‘No, no, no,’ I mutter to him and stroke his head. ‘Shh.’
I unload the trolley so quickly, even the cashier is struggling to keep up and by the time I’m putting the last few items into my (brought-from-home) carrier bag, I’m feeling smug. As I pull out my card, Henry stirs again. Just as I’m typing in my PIN, he lets out an almighty wail that attracts glances from the other side of the store.
‘He’s hungry,’ I say apologetically to the cashier who responds with a sympathetic, knowing look.
It’s pushing one p.m. by the time I’m done. Henry’s hunger has gone past the point of no return and I can’t face a screaming car journey so instead, I decide to treat us both to lunch in a nearby café. I get myself a coffee and a toasted currant teacake and Henry a sandwich snack box. He’s soon munching away happily and I sit back with my coffee, relishing the silence. Then I remember my book – I’d downloaded an app and bought it for a quid. Henry seems content and there’s nothing for me to be doing, so I take out my phone and open it.
I’m just finishing the second chapter when I sense a presence hovering over me.
‘Excuse me; sorry to interrupt but is that a book on your phone?’
I look up to see someone I vaguely recognise hovering over me. There’s a lane that leads off my road and at the top is this huge house with gates like Buckingham Palace. I walk Otis up there sometimes. I’m sure this is the lady who lives there.
‘Er, yes,’ I reply a little taken aback. The question was a bit odd.
‘Oh that’s wonderful. I saw the chapter headings and thought it was. I’m Amanda by the way.’ She holds out her hand and I shake it. Her voice is clear like ice. Each word perfectly formed and neatly packaged, like the clack, clack, clack of a typewriter’s keys being struck.
‘Lovely to meet you,’ I say.
‘You too. I’m a huge reader. What book is it?’
‘Eleanor Oliphant,’ I say.
‘Oh I’m dying to read that. I must get a copy. I’ve been meaning to for ages now.’
‘It’s good so far,’ I say. I’m not really sure what she wants to know about it. ‘It’s for a book club,’ I add, struggling for something else to say.
‘A book club? Around here?’
Oh heck, I think I may have oversold it. ‘Er … it’s not really a formal one or anything – just me and a neighbour getting together really. It’s a new thing.’
‘Oh, how wonderful.’ She slides into the chair opposite and I have visions of having to tell Janey that I didn’t read the book again. ‘I’d love to join if you’ll have me. I’ve wanted to do something like that for a while now.’
‘Oh … er …’ My cheeks feel hot. I don’t know if our book club is really open to others or just an excuse to drink wine but what am I supposed to say: Let me consult Janey? ‘Yes, of course you can join us. The more the merrier.’
The muscles in her face relax, softening her deepened lines. ‘I’m sorry. You must think I’m odd.’ She puts her shopping bags down with a thud and shuffles her chair in a little more. ‘I’ve been reading a self-help book about putting yourself out there and one of the techniques was to take an interest in something someone is doing. Did I seem a bit too forward?’
‘No,’ I croak. ‘Not at all.’
‘My … my daughter moved away a long time ago so the house feels a little empty. I’ve been trying to meet new people but it’s a lot harder than I imagined.’
She stares through me with despondent eyes. I think back to how I felt in the supermarket all those weeks ago and get a pang of empathy. ‘Then you should come along to the book club. It’s just me and another lady at the moment but we’d love to have you.’
‘Thank you. In that case, I will.’ She smiles and her grey eyes sparkle. ‘You know, I think we’ve crossed paths on Stable Lane before.’
‘That’s right, I live on the road at the top. I walk my dog up the lane most days. Don’t you have a spaniel?’
‘Yes, Toto.’ She smiles. ‘A King Charles Cavalier. He’s old now and can’t walk but he still likes to get out for some fresh air.’
That explains why she has a pushchair for him – I’d always wondered about that.
‘Anyway, I shouldn’t keep you. I’ll give you my details and you can just text me when you arrange the next meeting.’
‘Oh yes, perfect.’ I smile, taking the glossy business card she hands me.
