The Second Chance Tea Shop

by Fay Keenan

  Turning down Flowerdown Lane he could see lights on in Charlotte and Simon’s cottage. As he passed the front of their house he could see Charlotte putting the kettle on and toast on a plate for her son. Pat was visiting her sister in Whitby, so her house was quiet. Passing by, giving Sefton’s lead a little tug as he started to sniff around the hedge, he came to the wrought-iron gate of Pippin Cottage.

  From first-hand experience he knew Ellie was an early riser, and at this hour he’d expected to see her through the living room window, well into some complicated game or other. Yet this morning the whole cottage was in relative darkness. Stopping at the gate, Matthew listened, trying to work out if he could hear any movement. Opening the gate, wincing at the creak of the rusty hinges, he headed up the garden path, on the alert for any signs of life.

  There was no reply to his first knock, so he tried again. Still nothing. He knew that Anna’s bedroom was at the back of the house, so, heedless of being seen, he tied Sefton up on the porch and walked around to the rear of the cottage. There were no lights on at the back, either. The kitchen was deserted, although he could see a batch of Anna’s most recent cakes still sitting on a wire cooling rack on the kitchen counter. The sight of them gave him hope that she couldn’t have gone too far. Anna’s bedroom curtains were open. If she wasn’t in bed, and she wasn’t downstairs, then where was she?

  He walked back around to the front of the cottage. It was only then that he realised Anna’s car wasn’t in her parking space. Deflated, he headed back down the front path, Sefton at his heels. He resolved to ring her the moment he got back to Cowslip Barn, and not to stop until he got an answer.

  Walking into the kitchen ten minutes later, he saw Meredith had finally surfaced. She was sitting ramrod straight at the kitchen table, still in last night’s dress.

  ‘Did you fall asleep in that frock?’ Matthew said. ‘Or have you been out all night?’ He walked past her to the kettle, picked it up, filled it and flipped it on.

  It was only when she failed to respond that he stopped and looked properly at her. Meredith’s face was pale, but her eyes flashed with barely suppressed anger. Matthew was reminded of Tara’s cat-like rage when he had thrown her out of the cottage a few weeks ago. A shiver ran down his spine.

  ‘What’s the matter? Did Flynn do something to upset you?’ He approached the table, and went to sit down, but at the last minute he stopped.

  ‘Dad… how could you?’ Meredith whispered. ‘You and Mum… after all this time.’

  Matthew took a step backwards, as if Meredith had slapped him. ‘What?’

  ‘Don’t try to fob me off with some story,’ Meredith’s voice got a fraction louder. ‘I heard you talking to Uncle Jonathan last night.’

  Matthew felt his stomach fall through the floor. ‘Oh Christ.’ He moved towards her, but she stood abruptly, nearly knocking over the wooden kitchen chair.

  ‘No. Don’t, Dad. Just don’t.’ She grabbed the back of the chair and righted it, but her hand stayed there, gripping it for dear life.

  ‘It was a mistake,’ Matthew said, trying desperately to keep calm in the face of Meredith’s rising emotions. ‘It never should have happened.’

  ‘All the years I prayed that you and Mum would get back together, all the nights I cried and cried because I wanted her to come back so much, and now, when all I want is for you to marry Anna and live happily ever after, you’ve done this.’ Her voice was so low he could barely hear her, her eyes large and vulnerable framed in her tired face.

  Matthew couldn’t bear it any longer. He stepped forward and tried to put his arms around his daughter. ‘Meredith, please. You don’t understand,’ he tried to keep his voice calm, despite the rising panic inside. ‘Mum and I thought we were going to lose you. When you woke up, there were so many things going around in my head. We were terrified for you, but I was still incredibly angry with her. I realise how destructive that is now. I made a huge mistake. She did, too. Please, darling, listen to me.’

  ‘Why should I listen?’ Meredith said flatly. ‘You betrayed Anna’s trust, and mine. And Mum doesn’t want to come back and live with us, does she? She’s quite happy with her new life and her new boyfriend. She doesn’t want boring old us back. So what was it all for?’

