Mishaps in Millrise: Parts 1-4 in one book – plus a little extra…

by Tennant, Tilly

  ‘Never!’ Phoebe laughed. ‘Aren’t you?’

  ‘Never!’ He gave her a dazzling grin. ‘Where do you want to go?’

  ‘I… erm…’Phoebe was momentarily distracted by the sight of Adam, still leaning against the post at the back of story area, glowering in their direction. Jack followed her gaze.

  ‘What’s his problem?’

  ‘That’s Adam Hendry.’

  ‘Old man Hendry’s son?’

  She nodded.

  ‘No wonder he looks so miserable. Uncle Fred says they’re a right pair of tossers.’

  ‘Uncle Fred?’

  ‘He owns Applejack’s… I must have told you.’

  ‘Nope…’ she paused. ‘Although it does explain something… a few weeks ago someone from Applejack’s came up to me in the Bounty and I had no idea who she was until Midnight told me where she worked. I guess your uncle Fred must have told her about me?’

  Jack suddenly looked troubled. ‘Right…’ he said as they began to walk to the exit. He reached for her hand. ‘Perhaps my mum mentioned you to him… I don’t really see him a lot.’

  ‘He’s your mum’s brother?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Phoebe took a moment to process everything she knew about the proprietor of the local greengrocer’s. He had a reputation for being boorish and it was hard to believe, from what she had heard, that he was related to her boyfriend at all. As Jack had still skilfully avoided any mention of her meeting his parents, she had to assume that his mum might be similar to her brother. This all felt like rather a sore point. A couple of weeks ago, Jack’s brother Archie had turned up at the house and there had been a huge row. When Phoebe tried to get to the bottom of it, Jack had turned his anger on her too. Things had been smoothed over between them since, but he still seemed to be at great pains to keep his family away from her. Or was that her away from them? Phoebe still hadn’t decided who he was ashamed of and it troubled her that the answer might be the wrong one. She wasn’t exactly a catch, she was well aware of that.

  And she still hadn’t got to the bottom of the problem with Archie. Although things had quietened down, she wanted to know what was going on and resented the secrets that Jack seemed determined to keep. Thinking about it now made her feel suddenly belligerent.

  ‘We should do the parent thing soon,’ she said. ‘Get it out of the way, you know?’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Don’t you think it’s time?’

  ‘I don’t know…’ he sighed. ‘Maybe. What did you have in mind?’

  ‘You mean you agree?’

  ‘You’re right; we do have to do it sooner or later. It may as well be sooner.’

  ‘Great!’ Phoebe said in a voice that suggested it was anything but. She had brought it up, of course, but in a fit of pique that now seemed reactive and foolish, and she was already wishing she hadn’t. What on earth would Jack make of her unconventional parents? ‘Maybe we should do one set at a time first… no need to make everything too stressful to start with.’

  ‘God no! We don’t want everyone meeting each other for the first time together. Yours first then?’ he suggested.

  ‘Um…’

  ‘It was your idea.’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  They emerged into the gentle sunshine of a late spring afternoon. Jack gave her hand a squeeze. ‘It’ll be alright, won’t it?’

  ‘Yeah…’ Phoebe said in a small voice. ‘Of course it will. I mean, they’re only our parents, right?’

  *

  The more Phoebe thought about it, the more she was beginning to wish that she hadn’t suggested the parent meeting at all. Was it too soon? Was their relationship strong enough to cope with the fall-out should things not go well?

  As she tossed all the foods into her shopping trolley that her mum told her not to eat, Phoebe’s pessimism felt big enough to crush her. Chest tightening, she stopped and rifled in her handbag for her asthma inhaler and took a desperate pull. Why did it seem like such a big deal?

  As she dropped her inhaler back into her bag and stood for a moment, getting her panic under control, her phone rang.

  ‘Hey Mum.’

  ‘I’m glad I’ve caught you…’ Martha’s voice came from the other end of the line. ‘Have you eaten yet?’

  Phoebe’s gaze ran over the sorry assortment of goods in her trolley: a value pack of fish fingers, four-pack of own-brand beans, three Pot Noodles, shampoo and cat food for a cat she didn’t even own but which had decided that Phoebe was a good bet (even animals could see the word sucker invisibly tattooed across her forehead). Her pay rise, in the end, hadn’t amounted to much and things, although better, were still not great. Money wasn’t everything, right? It sure did buy you a better class of fish finger, though.

