The Spring of Second Chances : An absolutely perfect and uplifting romantic comedy

by Tilly Tennant

  PART 3: THE PARENT TRAP

  Midnight handed Phoebe a glass of water. ‘Have you done that test yet or what?’

  They were on a rare break together. Phoebe grimaced as Midnight sat next to her with a coffee.

  ‘Ugh! That’s so disgusting.’

  ‘See… my mum always said she couldn’t stand the smell of tea or coffee when she was expecting me. This is why you need to do a test.’

  ‘I know, I know. If anyone knows it’s me. You don’t have to keep going on about it.’

  ‘So why aren’t you?’

  Phoebe stared into her glass.

  ‘Phoebe…’

  ‘I will, when I get a minute.’

  ‘You’ve had plenty of minutes. You’ve been throwing up for two weeks.’

  ‘I don’t exactly throw up… not all the time anyway.’

  ‘How is that better? If you were hurling your insides out you might be able to say it was food poisoning or something. But feeling sick and not always being sick…’

  ‘Look, it’s not that easy,’ Phoebe cut in. ‘I can’t just pee on a stick and that’s the end of it.’

  ‘That’s exactly what you do. These test kits have very simple instructions, you know. Simple enough, even for you.’

  ‘Ha ha…’

  ‘Seriously, isn’t it better to know for sure?’

  ‘I…’ Phoebe glanced up as the staffroom door opened and Veronica Small came in.

  ‘Alright?’ Midnight greeted.

  ‘Steve’s on the warpath. He’s sent me to find you.’

  ‘You found me.’

  ‘He says you’re to get your arse back on the shop floor.’

  ‘I’ve still got ten minutes of break left.’

  ‘He says you were due back ten minutes ago.’ Veronica looked distinctly nervous as she relayed her boss’s words. Everyone who worked at Hendry’s knew that although Midnight was the perpetual party girl, she also had a sharp tongue and could more than handle herself. Her appearance reinforced the impression. Not many wanted to get on the wrong side of her.

  ‘I went late,’ Midnight huffed. Veronica inched back towards the door. ‘You can tell Steve that next time I’ll drop everything and leave the customer I’m helping if he wants exact break timing.’

  Veronica gave an apologetic shrug. ‘Don’t shoot the messenger.’

  ‘Tell him I’ll be down in ten minutes when I’ve had my actual break!’ Midnight called after Veronica as she turned to leave. ‘Honestly, the guy is such a douche.’

  ‘Yeah…’ Phoebe agreed in a vacant tone. She checked her watch. ‘I suppose I ought to get back to it anyway.’

  ‘You’ve barely been here two seconds yourself.’

  ‘I know, but I have loads to do.’ Phoebe went over to the sink to tip her water away.

  ‘Don’t think going upstairs will get you out of this conversation we’ve just been having,’ Midnight said. ‘If you can give me a valid reason why you shouldn’t just take the bloody test and get it over with I’ll give up. But I bet you can’t.’

  Phoebe turned to her with a heavy sigh. ‘I’ll do it later. I promise.’

  ‘Personally, I don’t give a rat’s arse whether you do or not so there’s no need to promise me like my life depends on it. I’m just telling you, as a friend, that you need to.’

  ‘I know, and you’re right. It’s just…’

  ‘Pretending it’s not happening won’t make it go away. Not confirming you’re pregnant doesn’t make you not pregnant. The baby will still be there, whether you acknowledge it or not.’

  ‘It’s easy for you to sit here and spout. It’s not your whole life about to get tipped upside down.’

  ‘Hey… don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time.’

  Phoebe gave a wan smile.

  ‘Do you really think it will be all that bad if you are?’ Midnight asked. ‘You’re okay with sprogs now that you know Maria?’

  ‘Of course. It’s scary though. I mean… it’s not exactly how I imagined it would happen.’

  ‘These things rarely are. If it helps make you feel better I’ll totally babysit for you.’

  ‘I think I’d rather get Beelzebub himself to babysit, but thanks.’

  Midnight laughed. ‘Go on; piss off back to your office. I have coffee drinking to get on with here. And I need to take my time and really savour it so that I’m at least ten minutes late back off break.’

  Phoebe raised her eyebrows.

  ‘If Steve wants to hassle me about being late back I’ll give the twat something to hassle me for.’

