by K. L. Slater
‘So long as she realises it’s Noah and Josh she’s taking on too.’ I ignored the insult he’d aimed at me. ‘They come as a package and the boys have suffered enough without feeling pushed out by their daddy’s new girlfriend. I have to say, Amber didn’t seem particularly child-friendly to me.’
‘She works with children, for goodness’ sake! We all know that nobody will ever be good enough for Ben in your eyes. Can’t you at least give the poor girl a chance? It’s very early days to be getting this uptight.’
I take my plate and cup back into the kitchen, standing for a moment to stare out at the grass, which is going to need its first cut soon. Maybe Maura was right and I am being a bit unfair. I acknowledge it’s early days to be forming a complete opinion of someone, but there’s also something to be said for first impressions.
At two o’clock prompt, I pull together a few cleaning materials and the new tea towels I bought last weekend that I know will match Ben’s red and white kitchen colour scheme perfectly. I pack everything into a canvas shopping bag, pick up my car keys and handbag and make the ten-minute journey over to Ben’s house.
I pull up outside and turn off the engine, and for a few moments I look at the terraced house like a stranger might. There is no front garden to speak of, the front door leading out, as it does, over the tiniest patch of grass and straight onto the pavement. The fascia bricks are weathered and worn and the big Victorian sills in dire need of a repaint. I make a mental note to mention this to Henry for his list of spring jobs.
As soon as it’s open, I must find a way to get Ben and the boys to take a look round the show home of the new two-bedroom eco-houses that are being built just around the corner from us. A nice new property would be so much more suitable and low maintenance, and I know Henry would agree to us helping Ben out with a deposit.
I’d always thought it would be lovely when the boys were a little older for them to be able to wander around to ours when the mood took them. In the summer, they could make full use of our much larger, south-facing garden. And I wouldn’t mind a bit if Ben wanted to come for his tea every night after finishing work.
But the planning for all this has to start now, and in my humble opinion, this is the ideal time for Ben and the boys to relocate nearer to us. The boys are at an ideal age to start at the new school in the autumn term, and Ben will surely appreciate our continuing advice and guidance for many months before Amber gets a say in proceedings.
I make up my mind to speak to Henry about it later.
I grab the canvas bag and get out of the car. I don’t do a lot at Ben’s house early in the week: just whizz round with the vacuum, give the kitchen a good wipe down and freshen up the main bathroom. I tend to do the laundry midweek and then give the place a thorough clean on a Friday, so it looks nice for them at the start of the weekend.
I go round to the back of the house and let myself in through the kitchen door. I put the canvas bag down on the worktop and walk towards the lounge, then stop dead in my tracks in the doorway.
The black leather suite that I helped Ben choose last year has been switched around. The three-seater is now opposite the fireplace and the two-seater is positioned against the long wall. It would’ve been much better left as it was because now the room looks more cramped and it’s going to be far harder to get around with the vacuum.
It occurs to me I could just move it back again, but knowing Ben, there’ll be a reason for it. Usually he doesn’t do anything in the house without asking my opinion, and I like to think I add a woman’s touch here and there, to make the place a little cosier for them.
But that’s when I notice that the two Lilliput Lane cottages that stood in pride of place on the mantelpiece above the coal-effect gas fire are gone. The boys love looking at my collection at home, and a few months ago, I let them each choose a favourite one to take home. They spent ages comparing all twenty cottages, collected over five years or more, and selecting the ones they liked the very best to display at home.
I scan the room to see if they’ve simply been moved, but the ornaments are nowhere to be seen.
I shrug and move back to the kitchen. I’m sure there’s a perfectly logical explanation. I’ll just need to ask Ben about it later when he picks the boys up.
I stand at the window and look out on to the narrow lawn as I wash up the breakfast dishes in the sink. It makes more sense to do this than leaving them crusting up in the dishwasher all day and the stuff I find tedious to do at home is a pleasure here.
I’ll have to get Henry round to tidy up the lawn and sink a few bedding plants into the bare borders. I know the boys like to spend more time outside once the weather gets better.
