Mrs Pearson sighs wearily. ‘Yes, vet. She only had a bit of my birthday cake.’
Edward casts me a look and I have to bow my head so she doesn’t see me stifling a smile.
‘I’m afraid birthday cake is off the table for Ruby. She’s getting on a bit now and she’s prone to colic – it’s the kindest thing to do.’
‘Of course.’ She smiles. ‘Thank you, vet.’
She pays happily and practically skips out of the door. ‘How do you do that?’ I ask Edward as he’s putting his blazer on.
‘Do what?’
‘Tell her what to do in such a nice way. I think I’d have just screamed at her to stop being such an idiot.’
He laughs softly. ‘Bedside manner is part of the job description. Mrs Pearson is lonely. She’ll be back soon and no matter what I say, she’ll be giving that cat custard creams and gin in no time at all.’
‘God I hope not. That would be a terrible waste of gin.’
‘What would?’ Carly burst in.
‘Oh just Mrs P feeding her cat all sorts of extravagant foods again,’ I say as the warm fuzzy feeling of sharing a joke with Edward dissipates.
‘Should report her,’ Carly says with a complete lack of empathy.
‘That won’t be necessary,’ Edward says as he rummages through his vet bag for something. ‘The cat hasn’t got much mileage in her and she’s happy enough. Now she has her antacids she’ll be comfortable.’
Carly rolls her eyes but Edward is still digging deep in his bag.
‘Have you lost something?’ I ask.
‘Stethoscope,’ he says distractedly.
‘You mean the one around your neck?’ I say, pointing. He pats his chest, grasping the stethoscope when he finds it.
‘I could’ve sworn I took that off.’
‘You did but I suppose you must have slipped it back on subconsciously.’
‘Well, it’s a good job one of us is on the ball,’ he says picking up his bag. ‘Right, I better get down to the farm. I’m not back in today so I’ll see you both tomorrow.’
Carly’s eyes don’t leave her computer screen but she waves her hand in acknowledgement.
‘See you tomorrow, Edward,’ I say and for some reason, my eyes linger on the door long after he’s passed through it.
Chapter 20
‘Who fancies a picnic for tea?’ I ask and I’m greeted with a disharmonic chorus of ‘yeses’. There are a few nice river walks near us, but it’s a lovely day and I fancy a drive out to somewhere different. After throwing some sandwiches together and stuffing a selection of snacks into a backpack, I buckle the children in the car and set off with a little belly fizz of excitement at the prospect of doing something so spontaneous. Sod the spag bol I was going to make. I’m a woman in charge of her own destiny.
The village where I work, Crinkly, has a little playground just past the pub and I’m sure it has a picnic table with stunning views of the river and countryside. If we eat there, the kids can run off some energy. I scoop up Henry and shepherd Ava and Ralph towards it.
‘Steph?’ The familiar voice stops me in my tracks.
‘Edward, hello.’ I freeze for a moment then turn to the children. ‘This is Mummy’s boss.’
Ava and Ralph mumble a ‘hello’.
‘Off for a pint?’ he says to Ralph, who pulls a face of disgust.
‘We’re having a bit of an adventure – a picnic in the park,’ I say before Ralph goes on to say how it’s weird that we’ve come here or something.
‘A picnic in the park,’ Edward says full of animation.
Ava beams proudly. ‘Yes.’
‘I thought since it’s a nice day, we could have a bit of an outing and get some fresh air.’ I don’t know why I’m explaining myself; it isn’t like I’m doing anything wrong.
‘How exciting! I’d better let you get to it then.’
‘You can come and sit with us if you like,’ Ava says and my stomach practically folds in half. Edward glances at his watch.
‘I’m sure Edward has somewhere important to be, Ava,’ I say, wrapping my arm around her.
‘I could sit down for ten minutes on one condition.’
‘What’s that?’ Ava asks.
‘You let me pinch a crisp.’
‘Fine, but only if I can choose it,’ she says.
We walk over to the bench and sit down. Edward sits next to me whilst Ralph and Ava sit opposite. Henry is in my lap. I hand out the tinfoil packages and we start to tuck in.