  ‘Not yet,’ she replied. ‘I’m just getting some odds and ends now at Tesco.’

  ‘Good. Your dad has brought in a load of steak someone at the society got off the back of a lorry. We’ve plenty if you want to come over and don’t give us the excuse about buses because your dad will come and pick you up.’

  Phoebe hesitated. She had wanted a night to herself but steak did sound good, back of a lorry or not (what did that even mean nowadays?). And perhaps this was the ideal time to bring up the subject of meeting Jack.

  ‘Sounds lovely, Mum. Let me finish up here and I’ll call you back.’

  ‘You’re struggling with a load of shopping on the bus?’ There was a faint sigh from the other end. ‘Why on earth you don’t you let us lend you the money for a car… Hang on there when you’re finished and your dad will come and get you from the supermarket.’

  Phoebe gave a grateful smile down the phone. It didn’t matter that her mum couldn’t see it, only that she felt it.

  ‘Thanks Mum. Tell him to give me another twenty minutes and I’ll wait for him at the entrance.’

  *

  ‘I don’t see what’s wrong with the Bald Badger.’ Hugh pouted.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s just a little… rough…’ Phoebe said, wincing as she caught his hurt expression. Her dad loved that pub almost like a second home. Martha always said that the amount of time he spent in there it might has well be his first home. ‘I didn’t mean rough, I meant… down to earth,’ she added, wishing it was possible to swallow words back in once you’d spoken them.

  He threw another burger onto the barbeque. Steak had become burgers (someone had been exaggerating about the quality of the meat on offer, apparently) but Phoebe didn’t mind. It was still better than what she had planned to eat. She watched as a flame licked around it and made a mental note to check the middle of the burger, just the same. The griddle was a bit too close to the gnarled old lilac tree that clung to the frame of the back door too, and she wondered vaguely if her phone was to hand so she could call the emergency services if he set fire to it. As a sudden, brisk breeze rattled through the garden she tried to put such thoughts from her head and pulled her cardigan tighter around her.

  ‘I told him it was too cold to start a barbeque,’ Martha said as she noticed Phoebe shiver.

  ‘It’s summer!’ Hugh retorted over the hissing of meat juices on hot coals.

  ‘Not yet it isn’t. We don’t all have a beard like an alpaca’s coat to keep us warm.’

  ‘You’re nothing but a couple of wimps,’ Hugh muttered. ‘It’s not cold at all.’

  ‘Anyway,’ Martha said, ignoring his sullen jibe, ‘Phoebe’s perfectly right. She can’t bring her boyfriend to the Bald Badger on a first meeting. What would he think of us?’

  ‘He’d think we were honest types who liked a proper drop of ale in a proper pub,’ Hugh said.

  ‘He’d think we were rough,’ she said, repeating Phoebe’s earlier insult.

  ‘I don’t…’ Phoebe began but her mother cut her short.

  ‘You do realise that his uncle owns Applejack’s? He’s a businessman so they’re obviously a good family.’

  ‘Oh aye! Fred! I know him.
’

  ‘How do you know him?’

  ‘Well… I don’t know him, exactly… but Les, you know, infantry Les… he knows him… tried to get him to join us but Fred said he were too busy.’

  ‘He’s obviously got more important things to be getting on with than rolling about in a muddy field playing soldiers.’ She turned to Phoebe. ‘How about Sunday lunch? That place next to the canal? It’s lovely there.’

  Phoebe frowned. ‘Do I know it?’

  ‘The Bargeman? Oh, they do a nice drop of ale in there. Suits me,’ Hugh put in.

  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been there,’ Phoebe said.

  ‘Of course you have,’ Martha replied. ‘Cousin Barbara’s sixtieth… you got locked in the toilet cubicle and had to slide out underneath.’ She chuckled. ‘It’s a good job you were so thin back then.’

  ‘I’m thin now, thank you!’ Phoebe squeaked.

  Martha ran a critical eye over her. ‘Filling out a little, I think. Contentment… it happens to us all when we settle down. Next thing you’ll be wearing jeggings and convincing yourself that it’s a fashion statement and nothing to do with the fact that your clothes won’t do up.’

