‘She’s great. She is musical, in fact she was the one who got me started. She used to be a professional singer. I’ll take you and Jamie to meet her one of these days.’ He bit his lip. ‘God! What am I saying? As if you’d want to be involved with my life.’
I touched his arm. ‘Ian – don’t say that.’
By now we were almost home and he pulled the car over and stopped, turning to look at me. ‘Elaine – do you have any idea how much you and Jamie have come to mean to me over these last couple of years?’
Lost for words I reached up to touch his cheek and suddenly he pulled me into his arms and his lips were on mine. When we drew apart we were both a little breathless. He laughed shakily. ‘I’ve wanted to do that for ages.’
‘Me too,’ I whispered.
‘Really?’ He looked at me incredulously. ‘I’ve always seen myself as a bit of a loner.’
‘Why?’
He shook his head. ‘I’ve never thought of myself as the kind of guy a girl would fancy – especially a girl like you.’
‘What’s so special about a girl like me?’
He sighed. ‘Well, for starters, I can’t see any reason why you’d be interested in me. I’m not good looking, I’ve got no head for material things and I’m never going to make a million. All I’ve ever really wanted from life is my music – at least till now.’ He looked at me. ‘You deserve the best, Elaine; designer clothes, exotic holidays, diamonds and—’ I put my finger against his lips.
‘No! You’ve got me all wrong,’ I told him. ‘I’ve got an interesting life – a partnership with my best friend in a flourishing business and a wonderful young son.’
‘And that’s enough for you? You life is complete?’ His eyes searched mine.
‘I used to think so. Now I’m not so sure.’
‘So – what’s missing?’
‘Well, someone special to share my life with; someone who’d laugh away all my secret fears; who’d be on my side even when I was wrong.’
‘Someone to love you, in other words?’
I nodded. ‘That would be the icing on the cake.’
‘Consider your cake well and truly iced.’ He pulled me close. ‘I love you, Elaine. I’d like to be with you more. Maybe if we both thought really carefully we could think of a way.’
It was a week before Jamie’s eighth birthday when he came home from school one day with the question I’d been dreading.
‘Why haven’t I got a dad?’
Mary and I exchanged glances over his head as we sat at the tea table. I took a deep breath. ‘Lots of children don’t have a dad in their lives,’ I told him.
‘A lot do, though.’ He spread Marmite on his bread thoughtfully. ‘Even when he doesn’t live at their house they still see him. Daniel’s dad has a flat near the park and he goes to stay there sometimes at the weekend.’ He looked up at me with his wide blue eyes. ‘I’ve never even seen my dad.’
I swallowed hard. ‘No.’
‘Why, Mum? Where is he? Is he dead?’
‘No.’
Mary and I had discussed this question many times, knowing that it was only a matter of time before it came up. We’d agreed that when Jamie did ask he should be told the truth, but I’d hoped that he would be old enough to understand before the situation arose. Was seven old enough? I smiled at him.
‘Finish your tea. We’ll talk about it later,’ I told him.
When he was in bed I tucked him in and sat on the edge. He looked at me expectantly with the expression I knew so well. There was no way he was going to be fobbed off with some half-truth. No one ever got away with trying to pull the wool over Jamie’s eyes.
‘Mum, I know that everyone has to have a mum and a dad,’ he said. ‘So I know I have to have one somewhere.’
‘Of course you do.’
‘So where is he? And why doesn’t he come and see me?’
‘Jamie – it’s hard to explain but sometimes babies come when they’re not supposed to.’
He frowned. ‘Wasn’t I supposed to be born then?’
‘You were – a surprise,’ I told him. ‘A lovely surprise for me, but….’
‘Not lovely for my dad?’
‘Your dad had something he wanted very badly to do. Having a wife and baby would have meant he wouldn’t be able to do it.’
‘So he didn’t want me?’
I shook my head. This was even harder than I’d foreseen. ‘The truth is, Jamie, your dad doesn’t know about you. He has never known. It was my decision. I knew that having a family would stop him from doing what he wanted, so I chose not to tell him about you.’
