by Rosie Green
‘If I’d forgiven him, we’d still be together. We’d still be a proper family. It wasn’t Max’s fault.’
‘What do you mean, Mum? What did Dad do that you had to forgive? I don’t understand.’
She focuses on me then, blinking rapidly, as if she’s emerging into the sunlight. And I can see her retreating into herself again.
‘What happened, Mum?’ I ask gently. ‘Was it to do with Janice?’
Her eyes flash with anger at the mention of Janice. ‘I can’t talk about it, Jess. We swore we’d never tell you.’
‘Who’s “we”? Do you mean Dad?’
She shakes her head.
‘Isla?’
Her eyes flicker before she shakes her head again.
‘Isla?’
Isla knows something about this whole nightmare that I don’t?
Well, if my sister has kept a secret from me all these years, it’s high time she spilled the beans . . .
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Driving back to the flat, after dropping Mum off, my mind is whirling.
Isla and I need a proper talk. And I’m not going to be fobbed off by her this time. It appears this family has secrets enough to fill the whole of Moondance Cottage – and it’s time I found out the truth.
Mum completely clammed up and would tell me nothing more, so frustratingly, it was back to small talk over the dessert, which I couldn’t even eat.
Isla is slouched in front of the TV in her pyjamas when I arrive back. She’s half way down a bottle of wine and looking very sorry for herself. I’m gutted for her that her relationship with Jamie is over, but at some point she’ll have to start trying to get on with her life, otherwise she’ll lose the business as well. Jamie is obviously managing to keep it going on his own, but surely it’s Isla who’s the main force behind the patisserie? I know she does a lot of the baking herself – so who’s doing it now, while she’s here?
‘Come on. Get dressed. We’re having a little trip out,’ I say cheerfully, as if I’m addressing a class of five-year-olds.
‘What? Where?’
‘Coffee shop. For a chat.’
‘Can’t we talk here?’
‘No. We need to get out and get some fresh air. There’s lots of street entertainment today in the village and the snow makes everything look so festive. So let’s get out there and get in a Christmassy mood!’ Frankly, my Christmas groove has upped and vanished (if it was ever there in the first place) but lolling around here with long faces isn’t going to achieve anything!
Isla grumbles – a lot. But before too long, we’re crunching through the snow on the high street, shivering and dodging the snowballs of a group of excited kids.
Bella will be loving it. All this snow. They’ll be out as a family, enjoying all the delights of the season.
‘Isn’t it lovely?’ I cry, endeavouring to block out the image. ‘Blue skies. All that lovely crisp air and perfect snow.’
‘Yeah. The dogs like it as well,’ grunts Isla, dragging her heels and pointing at a patch of yellow.
Sighing, I practically push her into the coffee shop.
Thankfully, a gingerbread latte and a wedge of chocolate cake stirs her to life. She shrugs off her coat and glances around. ‘I’d forgotten how warm and cosy this place is in winter.’
‘There’s seating outside in the summer.’
She nods. ‘I always said they should do that. Didn’t I always say they should open up the back garden?’
I smile. ‘You did. You’ve got a good nose for business. Is Jamie managing everything okay while you’re here?’
Her face falls. ‘Don’t mention that man’s name.’
‘Sorry.’
‘He’s a bastard.’
‘I know. Sorry.’
‘Look, what’s this all about, Jess? You don’t just drag me out of my pyjamas into the snow for a coffee when we could have had a perfectly nice coffee in the flat.’
I sigh, meeting her eyes. ‘The bootees belonged to Mum. She got pregnant and then she lost it at twelve weeks, and she never told anyone.’
‘What?’ Isla looks aghast. ‘A baby? Did Dad know?’
‘Well, obviously.’
‘Wow. I could have had a baby brother or sister. Poor Mum and Dad. That must have been heart-breaking for them.’
I nod. ‘I’ve always wondered about the real reason Mum walked out. The idea that it was because they were arguing too much and she didn’t want us living in an unhappy house never really made sense to me. Especially when it was so obvious they still cared about each other.’
