by Kate Field
She stood up and glanced back at Daniel and Mrs King. Daniel’s fingers were twitching. Helen led Megan over.
‘We’re too late,’ Daniel said. ‘We should have applied last year.’
He said ‘we’. They both knew what he really meant.
‘I’m almost at the end of interviews for next September’s intake,’ Mrs King explained. ‘Applications were due in by spring.’
‘Spring?’ Helen repeated. The surge of disappointment made her wishes all too clear. She wanted Megan to come to this school; she would have sacrificed anything to pay for it. She wasn’t giving up yet. ‘That simply wasn’t possible. Daniel has had to work in the Far East for the last few years,’ she said in a low voice that she hoped Megan couldn’t hear. ‘It’s only recently become clear that he’s going to settle in this country, so we could make a decision about Megan’s education.’
‘Yes, I see,’ Mrs King nodded. ‘There’s always a little leeway for families who move into the area after applications have closed and in other exceptional circumstances and, of course, you do already have links to the school.’ She smiled, and Helen could have sworn she caught a slight wink. ‘Take one of the application forms to fill in. Would you be able to bring Megan for an interview on Monday lunchtime? It’s short notice but interviews end this week so we can make the offers in December.’
‘That will be fine, won’t it, Helen?’ Daniel asked.
‘Yes. But what do you mean by an interview? She’s never done anything like that before.’
‘It’s very informal,’ Mrs King assured her. ‘It’s not really about asking questions at all. We might ask her to do puzzles or a jigsaw, or draw a picture, and see how well she can follow instructions. It’s nothing to be anxious about.’
Easy for her to say, Helen thought, knowing she was doomed to a sleepless couple of nights worrying about this now. Megan might be keen on jigsaws, but her willingness to follow instructions was as variable as the direction of the wind. But she thanked Mrs King, picked up one of the application packs, and let Megan lead her over to the drums.
‘You didn’t mention you had links to the school,’ Daniel murmured, as they stood together, watching Megan bang away on a lollipop drum.
‘It’s a slight exaggeration. I’m working with Year 6 to create a crazy patchwork wall hanging to commemorate the opening of this new building.’
‘You’ve obviously impressed the headmistress. Well done. Megan wouldn’t have got the interview without you.’ He smiled at her, and for once there was no edge to it, no side: he was pleased with her, that was all. ‘How was Megan earlier? Did she hear what Mrs King said?’
‘I don’t think she can have done. She didn’t mention it, and seemed perfectly normal. But,’ she carried on, though it took an effort to say the words, ‘we will have to tell her. Soon.’
‘Can we do it together? Please, Nell, I…’
‘Yes,’ she interrupted, cutting him off as Megan abandoned the drum and headed their way. ‘I think that would be best. Let’s get the interview out of the way first.’
He nodded, and they watched as Megan approached. She squeezed between them and took Helen’s hand. Then she looked up at Daniel, and without saying a word, put her other hand in his.
CHAPTER 17
The interview at Broadholme went well, as far as Helen could tell from Megan’s excited chatter afterwards, although there was so much about princesses and cats that it was hard to tell where the account of the interview ended and normal conversation began. Megan’s enthusiasm exacerbated Helen’s concerns about paying the fees if she were offered a place. She had been seduced by the school on Saturday. Now, with the bright reality of a morning after, she was realising that the consequence of having her head so effectively turned might prove very expensive.
Daniel had offered to pay, of course, but Helen felt uncomfortable about accepting. That had been the way of her old life, living off an allowance from her father and later letting Daniel pay for everything. It was the easy option – but did she really want to go back to that? She had supported Megan for four years on her own, scrambling for every penny, and she was proud of the independence she had found. But how could she let her pride deny Megan something so advantageous to her? Hadn’t she already denied Megan enough for one lifetime?