He was quiet, so quiet that I began to worry. Then he looked up at me. ‘Where is he?’
‘He lives a long way away from here.’
‘So can we go and find him?’
‘I don’t think so. He might have moved by now – gone abroad, anywhere. Maybe by now he’s even got a wife and children.’
‘You could try and find him and tell him about me.’
‘Not really. It’s too late. It was all a long time ago.’
He frowned. ‘So isn’t he ever going to know about me?’
‘Probably not. It’s for the best.’ I took his hand. ‘We have each other, Jamie, you and me, and we have Auntie Mary and a nice home to live in. You have your music and your friends at school. It’s enough, isn’t it?’
He considered for a moment. ‘I s’pose so,’ he said at last.
‘You are happy as we are, aren’t you?’
‘Y-yes.’ He looked up suddenly. ‘Mum, does a dad always have to be the man who – you know – borned you?’
I hid a smile. ‘Not always. Some children get adopted and some have a stepfather.’
‘What’s that?’
‘That’s a man who marries someone’s mother and takes the father’s place.’
‘Oh!’ His face brightened. ‘Ian could be my stepfather then, couldn’t he?’
The question took my breath away. ‘Ian? Oh, I don’t know about that.’
He sat up in bed, his face eager. ‘But you like him, don’t you, Mum? And he likes you. I can tell he does. Can he, Mum – can he – please?’
I pushed him gently back against the pillows. ‘That kind of thing is for grown-ups, Jamie.’
‘Shall I ask him?’
‘No! It’s something that takes a lot of thinking about; a very big, important step.’
‘But it might happen – yes?’
I looked into the big blue hopeful eyes and felt my heart wrench. Bending forward to kiss him I said, ‘We’ll have to wait very patiently and see. And, Jamie…?’
‘Yes?’
‘Promise me that you’ll say nothing about this talk we’ve had to Ian.’
‘Couldn’t I just…?’
‘Not a word. Promise me.’
He sighed. ‘Okay, I promise. But I do think grown-ups are funny. If you want something why can’t you just ask?’
I bent forward to tuck him in. ‘Because it isn’t always the best way to go about things,’ I told him.
Downstairs Mary was waiting to hear how the conversation went. I told her about Jamie’s wish and she laughed.
‘Out of the mouths of babes,’ she quoted. ‘Though I have to confess it’s no more than I’ve been thinking for some time.’ She looked at me. ‘What’s your view on the subject?’
I shrugged. ‘Somehow I don’t think Ian is the marrying kind, though I wouldn’t be surprised if he asked us to move in with him.’
‘Move in!’ Mary bridled. ‘What a cheek! If he does I hope you tell him where to go,’ she said. ‘I know things are different now to when I was your age, but I still think there’s nothing like having a ring on your finger and a respectable marriage certificate.’
‘It’s just a piece of paper and a chunk of metal.’
‘No. It’s a commitment.’
‘I know.’ I didn’t want to point out that Ian hadn’t asked me to marry him, or that if he had I’d h
ave said yes right away. Instead I said, ‘I’ve got used to being single. It doesn’t bother me whether we get married or not.’
Mary narrowed her eyes at me. ‘Are you saying he’s already asked you to live with him?’
‘No, but it’s a sort of unspoken possibility between us.’
‘And what about that child?’ Mary asked. ‘Don’t you think he deserves better than a hole-in-the-corner arrangement like that?’
I sighed, suddenly tired. Hearing that Ian had never known his father and the conversation I’d had with Jamie had made me examine my decision not to tell Chris he was to become a father. It had seemed right at the time but now I wasn’t so sure. Was it really right to deprive a child of his father? Was it moral to keep from a man the knowledge that he had a son? The thought suddenly weighed heavily on my conscience. ‘It wouldn’t be hole-in-the-corner,’ I snapped. Mary raised an eyebrow at me and I added wearily, ‘Anyway it’s all hypothetical so why are we arguing about it?’