Isla shrugs. ‘These things happen. Relationships break up.’
‘Yes, but Mum and Dad? They were besotted with each other.’
Isla nods but doesn’t comment.
‘When Mum told me about the pregnancy and how terrible she felt afterwards and how she pushed Dad away, it started to make more sense. But I know she didn’t tell me everything. What was she keeping back from me, Isla?’
Isla frowns. ‘Why are you asking me?’
‘Because she sort of let slip that the two of you had promised to keep something from me. And she wouldn’t tell me what it was.’
‘Mum’s not herself right now. I made no such promise.’
‘Yes, you did. Mum seems to be living in her own little world half the time, I grant you, but she was quite clear when she said it. You’ve been keeping something from me – God knows why – and I want to know what it is.’
‘No. You don’t.’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘You won’t like it.’
‘Try me.’
Isla stares sullenly at the wall, refusing to look at me.
‘What happened while I was away, Isla? I know something did because afterwards the whole atmosphere in the house changed. And Mum moved out a while later.’
Isla heaves a sigh but says nothing, just continues to stare mutinously at the wall. But I’m sure I catch the glint of tears in her eyes.
‘Isla! For God’s sake, tell me!’
A couple on the next table turn and glare at me. And Isla does, too. ‘Okay, okay.’ She looks upset. ‘But you’re not going to thank me for telling you, once you’ve heard.’
‘So you said,’ I mutter, my insides shifting uneasily. ‘But tell me anyway.’
She draws in a big breath and breathes it out slowly. ‘When you got back from Austria, you accused me of sleeping in your bed while you were away. But it wasn’t me.’
I stare at her. ‘So who was it?’
‘Janice.’
I frown. ‘But why? I know now that Mum knew her from work. Did she let her stay at the house while she was away?’
Isla shakes her head. ‘Mum knew nothing about it. Janice knocked on the door late at night in a terrible panic. I was at the top of the stairs, listening, and I heard her crying and telling Dad that her boyfriend was threatening to kill her and she’d run out of the house and didn’t know where to go. So, of course, Dad let her in. She was in a real state. No coat. Her dress was torn and she had no shoes on.’
‘Really? But Dad didn’t even know Janice then.’
‘He did. He’d met her once at Mum’s company Christmas night out.’
‘But she must have come to the house hoping Mum was in, not realising she’d gone on the ski-ing trip.’
Isla shrugs. ‘I presume so. I don’t think she and Mum knew each other that well. Marion was the link. She was friends with both Mum and Janice.’
‘Why didn’t Janice go to Marion’s when she was desperate?’
‘I suppose because Marion lives ten miles away, but Mum was just around the corner.’
I screw my eyes up, trying to process all this brand new information. ‘So . . . Janice slept in my room?’
‘Yes. For a couple of nights.’
‘And Mum was angry about this when she got home from Austria?’
Isla’s eyes slide away. ‘No. I’m sure she’d have been happy Dad harboured Janice while she was
trying to escape from her ex.’
‘So what, then?’ A feeling of dread is starting to trickle through me.
‘Dad and Janice . . .’
‘What?’
‘They got together? While Mum was away.’
My mouth falls open. She’s lying. She has to be. Slowly, I shake my head. ‘I don’t believe it. Dad would never do something like that. He just wouldn’t.’
She smiles sadly. ‘Well, he did, Jess.’
‘But how do you know?’
Isla closes here eyes. ‘Because I walked in on them. I wanted a pen from Dad’s drawer and I thought they were downstairs. I saw everything, Jess.’
CHAPTER THIRTY
We stare at each other. I’m aware of sounds in the coffee shop, but I feel weirdly detached from it all. Isla is waiting for my reaction.
I shake my head. ‘You must have got it wrong. Dad would never have done that to Mum. He loved her.’
‘Jess, I was there. I saw them together. I wish I hadn’t. I’d have done anything to get the image out of my mind at the time.’
‘But he really loved her.’ There’s a tremor in my voice.
‘People make mistakes, Jess. Dad made a mistake.’
