Mum in the Middle

by Jane Wenham-Jones

  ‘And so it will be a great job one day,’ I was saying, ‘but Oliver’s not earning very much while he’s still training. And Sam’s absolutely lovely but she works in a nursery and doesn’t get paid very well either. Still they’re getting a little flat together soon. Oliver says it’s tiny and it’s right out, but they can just about afford the rent and when he’s qualified–’

  ‘He’ll do really well,’ said David, clearly hoping to bring my monologue to a merciful end. ‘My friend Robin – Rob – is a chartered surveyor. Makes a fortune.’

  ‘My ex-husband is one too,’ I gabbled. ‘And he’s Rob too – but it’s short for Robert, so it’s not the same one. I trust!’ I added, wondering wildly if Rob had been making secret millions I knew nothing about, while subtly changing his name as a cover …

  David laughed. ‘Not a chance. Robin is a great chap, but he’s v short, weighs eighteen stone and has a huge repertoire of filthy jokes. I can’t imagine you married to anyone like that.’

  ‘I have got a sense of humour,’ I said primly, wondering what sort of man he thought I would be married to.

  ‘But I expect you go for the tall, dashingly handsome, debonair types,’ David said, still sounding amused.

  Like you?

  ‘And I expect they’ve been queuing around the block since you became single again …’

  ‘Well, er no, not really–’

  ‘Or have you already met someone new?’

  I shook my head, feeling a small flustered thrill as he looked pleased at my reply.

  ‘So what brought you to Northstone?’ I enquired, remembering one of Jinni’s more scathing comments about the dodginess of a 40-year-old living in the same town as his mum.

  ‘Investment opportunity. I’d been wanting to do a barn conversion and the perfect one came up.’

  I nodded. Fair enough. Anyway, mothers and sons being close wasn’t always such a bad thing. I thought fondly of my own boys and wondered if Tilly would really stay on a few more days. Although, from the way she’d welcomed Gabriel, I guessed I wasn’t the main attraction.

  ‘Does your new house need a lot of work?’ David asked.

  ‘It does!’ I said, picturing the faded kitchen and dubious window frames. ‘I’m still trying to decide how to do it.’

  He was still looking so fascinated and the champagne was skipping round my veins so merrily that I found myself sharing my dream of a stunning set of ‘before and after’ photos and going back to my first love. ‘I studied interior design and I had a little business sourcing the soft furnishings, mirrors and bits and bobs for private homes with occasional work for a development company setting up the show flats, but once I was on my own I had to earn regular money. I’d like to go back to something more creative–’

  ‘I might consult you myself!’ David shone another mega smile on me. ‘And there are stacks of newcomers to Northstone, all giving their properties a make-over. I’ll introduce you to a few people. Have you got a card? What sort of look do you go for?’

  He poured me another glass of champagne. ‘You’d better drink the rest – I’ve got the car the other end.’ He pulled his phone from his pocket. ‘Let’s check what’s happening with the trains.’

  ‘I like the contrast of old and new,’ I said, as he was tapping away. ‘Futuristic lighting against exposed brick, say. Contemporary interiors with beams. Like the warehouses down at the docks, in fact. I love what Jinni is doing to the old rectory,’ I added boldly, thinking I’d strike while the iron was agreeable. ‘I love that mix of modern comforts while maintaining original features. I added. ‘Perfect for a boutique hotel.’

  ‘I agree,’ David said. ‘Ah – there’s one in twenty minutes now.’

  Do you?’ I asked, astonished. ‘I thought you wanted it yourself – to pull down and build flats.’

  ‘I did look at it, yes,’ he said, calmly, draining the last drops from his glass. ‘I wouldn’t have pulled anything down but restored the façade where necessary, as Jinni has done, and divided it into four.’

  ‘Oh. How’s that so different from what Jinni is planning, then? Four new flats would have still brought more cars and more people like me moving down from London, and whatever else it is Ingrid is upset about …’

  ‘Absolutely.’ David remained unruffled. ‘But as I tell my mother regularly, you can’t hold up change! Since the new high-speed rail link, Northstone has become a seriously viable place to live while working in the city – at a fraction of the property prices – as you know! So, of course, yes, that will push up the prices in Northstone and the locals won’t be able to buy in the same way as they once could. Sad for them, but that’s how it is. Young people in London haven’t a hope in hell of getting their own places anymore, so it’s all moving outwards.’