  ‘It was a mistake,’ Matthew tried again to make his daughter see. ‘And no, Mum doesn’t want that. Neither do I. Despite our differences, your mother and I never intended to hurt you. You were always our top priority, in everything we did, everything we decided. I know it wasn’t easy for you, and I know that you’re hurt, but please, try to calm down and understand. Things happen in the heat of the moment, my darling. Things that in the cold light of day mean something entirely different.’

  ‘That’s such a crap excuse!’ Meredith’s upset turned to anger in an instant. ‘You’re always telling me to think things through, not to dive in and do something I’ll regret. You’ve been telling me my whole life, be careful, Meredith, think about it, Meredith. And then you go to bed with Mum and blame it on the heat of the moment?’

  ‘It’s no excuse,’ Matthew said, trying to hold on to his last vestiges of calm. ‘But it happened. And I’ve got to try to deal with it as best I can.’

  ‘So that’s it?’ Tears started to slide down Meredith’s cheeks. ‘That’s all you can say? Christ, Dad.’ As Matthew tried to come towards her again, she dashed across the kitchen and headed for the stairs. ‘I can’t believe you’ve done this. After everything we’ve been through. And Anna’s gutted, too.’

  ‘Meredith, please!’ Matthew shouted after her, but she’d bolted up the stairs. A few seconds later he heard her bedroom door slam. Slumping against the kitchen worktop, his head started to thump. Slowly, his addled brain processed the last thing Meredith had said.

  Anna’s gutted, too.

  His stomach lost the battle and the bile rose. He swallowed. How the hell had Anna found out? Had Jonathan ratted him out after their late night conversation? Had his brother decided to make a night of it with Anna and filled her in during some post-sex pillow talk? Somehow, he doubted that. Jonathan had been so sincere in his desire to help Matthew make things better, and, even given his past actions, Matthew knew instinctively that his brother wouldn’t have betrayed his trust again. Suddenly, heartbreakingly, it all fell into place; Meredith’s exhausted look, the dress from last night.

  Christ.

  Anna knew because Meredith had run to her. After everything he’d done to Anna, after the way he’d frozen her out of his life, she had still been there for his daughter. He struggled for breath against the rising tide inside him.

  That’s why Anna hadn’t opened the door this morning. That was why her car wasn’t in its parking space. He had to find her; he had to explain. But what was the use? She’d never give him the time of day now. He looked longingly at the half-drunk bottle of Scotch on the counter; the temptation to chase oblivion was overwhelming. But there had been entirely too much of that of late.

  Closing the back door quietly behind him, he dropped the bottle into the recycling bin as he passed it. He knew that Anna’s parents were still abroad, and would be until nearly Christmas, and Pat was away. The only option he had left was Charlotte, and even he wasn’t brave enough to risk talking to her so soon. Her temper, and her loyalty to Anna, would be a lethal combination, he suspected. There was one other person, however, he really needed to see, although it surprised him to admit it. It was yet another conversation that was long overdue.

  50

  ‘I miss you.’

  Everything else seemed so inadequate, so unnecessary. What more needed to be said, after nearly three years without him? When Anna had married James, she’d assumed they’d be together for life. In a way, they had been; but she’d never thought she’d be the one left alone. At least, not until she was old and grey and had a gaggle of children and grandchildren to keep her company.

  ‘What should I do, James?’

  The macabre absurdity of standing by the
graveside of her dead husband, asking for advice about how to proceed with a new love made her give the ghost of a smile.

  ‘I wish you were here.’

  Even that wasn’t entirely accurate, she realised. When they’d met, she and James had been convinced they were immortal; finding out the hard way that they weren’t had been the worst lesson she’d ever had to learn. But, much as she’d loved the man, she couldn’t love a ghost. Matthew wasn’t a ghost; although the spectre of his actions haunted her.

  ‘I’ve met someone.’

  Somehow, saying it out loud made it more real.

  ‘But it’s complicated. I don’t know what to do. Stuff happened. I don’t know how to deal with it.’ She leaned over and adjusted one of the red roses she’d brought with her where it sat in the headstone’s steel vase.

