by Susan Lewis
“You want good tenants, you provide a good property,” Sallie Jo had declared when she’d first shown Justine around the place. “Everything should be here, and if it isn’t, just let me know, because I’m sure we can work it out. They’re a great couple, the Stahls. My parents have known them for years. They have a cottage on South Shore Drive that they also rent out, but it sleeps fourteen and you said you didn’t want anything that big.”
No, Justine definitely didn’t. In fact she’d wanted nothing ostentatious at all, though she could certainly afford it. Just a simple place not too far from town was all she required. Somewhere she and Lula could feel cozy and safe, and where the contract for keeping the lawns pristine and flower beds well tended was taken care of in the rent.
“Safe?” Matt had protested incredulously when Sallie Jo had emailed Waseya’s details ahead of Justine’s arrival. “In the heart of the Midwest, where just about every redneck halfwit will own a gun?”
Justine had shuddered, as much at the prejudice, which wasn’t typical of Matt, as at the reality. It wasn’t that she hadn’t thought of the USA’s attitude toward guns—it had concerned her a lot when she’d first decided to come to Culver—but she’d run a thorough check on the town ahead of time and had found there was virtually no crime, gun or otherwise.
Indeed, now she was here it was hard to imagine anything spoiling the easy tranquility of the place, though bitter experience had taught her to be very careful when it came to taking anyone or anything at face value.
Looking up from her tea-making as a cellphone rang, she was about to reach for her own when Sallie Jo said, “Oh great, my ex-mother-in-law, at last. I’d better take it. Be right back.” Clicking on, she wandered out to the porch to answer the call.
As the spring-hinged screen door clanged shut behind her, Rob said quietly, “Sorry, I didn’t think before I mentioned the cake.”
“It’s OK, it doesn’t matter,” Justine assured him. “I just feel bad that I’m not helping out at the café when I know she could do with some extra staff.”
“Would it be such a bad thing to offer? At least it would give you something to do.”
Justine turned away to take mugs from a cupboard. “Not that,” she said, and knew he wouldn’t press it any further.
As Rob continued unloading the groceries, she fixed drinks for the children and checked the answerphone for messages.
As usual, there were none.
Though she could hear Sallie Jo’s voice on the porch, she couldn’t make out what she was saying, and nothing would induce her to eavesdrop. If Sallie Jo wanted her to know what was going on with her ex-mother-in-law, then she would tell her, and Justine guessed she probably would when the call was over, since Sallie Jo was as open about her personal life as Justine was necessarily closed about hers.
It was one of the things she’d warmed to most about her new friend: the way she never pried, or seemed to expect a trade of confidences when she surely must be wondering about Tallulah’s father and why he was almost never mentioned. Then there was the reason for this new start in life, the sudden departure from England, which Justine rarely mentioned either. And why choose Culver when it had only been a summer home for her grandmother, and one she could barely remember?
Sallie Jo’s own reason for returning to Culver after being away for almost two decades had been to recover from a bitterly broken marriage. Since she’d attended the Academies between the ages of eleven and eighteen and her parents still owned a large and rambling cottage on the south shore, she’d more or less grown up by the lake, so for her it was definitely home. For her parents it was a place where they spent various months of the year, while the rest of the time they were either traveling, at their apartment in Florida, or visiting Sallie Jo’s sister, Cora Jane, and her family in Indianapolis.
Sallie Jo’s ex-husband was still in Chicago, and never in touch. After ten years of marriage he’d waited until Sallie Jo was pregnant to announce that the last thing he needed was to be a father, so if she wanted their marriage to continue she had to get rid of the baby. It wasn’t that Sallie Jo was strongly pro-life, though her parents certainly were, as were most of the people she’d grown up with; it was simply that she’d longed to be a mother, so there was no way in the world she was going to get rid of her unborn child.
“It was him or Hazel,” she’d told Justine during one of their many chats over wine and dinner, “and I can promise you I’ve never regretted the decision.”
The ex had married again only months after the divorce, while Sallie Jo remained single. “If you’re coming to Culver looking for romance,” she and several of her friends had laughed with Justine one evening, “then you’ve sure got the wrong place, because there’s none of that stuff going down here.”
Though romance was the last thing Justine wanted, she knew it wasn’t the same for Sallie Jo, since Justine had definitely picked up the frissons of attraction between her and David Clifton, the extremely popular editor of the Culver Citizen. In another time, another world, Justine was sure she’d be drawn to him herself, but only because he reminded her of Matt.
“Oh, I love him to bits, obviously,” Sallie Jo had admitted when Justine had remarked that she was sure David had a thing for her, “but it’s all too complicated. Much better for things to stay as they are.”
Though Justine wasn’t entirely sure how they were, she was all for no complications.
“Great, that’s that sorted out,” Sallie Jo announced, breezing back into the kitchen. “They want to come for Thanksgiving again this year. Mom and Dad were hoping they would—they’re such great people, nothing like their son—and Hazel’s gonna love having both sets of grandparents around. Oh my, what is it, honey?” she cried as Lula ran in sobbing.
