Chapter 17
Charlie read the letter that he’d found in the bottom of Maisie’s bag again. ‘You need a costume making?’ He wished he’d never spotted it, but after missing something important a couple of weeks earlier he’d got in the habit of tipping the contents of her school bag out on a Sunday morning and sifting through the leaves, pebbles, squashed flowers, sweet wrappers (occasionally still full of squashed sweets) and notes that always found their way to the bottom.
Maisie nodded, all her attention fixed on peeling off a string of cheese, so she didn’t notice the frown on her father’s face. ‘I got that letter ages ago.’ The dramatic sigh was all Josie. There’d always be a reminder of her here. Once upon a time he’d celebrated the similarities, laughed as they’d said the ‘just like you’ type of things new parents say as their newborn screws up its face, as the toddler sticks a tongue out in determination. Now it was bittersweet, but he’d loved Josie so much when they’d first met, and he loved Maisie even more. This bond was different, this ache of love would never go – however much she was frustrating him at the time.
‘You only got it this week.’ His tone was mild as he took another swig of coffee and wondered how the hell he was going to fulfil this particular challenge of parenting. ‘Are you sure I have to actually send one in?’
‘Two.’ She chewed her way along the string of cheese in much the same way she’d watched her guinea pig devour a strip of carrot.
‘Two?’ He noticed too late that at the bottom of the printed letter, where there was a small gap for details of the character Maisie would play somebody had helpfully managed to squeeze in several words.
‘I’m two things, I’m a dancing lady and I’m a shepherd so I need two costumes. Miss Jacobs said she was very excited to see what we look like.’
He bet she was. ‘What kind of dancing lady?’ Ballet he might be able to cope with, he was sure he could get a next day delivery on a tutu and tights.
‘The song type.’
‘Song?’ So that was Swan Lake out. They were heading into the land of musicals now, but he wasn’t sure if he should be thinking, Mamma Mia or Lion King.
‘Class 3 have to pretend to milk cows.’ She giggled. ‘Ted said they’d do it wrong, he’s a leaping lord but he wanted to be a drummer.’
It dawned on him then. ‘The twelve days of Christmas? You’re nine ladies dancing?’
‘That’s what I said, but I’m only one, how can I be nine?’
‘And the shepherd?’
Maisie rolled her eyes. ‘Chases sheep of course. I need a big stick with a curly bit at the end, Rosie said it’s like hook-a-duck but for sheep. When’s the fair going to come? Does it come here, or do we have to go back to Mummy’s house?’
‘There’s a little fair, with hook-a-duck, but not until the summer when it’s sunny again.’
‘Oh. Can I have more cheese? I don’t want a pink one.’
‘No not now. What do you mean, pink? We don’t have pink cheese.’
‘Not pink cheese, silly. Why can’t I have another one? It’s good for you, Miss Jacobs said so.’
He was beginning to understand why Josie got niggled at the mention of Miss Jacobs, though for very different reasons. Agreeing to a break had seemed sensible, even if the complete opposite of what he wanted, but the constant reminder of her was like banging your head against a wall when you already had a headache. He fought to keep his tone even. ‘Only in reasonable quantities, you won’t want your lunch if you have any more. Now, pink?’
‘Dress for dancing. It’s not really a costume if it’s a dress, is it? But a shepherd is.’
‘Er, no.’ He wasn’t sure if this was getting simpler or more complicated, or whether Maisie even had a dress.
‘I’ve got to take it into school soon so we can practise. I’m going to go and play with Roo while you do the costume, Daddy.’ She slipped off the kitchen stool and carried her jumper round to him.
Charlie glanced out of the window as he helped her put the top on. Outside it was dull, but still dry. An hour or so running round would do her good, and he knew that she was always drawn to the barns where she’d find Ted, and calves.
The first few days they’d been here he’d watched her constantly, going out with her if she wanted to play – even though he knew that the farm was a pretty secure place. But it was vast, and she was little, but he gradually relaxed.