As the drive home from Broadholme took them within a couple of minutes of Church Farm, Helen decided to call in with a box of crazy patchwork items. Joel had offered to create a window display near the entrance to advertise the new shops opening in the New Year, and hopefully whet the appetites of visitors. She couldn’t remember how large the window was, so had packed a selection of items, including a handbag, a cushion, a few hanging hearts and one of the new Kindle sleeves, hoping that a combination of these should be enough alongside the work of the others from St Andrew’s.
Her plan had been simply to dump the box with Joel and leave him to it; it would be even better if he was out, and she could abandon her delivery outside his office. The memory of the kiss on the cheek and how unsettled it had made her feel had troubled her over the weekend, even with the distraction of Broadholme, and she thought it would be best all round if she could avoid him today. But she was out of luck. As she rounded the corner from the first courtyard, she saw him walk out of the office building and head straight across toward the Feed Store.
She didn’t move or call out but somehow, even so, he turned his head in her direction.
‘Hello, you two.’ His face lit up. ‘I didn’t know you were coming here today. Are you staying for lunch?’
‘Actually, I’m just…’
Joel cut her off before she could complete the denial.
‘You can’t leave me to have a miserable lunch on my own,’ he said, his grin about as far from a picture of misery as it was possible to be. He bent down to Megan. ‘I bet you’re hungry, aren’t you?’
Megan nodded and looked up at Helen hopefully.
‘Can I have a gingerbread sheep?’
Helen laughed.
‘I’m outnumbered, aren’t I? Okay, we can have lunch, but can I leave this box with you first? It’s a few pieces you might be able to use for the window display.’
Joel took the box and peered inside.
‘Fantastic, this will look great. My sister’s visiting at the weekend so she’s going to do the window as she has a much more creative eye than I do. I’ll put this in the office and meet you in the café.’
He jogged across to the office building. Helen stared after him until she felt an impatient tug on her hand and hauled her attention back to her daughter and away from Joel’s bottom, giving herself a mental slap in the process. This was business – and Joel’s bottom was strictly none of hers.
She took Megan into the Feed Store, inhaling the rich mix of smells, from coffee to Greek dips, which bombarded her nose as she walked to the café at the end. But when she opened the doors to the café, she stopped in surprise. It was full.
‘Is there a problem?’ Joel asked, coming up behind Helen.
‘There’s only one table left, and it’s reserved.’
‘Lucky you’re with me, because that’s my table. I’ve had to start reserving one, as we’re packed almost every lunch time now.’
‘Should you be taking up a table that could be used by a paying customer?’
‘I am a paying customer.’ He led them over to the table, and removed the reserved sign. ‘There are no perks to being in charge.’
‘Aren’t there?’ Helen glanced at him as she unfastened Megan’s coat and pulled out a chair for her. ‘I wouldn’t stand for that if I were you. I’d have to negotiate some benefits, at least from the fabulous shops in here.’
‘You’ve convinced me.’ Joel handed round menus, grinning. ‘We’ll talk another time about what benefits you can offer.’
Lunch arrived quickly and was delicious: huge bowls of steaming vegetable soup with hunks of crusty granary bread and homemade butter. Megan’s cheese sandwich and t
he coveted gingerbread sheep were delivered in a special box designed to resemble a cowshed. It was no wonder the café was full if the food was this good. Helen was heartened to see so many visitors who might be tempted to wander up as far as the Hay Barn when it was open. For the first time in a long while, she had something to look forward to: she could see a future, not only a past.
‘Are you on your way somewhere this afternoon?’ Joel asked, pushing away his bowl at last. ‘You’re both looking very smart.’
‘We’ve been to school,’ Megan said, glancing up from her colouring book.
‘Have you?’ Joel smiled at Helen. ‘Is this because you can’t do crosswords? Did you think you needed to go back and start again?’
Helen laughed and picked up the last piece of bread.
‘We weren’t having lessons. Megan had an interview at Broadholme.’
‘The private school?’ She nodded, noticing a tiny frown twitch along Joel’s brow. ‘Have you won the lottery or something since the day you told me you couldn’t afford to improve your website?’