  ‘I thought… if I came to see you, things might become a bit clearer. I know that’s stupid.’ Her hands flapped helplessly at her sides. ‘I miss you. And I will always love you. But I love him too. Despite everything.’

  She thought she’d cry, but tears were for the living, and James had been beyond them a long time ago. She’d driven straight here as soon as Ellie had woken up, stopping briefly to buy them both breakfast at an old haunt on the Salisbury-Chichester road. The three of them, when there were three of them, always stopped there when they drove back to visit her parents. The proprietor had looked curiously at them both when they’d arrived, and Anna had waited for the inevitable question, relieved when it hadn’t been broached.

  As a result of this early start, she and Ellie had arrived at the old country churchyard just outside the village where she and James used to live before the Sunday morning service had begun. Ellie was sound asleep in the car, which Anna could see from this spot in the graveyard. Above her head, in the ancient yew trees, she heard a song thrush practising its call, and the hedgerow on her right obviously housed several sparrows who were chattering merrily, strangely at odds with their sombre surroundings.

  Anna turned away, and there was a fluttering of wings behind her. Hardly daring to breathe, she froze. She had never been a believer in omens, being entirely too much the agnostic realist, especially after the past couple of years. Turning round to face James’ gravestone once more, she saw a tiny, red-breasted robin perched on the top of the marble. Her late grandmother had always said robins carried the spirits of people who’d passed on, and although the pragmatist in her refused to believe it, she could have sworn the robin looked her straight in the eye at that moment. The question was, what, if anything, was it trying to tell her?

  51

  To say Jack was surprised to see his elder son was an understatement.

  ‘Can we talk?’

  ‘Of course. Come into the parlour.’ Jack, still straight-backed and debonair, even in his checked shirt and tan cords, led the way. Once they had both settled themselves in the two wing-backed chairs, Matthew spoke.

  ‘I need to ask your advice, Dad.’ Matthew shook his head. ‘I can’t quite believe I’m here.’

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ Jack said. ‘I’m not very good at these father-son chats. You of all people know that.’ He gave a small smile. ‘But then, you were never very good at confiding in me.’

  ‘Difficult to confide in someone who doesn’t want to listen,’ Matthew said.

  ‘Oh, don’t start all that again!’ Jack said. ‘Jonathan’s given me enough grief already.’

  Matthew, ashamed, felt his face burn. ‘Sorry.’

  Jack gave Matthew a wry look. ‘I suppose it’s too early for a drink?’

  ‘A bit,’ Matthew admitted. ‘Perhaps afterwards.’

  ‘What can I help you with?’ Jack asked gently.

  ‘I’ve fucked up, Dad. And I don’t quite know how to get out of the mess I’m in.’ He gave a hollow, mirthless laugh. ‘I was hoping you might be able to shed some light on the situation.’

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ Jack replied. ‘Would you like to start at the beginning?’

  Matthew took a deep breath, and the long, tortuous story of his lapse with Tara poured out. As he finished, he looked back up at his father. ‘And now I just don’t know what to do.’

  There began a pause between them that seemed to last an eternity. Eventually, Jack spoke. ‘Matthew, my boy, what do you take me for?’

  ‘In what sense?’ Matthew’s own voice was perfectly neutral, betraying no trace of the emotions that were running so close to the surface. He had got so used to hiding things from his father, this current situation shouldn’t have presented any issues for him.

  ‘You’ve given so much of your time to the business, and to raising my granddaughter, isn’t it time you stopped treating your father like the fool you clearly think I am, and were honest with me? You know full well you’ve only given me half the story.’

  Jack, heedless of the fact it was barely eleven in the morning, reached out to the occasional table by his chair and poured a glass of apple brandy from the decanter. He looked at Matthew, then quickly poured another glass and passed it to his elder son. ‘I know about your brother and Tara,’ Jack said. ‘I’ve always known.’

  Matthew nearly dropped the tumbler on the hearthstones. ‘Wh-what?’