‘I’ll go and treat myself to a copy of the book,’ she says, easing herself up.
I force a smile as she coos at an uninterested Henry before leaving.
‘Oh bugger,’ I mutter.
‘Bugger,’ Henry repeats.
‘No, shh. It’s buggy, we need your buggy, silly sausage,’ I say, tearing open a packet of Pom-Bears and thrusting them into his hands.
God knows how Janey will take the news of our new member. One thing’s for sure, we’ll no longer be able to just watch the TV show.
This book club just got serious.
Chapter 8
‘Do you mind if Amanda comes to our next book club meet?’ I ask Janey, who has popped in for a cuppa before the school pick-up.
‘Amanda?’ Her forehead crumples.
‘Yes, you know, the lady who lives in that big house at the top of Stable Lane.’
Janey’s eyes goggle. ‘Oh, Amanda with an aitch at the end?’
I frown. ‘It doesn’t have an aitch at the end.’
‘Then why does she call herself Amandah then?’ She twirls around dramatically throwing her arms in the air.
I roll my eyes. ‘Yes, she’s a bit posher than we are.’
‘And she pushes her dog around in a pram like it’s her baby.’
‘Toto has walking difficulties; he’s old and that is a special dog pushchair. I think it’s sweet that she still takes him out. You should try getting to know people before you judge them.’ I sound defensive, which makes me realise that on some level, I must feel a bit sorry for Amanda. ‘I think she’s lonely. Her daughter has moved away, and she just approached me out of the blue when I was in the café the other day and sort of invited herself. I could hardly say no – book clubs rarely have just two people watching TV and drinking wine in them, so I didn’t really have an excuse. When I rang her to tell her about our next meet she was thrilled. She’s almost finished Eleanor already and had a suggestion for our next read.’
She sighs. ‘Fine. What are we reading – Fifty Shades?’
I cock my head to the side. ‘Jane Eyre.’
‘I might’ve guessed it would be something fancy.’
‘It’s a classic, it’s not fancy. Just give it a try.’
‘Okay – but this was supposed to be a bit of fun. Don’t come crying to me when you’re writing up an eight-thousand-word thesis comparing the use of English language of the past and present.’
I turn around to run the tap for the dishes and smirk. She’s feeling threatened.
***
The next evening, I’m juggling Henry on one hip whilst making pasta. Ralph is at the kitchen table doing a practice SATs paper that he should have done with his dad at the weekend and Ava is practising her spellings. It might look like a scene of chaos to the untrained eye, but I have everyone doing exactly what they’re supposed to be doing – I even chopped up that courgette and got it into the pan without anyone noticing.
As Ralph shouts out for help, my phone rings. ‘Just a minute, darling.’ I kiss him on the head and answer the unknown number.
‘Hello?’
‘Hi, is that Stephanie?’
‘Yes,’ I reply, a little frostily, anticipating the usual cold-caller.
‘Hi, Stephanie, this is Carly.’ She coughs. ‘From the vet’s?’
‘Oh, hi,’ I say, funnelling cheer into my tone.
‘We’ve considered your application and I’m pleased to be able to offer you the job,’ she says.
My insides squeeze. I move the phone away from my mouth and fist-pump the air. ‘Yes!’
/> ‘What is it, Mum?’ Ralph asks. ‘Not now, sweetie,’ I whisper.
‘I’d love to accept,’ I say, back into the phone.
‘Fantastic. We’ll need you to come down with some photo ID and we’ll go through the contracts, check you’re happy with everything and sort out a start date. How does tomorrow sound?’
‘Brilliant,’ I say. ‘Any time after nine-thirty.’
‘I’ll pencil you in for nine-thirty.’
I hang up the phone. ‘Mummy has a job,’ I say to three blank faces.
There’s a moment of silence and I’m braced for the wows and the praise.
‘Does that mean you’ll be out all the time, like Daddy used to be when he lived here?’
‘Oh no, sweetheart, just whilst you’re at school, Ava.’
‘What about Henry?’ Ralph asks. ‘Who’ll look after him?’