It gives me a warm feeling, keeping the house neat and organised for them. Holding down a full-time job, Ben hasn’t got time to be faffing around cleaning and ironing, and I feel like I’m performing an important practical duty in supporting my son and the children.
Louise was never a particularly house-proud woman, bless her, and she was the first to admit it.
‘Your house is always pristine, Judi,’ she’d say every time she visited us. ‘I wish I had your eye for soft furnishings.’
She’d always ask my advice when it came to decorating and organising the house, and of course, I was always more than happy to help out. She fitted into our family like one of our own, and I felt pure happiness the day Ben married her. Louise was the daughter I never had. I still miss her every day. We all do.
I spray and wipe down the kitchen tops and sweep up a few crumbs from the floor. I hang one of the new red-checked tea towels over the oven handle and then neatly fold the other two. When I open the deep drawer to stow them away, I see that the two missing ornaments from the mantelpiece have been tossed carelessly in here.
I pick up Josh’s snow-covered cottage and hold it up to the window, and it’s immediately clear that the chimney has been chipped clean off.
16
Judi
Later, I pick Noah and Josh up from school and, as Ben has a meeting after school, take them back to ours for tea.
I decide not to quiz them about the broken ornament. It’s highly possible one of them has broken it and has been too worried to tell me. Instead, we get out their reading folders and talk about what they’ve done at school today.
‘We did numbers, Nanny,’ Josh tells me. ‘Really hard adding-up.’
‘Pfft!’ Noah sniggers. ‘That’s just stupid easy-peasy stuff for babies.’
‘Noah, that’s not very nice,’ I say gently as Josh’s face falls. ‘Don’t forget you had to start with that exact same work when you were in Year One.’
Noah snatches up his reading book and uses it as a shield against us, holding it far too close to his face to be able to read. I decide the best option is to ignore his behaviour.
‘So, hands up who wants Nanny’s home-made meat and potato pie for tea?’
‘Yes please!’ Josh springs up and jumps up and down, one arm stretching towards the ceiling.
‘Noah?’
‘Please,’ he mutters morosely. He puts his book down and reaches for the television remote control.
‘Two plates of pie coming up.’ I smile before leaving the room.
I feel a little uneasy about Noah’s outburst. I’ve never heard him sniping at his brother like that before. Certainly they bicker regularly over their choice of television programme and who gets the last chocolate biscuit from the barrel. But Noah is usually supportive of his younger brother when it comes to school work. Recently, he willingly spent hours helping Josh make a papier-mâché rocket for his outer-space art project at school.
Later, Ben arrives.
Henry is still not home but he’s texted me to say they’ve decided to go out for a curry, and I don’t mind one bit because it will give me time to talk to my son without more accusations that I’m being unfair and judgemental ringing in my ears.
I make Ben a plate of pie and peas and take it through for him on a tray,
together with cups of tea for both of us. Noah barely looks up from the television.
‘What a day,’ Ben sighs. ‘We had a teacher off, so they split the class and I ended up with—’
‘Daddy! Hands up or I’ll blow your head off.’ Josh jumps in between us and aims the remote control like a gun at Ben.
Ben puts down his cutlery with a clatter. ‘Josh, what have you been told? I’m talking to Nanny.’
‘He’s just happy to see you, Ben,’ I say lightly.
Josh attaches himself to Ben’s leg, gripping on to it like a koala bear.
‘Daddy,’ he whines.
‘Amber thinks the boys interrupt too much, Mum.’ Ben scowls, trying to gently shake Josh off. ‘And I’m beginning to think she might be right.’
‘Nonsense,’ I say, ruffling Josh’s hair. ‘It’s just because he hasn’t seen you all day.’
Ben nods. ‘Come on, champ. Let Daddy have his tea, eh?’
Josh lets go and sits down, a little dejected, leaving Ben to eat his food in peace.
‘I was at the house earlier,’ I say casually, taking a sip of my tea. ‘I notice you’ve had a bit of a change-round of furniture in the living room.’