  I took another mouthful from my own glass as he made a sweeping gesture. ‘Look at the sort of places getting trendy now. Peckham and Kensal Rise and Hackney Wick. Who’d have thought it? Gradually more and more places along the train route that were once dead will become golden postcodes. It happened to Whitstable a long time ago. Now it’s going on in Margate–’

  ‘Yes, my mother lives there.’

  ‘I looked at a project there when I didn’t get the rectory, but I didn’t have the time to manage it properly from this distance.’

  ‘Were you upset to lose Jinni’s place?’

  ‘It’s the way it goes. I wasn’t prepared to pay what she did. Good luck to her.’

  There was something in his tone now that wasn’t entirely convincing.

  ‘I thought you were pretty fed up about it,’ I said lightly.

  ‘Who told you that? Jinni?’

  ‘Someone’s put a tree-preservation order on a tree she needs cut down. She thinks it was you or Ingrid.’

  ‘Not me. And my mother hasn’t mentioned it.’

  ‘I wonder who it was, then.’

  David glanced at me and shrugged. ‘There’s a whole group of tree-huggers in Northstone. You know the little park up by the tennis courts? All those new trees are theirs. They protest like mad if anything’s chopped down. I expect one of them got wind of it.’

  I looked at his well-chiselled profile. Was he lying through his teeth or was Jinni barking up the wrong tree – ha ha – by suspecting him?

  ‘You know Jinni had a window broken?’

  ‘Yes, I saw it in the paper. You were quoted as the Newbie of Northstone. Outraged and Horrified.’ He sounded amused. ‘Nice photo, though.’

  ‘Well, Jinni thought it might be something to do with one of you,’ I said, throwing caution out with another mouthful of champagne, ‘after all the petitions and complaints.’

  David looked disparaging. ‘My mother has strong ideals. And can be a pain in the backside. She’s not a common criminal.’

  ‘That’s what I thought,’ I agreed hastily. ‘Well, not that she’s a pain, of course. I mean, told Jinni I couldn’t imagine–’

  ‘And it would be a mistake to assume I always agree with her,’ he went on coolly. ‘That first day I met you is a case in point. I was dissuading her from taking accusations to the paper that would have made her look absurd.’

  ‘But Ingrid does seem a little obsessed with what Jinni’s up to,’ I persisted. ‘Jinni says she walks past the rectory every day. And I must say,’ I added, apologetically, ‘I do see her in our road a lot.’

  ‘I expect you do!’ David’s tone had a note of scorn. ‘She lives a quarter of a mile away in a straight line from it and it’s her shortest route to the shops!’

  ‘Oh.’ Now I felt silly. ‘I’m sorry. I just feel a bit concerned for Jinni,’ I said awkwardly. ‘She lives on her own and she was upset. And since then–’

  ‘Probably kids,’ said David. ‘There’s a few little sods who live on the estate behind the station. They like breaking things. And Jinni’s tough, don’t you worry.’

  ‘She’s had a note pushed through the door too.’

  ‘Well, she does have a habit
of upsetting people. She made a totally unnecessary fuss about an extension on the house behind her–’

  ‘–it was going to block out her light.’

  That, I’m afraid, is sheer fantasy.’ David had long stopped smiling. ‘I did the plans myself. Mark is a friend of mine. Jinni was being bloody awkward. Did she tell you she also tried to sabotage what I was doing to my barn by getting the tree lot onto ME?’ He looked annoyed.

  ‘Er, no, she didn’t. It’s something I’m still getting used to,’ I said, trying to lighten the mood now. ‘The way you all know each other. It’s a long time since I’ve lived in a small town. Everyone’s very friendly, though, aren’t they? In the shops and places,’ I finished lamely.

  David didn’t reply. He jabbed at a couple of buttons on his phone and put it back in his pocket.

  ‘Not that I know many people yet,’ I continued brightly, feeling anxious about his change of mood. ‘Though I’ve met Malcolm, the editor of the paper, a few times. He’s a character, isn’t he? Do you know him?’