I glance at Henry, who’s in his highchair mashing strawberries with his fist. I’d intended to get him in at a nursery but hadn’t got around to it. To be honest, I didn’t expect to find a job so soon.
‘I’ll sort Henry out,’ I say. ‘Could someone, anyone, just be happy for Mummy?’
Ralph shrugs his shoulders but doesn’t even look up.
‘Well done, Mummy. Gold star for you.’ Ava presses something onto my tummy and wraps her tiny arms around me. For the split second it lasts, I relish the feel of her freakishly strong grasp.
When everyone is happily tucking into ‘Mummy’s special pasta’, I slip into the hallway and ring Mike.
‘Stephanie?’ His ‘why are you ringing me on a weekday’ tone irks me but I swallow my annoyance.
‘I just wanted to let you know, I’ve got a job.’
‘That’s great,’ he says, sounding a little happier to hear from me. He’s probably running the mental calculations as we speak.
‘I have a problem. It’s all happened so fast that I’ve nowhere to take Henry tomorrow morning and I have to go in and have like an introduction type thing.’
‘Stephanie, you should have made arrangements like I have to at the weekends.’
What, like leaving them with me while you have a lie-in? Is what I want to say, but pissing him off won’t help here. ‘I know. It’s just happened so fast,’ I repeat instead.
‘I have meetings all morning. Sorry, can’t help.’
My blood temperature matches the surface heat of Mercury. ‘Mike,’ I say evenly, ‘you’ve been desperate for me to get a job. It’s all you’ve talked about for the past few months.’
‘Yes, but not at the expense of my job. I’ve five people, two houses, two cars and a dog to pay for. You just need money to get your hair and nails done.’
I bite my tongue. I never get my hair or nails done and he knows that. ‘Mike, I struggle to buy food.’
He sighs and the phone’s mic amplifies the sound, sending a mini hurricane down my ear canal. I brace for impact. We’re about to embark on the type of pointless argument that ended our marriage in the first place.
‘If you can’t look after Henry for a few hours, that’s fine. I’ll ask someone else.’
He sighs. ‘Who will you ask?’
I stumble. I never know which little things will prompt me to think of my mum. Pink peonies, rowing boats and now babysitters. When I was a kid, I missed having a mum so much. My dad was a long-distance lorry driver so I lived with my gran. She was great, but it wasn’t the same as having my mum around. With her arthritic hips she couldn’t chase me or play hide-and-seek. Now I’m older, I feel robbed of different experiences. My kids missed out on a wonderful grandparent and I’ve missed out on all the advice that mothers pass down to their daughters. My dad lives in Cornwall and I hardly ever see him, and Mike’s mum will only look after the kids when he has them. Other than Mike, there’s only one person I could ask.
‘I’ll ask a friend.’
‘Who?’
‘A neighbour, Janey. She won’t mind.’ At least I hope she won’t. ‘Otherwise, I’ll take Henry with me.’
‘Well let me know if you’re really stuck. I suppose I could try and move some things around.’
After all that fuss? I’d rather ask the child catcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang! ‘I’ll figure it out. See you Saturday.’
‘Oh, about that, I’ve been invited on a golf trip this weekend with some of the guys from work. I can’t pick them up until Sunday lunchtime.’
I bite my teeth together so hard I think they’ll break. ‘Sorry, I have a meeting. You’ll have to get them Friday night like you’re supposed to.’
‘Stephanie, come on.’
‘Sorry, Mike, it’s a two-way street. Either we help each other out or we make each other’s lives more difficult.’
He sighs again. On a scale of one to exasperated, he’s a full-on, lava-infused ten. Mike often goes straight to ten when he doesn’t get his own way. He’s like a baby sometimes.
‘So, will I see you tomorrow morning or will I see you Friday?’
‘Friday,’ he huffs. ‘I really do have a meeting tomorrow.’