‘No.’ I shake my head again, not wanting to hear it. I feel sick. It doesn’t make any sense what she’s saying. That’s Dad she’s talking about!
She leans forward, trying to make me listen. ‘He wasn’t perfect, Jess, but none of us are. He was a brilliant dad and I miss him every single day. But he made a mistake.’
I swallow down the nausea and get to my feet. ‘I need to do some work at the studio. I’ll see you later.’
She reaches out to stop me, but I stumble away, desperate to escape from the café and the things she’s saying. I can’t believe she would say those things about our lovely dad. Especially now he’s gone and can’t defend himself. She must have got it wrong somehow.
I’m so intent on fleeing from Isla, the slippery pavement comes as a shock – and I find my feet sliding out from under me. I land with an agonising jolt on my bottom and my handbag spews half of its contents over the snow as tears of shock and pain spring to my eyes. The boys having a snowball fight point and start laughing, and I’m so grateful to the elderly woman who stops to ask if I’m all right, although her lovely concern makes me feel even more like bawling my eyes out.
Thanking her and assuring her I’ll be fine, I take my bruised bottom back to the flat, walking very gingerly this time and still shaking from the shock. I long to go to my bedroom and shut the door on the world, but all Isla’s things are in there. So instead, I start running a bath, and when I hear Isla coming in, I quickly nip into the bathroom, out of sight. I stand there, shivering, watching the level of the water, my head still reeling.
She knocks softly on the door a moment later. ‘Are you okay, Jess?’
‘Fine, thanks. Just a bit . . . cold and tired.’
‘Okay.’ She sounds worried. ‘Well . . . if you need anything, just shout. Or if you want to talk . . .’
‘It’s all right. Thank you.’ My voice is abrupt. Hopefully she’ll take the hint and leave me alone.
Realising the water is about to slop over the sides, I turn off the taps and pull out the plug for a while. Then I slide into the bath, letting the warm water soothe my freezing limbs and trying to relax.
Later, when I’m lying on the sofa attempting to concentrate on a film, Isla comes through, all dressed up, and says she’s going out to meet an old schoolfriend for a drink at The Bookbinder Inn. She speaks softly, as if I’m ill, and I appreciate her tact. But I still can’t talk to her about what she told me.
When the film ends, I switch off the TV and silence descends. A mantle of loneliness settles over me.
The sad ache inside takes me by surprise because I’ve always liked living alone. I’d thought it would be a relief to get the flat to myself again. Maybe I’ve grown used to having someone else sharing my space. Or maybe it’s just that I’m feeling really vulnerable today.
I’m still not ready to talk to my sister, though, so I make sure that when she returns soon after eleven, I’m ‘asleep’ on the sofa bed. She creeps around, presumably thinking I really am out for the count. When she finally heads to her room and shuts the door, I slowly breathe out.
Then I lie on my back in the darkness, a cold feeling inside, thinking about Dad.
How could he have done that to Mum? She didn’t deserve it. She’d had a terrible experience in Austria, losing the baby. And now she was home and Isla was breaking the news that Dad had slept with Janice! I just can’t imagine how traumatised Mum must have been. And I’ve been blaming her all this time for being cruel and walking out on us. When all the time, it was Dad who was the guilty party.
I’ve had Dad up on this stupid pedestal all my life, thinking he could do no wrong. And Mum and Isla have unwittingly kept my rose-tinted glasses perfectly intact by not telling me the truth.
It’s all such a mess.
Dad has always been my rock, from when I was a little girl. My superhero, guiding me through life with his wisdom and strength. But now that image has been shattered. Dad is human like the rest of us. He’s not a superhero at all. He’s weak, like the rest of us. Janice was so much younger than him; and Dad was no doubt flattered by her attention. Poor, poor Mum . . .
I turn my head on the pillow, feeling sick to my stomach.
Everything I thought I knew about Mum and Dad’s relationship I’m now having to rethink. I’ve lived in a bubble for so long, protected from the truth by Mum and Isla. But now I have to face the harsh reality.
Dad was a cheat and a liar . . .
