Mum in the Middle

by Jane Wenham-Jones

  ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like a drink?’ Gabriel kissed me on both cheeks as Jinni swung out of the front door and disappeared into the dusk and Tilly jiggled keys impatiently on the doorstep. Ben was already in the street.

  ‘Had enough.’ I drained the last drops of my red wine as I waved them off. ‘And I need to make some phone calls. But thanks for asking,’ I called, noting the palpable relief on my daughter’s face. ‘Another time …’

  I felt uneasy all over again when they’d gone. The thought of someone out there who could be totally unstable wasn’t a nice one. I’d be here on my own again soon.

  I sat on the sofa with my laptop and sent a holding message to my sister and read one from Malcolm.

  He hoped I had recovered from the upset of what had happened and that the ‘idiot boy’ had been of some use. Since I would clearly be in need of comfort food and he was starved of intelligent conversation he was suggesting lunch on Friday.

  I nodded as I hit reply. Malcolm would have a view on what sort of person might have done this and would agree it couldn’t possibly be David.

  And he’d make me laugh. Which, right now, felt like a bonus.

  Chapter 15

  Tilly wasted no time in stripping Ben’s bed and emptying the contents of the drawers into two bin bags.

  ‘I’m not carrying all that,’ he said, finding them on top of the rucksack he’d already packed to bursting.

  ‘You don’t have to,’ I told him. ‘I’ll put them away in the other room.’ I frowned at Tilly. ‘Take them back upstairs, please. And we’ll have a chat when I get back from the station.’

  I surveyed Ben’s luggage. ‘But have you got everything you need?’

  Ben swung his guitar case over one shoulder. ‘I’m not emigrating.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

  I fixed my smile as we pulled out of the drive. I loved all my children equally – I didn’t know why Ben’s departure gave me the biggest wrench. Perhaps it was being the youngest or maybe because he’d been the last to go. ‘Have you got enough money?’ I asked him, determined not to press him for when he’d be back.

  He grinned. ‘I’ve never got enough money – but yeah I’m okay. Kerry has got us another gig in that pub in Streatham. That’ll be fifty quid. And all our beer.’

  ‘I must come to see you play together sometime.’

  ‘Yeah. Gabe wants to come too – you could come with him.’

  ‘I’m quite sure Gabriel doesn’t want to turn up with your mum.’

  ‘He thinks you’re cool.’

  I smiled to myself as I turned towards the station. ‘Cool,’ wasn’t a word my own children would ever use about me. Even Oliver, who was the one who most appreciated that I might just have hopes and dreams that extended beyond getting dinner to the table and the washing on, had looked slightly unwell when Jinni had joked about the two of us going out on the pull.

  ‘I expect his mum really misses him,’ I said lightly. ‘Don’t forget if you get stuck …’

  ‘… You’ll always pay my train fare to come home …’

  Ben gave me a brief hug and jumped out of the car, opening the back door and retrieving his bags and guitar before I could even undo my seat belt.

  ‘Thanks, Mum, love yer.’

  With a raised hand, he was gone, instrument against his back, headphones already plugged in. I watched the back of his coat disappear through the double doors.

  ‘Well, it’s not very nice, is it?’ Tilly looked thoroughly wounded. ‘You come home after seeing Ben off, looking like someone’s died, but when I say I’m staying on, you get all funny about it.’

  ‘I’m trying to be realistic,’ I said. ‘I love you being here and of course it’s your home whenever you want it to be, but you’ve got a job and a flat. You can’t just abandon them.’

  ‘I can get a job here. The Fox are looking for staff.’ Tilly’s mouth hardened. ‘And Danni can find someone else to share the flat.’

  ‘But you’re responsible till she does,’ I pointed out, looking in despair at the clock and filling the kettle. ‘And what about Ella? How’s she going to feel if you up sticks and move out – you said she finds Danni difficult too.’

  Tilly gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘I also said she’s never there. She spends literally every night at Jamie’s. She’ll be moving in with him when the tenancy agreement needs renewing. And I’m not staying after that, either.’ Tilly glared at me. ‘It’s really awful, Mum.’

