Mum in the Middle

by Jane Wenham-Jones

  Now Tilly was also in the room. ‘What’s up, Mum?’

  I sensed Rob mouthing something at her.

  ‘Oh!’ Tilly was pouring more hot water into her mug. ‘A bit strong …’

  I assumed she was talking about the tea but gave a high-pitched, slightly hysterical, laugh to allay any fears.

  ‘I’m just tired and over-emotional,’ I cried, shaking my head wildly. ‘It’s all that port …’ My daughter and ex-husband were both looking at me quizzically. I saw Tilly’s eyes travel to the phone in my hand.

  ‘And the situation with Granny,’ I improvised.

  Tilly scooped out her teabag, nudging opening the cupboard that housed the bin with her foot. She looked back at me with raised eyebrows. ‘If you’re that upset,’ she said wickedly, ‘you could always get back together.’

  Chapter 24

  ‘My brother is such a plank,’ Caroline laughed again. ‘Trust him to think you were looking distraught over HIM!’

  I gave a mock shudder. ‘Can you imagine us remarried? I cooked breakfast on Sunday morning and he was practically following me round the kitchen, telling me how to do it.’

  ‘Oh, he’s always like that!’ Caroline rolled her eyes. ‘Last time he came to my place he said I’d cut the lemon for his gin in the wrong direction. I told him to just bloody drink it. Or choke.’

  She stopped smiling and frowned. ‘But why were you so upset?’ She scrutinised me for a moment more. ‘I thought there was something wrong when you got here. Are you really that keen on David?’

  ‘No, not really. Well, sort of. I have been thinking … And I suppose I was just feeling–’

  Caroline put up a hand to stop me and got off her bar stool. ‘Those people are leaving!’

  She strode over to a booth in the corner and put her glass down. ‘Sit there,’ she commanded, then waved to a waitress. ‘We need a bottle of the Macon,’ she told her, ‘and some water and olives, please.’

  ‘I’m not sure I can drink that much,’ I squeaked as the girl departed. ‘I worked all through lunch.’

  ‘And some of those breadsticks?’ Caroline added, as the wine arrived. ‘Now–’ she poured two generous glasses and sat back and surveyed me. ‘Tell me all of it.’

  I recapped on the jigsaw visit and the agreement we’d have another drink and then my text and his less-than-expansive reply. I explained – haltingly, and with frequent sips at wine because I felt so silly – that I’d had a restless night and when I’d finally said goodbye to Tilly and Rob, I’d done a lot of therapeutic housework (here Caroline, with her long-serving Filipina cleaner, looked perplexed) and got the place straight again and then composed a business-like email, not mentioning meeting him, but thanking him again for the contact he’d given Tilly, and enquiring whether he still wanted me to look at his show flat, as I’d need to schedule it in, if so.

  ‘And I didn’t send it till Monday morning, so it would look as though it were simply part of my working day, and I didn’t say anything about him going into Jinni’s house so I wouldn’t sound like a mad stalker!’ I finished.

  Caroline’s eyebrows shot up. ‘What’s that?’

  I took a gulp of wine now. And explained about Tilly seeing them. Adding that I’d waited all week, but David hadn’t replied to me, and there was still no sign of life at Jinni’s either …

  ‘I know I’m being stupid,’ I finished, embarrassed. ‘They don’t even like each other …’

  I stopped, waiting for Caroline to agree that I’d been adding two and two and making twenty-seven. Instead, she got a Chanel lipstick out of her handbag, and a small shiny mirror and carefully repainted her beautifully shaped lips and turned her green eyes on me thoughtfully.

  ‘I wasn’t going to tell you until I’d seen how things progressed,’ she said. ‘But you might not be imagining things after all …’

  My stomach gave a horrible lurch as Caroline poured me another drink. The night I’d gone out with David, she’d taken the flowers over to Jinni as Tilly was still getting ready, and ended up staying for a drink. ‘Jinni seemed to want to talk to me,’ Caroline said, ‘and I liked her. Although, my goodness, the state of her hands. All that building work she does herself!’

  ‘She needs to keep the costs down,’ I said faintly, wondering what was coming.