Ed Wright or his wife were always around, and little Ted had an older brother and sister who mucked in on the farm and kept an eye on their little brother. Ted’s sister had been delighted to find out Maisie was moving in, and happily spent hours entertaining her, plaiting her hair and showing her how to feed the calves and collect eggs.
He still watched her like a hawk, but she never went far and the Wrights already treated her as one of the family – glad that their son had a playmate his own age.
Charlie hadn’t had any plans on what to do this Sunday morning – his first free time of the week – but he’d have rather been playing out with Maisie and Roo than spend it searching on the internet to find out whether a tea-towel on the head still counted as an acceptable school shepherd costume.
‘I might need a hand later, I’ve never made one before.’ From what he could remember, his involvement in the school nativity had always been minimal. All he’d had to do was turn up at the right time to watch. And he was pretty sure that Josie hadn’t been involved in any costume making behind the scenes. He was sure he would have heard the swearing.
‘I haven’t either, so I won’t be much use.’ Maisie looked at him, her head tilted to one side. ‘You’ve got your cross face on, Daddy.’ She frowned in concentration, then suddenly smiled triumphantly. ‘We can go and ask Miss Jacobs, cos she must have made lots. She can do everything.’
He was feeling woefully inadequate, but he really didn’t want to go and ask Lucy. The last time Maisie had spoken to Josie there had been a definite reduction in the number of times she said ‘Lucy said’ and ‘Lucy showed me how to’, and he was sure the atmosphere had been less frosty. The ‘Mummy you’re doing it wrong, Lucy said do it like this’ had been like lighting the touch paper and he didn’t want to go there again. Much as he hated creating a distance between them and Lucy, for now it was worth it. It also kept Malcolm happy.
‘We could go round and ask Becky? I bet she’s made lots of costumes before too.’
‘Don’t want to ask Becky.’ Maisie pouted and took a step backwards, as though she half expected him to pick her up and drag her off to see Becky right there and then. ‘She’s not a proper teacher any more. I want to go and see Miss Jacobs.’
‘I’m sure she’s busy, just this once we can ask Becky.’ He’d agreed to do this, agreed they’d keep their distance for a while. He’d give anything to be able to see her again, properly not just at the school gate, but he couldn’t. If she was prepared to go through this for him and Maisie, then he had to at least play his part.
‘No.’ Her bottom lip was wobbling. ‘I want to see Lucy.’ He noticed the switch from Miss Jacobs to Lucy, this wasn’t about seeing her teacher, this was about seeing the person she regarded as a friend.
‘I know, darling.’ So did he. ‘But not today, Maisie. She’s busy.’ Ever since they’d decided to make a conscious effort to make Lucy slightly less important in Maisie’s life, he’d been fighting the urge to call in and see her, he’d lurked for far too long by the school gate, and been crushingly disappointed each day when he’d checked the appointment book and found out that she hadn’t made an appointment. He’d never wish an animal ill, but surely she needed at least some advice about looking after one of her many pets?
It would be so easy to cave in and ask for her help with the costume, but cold-turkey had seemed the best option. Until he’d tried it.
‘You always say she’s busy now. Everybody is busy. Mummy is always busy and now so is Lucy. She didn’t used to be. She doesn’t want to see me.’ She was clenching and unclench
ing her little fists, tears welling in her eyes. Any minute now it would spill over. ‘She doesn’t love me.’
‘Oh Maisie, of course she—’
‘I hate you, I just want Roo and Treacle.’ She sat down on the kitchen floor and struggled to get her wellingtons on, then clambered onto the chair to get her coat and scarf off the hook.
‘Maisie.’ Charlie reached out to help her. She always presented herself in front of him, so he’d do the zip up. But this time she didn’t. She kept her gaze fixed on the floor, and struggled on her own.
He sighed as she ran outside, the dog at her heels, then he scrunched the school letter up in his hand.
There had been times over the last few weeks that he’d thought maybe Josie was right. Maybe he wasn’t cut out to be a parent, and living with him wasn’t a good place to be. But lately a new resolve had been growing in him, and it had nothing to do with proving his ex was wrong, and everything to do with giving Maisie the best upbringing she could have in the circumstances.