“Mummy! Mummy!” Lula choked, rushing straight to Justine’s arms. “Hazel said I don’t have a real daddy and that’s not true, is it? I do have a real daddy…”
“Hazel, for God’s sake, what got into you?” Sallie Jo scolded as a teary Hazel followed Lula inside.
“I’m sorry,” Hazel said to Lula. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Lula turned her head away. “I want to speak to Daddy,” she wept. “Please, Mummy, can we call him?”
Justine’s eyes went to Rob. She was aware Sallie Jo was deliberately not watching them, apparently trying not to make them any more uncomfortable than they already were.
“Please, Mummy, please,” Lula begged.
“You remember what I told you about time zones,” Justine whispered.
“I want to call him now,” Lula raged, her peachy cheeks turning crimson with temper.
Justine looked at Rob again, but he only shrugged and shook his head.
“OK, sweetheart,” Justine relented. “We’ll do it when we get back from Papa’s…”
“No! Now!” Slithering to the floor, she ran to fetch the phone.
Taking it from her as Sallie Jo discreetly ushered Hazel outside, Justine started to dial.
What else could she do?
When the number was complete she stood gazing into the trees behind the house, waiting for the connection and feeling it drawing her all the way across the Atlantic and back through the years to the time…
Eighteen Years Earlier—Chippingly Vale, UK
…a week before Christmas when she and Matt were finally able to move into the farmhouse. The wait, once the deal had been struck, though not long, had seemed endless, the excitement explosive, but at last a removal truck was lumbering through the festively lit village and down into the vale, and what little they had by way of furniture was being unloaded into their dream home. Though none of the barns had yet been renovated and all three leaked, this hadn’t stopped Simon and Gina from hiring the necessary equipment to turn one into a massive party room–cum–Santa’s grotto. They’d invited everyone from the vale to join in the festive welcome, plus dozens more from the surrounding village, while just about every spare bed in the local B & Bs, pubs,
and even their neighbors’ houses was taken up by Matt and Justine’s rowdy crowd from London. Justine’s best friend, Cheryl, was there, of course, with her husband Brad and four-month-old baby, Chantal. They were staying over Christmas and New Year to help Justine and Matt unpack and settle in.
For Justine, leaving Cheryl was the only downside of moving to Chippingly, and it was quite a serious downside. She was going to miss her so much it could make her emotional simply to think of it, and it was the same for Cheryl.
“If anything ever comes up for sale in this paradise,” Cheryl shouted over the party din on the Saturday night, “you’ve got to let me know, because I want to live here too.”
“Oh God, I’d love that,” Justine cried excitedly. “Do you think Brad would leave London?” It was hard to imagine when Brad was an Essex boy through and through, and didn’t even much like going on holiday unless it was to one of the towns on the southeast coast. Nor had he ever particularly excelled himself when it came to indulging his wife. In fact, Justine had always considered him a bit of a bully, which was another reason she’d have liked to have Cheryl nearby, to make sure his intimidation and selfishness didn’t get out of hand.
“I can work on him,” Cheryl declared decisively. “After all, if Matt’s up for commuting, I don’t see why Brad shouldn’t be.”
Going with the moment, Justine cried, “Absolutely. And if you do come, you can partner me in the deli.”
“Exactly what I was thinking. Imagine all the fab buying trips in France and Italy, and the upmarket dos we could cater if we expanded. There’re loads of toffs with dosh around here. The polo club’s not far away, is it?”
Laughing, Justine said, “Nor’s Highgrove, but that might be setting our sights a tad high. Who are you looking at?”
“I don’t know who she is,” Cheryl answered, peering through the crowd. “The little piece of totty over by the Christmas tree chatting up Gina’s dad. See her, all boobs and Bambi lashes.”
“Oh, that’s Maddy Hawkins, the butcher’s wife. They live in the cottage down by the footbridge.”
“Well, I reckon you should keep an eye on her,” Cheryl cautioned. “I caught her flirting with Matt just now, and if I hadn’t turned up when I did, I reckon she’d’ve had him under the mistletoe by now.”
Justine choked back a laugh. “Actually, Gina warned me she can get a bit out of hand when she’s had a drink, but apparently she’s harmless really. At least most of the time.”
Cheryl shrugged, and suddenly gasped as Simon poked her sides and yanked her onto the makeshift dance floor.
Leaving them to it, Justine wandered off to join a group of her new Chippingly friends at the bar. Everyone was being so welcoming, and doing so much to help them get settled—a couple had even put their plumbing and electrical skills to use to get them connected, and Terry Moore, owner of the local hardware shop, had popped in only this morning to set up their TVs. They hadn’t even had a problem sorting out a babysitter for the night—Maddy Hawkins’s mother had declared that she wasn’t much of a one for parties, so she’d be happy to oblige. Having spent the past thirty years teaching at the local infant school, she was something of an expert when it came to handling large numbers of kids, and there were currently eight all tucked up in sleeping bags on various chairs and sofas in the sitting room.
“Aha, there you are,” Maddy hiccuped as she squeezed in next to Justine at the bar. “I just wanted to tell you what a fab party this is. We are sooo going to love having you as neighbors. You’re just what this place needs, fresh and young and ready to rock ’n’ roll.”