Chapter 9
The next day, I head to the vet’s after dropping Henry off at Janey’s. At such short notice, I didn’t have anything that could be deemed ‘proper work wear’ so the thin, lemon-coloured merino wool jumper that I wore yesterday teamed with black trousers had to suffice. The jumper passed the sniff test by a hair and a whisker (and a few blasts of Febreze) but there’s a newfound snugness to the trousers that doesn’t exactly thrill me.
‘Morning,’ Carly says cheerfully when I arrive. It’s the first time she’s been sat behind the desk when I’ve been in, so I’m a little taken aback to see her there.
‘Morning, Carly. I’ve got the documents you asked for.’
‘Perfect,’ she says with a smile. ‘Here is a copy of the contract and terms and whatnot. If you have a read-through, I’ll photocopy your ID if that’s okay?’
I hand over everything I need and sit down to read through the documents. There’s a dog barking behind one of the doors and I wonder if Edward is in there trying to soothe the poorly pooch. I force my eyes to the contract. I should be reading this, not thinking about what my boss is doing.
‘Right, here you go.’ Carly is standing in front of me holding out my passport.
‘Thanks.’
Her eyes drop to my middle and her head tilts to the side a little. I know my waistband is digging into newly grown overhang but that’s just rude.
‘Is that some sort of emblem? It’s so pretty but in such an unusual place.’
What does she mean? It’s a plain jumper. A beat passes before I look down, remembering the gold star that Ava put on me. My fingers find it first. Hard, dry and crusty; it’s no gold star. My mouth goes dry and I clamp my hand to my stomach.
Heat rises up the back of my neck. ‘I … I know. Weird isn’t it? It’s … French.’
It’s French. Talk about making matters worse.
Just as I’m about to make a run for it, the surgery door opens and out walks Edward.
Oh no.
‘Hello again and welcome to Prescott’s.’
He holds out his right hand. I’m clutching the dried pasta stain with my right hand, which is now clammy with panic. What do I do? Do I come clean and say I wore a dirty jumper to my first work meeting? Ten years out of work and I can’t pull it together for one day. I straighten up before I crumble. I can do this. I know what I need to do.
After discreetly wiping my palm on my sweater, I hold it out, locking my eyes on his. If I can just maintain eye contact, he won’t notice the stain. The instant his blue diamonds hit me, my skin tingles with discomfort. I hold my breath. Keep the stare going. Just a few. More. Seconds.
Eventually, he lets go and I exhale but before I can clamp my hand back over the offending pasta, Carly opens her big mouth.
‘Look at where the French put their emblems.’ Carly points towards my middle. ‘How funny.’
I freeze. Edward’s eyes foll
ow Carly’s finger.
‘Well, the French don’t dominate the catwalks for no reason,’ he says breezily. Then, he looks at me and his left eye twitches slightly.
Was that a wink? Did he wink at me?
‘Right, I’d better get back to work. Nice to see you again, Steph.’
He disappears before I can say anything. What just happened?
Carly’s voice breaks my thoughts. ‘So, does everything look okay for you?’
‘Hmm?’
She gestures to the contract I’m still clutching in my left hand so I take a moment to skim it. ‘The hours, they’re not written in.’
‘Oh yes, Edward thought you might want to choose your own. He noticed you were juggling a little one and said as long as the work is done and the clients’ accounts are up to date each day, he didn’t mind when you came in as long as you can do the four hours during our business hours, which are eight a.m. until six p.m.’
My insides glow; a stranger being so thoughtful when my own ex-husband can’t manage the smallest of things to help me out.
‘That’s brilliant. Ten-till-two would probably work best for me.’
‘Great! You can cover the phones when I’m on my lunch. They seem to go mental as soon as I step away from the desk.’
Which by my understanding was most of the time. I smile.
‘No problem. When do you want me to start?’ My eyes land on the examination-room door.
‘He’s about to operate on a doberman with an infected paw so he won’t be back out for a while.’ Carly seems to read my mind and warmth floods my cheeks. ‘If you had something else to ask him, I can get him to give you a call.’
‘Oh, no. I … er. I just wondered about the whimpering.’
The Single Mums' Book Club Page 4