  ‘Not really. We exchange the odd word.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said in a rush. ‘I shouldn’t have said anything about what Jinni thinks. It’s nothing to do with me and I’m feeling bad now I’ve spoiled your good spirits, especially as–’ I stopped. He’d been friendly, bought me champagne.

  David reached out and put his hand on mine for a brief moment. A jolt went through me. ‘You haven’t at all! I’ve had a delightful time.’

  As we left the bar and headed back towards the platforms, he took the conversation smoothly back to my office-planning skills. Trying to ignore the unfamiliar sensation of walking alongside a man – he was so close we were almost touching – I wittered back, telling him about our latest project for Millbury & Miles and how it was lucky I liked jigsaw puzzles because sometimes that’s exactly what it felt like …

  He sat opposite me on the train, leaning forward so our knees were only inches apart. ‘So how long have you been divorced?’ he said, when we were zipping through the darkening countryside.

  ‘Rob moved out when Oliver was 17. But we agreed I’d stay in the house till they were all grown up. So we’ve only recently completed all the legal stuff.’

  ‘So you’re still friends?’

  ‘I never see him, really. We email sometimes about the kids, but he wouldn’t be my first choice to go to the cinema with.’

  David laughed. ‘Has he met someone else now?’

  ‘Oh yes, he was living with someone very quickly.’ I gave a wry smile. ‘I think she was waiting in the wings.’

  ‘Sounds like my father,’ said David. ‘My mother likes to think she kicked him out, but he remarried within days of the divorce coming through, so I think he was the one who really engineered it. She’s pretty bitter …’

  ‘What about you?’ I asked lightly. ‘Are you in a – er – relationship?’

  ‘No. There was someone on and off, but we split up.’

  He talked till we got to Northstone, telling me a funny story about a divorcing couple in Holland Park who wanted the house redesigned into two halves – exactly the same. ‘Neither could bear the other one to have so much as an extra cupboard!’ David laughed. ‘When his kitchen was in danger of being a metre longer than hers, all hell broke loose. We eventually persuaded them to share the sauna and gym in the basement – a friend worked out a rota so they wouldn’t bump into each other.’

  ‘How the other half live!’ I said, remembering the early years after we separated, when Rob would waltz through the front door whenever he felt like it and was puce with outrage when I eventually changed the locks.

  David insisted on giving me a lift. I followed him across the small parking area and down some steps, into a narrow road beyond. Snow still clung to the hedges, but had turned to grey slush on the pavements. He stopped by a low-slung black Porsche. As I sank into one of leather seats, I thought how much Ben would envy me.

  Within minutes the snow began again. As David pulled up outside my house, it was falling thickly in big soft flakes. I watched them dissolve as they landed on the wet road. ‘Might not settle,’ I said.

  We looked at each other for a moment. His expression was searching and I gave an embarrassed smirk. Then sneezed.

  ‘Sorry!’ I said, fishing for a tissue. ‘Thank you so much.’

  ‘It has been a pleasure,’ he replied.

  I opened the door and started to get out.

  ‘Your boots!’ He sprang out too and went round to the back of the car. He held them out and I took them, not sure now whether to shake his hand – which would be slightly difficult with a bag in one of mine and the footwear taking up the other – or kiss him in a friendly fashion.

  As I stood there dithering, two things happened. He took the lead by putting a hand on my shoulder, kissing my cheek gently but with definite sensuous intent, just to the side of my mouth, saying something about seeing me soon, and my front door opened.

  Ben, Tilly and Jinni came down the path, all three stopping to look comically amazed.

  I flushed, feeling oddly caught out, and spoke firmly.

  ‘This is my daughter, Tilly, and my son Ben,’ I said, nodding towards Tilly’s open mouth. ‘This is David,’ I told them. ‘He kindly gave me a lift back from the station.’

  ‘Hi there!’ said David in jolly tones to my children, and ‘Hello, Jinni,’ more soberly to my neighbour, who replied in clipped tones and continued to stare at me as if I’d pitched up with a serial killer.

  David walked back round to the driver’s side of the car and addressed me across the roof. ‘Bye, Tess, I’ll be in touch. Nice to meet you, Tilly and Ben.’