‘No, of course not, nothing’s changed,’ Helen replied, spreading the same piece of butter round and round the bread. ‘Except…’ She put the knife down, reluctant to say more but not wanting to lie. ‘It wouldn’t be me paying.’
‘Ah. Very generous.’ Joel sat back. ‘Won’t that make it difficult when you have other children, though? If you can’t afford to send them to the same school?’
‘Other children?’ Helen stared at him, as if he had started speaking Swahili. ‘What other children?’
‘Come on, you’re only young…’
‘I’m thirty.’
‘Two years younger than me. That’s still young. Don’t you think it’s likely you might meet someone and have more children? You must have thought about it.’
‘I haven’t.’
His expression was sceptical, but it was the truth, or a simplified version of it. Any wish that Megan needn’t be an only child, the stirrings of envy when Kirsty had given birth to Tommy, had been swiftly quashed. She was everything to Megan, and Megan was everything to her. She couldn’t have risked Megan suffering in any way; and she had never met a man who had made her even think about other children. But as she stared at Joel, and those lovely brown eyes gazed straight back at her, she wondered…
Helen’s mobile phone rang.
‘It’s Danny!’ Megan said. It was:
she must have recognised the D when the name flashed up. Helen cut off the call, almost knocking the phone to the floor in her haste. Moments later it rang again.
‘Mummy! Talk to Danny!’
With an apologetic glance at Joel - who was regarding her far too curiously - Helen picked up the phone.
‘Helen? Are you still at Broadholme? I’ve been waiting to hear from you for the last hour.’
‘We’re out for lunch.’
‘Are you?’ There was a significant pause. ‘How did the interview go?’
‘Well, as far as I can tell.’
‘Was there no feedback from Mrs King?’
‘She said Megan had been fine, and not to worry.’
‘Not to worry in what sense? That she’ll get the place? Or that she handled the interview without a problem?’
‘I’ve no idea.’ Helen heard a loud sigh at the other end of the line. ‘Excuse me a moment,’ she said to Joel, and got up and wandered a few steps away to the window. ‘Dan, don’t get too set on this. I’ve already told you I can’t afford…’
‘Who are you with?’
‘What?’
‘You said excuse me. Are you with someone?’
‘Lots of people. I’m in a busy café.’
‘Hmm.’ Daniel didn’t press the point. ‘Don’t worry about the money. I spoke to the school treasurer this morning. All the fees can be paid upfront. In fact there’s a discount for doing that.’
‘You can’t do that without telling me!’
‘I can. I have parental responsibility now. And I’m telling you in advance what I plan to do. Better than four years after the event, isn’t it?’
Helen hung up, but stayed where she was, staring out of the window. He was never going to let it drop, was he? Every disagreement they had was going to end with him hurling a fistful of guilt at her again – as if she wasn’t drenched in it already. But before she could return to the table, he called back.
‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m not trying to take over, Nell. I’m trying to help, but it’s going to take me a while to figure out how to do it. Bear with me, okay?’
‘Okay.’ The unexpected warmth in his voice was unbearable. Helen rested her cheek against her phone.
‘I have the money from the house sale that’s yours. I owe you thousands in child maintenance payments for the last four years. If you add it up, most of the money for the school fees would be yours. I’m hardly contributing at all.’
She hadn’t thought about it like that, and it did make it seem more palatable. She’d ripped up his cheque before, even though there were a thousand ways she could have used the money; but she could never refuse it being spent on Megan in this way.
‘You don’t owe me any maintenance,’ she said.
‘I do, and we need to discuss how much I should give you going forward. I’ll call round one night and we can sort it out.’
Helen returned to the table, struggling to disguise her heartache with a smile for Megan. Joel had a pencil in his hand, and Megan’s colouring book in front of him.
‘You’ll be careful not to go outside the lines, won’t you?’ Helen said, sitting back down. Joel laughed.
‘I’ve been trying to draw a cat.’ He pushed the book over to Helen. He had managed a tolerable picture of a cat, standing up against a scratching post. His eyes roved over her face. ‘Everything okay?’