Good as he was at wielding a needle in the operating theatre though, making a costume for a school nativity was completely outside his experience. And taking Maisie to see Lucy was a no-no. They had to get through this, together. There’d be plenty of time afterwards to make up for seeing less of Lucy now. When Josie had calmed down, when the threat had eased and he knew where he stood, then they could all go back to spending some time together. To building their future.
He flicked the kettle on, to make another cup of coffee. He needed the caffeine. Maybe if he called Lucy after Maisie was asleep in bed tonight? Or, he glanced out of the window to see Maisie and Ted crouched side by side next to the guinea pig run, maybe he could sneak off for half an hour now? Mrs Wright would be more than happy to keep an eye on Maisie, and she need never know where he’d been. After all, the main thing was to avoid his daughter becoming too attached to her teacher – it didn’t stop him, did it? Even though it made him feel a bit of a traitor. Maybe it wasn’t fair on Lucy or Maisie.
Ten minutes later and Charlie was halfway down his cup of coffee and it still hadn’t helped with decision making. His mobile rang and for a second he was tempted to ignore it. He glanced down at the display, and seeing that it was Sally he picked up.
‘Sorry to bother you on your day off Charlie.’
‘No problem.’
‘I just wanted to check if you knew where those puppy food samples are? I can’t find them anywhere.’
‘Puppy food?’
‘You know, those free sachets.’
‘I know what you mean, but … hang on a sec, Sal.’ Maisie had flung the back door open and was stomping past him, heading for the stairs in her muddy wellies. ‘Maisie.’
She paused, one foot on the spiral staircase.
‘Maisie, you know not to wear muddy boots in the house. Be a good girl and put them in the basket. Hang on Sal.’ He put the phone down and headed over to her, but she didn’t turn round to look at him – just lifted her feet so that he could pull the wellington boots off. He ruffled her hair, but even as he did it she’d slipped below the touch of his fingers and had dashed up the stairs.
She shouted something he didn’t catch and he shook his head as he dropped the boots in the big basket by the back door. ‘I won’t be long Maisie, as soon as I’ve finished talking to Sal we can have a chat about your costume, yes?’ She didn’t answer, but he could hear her as she opened and shut drawers in her bedroom.
He really needed to talk to her, as soon as he’d answered this call.
With a sigh he picked up the phone again. ‘Hi Sal, still there?… No, she’s fine.’ He sat down at the kitchen table. ‘So, what’s this about puppy food? Why do you need the samples?’
‘For the puppy socialisation.’
That was a new one on him. ‘What puppy socialisation?’
‘The puppy party.’ He heard her take a breath. ‘Eric didn’t tell you about it, did he?’
‘No.’
‘Oh.’ There was a long silence. ‘It’s starting in ten minutes, he invited everybody with a young pup, I think, er, well he thought we seemed to have a lot of clients with pups and he had one in the other day that was a bit tetchy with the other dogs. We used to do them ages ago, and er, I think he even invited Serena, and I think he rang Lucy.’
‘It’s okay, fine, not a problem.’ He didn’t know what felt worse, not having a clue what Eric’s latest plan was, or the fact that he didn’t even know Lucy was going. Because he hadn’t talked to her for days, apart from at the school gate.
‘He only arranged it the other day.’
‘Fine. But if he planned a bit ahead you’d have some food samples.’
The long sigh travelled down the phone wires.
‘I know it’s not your fault, Sally.’
‘And I know you like planning everything, Charlie.’
‘Touché. Look forget it, not a problem, but I don’t know where the pouches are. Have you looked in the store cupboard where the mop and cleaning stuff is?’
‘Ah, that could be it.’ He heard the sound of her opening doors and rummaging. ‘You’re right, brilliant! Eric will be chuffed, right better go, think I can hear barking at the door. Have a good day, Charlie, see you tomorrow morning.’
The church clock chimed eleven as he put the phone down and sat back in his chair. It wasn’t even lunchtime and he already felt like he’d done a full day.