  ‘Mum!’

  ‘I bet Jack’s getting a nice little paunch too.’

  ‘Seriously! There is nothing wrong with Jack! And there is nothing wrong with me either… I’m exactly the same size I’ve always been.’

  ‘That’s right, Phoebe, you are…’ Martha said in the careless tone she used when she wanted to have the last word without an argument. Phoebe decided it wasn’t worth pursuing. But she did make another mental note to get on the bathroom scales later.

  ‘If we’re going for Sunday lunch, can he bring Maria?’ Phoebe asked.

  ‘I don’t see why not,’ Hugh remarked. It earned him a glare from his wife.

  ‘It’s our first meeting,’ Martha said.

  ‘And she’s his daughter. If you’re meeting him you might as well meet her too. It makes sense.’

  ‘I suppose she could. The restaurant’s not terribly child friendly, though.’

  ‘She’s a good girl. I’m sure it’ll be no bother. And it will make it much easier for Jack as he won’t have to find a babysitter.’

  ‘Doesn’t he have his parents? And her mother…’

  By her, Phoebe knew that she was referring to Rebecca, Maria’s mother. For some reason best not questioned, Martha had always referred to her that way, even though the poor woman had died when Maria was born.

  ‘He does. But he doesn’t like to keep asking them. He doesn’t want to be the sort of dad who is always dumping his child on others; he’s very hands-on.’

  Hugh waggled a spatula at his wife. ‘You can’t argue with that.’ He bent back to his range, prising a burger up to examine the underside. Phoebe let out a silent gasp as his beard came perilously close to going up in flames too. He moved away again and her heart regained its proper rhythm. She hoped that he would hurry up and finish cooking; she didn’t think her nerves could take much more. ‘He sounds like a decent fella to me.’

  ‘He is,’ Phoebe said. ‘I know you’ll like him when you meet him.’

  Martha didn’t look convinced but she said nothing. Then she leapt up and looked at her watch. ‘Josh!’ she squeaked and ran to the house. A moment later she returned with her iPad. ‘He said he would Skype us at eight,’ she said by way of explanation, propping the iPad up on its case and placing it on the table in front of her. She folded her arms and stared at the blank screen, as if waiting for it to perform some miracle.

  ‘He didn’t mean eight on the dot.’ Phoebe sent an exasperated glance in the direction of her dad, who grinned.

  ‘I don’t want to miss him.’

  ‘Turn the sound up and you’ll definitely hear it ring…’ Phoebe reached across to do the honours, but her mother wrenched it back again.

  ‘I’ll miss him if you start fiddling!’

  Phoebe blew out an impatient breath and just as she did, the screen flashed up a FaceTime message. Phoebe shifted her chair to get a better view and Hugh peered over from his station tending the mountain of burgers and sausages he was incinerating.

  Josh’s face appeared on the screen, the picture blocky and delayed, but Phoebe’s heart leapt at the sight. No matter how used she was to his absence she still got excited when she saw him. People had often remarked on their similarity – with a wig and make-up, he could almost be Phoebe’s double. Sometimes she wondered how her dad, a huge hairy ale-supping Yorkshireman could have sired such a petite and feminine looking man, but Phoebe knew that he was hugely proud and loved his son fiercely, their physical differences never having been an issue. Hugh’s grin was as wide as everyone else’s as Josh gave them a cheery wave.

  ‘G’day!’ he quipped.

  Phoebe rolled her eyes. ‘You’ve never said that before.’

  ‘How’s it going?’ Josh asked.

  ‘We’re all good,’ Martha squeaked, beaming at her son. ‘What’s the weather like there?’

  ‘You’ve never said that before either,’ Phoebe cut in. Martha frowned at her in a good natured way. Nothing could detract from the pleasure of seeing her firstborn, even if it wasn’t in the flesh.

  ‘Your sister has a new boyfriend,’ Hugh boomed from behind them. He always did this, as if somehow he might be heard in Australia without the aid of modern technology.

  ‘Dad!!!!’ Phoebe groaned. ‘I’m sure he doesn’t need to know about that!’

  ‘Course I do,’ Josh said amiably. ‘I hope he’s a saint though, coz he’ll need to be to take you on.’