  ‘And she seemed very fond of you …’

  Caroline took a small sip of her wine. ‘But she was quite disturbed about you going out with David. Said he was only doing it to get at her.’

  ‘She really is paranoid,’ I put in. ‘She thinks he and his mother are plotting against her, but Ingrid protests against everything – it’s not personal – and he’s only irritated because Jinni’s been objecting to –’

  ‘Did he also tell you they’d slept together?’

  I stared. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, looking at my shocked face. ‘Have a breadstick, darling.’ She pushed them towards me. My hands were trembling as I took one.

  ‘I guessed they had some sort of history,’ Caroline went on. ‘She was too agitated, going on about how he was a narcissist who wasn’t to be trusted and I should warn you off. She cared too much for it to be just a planning issue.’

  ‘And she told you they had?’ I laid the breadstick down on the table, uneaten. ‘Why’s she never said anything to me?’

  ‘I asked her outright. I think she’s embarrassed about it.’

  ‘And they’re still–?’

  ‘She said not. Said it was over very quickly.’ Caroline pulled a wry face. ‘I think drink had been taken and Jinni was simply wanting a shag, to be honest, darling, but if he didn’t hang around–’

  Caroline reached across the table and laid a hand on my arm. ‘This is why I worry. You’re not like me, darling – you want romance and commitment.’ Caroline looked as if she were talking about strange animal parts she wouldn’t want to eat.

  ‘In a way it doesn’t matter what’s going on with them. If he’s the sort of personality I think he is, he’ll break your heart.’

  My mind was reeling. I did like her when I first met her. I’d believed him that they’d fallen out over planning applications. I’d believed both of them.

  Caroline was still talking: ‘It was all reasonable enough on one level. Jinni’s after regular, uncomplicated sex and possibly some conversation over breakfast, not for them to stay all day. She’s not looking for love or marriage or even the same time every week, but I expect her pride was a bit hurt if he didn’t even stay for the coffee and toast.’

  She picked up a breadstick and snapped it in half.

  ‘It’s nice if a chap makes a play of hardly being able to bear to part from you, even if he doesn’t much care either. Jinni may say she thinks David is a smug, self-satisfied bastard, who she wouldn’t cross the road to put out in a fire, but really she’s worrying why he lost interest so quickly. Whether she isn’t quite as good in the sack as she thought she was. Whether her bum is getting too big or her tits too saggy.’

  ‘Did she tell you that?’ I said, astonished.

  ‘She didn’t need to.’ Caroline gave a small smile. ‘We recognised each other.’

  I looked back at her miserably. ‘I feel such an idiot.’

  ‘There’s no reason to. How would you have known?’

  ‘I wondered why you weren’t encouraging me.’ I felt suddenly annoyed. ‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me before?’

  Caroline squeezed my arm again. ‘I didn’t see the point unless I had to. It was Jinni’s story. I didn’t want to make your friendship with her awkward. And you might have gone out with him just that once and never again.’ Caroline looked at me appealingly, holding up her hands. ‘I was hoping you wouldn’t like him …’

  I was hoping too. My heart had been beating a little harder that morning as I’d walked onto Northstone station, in case he was waiting there. And despite feeling like a fool, a small part of me couldn’t help it again this evening.

  Even though the chances were that Su
nday had gone so well with Jinni, they were making an entire week of it.

  There was nobody I recognised on the platform. I leapt onto the train at 20.17 and found a seat at a table in the middle opposite a suited bloke hunched over his laptop. If David were here, he’d be down at the end.

  Part of me wished I could see him, just to be sure. In case it had all been a mistake and really he was still gagging for me.

  Yeah right.

  David had gone to bed with Jinni. But he hadn’t even got that far with me. He’d brought the jigsaw round and sounded keen by email before that. I must have looked pretty ghastly and been dreary that afternoon, while Jinni had appeared dramatic and alluring. She was always going to be a bigger catch than me, with her vibrant personality and exotic good looks. It was how it was.

  The late spring evening had been warm in London but I felt cold. The bloke opposite kept sniffing. I hoped he’d get off before I felt compelled to hand him a tissue. I felt a bit sick and really tired. I shouldn’t have let Caroline pour me so much wine when I hadn’t eaten more than an apple and a flapjack all day. I could feel my eyes drooping.