‘Oh yeah.’ Ben gives me a coy smile as he chews. ‘That’s Amber. She’s into this whole feng shui thing, so she’s moved things round to improve the energies, apparently.’
‘Ah, I see.’ I smile to cover up my irritation. ‘Don’t understand that kind of thing myself, but I’ve heard people say there’s definitely something in it.’
‘Amber loves all that hocus-pocus stuff.’ Ben takes a sip of his tea. ‘Crystals, energies, she’s even been to psychic readers.’
‘Blimey.’ I sense an opportunity to delve a bit deeper. ‘That was quite a story she told us yesterday, about her landlord. She doesn’t pull any punches, that’s for sure.’ I smile to soften my words.
‘Ha! I know, she’s so funny.’ Ben grins, loading his fork with pie. ‘She’s straight-talking, is Amber. No messing about or putting on an act like some girls do. I love that about her; that what you see is what you get, you know?’
‘Indeed.’ I take another sip of tea.
‘This pie is spot-on, Mum,’ he says, closing his eyes briefly as he savours it.
‘I’m glad you’re enjoying it, love.’ I touch his arm. ‘How does Amber get on with the boys?’
‘Oh, she’s brilliant with them,’ Ben replies quickly. ‘She’s so good with kids. It’s because of her job, see. Although like she says, she’s wasted there, really. I reckon she ought to get into teaching.’
‘She’d need a degree for that, though,’ I remind him.
‘Yeah, but she’s only just turned thirty, Mum. I told her last night, she could be qualified by the time she’s thirty-four, thirty-five. I’d love to support her in doing that.’
I swallow and stay quiet. That sounds like a pretty heavy-duty commitment to even be thinking about when you’ve only just met someone.
I decide to change the subject. ‘We should really have shown her around the house properly yesterday, Ben. I hope she didn’t think us rude.’
‘Course not. She said she could see it was a big place when she went upstairs to the loo.’
So she did manage to have a little look around.
‘Before I forget, I noticed you’ve taken the cottages off the mantelpiece, which is absolutely fine, of course. But if you’ll let me have them back, I’ll return them to my cabinet collection.’
‘Oh.’ Ben frowns. ‘I hadn’t noticed they’d gone. Amber must’ve moved them; she doesn’t like clutter.’
‘They’re limited-edition ornaments, Ben, hardly clutter.’ I bristle. The boys really like them. Do you know where they are?’
‘No, but don’t worry, Amber will have put them somewhere safe. I’ll ask her.’
A sharp spike jabs me in the guts when I think about the broken chimney to add to my mother’s broken jug. But I don’t want Ben to think I’ve been snooping around at his house, so I’m forced to stay quiet.
‘She seems to have made herself at home very quickly.’ I say it without thinking and he looks up sharply. ‘What I mean is, it’s nice that she feels so comfortable around you and the boys.’
‘I know.’ His features relax again and he puts down his fork to consider his thoughts. After a few seconds, he smiles and looks at me. ‘I just can’t believe my luck, Mum. I really think Amber might be the one.’
17
Judi
After Louise died, Maura was a very good friend to me. She found an excellent bereavement counsellor for Ben, who in turn organised some short sessions for the boys. They didn’t stay in therapy for long, but Ben said it had certainly helped, during those initial devastating weeks.
Maura lost her husband to cancer when she was in her early thirties and she’s never remarried and doesn’t have any children. Even though I don’t see her socially, I know she has a strong network of friends and keeps herself busy as an active member of various local societies.
She is also a fantastic boss and agreed immediately that I could go down to working mornings only at the surgery, finishing at one o’clock each day. That left me plenty of time to pick Noah and Josh up after school and help Ben out around the house.
She then recruited Carole Jeffers to work the afternoon shift on reception.
‘I really don’t want to lose you, Judi,’ Maura said at the time. ‘You’re good at your job as well as a good friend and I’m here to help you in any way I can. You’d be bored stiff at home all day, we both know that.’
I felt both valued and supported when it mattered the most, and I still feel grateful now that her flexibility afforded me the time to help Ben and the boys.