‘Here you go.’ Ava hands Edward a minuscule crisp.
‘Thank you.’ He smiles and accepts graciously.
‘She washed her hands before we left, I swear,’ I whisper as he pops the crisp into his mouth.
‘It’s all right. I think my germ tolerance is pretty high,’ he says. ‘You don’t want to know where my hands have been today.’
Ralph finds this hilarious whilst Ava looks confused and I can’t say I’m not enjoying the dynamic Edward has brought to our little picnic.
Seemingly pleased with their new audience, Ava and Ralph both chat away about school and games they’ve played. Ava has been learning about the Titanic and tells us everything she knows whilst Ralph talks about why he’s excited to go to secondary school and it’s all news to me – they never utter more than a word about school on any other day. Even Henry is a dream. As the children talk, I keep offering my crisps to Edward who takes one each time. It’s so natural and in this setting, it’s hard to imagine that he’s my boss who I hardly know.
‘Oh no,’ Edward says, prompting all the eyes from around the table to fall upon him. ‘I have to go. I’m supposed to be meeting someone outside the pub any minute now.’
‘It’s probably going to get chilly soon so I want to get going too.’
‘Aww do you have to?’ Ava whines.
‘Yes. I’m so sorry, but maybe we could do this again.’ He’s just being polite but the idea of this being something we plan makes me tingly inside.
‘We’ll get you some crisps of your own.’ Ava smiles.
‘Count me in,’ he says before turning to me. ‘I’ve enjoyed this. Thanks for letting me gate-crash your picnic.’ He smiles and I can’t help but notice his shoulders do sag a little as he checks his watch.
‘Thanks for gate-crashing. These kids have never behaved so well.’ I laugh.
I expect him to go but he pivots on his foot and places his hand on my upper arm. I feel like lava has turned me to stone. I’m hot and unable to move. ‘I think I needed this, Steph.’
‘Oh?’ I ask, taking a step closer.
He presses his fist to his chin. ‘I suppose I forgot what family life was like.’
My heart twists. Before I can reply, he wishes me goodnight and heads towards the pub. The children run off to play in the playground whilst I stay on the bench with Henry, who is still eating mushed-up handfuls of a Dairylea sandwich. In the seconds since he left, my head seems to have turned the evening into a full-on big romantic love scene from a Hallmark movie. I’m being such a fool. Edward is my boss and he’s spoken for.
As he rounds the corner near the pub, I catch the side of his face, which breaks into a wide grin. He greets someone I can’t see, then a lady appears from around the corner and kisses him on the lips. There’s no mistaking the huge puff of yellow hair and the pink leather jacket. Everything inside me sinks, even though deep down, I knew who he’d be meeting.
‘Mummy, Mummy? When can Edward come for tea?’ Ava shouts from the roundabout as Ralph spins her around.
I force a smile. ‘I don’t think it will be any time soon.’
Chapter 21
Work has been hectic today. We’ve had a dead rabbit brought in alongside a distraught little girl desperate to know if there was anything we could do, a parrot with a bald patch and a constipated dog that won’t stop eating socks.
When I eventually stop to make coffee, Edward pops his head around the door in a brief gap between patients. ‘Steph, h
ave you got a sec?’
‘Of course. What is it?’ I fill my cup with hot water.
‘I just wanted to say how much I enjoyed spending time with y—’
My phone pings, the volume on full blast. Ava was messing with it in the car this morning. I give Edward an apologetic look. When I look at the screen, I’m surprised to see a text message from Mike.
Need to talk to you. Can I call round later when the kids are in bed?
That’s odd.
‘Is everything okay?’ Edward asks and I realise I’m frowning at the illuminated screen.
‘Oh, yes. It’s Mike … my ex-husband.’ I turn off my phone. ‘Sorry, you were saying something.’
He brushes whatever it was away with his hand. ‘It was nothing important. It looks as though you have enough on your plate.’