Ian and I had to snatch time together when neither of us was working. Sometimes we’d take Jamie out together on a Sunday afternoon but any time we spent alone together was mostly at the beginning of the week. Gradually it became a habit for Ian to eat with the three of us after Jamie’s music lesson on Monday afternoons then snatch a couple of hours together after Jamie was in bed. The following Monday he told us over tea that he had arranged to visit his Aunt Janet the following Sunday.
‘I’d love you and Jamie to come too,’ he said. ‘And Mary too if you’d like to.’ He looked at her across the table but she shook her head.
‘No thank you, Ian. You three go. Now that I’m getting to be an old lady I like my Sunday afternoon snooze.’
Although she laughed as she said it I knew that the real reason for turning down Ian’s invitation was that she thought he was merely being polite in including her.
‘That’s a shame. I’m sure you and Janet would have a lot in common,’ he said. But Mary was already clearing the table.
‘I’m sure we would. Some other time maybe.’ She smiled. ‘Off you go, you two and enjoy yourselves,’ she said. ‘Jamie and I will watch Coronation Street and then I’ll chase him off to bed.’
We drove out to a favourite pub for a quiet drink. Ian was thoughtful and when I asked him if he had something on his mind he answered with a wry smile.
‘Only what’s been on my mind for some time,’ he said.
‘Which is…?’
‘Which is how I’d like to spend more time with you, and wondering how you’d react if I asked you to move in with me.’ He looked at me. ‘There, I’ve said it.’
I laughed. ‘So you have!’
He ran a hand through his hair. ‘It’s just that we only seem to see each other once a week.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s funny, I used to be so content with my own company. Now I miss you all the time.’ He frowned at me. ‘Do you realize, woman, that you’re ruining my concentration?’
‘Really? We certainly can’t have that, can we?’
‘Are you laughing at me, you cruel woman?’
‘No.’ I covered his hand with mine and squeezed it. ‘I’m very flattered.’
‘So – is that a yes – about moving in, I mean?’
‘I’d love to, Ian, but I have Jamie to think about.’
‘Well of course I meant him too. That goes without saying.’
‘Then there’s Mary. She’s got rather old fashioned views about such things.’
‘It’s your life, though.’
‘I know, but she’s been a big part of it for a long time. I owe her so much.’
In the car he pulled me close. ‘I love you, Elaine,’ he whispered. ‘I want to be with you – all the time, not just now and then.’
‘Me too,’ I told him. ‘And nothing would please me more than to come and live with you in your cottage. It’s just that I have two other people to consider.’
‘Would you like me to speak to them?’
I thought of the conversation I’d had with Jamie and his longing for a father-figure. Fearful of what he might say if Ian broached the subject I shook my head.
‘No, let me do it. It would be better coming from me.’
‘I’m sure Jamie would enjoy doing his practice on my baby grand piano and there’s a nice little bedroom at the back of the house. I could do it up – make it nice for him. It’s full of my junk at the moment but—’
‘I’m sure he’d love it,’ I interrupted. ‘Just be patient and leave it with me.’
I spoke to Mary first. She wasn’t surprised but she was still slightly disapproving.
‘I’m not being a prude,’ she assured me. ‘I just don’t want to see you get hurt. There’s Jamie to think of, too. He adores Ian. If it were all to fall through….’
‘I’ll have to make sure he knows it might not be permanent then, won’t I?’
Mary tutted exasperatedly. ‘If you believe it might only be temporary why are you doing it?’ she demanded. ‘And what do you think it will do to Jamie if it doesn’t work out?’
‘Who can be sure of anything nowadays, Mary?’ I said impatiently. ‘Even marriages aren’t for ever nowadays.’
‘Oh, I don’t know!’ She threw up her hands. ‘It’s a funny old world. That’s all I can say.’ She reached out a hand to me. ‘But you know there’s always a home for you here if things don’t work out.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m being an old fuddy-duddy, aren’t I? And I suppose I have to admit that I’m dreading the thought of losing the pair of you.’
I put my arms around her. ‘You’re not going to lose us, Mary,’ I told her. ‘You and I will still be working together every day and as far as Jamie is concerned you’re the only real grandmother he’s ever had.’