  Within seconds he was gone.

  ‘How did that happen?’ Jinni was still rooted to the spot, looking aghast.

  ‘I met him at St Pancras,’ I said. ‘The train was delayed.’ I shivered as snowflakes swirled around me in the wind. ‘What are you three doing?’

  Tilly, my newest scarf wrapped around her neck, rolled her eyes. ‘The open mic night – we’ve told you about a hundred times. You coming?’

  ‘Absolutely not. I’m going to have a bath and something to eat. You enjoy.’

  Jinni was looking at me curiously. ‘What did you talk about? Did he go on about me?’

  I was saved answering by my son interrupting. ‘I’m going–’

  Tilly nudged Jinni. ‘Yeah, come on, Mum can tell you when we get back. Gabe’s waiting for us …’

  Jinni hesitated before following. ‘I’ll catch you later.’

  ‘Have a good time.’

  I went gingerly up the still-icy path. I was too knackered to be debriefed. As I put my key in the lock, I wondered if Oliver would feel like clearing the path for me – it would be treacherous when the others came back in the dark – and whether Sam was better. They were supposed to be going back tomorrow. If there were trains …

  All was quiet as I stepped through the door into the front room. Three large empty pizza boxes were heaped up on a side table with beer cans and an orange-juice carton. On the floor in front of the sofa were a couple of wine glasses and some scrunched-up kitchen roll.

  ‘Thanks for clearing up!’ I said, as Oliver walked through from the kitchen.

  ‘Sorry,’ Oliver shook his head. ‘I did tell them, but Tilly said she’d do it later – Gabriel had to go ahead as he’s helping and they wanted to catch him up.’ He walked past me and picked up the boxes. ‘Sam and I had pasta.’

  ‘Is she okay now?’ I went into the kitchen to put the kettle on. Dirty plates and pizza crusts were piled on the work surface, together with an almost-empty bottle of Rioja and several unwashed mugs.

  I opened the dishwasher.

  ‘Still got a bit of a bad stomach, but yeah.’ Oliver crossed to the recycling sack. ‘She’s in your en suite having a bath at the moment – hope that’s okay. Ben was in the shower room and she fancied a bit of a soak–’

  ‘That’s fine,’ I sang, to stifle my groan. I
went to the timer panel and boosted the hot water. I sloshed the rest of the Rioja into a glass and rummaged in the cupboard for my teabags. ‘I’ll have one after.’

  Oliver began to drop cups onto the top rack of the dishwasher. ‘She didn’t bring a robe and all her stuff’s in the wash. Do you think you could–’

  ‘Of course,’ I took a gulp of wine. ‘I’ll sort her some things out.’ I walked past him towards the loo.

  ‘It’s still not working properly,’ he said.

  ‘Did Tilly get the name of someone?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  I peered at the water level and sighed. ‘I hope it’s not blocked.’

  Oliver laughed. ‘Do you remember when Ben–’

  ‘I don’t want to think about it!’

  By the time Sam was back on the sofa with Oliver, dressed in a pair of my pyjamas, looking tired but a normal colour at last, I’d had two cups of jasmine tea and a second glass of wine, and was ready to sleep on my feet.

  As I ran the bath, chucking what looked like much-depleted ylang ylang bath essence (Tilly had clearly been in here too) into the not-quite-hot-enough water, I hoped Jinni wouldn’t really come back with them tonight. I wanted a plumber but I didn’t feel like dissecting everything David had said.

  Lying back, I stretched out my limbs and thought again about Ingrid’s son. His development today from Smug Bastard to chatty drinking companion. His animation talking about his work, his interest in mine, the funny feeling I’d got when he touched me. And his evident dislike of Jinni and hers of him.

  Perhaps feelings ran high in a small town and issues became personal in a way that wouldn’t happen in the city. Even in suburban Finchley I hadn’t known that many people who lived nearby – Paula next door and a few friends I’d made through the kids’ schools. There’d been that hoo-hah with the bloke the other side whose dog wouldn’t stop barking – Rob had been very un-amused about that one – but when the flats were built up the road we simply moaned for a day or two about the noise of the drilling and then put up with the extra cars taking all the parking. There were no petitions or storming of newspaper offices.