She nodded, and was glad when he didn’t ask anything more. The conversation with Daniel had killed her pleasure over the lunch. She had enjoyed herself too much, and now the guilt was kicking in like a bad dose of indigestion.
‘We should get going,’ she said, rubbing Megan’s arm. ‘Joel will need to get back to work.’
‘But I haven’t seen Mr Cat yet and he promised.’
Joel shrugged as he caught Helen’s questioning glance.
‘Who wouldn’t rather play with a kitten than do some work?’
He insisted on paying for lunch, then took them over to his office where Megan squealed with delight at seeing Mr Cat again, even more so when the kitten was brave enough to climb on her when she sat down cross-legged next to the basket.
‘She’ll never want to go home now,’ Helen said, watching Megan copy Joel in gently stroking the kitten. He smiled up at her.
‘Who would? I didn’t realise how much I missed it here until I came back from Bristol. I can’t imagine ever leaving again. What about you? You didn’t pick up those posh vowels round here. Do you think you might be tempted back down south?’
‘Not to live, no. My life is here now.’
‘Good.’
The heat of Joel’s smile was overwhelming. To distract him, Helen picked up a paper from his desk.
‘What’s this? A Christmas market at Church Farm?’
Joel wandered over to her.
‘It’s a new idea I thought we’d try this year. We’ll decorate the whole place with lights and trees, have mince pies and carols, and bring in some extra stalls alongside the regular shops. There’s been a great response.’
‘Can we come?’
‘Of course you can. There will be activities for children, and we’re even hoping that a special visitor may put in an appearance.’
Helen laughed.
‘I didn’t mean that. I meant the St Andrew’s group. Could we have stalls? I’d have to ask the others, but it’s on a Sunday so St Andrew’s would be closed, and it would be a great opportunity to meet the other artists here and make some extra money before Christmas…’
She trailed off. Joel
was smiling at her, his head tilted to the side, flecks of gold lighting his brown eyes.
‘You’re incredible,’ he said.
‘Am I?’ Embarrassment washed over her, and she dropped her eyes to the leaflet in her hand. ‘You don’t know me.’
‘I know what Auntie Joan has told me. I’ve seen the way you are with Megan. And the way you fight for the group at St Andrew’s. You’re always thinking about other people.’
‘Not many people would recognise that version of me.’ She didn’t recognise it herself. She was certain that Daniel wouldn’t agree with it.
‘Then perhaps they don’t see what I see.’
Helen shook her head, and fiddled with the paper on the desk.
‘Perhaps you haven’t yet seen what they have,’ she replied, looking behind him at Megan, who was still engrossed with Mr Cat.
‘I can’t believe there’s anything bad.’ He was laughing, and Helen pushed her lips up into a smile, but it didn’t filter below the surface.
‘Joel, don’t…’
‘What?’ He flashed her a grin. ‘I think all my friends are incredible, don’t you?’
‘Friends?’
He was close to her, and she saw humour and something else shifting across his eyes.
‘It’s a start, isn’t it?’
The start of what, Helen wondered, even as she felt a flicker of a response deep inside her, a response to the way he was looking at her. A relationship? It simply wasn’t possible. She might find Joel attractive, she might enjoy his company, but it wasn’t enough. Because how could she ever contemplate a new relationship when her heart couldn’t accept the end of the old one?
‘We’re snookered,’ was Malcolm’s reaction when Helen suggested to the group at St Andrew’s that they could all take up a stall at the Church Farm Christmas market. ‘It’s less than three weeks away. I can’t have enough new work ready for then. It’s too short notice.’
Helen had anticipated this reaction, and had already telephoned Fiona to talk her round to the idea. Fiona was well known as the most cautious in the group, and if she was prepared to support an idea the men tended to pay attention. Fiona offered to keep an eye on Malcolm’s shop as well as her own for a few days if he needed time to produce more of the abstract work he was determined to sell at Church Farm, and with a combined effort they eventually wore him down. It helped that Ron decided he would like to take on a stall, to see if he could shift some of the remaining model houses and furniture before he retired.