  My phone suddenly burst into life, making me jump. Sniffer’s head came up abruptly too.

  My daughter, as usual, was shouting over the noise of a bar. ‘You know that Shane I met? I really liked him!’

  I cupped my hand around the mouth end and tried to talk quietly. ‘Oh good.’

  ‘He might have some work for me.’

  ‘Brilliant.’

  ‘Beginning of June.’

  ‘That’s terrific.’

  ‘You don’t sound very pleased,’ Tilly yelled.

  ‘I’m on the train,’ I muttered.

  ‘WHAT???’

  ‘I’M ON THE TRAIN.’ I saw the couple on the other side of the aisle exchange glances and I squirmed. I dropped my voice again. ‘I’ll call you when I get home.’

  I kept my head down and sent her a text. ‘Fab news but can’t really hear as on train. Speak later. Xx’ As an afterthought I added: ‘PS proud of you.’

  Thank you, Rob Freud-Jung-Bowlby-Proops, for your invaluable insight.

  Tilly texted back an hour later as I was walking wearily down the road from the station in the fading light.

  ‘Out now. Call tomorrow. Tell David he’s awesome x’

  Huh! She could have his email address and heap praise on him herself. I was delighted if David’s intervention had brought Tilly the acting work she longed for.

  But I wouldn’t be seeing him again.

  Chapter 25

  I like living on my own!

  In an effort to banish evil thoughts and fairytale notions, I had thrown myself into another cleaning frenzy and the house was now polished and shiny, fragrant and dust-free. I’d arranged the cushions Caroline had sent, bought flowers, hung a few more pictures and splashed out on another hideously expensive perfumed candle.

  I did miss my children from time to time, but there was a certain appeal in the constant hot water, peace in which to work and coming home to rooms scented with the essence of fig and gardenia rather than late-night bacon and abandoned socks.

  In addition to churning out plans round the clock, I’d been making the most of the light evenings and had cleared all sorts of stinky vegetation from the depths of the pond and started digging up the flowerbed that ran along the fence. Perhaps it was the physical activity that was helping me sleep better – my nightmares were rare now – and it was all serving to keep my mind off whatever was going on over the road.

  Almost.

  I knew Jinni was back because her windows were flung open and she was having a tree cut down. The sound of the electric saw sliced through the still afternoon and I could smell the sawdust and broken leaves hanging on the warm air as I walked down to the town. There was a truck parked on her gravel, the back filled with lopped-off branches. Clearly she had won the day over the preservation order!

  She’d also sent me a text – ‘am back see you soon thanks for keeping an eye’ – but she hadn’t come the short distance over the road and knocked on the door.

  I felt sad because I missed her, hurt she’d not been honest about why she was warning me off and a bit stupid and somewhat nauseous at the vision of her and David having unromantic, uncomplicated sex before he thoughtfully disappeared after breakfast.

  I dragged my eyes away from the old rectory. I had other friends. Gabriel had sent me a chatty email asking how I was and Malcolm had sent one of his terse ones saying it must be time for another lunch. Fran was still threatening a night out; Nikki had theatre tickets for next week.

  In the meantime, I’d organise the steak and kidney night, possibly inviting Gabriel along, especially if I did it on the weekend Ben was threatening to come home. Tilly had told me Gabriel was fed up that Malcolm still wasn’t letting him do anything meaty, so maybe, away from the office, they could bond over the short crust (I was hoping Malcolm would show equal enthusiasm for a pie as for pudding; I always felt rather faint at the prospect of boiling suet).

  I would say it was to thank them both for their kindness and help when my mother had gone AWOL. Strictly speaking, I should invite Ingrid too, but she’d argue with Malcolm and I’d be embarrassed if the conversation turned to …

  I jumped as the phone rang. Tilly sounded buoyant. ‘Shane called and I’ve got three days’ work NEXT WEEK!’

  ‘That’s wonderful, what is it?’

  ‘Something about bullying. I need school uniform.’

  ‘What? Would it fit you?’

  ‘Thank you, Mother!’

  ‘I didn’t mean it like that,’ I said lamely, cursing myself for being insensitive, as Tilly rattled on.