  ‘Oh come on, Matthew, don’t keep taking me for a fool!’ Jack’s voice hardened slightly. ‘There was no way I couldn’t have. We were lucky that by the time it all happened, your mother was too ill to realise.’

  ‘But you never said… you never let on in any way that you knew.’

  ‘Of course not!’ Jack said impatiently. ‘I know you’ve always thought Jonathan was my favourite, and that I wouldn’t be able to cope with the truth, but once you’ve seen someone you love diminish and die before your eyes, you become harder. What Jonathan did was unforgivable, but you should have trusted me with the truth.’

  Matthew hung his head. ‘I know. But you must understand, because of what he’d done it took me a long time to come out the other side of what happened. I thought I was protecting you. I didn’t want to hurt you any more than Mum’s death already had. Clearly it was all for nothing if you already knew.’

  ‘I wanted to help you,’ Jack’s voice was rough with emotion. ‘You’re my son, Matthew, as much as Jonathan is. You spend your life shutting people out. That’s part of the reason Tara couldn’t stick it. If you’d let her in more, perhaps she wouldn’t have found comfort elsewhere.’

  Matthew felt a prickle of anger. ‘She picked the one person she knew would cause me the most hurt. She knew what she was doing. She left me, Dad.’

  ‘Of course she did, but it takes two to end a relationship. And two to keep one alive. Believe me, I know. Your mother had to do her fair share of forgiving, if not forgetting.’

  Matthew was startled, although he’d often suspected as much. Jack might be more of a harmless flirt now, but thirty years ago had been a different matter. He remembered, as a boy, seeing an unidentifiable darkness in his mother’s eyes on more than one occasion, and feeling bewildered that he couldn’t seem to make her smile.

  ‘But she stayed with you,’ Matthew said gruffly.

  ‘She always knew I loved her best, despite my… ramblings,’ Jack said, draining his glass. ‘She was more than I deserved. And Anna’s more than you do.’

  ‘Apart from that stupid mistake with Tara, I’ve been rigidly faithful to Anna since we started seeing each other,’ Matthew snapped. ‘As I was to Tara when we were married. I am not a rambler.’

  ‘That may be so,’ Jack said. ‘But you’ve committed a gross sin of omission, with both of them. You’ve got to let people in, Matthew. It’s not a weakness; quite the opposite, in fact. Your brother, for all his faults, was always better at doing that.’

  Matthew shook his head. ‘Jonathan is my brother. I trusted him more than anyone. I loved him. And he betrayed me. He tore my life apart. And you knew. All these years, you knew. Why didn’t you tell me?’

  Jack’s gaze, when it met Matthew’s, was bereft. ‘I was afr
aid,’ he said softly. ‘I was afraid I’d lose you both. I hoped that eventually you’d move past the betrayal, but the years passed and you were still so far apart. When this FastStream deal came up, it was a way to try to reconcile you. I’m sorry that I never told you the truth.’

  ‘You should have told me, Dad,’ Matthew said, but the sadness in his father’s eyes almost derailed him.

  ‘You’re right,’ Jack replied. ‘But let me now tell you this. Anna’s a good girl. Don’t let your fear of the same thing happening again drive her away.’

  Matthew’s neck stiffened. ‘I’m not afraid. I can’t afford to be. I’ve made the firm what it is today by taking risks. How can you sit there and tell me that was wrong?’

  Jack sighed. ‘I’m not talking about the business, son. What you’ve accomplished will never be anything other than hugely impressive. But you made a terrible mistake with Tara, and an even bigger one by not telling Anna about it. You didn’t allow her the freedom to decide for herself whether or not she wanted to see you again. You just assumed you knew what she thought and felt. And then, inevitably, she found out what had happened another way.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Dad, do you honestly think she’d have welcomed me back with open arms if I’d actually told her first?’

  ‘Perhaps not, but it was her choice to make, not yours. You denied her that choice by keeping silent. That Meredith told her was deeply unfortunate, but the bigger sin was taking that choice away. I’m telling you, son, you have to stop believing that you know better than everyone else in your life, or it’ll destroy any chance of happiness you have left.’