As I drive towards Ben’s house now, I can see that, annoyingly, there is a car already parked directly outside his residents’ bay. A small cream-coloured Fiat sits in the place I usually park. It doesn’t matter, because I’m able to get a spot just behind it. But I can’t help wondering whose car it is … Amber’s, perhaps?
I get out of the car and walk around to the boot to lift out the laundry basket full of clean, folded clothes. I often do the boys’ washing at my house and then bring it back to Ben’s to iron it. That way, it doesn’t get all crumpled on the journey over here.
I lock the car, hook my handbag over my shoulder and pick up the basket before walking to the front door, Ben’s key already in my hand.
I slide in the key and push the door open with my hip, swinging round with the basket.
I let out an involuntary little yelp as a figure appears in the kitchen doorway.
‘Oh! Amber.’ I place the basket down in the small hallway and press my hand to my chest. ‘You gave me a start. Ben didn’t say you’d be here.’
‘No, I didn’t decide until this morning that I’d be working from home.’
Home?
‘It’s a staff training day, you see.’
She takes another step into the hallway. She is wearing bleached jeans with gaping, frayed rips at both knees and a very pretty pink sparkly top that doesn’t quite meet the waistband of her trousers, revealing an inch of firm, tanned flesh.
‘It’s nice to see you again.’ I push the door closed behind me. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m good, thanks,’ she replies, folding her trim arms. ‘You?’
‘Yes, I’m very well. Thank you for asking.’
My stomach begins to roil. I feel as if I’ve inconvenienced her somehow, disturbed her at home, which is ridiculous. This is Ben’s house and he’s only known her for five minutes. So why am I standing here like a lemon, waiting for an invite to go through?
I pick up the laundry basket and walk towards her.
‘I’ll just put this in the kitchen, and then I can get on with the ironing.’
‘Oh, leave it in the hall, I’ll drop it off at Y-Iron on my way into work,’ she says. ‘They turn it round in a day, and I’m sure you’ve got enough on without skivvying over here
all afternoon for Ben and the lads.’
I feel my jaw stiffen.
‘It’s no trouble at all,’ I say smoothly. ‘I’ve done Ben’s laundry for the last two years and I’m quite used to it.’
‘But I’m around now.’ She smiles sweetly and runs pearly-pink nails through her hair. ‘So you see, there really is no need.’
‘Well, now I’m here, I might as well stay.’ I walk into the kitchen, my heart drumming a panicky beat. Our shoulders brush slightly as she steps aside. I put the laundry basket on the worktop and open the tall cupboard next to the fridge. ‘It won’t take me long to run over these few bits with the iron.’
I wish she’d just go and leave me to it, but she stands proprietarily in the kitchen doorway and watches as I scan the contents of the cupboard.
‘Where the devil is it?’ I murmur to myself.
‘If you’re looking for the iron, it’s upstairs. At the back of the airing cupboard.’
‘Why on earth has Ben moved it up there?’ I tut. ‘It’s lived in this cupboard for as long as I’ve been coming here.’
‘I moved it.’
I look at her and she smiles, displaying small, sharp teeth.
‘Oh.’
‘It’s just that I thought we wouldn’t need it, and I hate clutter, even when you can’t see it. I also told Ben I’d drop the ironing off and pick it up each week.’ She plucks a piece of cotton from the hem of her top and lets it fall to the floor. ‘And he’s fine with that.’
A channel of heat shoots up into my face.
‘That reminds me. I see that my cottage ornaments are no longer wanted in the living room,’ I say curtly. ‘If you can let me have them back, I’ll return them to my collection.’
‘You actually collect those dust magnets?’ Her nose wrinkles. ‘I think they’re in a drawer somewhere. I’ll find them for you and Ben will bring them over.’
I bite down hard on my tongue and taste a faint metallic tang.
‘I’ll just leave this here then, shall I?’ I nod to the laundry basket and shut the cupboard door a little more forcibly than I intended. ‘No sense in me carrying on today if I’m not needed.’