‘Well he certainly feels like a grandson to me,’ she said. ‘By the way, what about this Aunt Janet person?’
I laughed. ‘I’ve yet to meet her so I don’t know, but you needn’t feel she’s going to usurp your position in any way.’
‘Well, she’d better not,’ Mary said. ‘That’s all I can say!’
Janet Morton still lived in the house where Ian had grown up. Inglewood was a lovely unspoilt village six miles out of Greencliffe and as we drove there the following Sunday afternoon Ian told Jamie about some of the mischief he and his schoolmates used to get up to.
‘I was in the church choir,’ he said. ‘And we used to have some super outings to the seaside. Once I tried to climb up the cliff, halfway up I got stuck, too scared to go up or down and the vicar had to climb up and rescue me. I don’t know which of us was the most scared.’
Jamie laughed delightedly. ‘Did you get into trouble?’
‘You bet! I went home in disgrace and was sent to bed without any supper, though Aunt Janet did sneak me up a sandwich later.’
‘What else did you do?’ Jamie wanted to know.
Warming to the subject Ian opened his mouth. ‘Well, there was one time when—’ I stopped him.
‘I don’t think we need to hear any more of your juvenile exploits at the moment,’ I said with a frown. ‘I don’t want Jamie getting ideas.’
‘Oh Mum!’ Jamie piped up from the back seat. ‘You are a spoilsport.’
‘Well, we’re here now,’ Ian said, turning the car in through open double gates. He turned to Jamie with a sly wink. ‘We’ll resume our conversation some other time, eh?’
The house was a late Georgian villa, built of warm red brick with a blue slate roof and latticed windows. The garden was pretty with flowering shrubs and a spreading cedar tree in the centre of the lawn. From one of the lower branches hung a home-made swing. Jamie’s eyes widened.
‘Wow, a swing! Can I have a go?’
‘You must come in and say how do you do first,’ I reminded him. ‘And ask permission.’
Janet Morton stood at the open door to meet us, smiling a welcome. She was tall and slender with twinkling blue eyes. Her grey hair was caught back into a chignon and she wore a tweed skirt and pal
e blue sweater.
‘Come in, all of you. The kettle’s on.’ She held out her hand to me. ‘You must be Elaine. It’s so nice to meet you at last and be able to put a face to the name.’ She looked past me at Jamie. ‘And this is Jamie, of course. Hello, Jamie. I hope you like iced buns.’
He nodded shyly. ‘Yes, thank you – er …’ he glanced at me. ‘Can I have a go on the swing?’
Janet laughed. ‘Of course you may.’ At that moment a small wire-haired terrier shot past her, a ball in his mouth, which he dropped at Jamie’s feet. Janet laughed. ‘Oh, here’s Brownie come to play with you. He’s brought his ball for you to throw.’
As Jamie ran off with the dog Janet ushered us into the house. The hallway was dim and cool, the stone-flagged floor scattered with rugs. A door to the right led into a spacious, comfortably furnished living room. It had a low ceiling and French windows which led out into the garden and in one corner stood a piano, the lid open and music on the stand as though someone had recently been playing it. Tea was laid out on a trolley; three kinds of cake and a selection of sandwiches, plus the iced buns Janet had mentioned to Jamie.
‘I know what small boys like,’ she said as she saw me looking at them. ‘I should. I’ve had plenty of practice.’ Looking out into the garden where Jamie was playing with the dog she said, ‘He’s a lovely looking boy. You must be very proud of him.’
I smiled. ‘I am.’
‘He’s a very promising music student,’ Ian put in.
We talked. Janet was interested in the catering business and wanted to hear the story of how Mary and I had started.
‘I think you’re so brave, starting a business on your own,’ she said.
She looked out of the window to where Jamie was swinging perilously high.
‘Oh dear. Ian, I think you should go out and make sure that the child is safe,’ she said. ‘He’s going awfully high and I’d hate anything to happen to him.’ When Ian had left the room she looked at me. ‘I hope you don’t think me an old fusspot.’
Too Late to Paint the Roses Page 6
