said

introducing them.

‘No … we’ve not met.’ Pete said shortly. ‘Aren’t you that social worker who was on the news?’

411

‘Yes,’ Sam replied, looking clearly at Pete. ‘Unfortunately so … Maggie has very kindly taken me in until I am fit to fend for myself.’

I look from one man to the other … what’s going on?

‘Coffee, Pete?’ I suggested,

‘Is there much work to be gone

through?’

‘Yes, I’d love a coffee, thanks Maggie.’ He replied, opening the box he’s brought with him. ‘It’s mostly the usual stuff … but there’re some extra invoices for Christmas displays and a couple of trees.’

‘Are you closing down at all for Christmas?’ I asked, handing him his coffee and looking through the papers. ‘Can you sign some cheques for me, Pete … six should do it, I think.’

‘Yes, sure. I’m only closing for two days – Christmas Day and Boxing Day. I’m going down to see the parents.’

‘Oh, that will be nice for you – is your mother any better?’

‘Yes, she’s a lot better thanks, Maggie.’ Pete replied, ‘What are you doing for Christmas?’

‘We’re having Marian, the kids’ grandmother, and my parents here for Christmas dinner.’

I said cheerfully, ‘Sam’s parents are

coming to visit him on Saturday too.’

‘Sounds hectic.’ Pete said, casting a glance at Sam who is sitting almost relaxed at the table; Jenna’s disappeared somewhere.

‘Yes, but it all quietens down after Boxing Day, Pete.’ I went on, ‘The boys are going up to visit Matt for a week and Jenna is going to stay with her Gran.’

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‘So it will just be the two of you.’

Pete commented

expressionlessly.

‘Yes, we were thinking of going away somewhere warm, but with me crocked up, that’s out of the question.’ Sam put in. ‘ If the weather’s decent, we might be able to get out if I can twist Maggie’s arm into driving.’

‘I see.’ Pete said, exchanging a long look with Sam. ‘Well, I hope you have a lovely time.’

He doesn’t stay long.

‘Poor bastard!’

Sam commented as I walked back into the

kitchen after showing Pete out.

‘What do you mean?’ I asked blankly, clearing away the empty mugs.

‘Oh Maggie, don’t be so blind. The poor guy’s in love with you … I came as a nasty shock to him.’

‘Nonsense!’ I retorted, ‘I daresay I haven’t mentioned you to him … Though I know I told him I was going out last Friday night.’

‘And how did that come up?’

‘He asked me if I wanted to go out for a drink.

Sam, don’t be

daft, he’s in love with someone else … he told me so.’

‘And what exactly did he say?’ Sam asked hobbling over to the sink where I am washing up.

‘He told me that he was in love with a woman but that he didn’t know if she cared for him or not … I asked him why he didn’t ask her out and he said that they were good friends and that he didn’t want to 413

lose that … oh …’ I faltered … ‘But he never gave me the slightest idea …’

‘That guy was as jealous as they come, Maggie.’ Sam said …

‘Would it have made a difference if you had known how he felt?’ I think back to that evening at the unit … seeing things in the light of this revelation … ‘Go on, tell me all about it.’

‘I had a bit of a thing about him, Sam.

It never came to

anything … in fact, I don’t think it ever would have done … It upset me when I thought he was in love with someone else … I’d woven a bit of a daydream round him … but then you came along and that all faded into the background.’ I explained ‘He bailed me out when I was in trouble ... just before you asked me out, in fact.’

‘How was that?’ he asked, handing me the towel so that I can wipe my hands.

‘I locked myself out of the house.’ I admitted, going on to tell him how Pete had insisted that I stayed at his flat ‘He never gave me the slightest inkling that he cared for me at all, Sam.’ ‘Missed his chance there, didn’t he?’ Sam said ruminatively, ‘Lucky for me that he did though … unless you’ve changed your mind now that you know.’

‘You do say some silly things, Mr Dehaney.’ I said, putting my arms round him and resting my head on his shoulder.

‘Are you sure, Maggie? You can change your mind, you know.’

I thought about the two men for a moment … a very brief moment. ‘I’m sure, Sam.’ I said raising my face to be kissed.

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