  Phoebe gave a bemused shake of her head but she couldn’t help smiling. When it came down to it, Midnight would arrive back on duty and Steve wouldn’t say a word about where she’d been. She’d always been a handful, but these days Midnight was a force of nature. She’d probably end up being the store general manager – people like her usually did. With a wave, Phoebe headed back to her own office at the top of the building.

  Everything her friend had said was true, of course. Phoebe already knew the answer. She was sick every morning, or at least queasy, cried over the most ridiculous things, and – most importantly – couldn’t remember when she had last had a period. But knowing the truth in your heart and seeing the evidence in front of your eyes were two very different situations and Phoebe honestly didn’t know if she was ready for that point of no return. As things were now, at least she could kid herself that it wasn’t really true, that there might be another, more easy to swallow explanation for her symptoms.

  She hadn’t dared mention it to Jack either, and it had been tough pretending everything was fine when all she wanted to do was hurl into her cornflakes at the breakfast table every morning. In fact, she hadn’t told anyone but Midnight so far. Perhaps not the most reliable confidante, but Phoebe hoped that she’d keep the secret and in the end, she’d had to tell someone just to make the burden seem that little bit lighter. Out of everyone Phoebe knew, Midnight was the only person likely to remain neutral on the subject and she didn’t care enough about anything to judge. Phoebe’s parents would blow a gasket when they found out. With a bit of luck she could raise the kid in secret until it was eighteen and then send them out to announce their own existence to their grandparents on the day they came of age.

  As for Jack… well, she had no idea how he would react and right now she was too afraid to find out. Archie was still living with him, his mother still hated Phoebe, and Maria, naturally, demanded to be the centre of Jack’s universe. There were too many reasons to keep this to herself and not nearly enough to announce it right now.

  Phoebe was in the seventh circle of hell. Otherwise known as Sunday lunch with the possibly-one-day-prospective in-laws. She could think of worse things she could be doing, of course: extracting her spleen through her belly button, cleaning the London sewer network with her toothbrush, sitting through double maths… It wasn’t the lunch bit, although that was a real task these days when all she wanted to eat was ginger biscuits. But Jack’s mum still detested her, and had zero conscience about making her feelings known. Whatever Phoebe said, she contradicted, or dismissed, or sneered at. Whatever Phoebe did caused her to roll her eyes and mutter under her breath.

  Right now, Phoebe was looking longingly at the salt located next to Carol and wondering how best she could phrase a request for it without causing her nemesis to vomit in disgust. After a few moments of hesitation, she decided it was probably easier to go without.

  ‘So…’ Jack’s dad began, ‘Jack tells us you’re doing really well at Hendry’s these days, Phoebe.’

  She caught the tiny, irritated sigh that Carol emitted. But at least she had one ally in the parent camp, and she was grateful for his genuine friendly interest. If only he could persuade his wife to like her a fraction of the amount he seemed to, it would make her life so much more bearable. She couldn’t think what it was about her existence that irked Carol so. Phoebe had never been anything but polite and friendly, and she h
ad tried – Lord knew she’d tried – everything to make Jack’s mum like her. It wasn’t that she particularly cared about Carol, but she cared deeply about Jack, and if they could only get along it would make his life easier too. She swallowed her frustrations, and turned to Jack’s father with a bright smile.

  ‘I think it’s going okay. Dixon seems happy anyway and the events are a success, for the most part. We have the odd disaster, of course…’

  ‘Pass the mustard, Jack,’ Carol said in a loud voice across Phoebe.

  Phoebe trailed off and gave up. What was the point? Excruciating silence descended over the table again. Even Maria was diligently sawing at a slice of beef in absolute quiet. The only thing that could possibly make this worse would be the arrival of Archie, who had promised to stay out for the afternoon, having about as much desire to see his mother as she had to see him. Phoebe reflected that since they were harbouring the son that Carol had denounced as a thief and ejected from the maternal home, it was a miracle she had deigned to grace them with her saintly presence at all.

  ‘This beef is wonderful, as usual, Jack,’ she continued. ‘You’re such a fabulous cook.’

  ‘I had a fabulous teacher,’ Jack said.

  Phoebe wondered how much longer she could go without throwing up. She took a giant swig of water to prevent her saying something that she wouldn’t be able to unsay.

  ‘Maria, darling… do you need some help with your meat?’ Carol asked.