Levering himself up he walked to the bottom of the stairs and shouted Maisie. They both needed a lift, a walk into the village and maybe dropping in to see Miss Harrington might help. Or they could stop by and see what was happening at the puppy party. That would cheer her up.
‘Maisie!’ He shouted again, but there was no reply, or answering bark – so he headed upstairs.
Her bedroom was empty. She must have come back down while he was on the phone, so with any luck she’d cheered up and found something interesting to do outside with Ted. Whatever it was though, he wanted to join in. Show he was there for her. It was the weekend, and it was supposed to be his day off.
Out in the small patch of garden that bordered the bungalow the guinea pig was busy munching away at the small pile of dandelion leaves that were already wilting in the corner of the cage. Charlie glanced around. There was no sign of Maisie or Roo, but a good chance that she’d gone off in the search for more greenery for Treacle. Or been distracted by Ted.
Charlie popped back into the bungalow and put his wellington boots and coat on, then headed over to the barn where the Wrights kept the young calves. He remembered being drawn to them when he was young, and Maisie was just the same. She’d sit cross-legged in front of them and tell them all about her day. Now there was a good chance she was explaining how rubbish her dad was at making school nativity costumes.
The animals looked up in interest as he walked in, than wandered over, heads low and regarding him warily through big brown eyes. But there was no sign of a little girl, so he walked the length of the building, peering into the corners, expecting to see her mischievous face any moment. Expecting Roo to jump out, to hear the giggles of hiding children.
There was nothing. He stood still, concentrating. But there was just the sound of the cattle moving around, the munching of hay.
A niggle of doubt started in Charlie’s chest. He should have found her by now. He peered across the pen that held the cattle. With Ted she might have dared venture into the pens to see the animals close up, but he was sure that she wouldn’t do that on her own. She just wouldn’t. His heart quickened, and he forced himself to calm down. It was fine, she’d be here somewhere. She wouldn’t have gone far.
Relief suddenly flooded through him, as the obvious occurred. At the back of the building there was a hay store. Why hadn’t he thought of it earlier? The children loved to play in there, and it was warm, much more inviting than the cold shed, where only the heat of the calves took the chill off the winter air.
Striding out briskly he soon covered the leng
th of the building, he turned the corner.
It was silent, no sign of any of the children, no answering call or bark when he shouted out first for Maisie, then Roo.
Charlie quickened his pace, his walk breaking into a jog, as he headed back across the yard to where the hens were scratching about in their run. They’d helped collect the eggs together more than once, she’d be there, looking for fresh eggs for lunch.
But there was no sign of Maisie or the dog.
Frowning, Charlie knew he’d broken into a sweat. He wiped his forearm across his brow. He was worrying unnecessarily. She had to be with one of the Wrights, she’d never go far on her own.
He glanced over the fields. There was no sign of the children, no splash of colours from her wellingtons, from her coat. Only green, turning to brown. Only the black and white of the small dairy herd, picking at the late autumn grass which had little nutritional value but gave the animals a chance to stretch their legs and have some fresh air during the last fine days of the year. Soon it would be winter and if it was a wet one they’d be spending long hours in the cosy sheds, picking at hay.
Charlie spun on his heel, and forced his growing panic down. They weren’t in a city, this was Langtry Meadows for heaven’s sake.
Then he realised exactly where she’d be. Maisie was no doubt in the big farmhouse kitchen, eating newly baked cakes or biscuits, rather than waiting expectantly for him to entertain her. Frustration mingled with worry, putting him more on edge and he fought to plaster a smile on his face as he walked up the path to the farmhouse.
He shouldn’t be cross with her. He was in the wrong, he should be glad she was settled here, that she felt at home and could entertain herself while he was taking work phone calls, but the moment he got in the house he knew Ed would be asking his opinion about some aspect of farming, and before he knew it another chunk of his precious time with Maisie would have been eaten away.
The front door opened just as he raised his fist to knock.
Coming Home to Jasmine Cottage Page 17