  The wonderful Shane, who had apparently gone to school with the equally sainted David (he had apparently referred to Tilly as ‘striking’, which had gone down extremely well) had a company doing what was known as Theatre in Education – TIE – and Tilly had been promised a part in the next production, which was touring schools after the May half-term. Now, however, one of the girls in the current play had got glandular fever and couldn’t finish the last week of the run. Tilly had been sent the script and was to step in.

  ‘As far as I can see, I just have to cry a lot,’ she was saying, ‘and tell one of the teacher’s my life isn’t worth living … Anyway, they said they’ll get the costume and I’ll have to wear the same tie as the others, but actually, you know, the skirts and jumpers are navy blue so if I had my old stuff … I haven’t put on THAT much weight since I left school …’ She gave me a sharp look.

  ‘Of course you haven’t,’ I said.

  I’d wandered into the kitchen and turned the kettle on while she was talking, but now found myself back at the front window looking at Jinni’s place. Her front door was open.

  I switched my attention back to my daughter. ‘But aren’t you quite old to play a school girl?’

  ‘I told you! It’s like that in TIE. Everyone’s in their twenties. Well, Shane isn’t. He’s 41 …’

  I found I’d turned around again. The front door of the rectory had closed. As I gazed at the building, I saw the outline of what looked like Jinni cross an upstairs window. And behind her …

  It was over in a split second. It was a man, for sure, the right height probably. There was no car outside. But he’d probably left his car in a side road. Hoping I wouldn’t notice him slide into the house. They wouldn’t want to flaunt it in front of me, would they? Not when they couldn’t stand the sight of each other.

  My heart was pounding. My interest in David was over. What was I doing carrying out surveillance behind the curtains?

  ‘Well?’ My daughter was demanding in my ear. ‘Do you think so, or not?’

  I backed away from the window. ‘Sorry, I … Could you say that again, I didn’t quite hear you, darling …’

  At the end of the line, there was a long growl of exasperation.

  ‘Mum! You’re not even listening!’

  ‘I’m listen
ing.’

  Oliver was already waiting at a table under the awning outside, when I hurried along the top concourse of St Pancras to the Betjeman Arms. He sounded uncharacte‌ristically solemn when he called to arrange this and he looks very serious now.

  Alarm runs through me although he’s promised me neither of them are ill or have lost their jobs, or – I have now added this to the list of possible disasters in the light of the Tilly’s credit card debacle – are deeply in debt.

  It feels like a long time since I’ve seen him. It’s probably my imagination but he already looks older. Oliver is taller and slighter than Ben, more studious-looking. He’s always seemed more responsible than the other two but not as grave as this. I wonder anxiously if he’s split up with Sam and hasn’t wanted to tell me on the phone. And I will it not to be that. Sam is part of the family.

  He hugs me and smiles, slightly self-consciously, it seems, as I sit down opposite him. We order beer and wine and water. He doesn’t say anything else.

  ‘Do you want to eat?’ I ask him, as the waiter puts a menu down.

  ‘Not yet. Maybe after.’ His eyes slide away from mine. ‘I want to talk to you first.’

  My unease deepens. ‘Go on,’ I say.

  My eldest son looks straight at me and appears to take a deep breath. ‘Sam’s pregnant,’ he says. Adding slowly – as if I might not be familiar with this state of affairs, ‘we’re going to have a baby.’

  In retrospect, I will realise I should have made the moment on St Pancras station memorable for my son. I should have shrieked. Or embraced him. Taken his hand and delivered some profound sentiments that expressed my unrivalled joy and pride. Not sat, mouth flapping like a goldfish, trying to paraphrase the mixed thoughts and emotions chasing across my mind, fuelled by the bewilderment in his eyes.

  My lips open and shut a bit more as I try to form something congratulatory, bracing and maternal, which will demonstrate my unconditional love and unwavering support.

  ‘Oh my God.’

  ‘I know,’ says Oliver. ‘That’s what I said.’

  We order burgers to get us over the shock and while we are waiting for them, Oliver explains how, within mere days of missing a period – which she never, ever does – Sam had started feeling sick and so encouraged by her friend Gemma from the nursery, had taken a test, even though she knew she couldn’t possibly be … or thought she couldn’t …