  ‘Shut up, weed,’ Phoebe fired back. Josh stuck his tongue out and grinned. Phoebe’s heart did a little dance, all the old feelings of sisterly love and affection rushing back. She just wished she could throw her arms around him in a huge hug.

  The conversation turned to people Josh had met recently, how the weather was (hot, as always) and what animals had been spotted roaming his garden (a cassowary, snakes of various descriptions and a very curious koala) and then Phoebe, Hugh and Martha shared their own version of the same events, where the people were rather less interesting and the wildlife rather more tame (wagtails, squirrels, and next door’s bloody shit-filled cat). Before they knew it, an hour had gone and the connection began to break up. Phoebe promised to try to visit this year as they said their goodbyes, as she did every time she spoke to him. But the day when she’d have enough money to get there seemed a very long way off indeed.

  *

  The Bargeman was a cosy place – dark wood panelling and sumptuous wallpaper, large windows looking out over a pretty canal populated by colourful, renovated barges with romantic names like The Rosie Lee and Gypsy Elena. The pub itself was very traditional, some might say a little old-fashioned, but there was no doubting the warm, welcoming atmosphere of the place.

  Maria diligently chased a roast potato around her plate, tongue poking out of the side of her mouth as she concentrated on the task. Jack watched with a smile.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t need help with that?’ he asked.

  Maria looked up and shook her head. Then she bent to her plate again. It was easy to see why she was having so much trouble – apart from a miniscule slice of turkey and a lone chunk of carrot there was little else around to hold it in place. Martha had raised her eyebrows when Phoebe returned from the hotplates with Maria and her almost empty plate. She knew her mother hated the idea that someone had paid perfectly good money for what amounted to nothing, but was thankful that this time Martha had kept her opinions to herself.

  ‘She’s a bright spark,’ Hugh said to Jack as he watched Maria. It was the fourth time he had made exactly the same remark.

  ‘She is,’ agreed Jack, as he had done three times before. He threw his daughter a fond glance. ‘And she absolutely loves Phoebe. I’m so lucky that they get along like a house on fire.’

  ‘It was a house on fire that brought us together,’ Phoebe laughed.

&
nbsp; Jack grinned. ‘Not quite but almost. Lucky for me you got a defective Christmas gift for my little girl; we’d never have met again otherwise.’

  ‘I think Maria had ideas of her own on that score,’ Phoebe replied. ‘I’m sure she’d have found a way to arrange it.’

  If Maria heard her name being mentioned, she didn’t show it. She seemed thoroughly engrossed in attempting to cut her turkey with the wrong side of the knife.

  ‘So… Jack,’ Martha turned to him. ‘Phoebe tells us you work for yourself.’

  Jack nodded as he swallowed a mouth full of green beans. ‘Web design. I’m not overrun with work but I do ok. As long as things tick over I don’t mind that. While Maria is young I want to be around for her as much as I can.’

  Hugh nodded his approval. ‘I wish I’d been around a bit more for the kids when they were young. Always something to do, though: overtime at the plant, DIY in the house, that sort of thing. You always think it’s so important but the next thing they’re all grown up and you realise it didn’t matter at all.’

  ‘You worked long hours?’ Jack asked.

  Hugh nodded. ‘Things calmed down when I got promoted off the assembly line but by the time that happened it was too late and my babies had flown the nest.’

  ‘It does rush by,’ Martha agreed.

  ‘HUGH!’A voice thundered across the restaurant, making them all snap their heads round in surprise.

  Phoebe’s dad broke into a broad grin. ‘Geraint! You big lump, what are you doing here?’

  Geraint ambled over. Looking at his plate, groaning with a tottering pile of meat and potatoes and not the ghost of a vegetable to be seen, it was pretty obvious what he was doing. A plan to single-handedly exacerbate third world hunger, break the world record for most gravy sucked up in one go, embarrass Phoebe by making some inappropriate comment that would reveal how much he fancied her, possibly introduce Maria to some choice new swearwords… any of the above would probably fit the bill. As Jack stared wonderingly at the human mountain before him, Phoebe wanted to slide under the table and hide until he was gone. She prayed that her dad wouldn’t do anything stupid like invite Geraint to–

  ‘Come on, lad,’ Hugh said, ‘pull up a chair and join us!’