  Maria looked up and shook her head.

  ‘I could help, spud,’ Phoebe said.

  Maria looked up again and blew her fringe away from her head. She offered her knife and fork to Phoebe. If Carol had been irritated before, this would be enough to provoke all-out warfare. It probably would have done too, but at that moment there was an almighty crash from the front of the house as the front door burst open, slamming against the hall wall.

  ‘Well… this is very cosy!’ Archie exploded into the kitchen. The overwhelming stench of beer that followed in his wake set Phoebe’s already delicate gag reflex on overdrive.

  ‘Archie!’ Jack shot up from his chair. ‘I thought –’

  ‘That I would be a good boy and stay out of the way while my big brother plays happy families for the inheritance? I changed my mind.’ Archie lurched towards the table and snatched a roast potato from the dish.

  ‘You’re steaming drunk!’ Jack dashed around the table in a bid to usher him from the room, but Archie ducked out of his way with a slurring laugh.

  ‘Not fast enough, bro.’ His hand darted for the table again and another potato disappeared into his mouth. ‘So, how’s it going?’ He looked at his mother as he chewed. ‘Missing me?’

  ‘About as much as I miss shingles,’ Carol replied tartly.

  ‘That’s better than I’d hoped for.’

  The atmosphere in the room was so charged it was almost visible. Things were about to get ugly. Phoebe glanced across at Maria, who was watching proceedings with a wide-eyed look somewhere between confusion and outright fear. She was just about to suggest a walk in the garden when Jack’s father beat her to it.

  ‘Maria, sweetheart, shall we go and pick some of your dad’s strawberries for pudding?’ Without waiting for a reply he swept his granddaughter into his arms and headed for the back door. Phoebe half-wondered whether he would have been better refereeing his sons, but it wasn’t her place to suggest it and, even as the thought ran through her head, he was gone.

  ‘Go and sleep this off, Arch. We’ll talk about it when you’ve sobered up.’ Jack started to shepherd him towards the kitchen door, but it was like trying to herd cats.

  ‘I want more potatoes… man, you’re good at those. Remind me, how is it you’re banging an actual girl?’

  There was a sharp intake of breath from Carol, and Phoebe resisted the insane urge to giggle.

  ‘Shut up, Archie!’ Jack snapped. ‘You’re pissed and making an idiot of yourself.’

  ‘Coz you never do that, do you, Mr Perfect? God it must be hard being so amazing.’

  ‘You’ll always be a bad seed,’ Carol hissed.

  ‘If I am then you made me that way,’ Archie slurred back. He began a slow, sarcastic round of applause. Phoebe had to be impressed he could coordinate his hands to achieve this given the state he was in. ‘Good work, mother.’

  ‘Get out!’

  ‘I can’t, mother, since I live here now. Or have you forgotten that you threw me out?’

  ‘Archie, you said you wouldn’t do this.’ Jack glanced at Phoebe. ‘Not now.’

  ‘Oh yeah, don’t want your girlfriend to find out how dysfunctional your family really is. Not when you’ve put so much work into making her think you’re the perfect man. It’s a shame Rebecca isn’t around to put her right.’

  ‘Don’t you dare bring Rebecca into this,’ Jack growled.

  ‘She’s already in it. She was in it the minute she met you.’

  ‘She’s dead, you idiot.’

  ‘Yeah… you had quite a lot to do with that, didn’t you?’

  Jack’s jaw twitched and in the same instant, his arm pulled back to fire a punch and Phoebe leapt up to grab it.

  ‘Don’t!’ she yelled. ‘He’s drunk.’

  ‘Thanks, doll face,’ Archie gave a hollow laugh, ‘but I think I can take this loser on if he wants a go.’

  ‘I’m not protecting you,’ Phoebe shot back. ‘I’m protecting him from the guilt he’ll feel afterwards.’ She yanked on Jack’s arm. ‘Think about this, Jack.’

  ‘Leave it, blondie,’ Archie sneered. ‘If the tough guy wants a pop I’m game.’

  ‘Stop being so ridiculous,’ Carol snapped.

  ‘You’re ridiculous, you bitter old cow,’ Archie returned. ‘You’ve never had time for me and I’ve never been able to make you happy so what’s the point in trying anymore? It was always perfect Jack and his perfect Rebecca. I think you’d have been happier if I’d died instead of her. You’d much rather have had her as a daughter than me as a son.’