  I picked up two mugs from the draining board and took a deep breath. ‘It might all be different when you get back. And anyway the diner are surely expecting you.’ I turned to look her in the eyes. ‘I don’t know how you’ve managed to have all this time off already. Isn’t Easter a busy time?’

  Till was unabashed. ‘I told them we had food poisoning,’ she said. ‘They don’t want me there with E. coli.’

  ‘Tilly! What did you say that for? Nobody’s got E. coli.’

  ‘You said you hoped you hadn’t given it to Sam.’

  ‘I didn’t mean it literally. You’ve got to earn money. How are you going to pay the rent? And everything else?’

  ‘It’s all under control.’

  I put a hand on her arm. ‘Is this about Gabriel?’

  Tilly gave me a withering look. ‘No.’

  ‘Because it’s no time on the train … You can still be friends.’

  Tilly scowled. ‘It’s nothing to do with him. I just can’t stand my flatmate.’

  ‘But what about your career?’ I asked, inspired. ‘What about being on hand for auditions?’

  My daughter looked despondent now. ‘There aren’t any auditions and if there are, I never get them. I’m too tall or too fat or I haven’t got the right hair.’

  ‘You are not fat,’ I put in automatically, as Tilly swept on.

  ‘I haven’t got an agent, so I’ll never get anywhere. I spend hours trawling through the jobs on Spotlight and I know I haven’t got a hope of getting any of them. I may as well give up and work in a pub here.’

  ‘Your chance will come,’ I said, as I always did. ‘And a pub won’t pay much. No tips like you get in the diner.’

  ‘Who cares. If I’m not going to be an actress, I don’t need money.’

  I looked at my daughter. I knew once she got into one of these negative moods, everything would be shot down. I also knew she’d bounce back, because she always did.

  ‘Why don’t you stay for the weekend then?’ I said reasonably. ‘Caroline’s coming on Saturday – she might have some ideas. And then go back on Monday. To sort things out!’ I continued, as my daughter’s mouth opened. ‘You at least need to tell Danni you’re not staying on when this tenancy ends, don’t you? And you shouldn’t mess work about. You might need a reference!’

  ‘Okay,’ Tilly said, mollified. ‘I’m supposed to be seeing Daddy on Tuesday anyway. I’ll go but I’ll probably give my notice in because I hate that diner almost as much as I hate living with Danni.’

  ‘Right, well, there’s a plan, then,’ I agreed, hoping Rob might have a fatherly chat. He was big on work ethic and would be none too impressed with his daughter walking out on a job without another one to go to.

  I delivered a beam and my cheeriest tones.

  ‘Could you strip the spare bed too? For your aunt. If I don’t do some work, I won’t have a job either.’

  ‘Oh!’ Tilly put a hand to her mouth as she suddenly remembered. ‘Paul called.’

  I bet he did.

  Chapter 16

  ‘TILLY!!!’

  I stomped up the stairs and rapped hard on her bedroom door. I could hear music playing on the other side and then my daughter’s voice, still croaky with sleep. ‘What?’

  Tilly was lying back, half-propped on several pillows. My laptop was open on the duvet, spewing out a stream of manic monologue from Radio One. She appeared to be simultaneously watching something else entirely on her phone, underscored with the sort of tuneless, thumping music
I hated. Her eyes remained glued to the small screen. ‘What d’you want?’

  At the sight of her still comfortably ensconced in bed, I felt my irritation soar. Fearing for my boss’s heart rate, I’d worked late into the evening to catch up with the preliminary plans for the Croydon office and got up horribly early this morning, only to find a double-flagged, high-priority email from Paul chucking me an urgent health and safety issue from a previous job to solve double quick too. Cross-eyed from staring at diagrams of dividing screens and fire escapes, I’d almost deleted the next email that pinged into my inbox as junk.

  ‘Why?’ I demanded, ‘have I got a confirmation from Amazon that a deluxe body-shaping swivel board is being delivered tomorrow?’

  ‘I ordered it earlier,’ Tilly was still intent on her phone.

  ‘And did you pay for it?’

  ‘No, you know I didn’t, I–’

  ‘Put it on my credit card without asking! That’s really out of order, Tilly.’