Laughing, Justine said, “You’re making it sound as though everyone else is old and past it.”
“Oh no,” Maddy protested. “There’s loads of young couples around here, thank God. Be a bloody miserable place otherwise. No, I was meaning it’s great that you didn’t back out of moving in the way the other couple did. I told them it was a load of old nonsense about the place being cursed.”
Justine’s smile faded. “Please tell me I didn’t just hear you right,” she shouted over the music. “We were told that they decided to sell because her mother was ill, so they wanted to go up north to be with her.”
Maddy nodded. “Yeah, I heard that too.”
Justine’s eyes narrowed. “But you don’t believe it?”
Seeming surprised, Maddy slurred, “Sure I do. I mean, who in their right minds would give up a place like this because of some crap about a curse? It had to be because of the mother.”
Justine regarded her warily.
“Relax,” Maddy giggled. “I should never have mentioned it, because it’s not even a curse really, more that everyone who lives here ends up having some sort of bad luck.”
Justine still wasn’t liking the sound of this. “What sort of bad luck?” she wanted to know.
Maddy shrugged. “Things just kind of go wrong, or that’s what they say, but I’ve never heard of anything and I’ve lived around here, or not far from here, practically all of my life.”
“So did you know the people who owned it before it was renovated?”
Maddy shook her head. “It was derelict for ages until they came along. Ronnie, my old man, he says that’s why the house got its reputation, just for sitting empty, because he doesn’t know anyone either who had any bad luck from living here, and he was born in Chippingly.”
Feeling slightly reassured by that, Justine said, “Matt and I have had a really good feeling about the house ever since we first set foot in it.”
Maddy lit up. “That’s brilliant. I’m really glad, because that happens, doesn’t it, houses like speak to you, and it could be it’s been waiting for you to come along, so now you’re all going to live happily ever after.” And clinking her glass to Justine’s as though to seal the deal, she melted off into the crowd.
Present Day—Culver, Indiana
It was Rob’s last night. Justine was sitting with him on the moonlit porch drinking whisky as they talked, with blankets covering their knees to keep out the cool, damp air. Though they’d always been close, the bond between them had grown stronger, more precious than ever this past year, since Justine’s world had imploded. She really had no idea how she’d have coped without him, or what on earth her life was going to be like once he’d gone home and left them here.
“So what will you do about Lula and Matt?” he asked softly.
Though she’d known the question was coming, had braced herself for it, she still had no idea how to answer, so she simply shook her head.
Lula had left a message on the answerphone the night Hazel had accused her of not having a daddy, but Matt wouldn’t have got it, which was why he hadn’t rung back. Luckily Lula hadn’t taken long to calm down and seemed to bear him no ill will, apart from saying, “Naughty Daddy, he should listen to his messages.”
“It’ll happen again,” Rob warned.
“Maybe, maybe not.” She wished he’d let it go, and seeming to sense it, he did. However, he didn’t take them on to much easier territory.
“You need to get a job,” he said, “if only to fill the time.”
“I know,” she replied. “I’ll find something.”
“Like what?”
“I’ll have a better idea once I start looking. Don’t nag, Rob, please. I’m still getting used to things, and you leaving isn’t making it any easier.”
His dear, kind face showed how torn and worried he was, so she reached for his hand and gave it a comforting squeeze
“I need to be able to tell Mum—and Matt—that you’re getting it together,” he said.
She raised a sardonic eyebrow. “If Mum wanted to know how I am, she could always pick up the phone or send an email. She’s done neither since I got here, so why would you feel the need to assure her I’m OK?”
“You told her not to be in touch,” he reminded her, “but I hear you, and I agree, she should have made more of an effort.”
“Has she contacted you?”
“A few times. She always asks about you and Lula.”
“And you tell her we’re doing fine?”
“Something like that.”
“Is she still raising objections to me being here?”
“No, she hasn’t said anything about it.”
Justine’s eyes drifted to the moonlit lawn, where a cat was stealing through the flower beds and Lula’s tricycle lay abandoned near the gap in the hedge that formed their entryway. She didn’t want to ask the next question, but neither could she hold it back.
“Will you go to see Matt?” Her eyes were still averted; her voice was a small sliver of sound in a misty breath.
Rob was watching her closely. “I should think so,” he replied. “I’m sure he’ll want to see me.”
She nodded. “Yes, he will.” What she wouldn’t give to be able to see him herself, but that was a thought she must quickly discard. No more contact between them. It was the only way. “You should take some pictures of Lula to show him,” she said, wondering, as she spoke, if that would be the right thing to do.
“Don’t worry, I have lots,” he told her.
Her eyes went to his.
“He’ll want to see them,” he said softly.
She knew that was true, and since there was no more to be said, or nothing that would make a difference now, she downed the rest of her nightcap and led the way back inside.
The next morning turned out to be even harder than she’d feared. Lula couldn’t bear to be parted from her uncle. She loved him almost as much as she loved her daddy. It dug painfully into Justine’s heart to admit that Lula probably knew her uncle better than Matt by now. After spending the best part of last year with Rob and Maggie in Brentford, followed by these past two months in Culver, she’d grown very close to him, as he had to her.