  ‘That’s bollocks, Archie!’ Jack shouted.

  ‘At least Rebecca didn’t steal from her own mother!’ Carol shook as she spoke and Phoebe could see that he’d hit a nerve. She wondered whether Archie was sober enough to have noticed, but doubted it.

  ‘Whatever… I don’t need this.’ Archie glowered at Jack and then at his mother in turn.

  ‘Neither do we.’ Jack shook his arm from Phoebe’s grip. She held her breath, but he didn’t swing for his brother again, as she had feared. Instead, he shoved him towards the kitchen door.

  ‘Go and sober up. You can come down when you’ve decided to stop being a dick.’

  Archie gave a savage salute. ‘Yes, sir, boss, sir!’ he replied in a mocking tone. ‘You carry on being Perfect Peter down here and I’ll go to my room and think about what I’ve done.’

  ‘Archie!’ Carol yelled, but he simply threw her a contemptuous grin and then swivelled himself clumsily out of the doorway, weaving down the hall towards the stairs.

  When Phoebe looked at Jack again he was shaking more than his mother had been. ‘I’m sorry, Mum,’ he said in a low voice.

  ‘You’ve brought it on yourself, Jack.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’ve always known what he’s like and yet you were still foolish enough to give him house room. Now you’re reaping the rewards of that decision.’

  Jack’s eyes widened. ‘You’re serious?’

  ‘Deadly.’

  Phoebe looked from one to the other. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Jack looked even more incredulous.

  ‘He’s my brother – your son! Are you suggesting that I ought to have left him to fend for himself on the streets?’

  ‘Don’t be so melodramatic.’

  ‘Anything could have happened to him!’

  ‘I’m sure he’d have managed. One of his no-good friends would have put him up in a dosshole somewhere.’

  ‘And that would have been okay?’


  ‘He’s relied on this family for far too long and he’s played us all for fools. He’s still playing you.’ Carol folded her arms and held Jack in a scornful gaze. ‘In future, I’d rather not see him here when I come to visit you and Maria.’

  Phoebe couldn’t hold her tongue any longer. ‘Hang on a minute!’ she cut in. ‘Jack never wanted this to happen. He tried to protect you by making sure Archie wasn’t here. He’s trying to be the good guy –’

  Her speech was cut short by Carol slamming her hand on the table.

  ‘I’ll thank you to keep your nose out of our affairs.’

  ‘Mum, Phoebe’s only trying to –’

  Carol held a hand up to silence him. ‘Phoebe should remember,’ she said coldly, ‘that she is not a part of this family and therefore has no right to pass judgement on us.’

  ‘As far as I’m concerned she has as much right to an opinion as anyone else,’ Jack fired back.

  ‘I can actually speak for myself,’ Phoebe cut in.

  ‘Not if Mum gets half a chance to shut you up.’

  ‘I beg your pardon!’ Carol gave an indignant snort.

  ‘You heard him,’ Phoebe returned. Dire as the situation was, she experienced a sliver of triumph watching Jack bring the mother from hell down a peg or two. But then he turned on her instead.

  ‘Don’t…’ he warned. ‘Leave it alone.’

  Phoebe stared at him. ‘You’re having a go at me now?’

  ‘Of course not. Perhaps you should go outside for a bit with Dad and Maria.’

  ‘I don’t believe it!’ Phoebe squeaked. ‘I’m the only person here who has done nothing wrong and I’m being banished from the room like your naughty little brother?’

  ‘You’re overreacting,’ Jack said.

  If eyes could actually pop out of heads then Phoebe’s would be rolling around the floor right now. ‘After everything that’s gone on in here you say I’m overreacting? You have a very weird idea of what’s normal behaviour.’ She hooked a thumb at his mother. ‘What about her?’

  ‘How dare you…’ Carol began.

  ‘Oh, shut up!’ Phoebe snapped, her temper now getting the better of her. She knew, even in the heat of the moment, that she’d regret it, but she‘d been pushed to the absolute limit. ‘You hate me whatever I do or say so what’s the point in trying to be nice? I might as well tell you how I really see it. I think you’re a silly cow who ought to be helping her youngest son when he’s clearly crying out for that help. You have a totally black and white view of the world…’