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
I wake next morning from troubled dreams - the sort that flit away from memory as soon as you wake up, yet still leave you racked with emotion and exhausted even before you’ve begun your day.
‘Tea?’ Isla appears, looking similarly worn out, her hair sticking up all over the place. Her timid smile is unexpectedly warming, and I smile. ‘Yes, please.’
She disappears and I lie there, under the cosy duvet, listening to her moving about in the kitchen. Yesterday was a shock, no doubt about it, but I know Isla wouldn’t have lied to me about Dad. I’m beginning to think what she told me must be true.
‘It’s snowing again,’ she says, handing me a mug of hot tea. I take the cup gratefully and cradle it in my hands.
‘Cheer up,’ she says, seeing my glum face and sitting down on the edge of the sofa bed.
‘I’m fine,’ I say with a shrug.
She sighs. ‘Look, I know what I told you about Dad and Janice must have been a shock, but you shouldn’t be too hard on Dad. It just proves he’s human, like the rest of us. He made a mistake. One that had pretty horrendous consequences, I grant you. But please don’t let it affect the way you feel about him.’
I heave a sigh. ‘I know. Thanks, Isla.’ I manage a smile. ‘We should go out for brunch. They’ve got street entertainment in the high street today.’
Her eyes light up. ‘A good old fry up on a Sunday morning? Perfect.’
I nod. ‘No rush, though. Let’s head out about eleven?’
She beams at me. ‘Brilliant. See you later.’
She takes her coffee off to the bedroom. Her walk is jaunty and I can tell she’s pleased we’re talking again. She’s not the only one. Since she poured out her heart to me about Jamie, I’ve felt stirrings of closeness between us. It’s as if the chasm that opened up when she left Lower Luckworth is slowly closing up again.
By eleven, we’re showered and are ready to venture out, all bundled up in our winter woollies. Isla didn’t come prepared for snow, so I’ve lent her some mittens and my best cashmere scarf.
It’s snowed a lot overnight and it feels quite magical, as we crunch through it along the high street. We’re enjoying it so much, we end up walking all the way out of the village to the garden centre, about a mile away.
‘Great exercise for the legs
,’ I murmur, the novelty of a winter wonderland having worked wonders on my mood.
‘Hopefully we’re working off a fair few calories as well.’ Isla pats her stomach. ‘I definitely need to lose a bit of weight. I’ve done nothing but comfort eat since I got here.’
I laugh. ‘No. Have you really? I didn’t notice.’
‘Oh, ha ha. It’s all Jamie’s fault.’
I groan. ‘You’re not the only one with a broken heart.’
She looks at me in surprise. ‘Seb?’
I nod ruefully.
‘I had a feeling you liked him. What’s the story there? Doesn’t he feel the same?’
I shrug. ‘Maybe. I don’t know. But it’s immaterial anyway. He’s got a family and he needs to be there for his daughter, Bella.’
‘Lovely name.’
I nod wistfully. ‘She’s such a lovely kid. Seeing them together is just . . .’ I place my hands over my heart and smile.
‘Oh, hell, you’ve got it bad, haven’t you?’
‘Probably. I mean, yes. Definitely. I’ve never felt like this about anyone before.’ I scoop up some snow, make it into a large ball and fling it into the field we’re walking past. ‘I wish I could just press a button and stop the feelings, though, because they’re bloody inconvenient.’
Isla sighs in sympathy and we walk on for a while in companionable silence, lost in our own thoughts. Half an hour later, we arrive at the garden centre café, having worked up enormous appetites.
‘Full English?’ grins Isla, picking up a tray.
‘It would be rude not to.’
We sit at a table by the window, relishing the warmth of the café and concentrating on our food. Only afterwards, when our plates are empty, and we’re lingering over the last of the coffee, do we touch on our conversation of the day before.
I draw in a deep breath, not really wanting to ask but knowing I have to. I need to face up to the truth about Dad, whatever that may be. ‘It must have been awful for you, walking in on Dad and Janice like that. I can’t imagine . . .’
Isla sighs. ‘I’ve never been able to get the image out of my mind, to be honest.’