  ‘I didn’t do anything with your card. I used one-click.’ My daughter had adopted a bored tone.

  ‘And who pays for that? The fairies? It’s the same thing – it’s buying something on my account–’

  ‘You said we could. We talked about it the other night.’

  ‘No, we didn’t. You said you wanted one. I didn’t say anything.’

  ‘I got it for us to share. You said you needed to get fit too.’ Tilly finally looked up at me, as if she couldn’t fathom what the fuss was about. ‘It was only thirty quid.’

  ‘Thirty-four pounds and ninety-nine pence. And I didn’t, and even if I did, that’s not the point.’

  ‘It was reduced from much more than that.’

  I shook my head. ‘You’re in no position to say “only”, however much it was. I’m working my butt off here, while you’re lying in bed letting me keep you. I’ve got all sorts of stuff to get done in the next few days so I can make a site visit next week before Granny comes to stay.

  ‘I’m not stopping you.’

  Tilly had clicked off her phone and thrown it down, as if I were an unwelcome interruption to her packed schedule.

  I took a deep breath. ‘Well you are, actually, because I’m having to stand here and have this conversation when I’m very busy. What are you doing with my laptop anyway?’

  ‘YOU wanted me to look at your stupid Facebook page, if you remember?’

  ‘And did you do anything to it?’

  Tilly sat up. ‘What can I do? Obviously, you need to upload some before-and-after photos. Or a video tour. I’ve told you that. If you’d get a proper phone like I also keep telling you to, you could take a picture of the office space when you go on your site visit …’ She intoned the last words as if it were an unlikely concept. ‘And then take another one when all your furniture is in there. And put it on Instagram too.’

  I pushed down the twist of anxiety that spiralled up whenever I thought about learning how to do all this. I’d contributed nothing but three short posts about new clients since I’d been made an admin. I’d have to enlist Nikki’s help when she was back at work – she was much more au fait with social media than I was. Why the hell Paul hadn’t asked her instead was beyond me.

  In the meantime, I wasn’t letting Tilly off. ‘I need you to do other things to help. You still haven’t stripped the bed for Caroline and the kitchen was a mess again this morning and I’ve got God-knows-what to do before I meet Malcolm at one. I’ve got to pick up some shopping and try to get my fringe cut somewhere–’

  Tilly pushed back the covers, swung her legs round and stood up. ‘I thought you were “busy”, she said, voice laced with sarcasm. ‘What you mean is you’re going out to lunch and having your hair done.’

  I glared at her, feeling my temper rise further. ‘I’m going to buy food for YOU to eat! After I’ve earned the money to pay for it!’

  I stamped back downstairs, more rattled than when I’d gone up there. There was no doubt my productivity dipped badly when the kids were around, while at the same time they generated a whole lot more to do. I needed some quiet stretches of time in which to focus.

  I sat back at the computer, fuming that Tilly had managed to wind me up. I should put off lunch with Malcolm, entertaining as he’d be, because I didn’t have time, and from a waistline point of view had spent too many hours on my arse in front of this screen and was already eating out later. I’d been pretending to myself I might cancel David, but I knew I wouldn’t. Saying no and cancelling things being no more my forte than tough parenting.

  While I was dithering, Malcolm sent an email saying ‘see you 12.45 p.m.’, which made me feel bad – if I was the best he could come up with as a source of intelligent discourse, he was clearly desperate for company – so I plumped for a postprandial coffee instead.

  A walk would do me good. We did need food and my hair was rapidly moving beyond shaggy chic to bag lady. I could see Caroline’s perfectly waxed eyebrows shooting heavenwards from here.

  I tried to phone, but the woman I spoke to, who I recognised as Grace on reception, told me grudgingly that Malcolm was already on a call and didn’t offer to take a message. So I bashed out a reply, citing deadlines and over-anxious superiors, suggesting I join him at 1.45 p.m., having allowed him sufficient time to get through pudding. Half an hour later I received a response in his customary effusive style.

  ‘13.30.’

  Grace displayed no more enthusiasm in person than she’d shown on the phone. I gave her my most charming smile. ‘I don’t suppose you could recommend a hairdresser, could you?’ I asked, indicating my unkempt locks. She appraised them deadpan.