He pulls the door closed and I reread the text. Why would Mike need to talk to me when the kids are in bed? The divorce is done, everything between us is amicable(ish) and I got a job like he wanted. Oh God, perhaps he wants me to sell the house. Maybe money is tighter than he initially let on and he needs to drop the amount he gives us. No, that can’t be it – he’s spoken about money problems before when the kids are around. He knows as well as I do that it’s too boring for them to care about. Plus, he would have said my wages weren’t enough when I told him about the job. Maybe he’s moving away? A new job? Abroad? Would he do that to the kids? He probably would. I’ll be furious if that’s it.
The text message plays on my mind all day. So much so, I don’t even remember to reply until I’ve picked the kids up from school. I call Janey to see if she wants to bring the kids over for an early tea. By the time she arrives, I’ve worked myself into a bit of a state.
‘It’s chicken nuggets, chips and beans if that’s all right?’
‘Carbs, protein, veg … all the main food groups covered … ’course it’s okay.’ She shrugs. ‘Anyway, you don’t whip up culinary delights for the fun of it. Spill – what’s bugging you?’
I smile guiltily. ‘I’ll pop the kettle on.’
Five minutes later, I’m shooing the kids into the back garden and placing two steaming mugs of tea on the kitchen table.
‘It’s Mike.’
‘Mike? I expected this to be about Edward.’ She darts over to the window and bangs on it. It seems Tom has Seren in a headlock.
‘Edward? No, there’s nothing to tell.’ The image of his face this afternoon pops into my head. He wanted to tell me something earlier. I’ve been so wrapped up in Mike’s message all day, it went over my head completely. I can’t deal with that right now. This is about me and the kids.
‘Mike wants to talk later. Without the kids being there.’
‘Oh.’ She blows her tea. ‘Any ideas what about?’
I shake my head. ‘No. The money stuff is already resolved and that’s all he’s ever wanted to talk about since the divorce.’
‘Maybe he’s met someone.’ Her tone is unusually gentle.
I shake my head. ‘I honestly don’t think so. He isn’t like that. He’s slovenly and self-centred. As long as he’s in charge of the TV remote, he’s happy. Unless he’s met someone with terrible taste in men who dreams of a life of servitude, it’s unlikely.’
‘But men have needs.’ She peers over my shoulder to check the children are still occupied. ‘Do you think he perhaps wants to get back together?’
I splutter my tea. ‘Oh God no. When he told me he wanted a divorce, he said he loved the kids but didn’t want to be with anyone. He wanted the freedom to golf and watch what he wanted on TV without having to think about others. He said he felt suffocated because I always wanted to involve him in everything. I honestly think he just prefers being alone. He even said he only married me because it was what he thought he was supposed to do.’
‘Sounds like a right charmer. I’m sorry I didn’t get to know him,’ Janey says drily.
‘I know it sounds bad, and it is. It’s terrible, but at the time, I sort of agreed with him. He was always grumpy. I felt like I was forever nagging at him to do anything that was remotely family-orientated and all we did was bicker. I was almost relieved when he suggested getting a divorce. To be honest, he’s a good dad and that matters so much more to me.’
‘He could still have changed his mind,’ she says.
‘I guess so. I just don’t see it.’
‘Think about it. He’s been on his own now for over a year; you’ve been divorced over half that time. That’s long enough to realise what side your bread is buttered. He may have realised living alone isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.’ She shuffles forward in her seat. ‘Think about it – when he lived here, he had you at home full-time. A cook, cleaner, ironing goddess extraordinaire.’
‘God, you make me sound like a 1950s housewife.’
‘I know it was just what suited you both at the time, but you have to admit, it had its perks from Mike’s point of view.’
‘So you think he wants me and his old life back because he misses the un-hired help?’
Janey sips her tea. ‘Stranger things have happened. You said it yourself – someone who dreams of a life of servitude. Can’t be many women like that about.’
The image of Mike begging me to take him back pops into my head. I just can’t see it but then, he can be impulsive. What if the divorce was an impulse that he’s come to realise was wrong? The oven beeps, bringing me back from a strange place.
‘I’ll plate this up. Can you shout the kids in?’