  ‘There’s Cut Above the Rest,’ she said, with a small sniff. ‘Three doors down, when you’ve finished with his lordship.’

  I beamed again. ‘Thank you so much, Grace. Malcolm said you were an expert on all things Northstone.’

  She remained impassive. ‘Wonder what he’s after.’

  I entered Rosie’s at precisely 1.30 p.m. to find Malcolm sitting at a bare table. He looked me up and down shrewdly, indicated the blackboard of specials, featuring damson crumble, and then held out a menu. ‘I waited,’ he said proudly. ‘I thought you’d want one once you got here.’

  I smiled at him with sudden affection. He was right. Once again I was suddenly ravenous. While he had the crumble with cream, I ordered a slice of banoffee pie.

  ‘Delicious,’ I told him. ‘Thank you.’

  Malcolm looked mournful. ‘That twit of a boy was telling me what a fine toad-in-the-hole you serve up.’

  I pulled a stern face. ‘If you mean Gabriel, he seems far from a twit to me. My son tells me he’s an accomplished musician too.’

  ‘I doubt that.’

  I ignored this. ‘I’ll invite you next time.’

  Malcolm immediately brightened. ‘I like traditional English fare. Did you know the most popular dish in the UK is now chicken tikka masala – whatever that is. One of my girls brought in Thai – I didn’t like that either.’

  I laughed. ‘What did you have today?’

  ‘Lamb cutlets.’

  ‘Not fish as it’s Friday?’

  ‘I’ll have that tonight.’

  I looked at him as he launched into a speech extolling the various virtues of lard versus oil when deep-frying chips, and giving me the inside info on which fish shops to patronise and avoid. He was incorrigible but I couldn’t help being amused. ‘Tony’s was the best one by far, but he let us all down and retired. Wanted to spend time with his grandchildren!’ Malcolm shook his head in disbelief.

  ‘What do you think about the vandalism?’ I asked, when we’d got our coffee.

  Malcolm looked thoughtful. ‘Difficult to know if someone really cares that much or simply wants to appear to care,’ he said.

  I frowned. ‘Do you mean Ingrid?’

  ‘I told you before, Ingrid isn’t that stupid.’

  ‘It’s the third time something’s happened to Jinni and she says the graffi
ti on my house was directed at her too. I insisted we phoned the police.’

  ‘They probably think she’s done it herself.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous. Why on earth would she?’

  Malcolm shrugged. ‘People do strange things. One woman brought a different death threat into the office every week. Floods of tears, the lot. My mate on the job told me it turned out she’d written all of them.’

  ‘How weird. But this is nothing like that. Jinni’s furious. And she’s got this obsession about it being something to do with Ingrid’s son David. I mean it clearly isn’t. I was talking to him about it and he’s really not–’

  Malcolm looked at me keenly. ‘Like him, do you?’

  Embarrassed, I felt myself flush slightly. ‘I don’t really know him.’

  Malcolm said nothing, just raised his brows.

  ‘He gave me a lift back from the station when we had the snow and we had a bit of a chat but–’

  Something about the way Malcolm was watching me made me feel compelled to confess all.

  ‘–and now he’s invited me to a gallery opening and dinner.’

  Malcolm gave a wolfish grin. ‘I know.’

  It seemed Gabriel had dropped this nugget of information when reporting back on the goings-on. The young man was concerned for my wellbeing, Malcolm told me wryly, having learned from Jinni that David was Bad News.

  ‘And do you think he is?’ I asked him.

  ‘Don’t know enough about him,’ said Malcolm seriously. ‘I met him at some do or other when he first moved here and he seemed civilised enough. Bought an old barn outside town and converted it. Energy-saving, environmentally friendly – all that kind of thing,’ Malcolm’s expression suggested this wasn’t something to particularly recommend it.

  ‘I’ve heard rumours about sharp practice,’ he went on, looking at me intently. ‘Don’t know whether you feel that affects his potential as boyfriend material – but then again, you women like a bad boy, don’t you–’ While I was spluttering my protest he went smoothly on.