Once the children are sitting around the table eating, the kitchen descends into noisy chaos and our conversation is pushed to the wayside. As Janey dollops ketchup on each of the plates, I can’t help but wonder if she’s right about Mike. We haven’t been apart for all that long, really – definitely not long enough to fully get over our relationship breakdown and Mike is the sort who’d miss the convenience of having me around. Whilst that should offend me, I can’t ignore how convenient it would be to have him back too. I could read in the bath uninterrupted for a start! It’s not particularly romantic, but romance isn’t really what family life is about. It’s about compromise and teamwork and it’s that I miss the most. It’s that I craved my whole life. Perhaps, in time we could learn to be romantic again – perhaps get couple’s counselling. The notion is weird to me, but it doesn’t horrify me. There was a time I was attracted to Mike after all.
By half past six, Janey starts rounding up Tom and Seren. ‘I want to make sure you’ve plenty of time to get the kids to bed before Mike comes,’ she whispers and I’m grateful. I need a bit of mental preparation time, I think.
As she’s going I realise we’ve spent the whole night talking about me. ‘Oh God, Janey, I haven’t even asked about you and Jimmy. Did you talk to him?’
‘Don’t worry about me.’ She smiles but I can tell it’s forced. I feel terrible.
By seven-thirty, the kids are bathed and in bed. I had to bribe Ralph with some extra iPad time tomorrow but the other two were shattered after all the fresh air. I can’t explain why, but I find myself at my dressing table touching up my face with a bit of concealer. I even add some mascara and brush my hair. I forgot what a difference a bit of make-up can make and for a fleeting second, I think about Stacy and all the effort she seems to make. Perhaps I am a bit plain.
At five to eight, I pour myself a glass of red and check myself over in the mirror. For the next few minutes, I can’t relax knowing Mike is due to turn up at any time. I sit and stand and wander from the kitchen to the lounge and back. The words I want to say are like alphabet soup in my head. Perhaps I’m overthinking it but these past few months have been hard, really hard in fact, and if there’s a chance things could go back to the way they were, I think I’d take it. I’d have the family unit once again and that’s worth more to me than anything.
I’m going to take Mike back.
Chapter 22
At eight-twenty, the doorbell rings. I’ve chewed my nails down to the quic
k waiting for this.
‘Hi,’ I say, gesturing for him to come in with my wine glass. A bit of wine sloshes onto the floor. ‘Fancy a glass?’
Mike runs a hand through his hair. He only does that when he’s nervous. This is a good sign. I think. ‘Yes, go on then.’
He heads into the lounge as I go to the kitchen and pour him a glass of merlot. I top my own glass up and run my fingers through my hair before following him through to the lounge. He’s sitting in the armchair he always used to sit in. It’s weird seeing him there again, I don’t think he’s stayed long enough to sit down since he left.
He thanks me for the wine and gulps the first mouthful greedily.
‘What is it, Mike? What did you want to talk about?’
‘You look … different?’ he says. My abdomen squeezes tighter.
‘Do I?’ I try to sound nonchalant.
‘Whatever you’ve done, it suits you.’ This is the closest thing to a compliment I’ve had from Mike in years. Janey was right. We’re really doing this. I can see how hard this is for him and I’m about to burst. I just need to hear him say it, I need to hear the words and I’ll do it, I’ll take him back.
‘Just say what you came to say.’ My voice is low, almost a whisper. Perhaps you could even consider it husky. I’m using all the subliminal tricks to encourage the words out of him.
He draws a deep breath. ‘When I left, I thought I needed space, to live alone. I really did. I never felt suited to living as a partnership, or a team for that matter and it was never anything you did wrong. I was so selfish and you’– he sighs – ‘well, you know that, don’t you?’
Everything loosens inside me and I go over and kneel beside the chair. ‘I know but we were in a bad place.’
He puts his face in his hands and rubs the light stubble. Perhaps it’s the merlot, but I find myself taking his hand in mine. ‘It’s okay. Whatever you need to say, say it.’
He raises his eyebrows and curls his fingers into a fist beneath my hand. I get why he’s uncomfortable. He ripped apart our family, but he needs to know I’m here to listen – we all make mistakes and I can forgive him.
The Single Mums' Book Club Page 10
