The New Beginnings Coffee Club

by Samantha Tonge

  In fact, I’d had something of an epiphany whilst making up the treasure bag – that it was really satisfying putting it together, without the use of pots of money. A year ago I would have simply taken out my credit card and bought a book, perhaps some expensive toiletries, or a pretty gold or silver necklace. Whereas now I had to use my imagination and really put in a lot of thought – like my own mum and I used to when making presents for other people.

  ‘Ready to go?’ I shouted upstairs. April had got in from school half an hour ago, which gave her time for a quick juice and to change.

  ‘Just need a few more minutes,’ she called back.

  ‘Don’t forget your inhaler,’ I shouted.

  I took one last look inside the plastic treasure bag, before shoving it into my rucksack, which also contained sun cream, water, and a few snacks. I glanced at the voucher. I’d enjoyed making that.

  I’d also spent a large part of the week sketching, when April was in bed. It took my mind off Noah – and me longing to lose myself in his embrace. It distracted me from thoughts of Zak fighting for custody of April. I’d not heard from him all week. I was close to a concrete plan with regards to IndyVidual. I’d already designed unisex trousers, shorts, and T-shirts. The next step would be to trial actually making the garments.

  Humming, I walked into the kitchen and I picked up my notebook from the table, and flicked through my new sketches with a sense of pride. Wow. I hadn’t felt that for a long time. My steady drawing hand had soon come back, along with my eye for detail. I’d included different-shaped buttons and fun zippers. I’d even looked on the internet at my old course and wondered if it was too late to complete the portfolio and sit the exams.

  Because maybe, just maybe, I could design clothes in my free time; maybe, just maybe, Jenny Jarvis could make a living using her own talent. Be independent. Call the shots. Pay her own bills. Carve out her own professional life. It was easy to set up a business online these days. Start small and who knows? I’d texted Zak to bring over my old sewing machine. He was picking April up tomorrow morning for a trip out with Skye and Chanelle. She didn’t seem as excited as I’d expected, as it meant missing a long cycle ride she’d been invited to by Tom – he was going on it with his dad and Lizzie.

  Still waiting for April, I looked through my old sketches stuffed in the back of the notebook, right to the very end – something I hadn’t done before. And a couple of pieces of musty paper fell to the floor. One was a drawing of a world map with certain places highlighted. The other said My Wish List for Life and by the side Zachary Masters, aged twelve.

  My brow furrowed. He’d attended a school called Jonesborough High and his paperwork from those days must have been filed in the same box in the loft as my sketches, under the letter J, for Jenny. I sat up straight again and hesitated for a moment, before reading the short list.

  Become the best businessman ever – no marriage or kids

  Visit each continent, in style, by the age of forty

  Ski once a year, for life

  Become chairman of Manchester United

  A lump formed in my throat as I focused on the first two. Zak must have always thought big. These were huge wishes, unlike the ones on April’s lists. My eyes pricked. Not only had Zak not been ready for my pregnancy when it had happened – he’d never wanted it to happen at all. And I recalled conversations over the years, him trying to persuade me to travel to far-flung destinations like India or Thailand. But I’d never wanted to take a young child that far or go that distance with her left behind. So he’d settled for holidays closer to home. Because of me. Because of the marriage and kids he’d never planned for.

  I swallowed. It didn’t excuse his affair, but it made me realise more than ever that the last ten years hadn’t been what he’d expected either.

  April and I got in the car and I passed her my iPod. I forced my mouth upwards, pushing thoughts of Zak out of my mind; thoughts of how he and Chanelle really were suited. She loved skiing and would fantasize out loud about one day taking a world cruise to the furthest corners of the earth.

  ‘I’ve uploaded a couple of songs, which give you a clue as to where we are going,’ I said in a cheery tone, determined to focus on the positives and create an enjoyable afternoon for April.

  April shrugged. ‘What’s the point, Mummy? There’s no rainbow today. Just sunshine. We need a bit of rain.’

  I winked and she sighed as we drove off. She put in her earphones.

  ‘So, the first song?’ I said.

  She listened. ‘Ain’t no mountain high enough’. And then ‘She’ll be coming round the mountain.’

  I raised an eyebrow but kept my focus on the road. It was busy with locals driving home early from work as it was Friday.

  ‘But there really aren’t any mountains near here.’

  ‘Aren’t there?’ I said innocently.

  She thought for a moment. ‘Laventon Mountain? That hardly counts, Mummy!’

  I smiled at the humour – not disappointment – in her voice. A few months back, living the luxury life, a spoilt tone might have crept in. But over the last week I’d noticed how, slowly, April was realising that life was about compromise and most people didn’t enjoy instant gratification. Like the toys she’d seen for Buttercup in the local pet shop. At the moment I couldn’t justify spending money on that. But the result was fun – it made April and me turn creative and we’d fashioned our own toys from empty milk bottles and string.

  ‘So why are we going there?’

  April didn’t know of the pub. It wasn’t one Zak had liked too much with its earthy feel and penchant to let dogs in with their owners.

  ‘You’ll see,’ I said and smirked.

  April gave a loud tut. ‘You can’t give me clues, Mummy, and then make me wait. It isn’t fair.’

  ‘Can too,’ I said and stuck my tongue out, whilst keeping an eye on the road.

  April giggled. ‘Fine. Then I won’t tell you what I’ve asked Daddy to take me window shopping for, tomorrow.’

  ‘Window shopping?’ April? I didn’t even know she used that term. In the past she’d just ask and Daddy – or to be fair, Mummy – provided. ‘I know you’re dying to tell me.’

  Another giggle. ‘Okay. You win. A skateboard. Tom is doing jobs for his mum around the house to save up enough money. We’ve seen one with really cool wheels. Harry in Year Six has got one and flips it in the air and all sorts. His mum brings it to the playground every day, after school.’

  I pulled into the car park at the foot of Laventon Mountain. It was a council one for walkers and people who used the nearby fishing stream. Plus it catered for the overflow from the popular pub.

  I glanced at April. ‘So, you want Daddy to buy you it?’ Due to the state of our accounts, she might be disappointed.

  ‘That wouldn’t be fair on Tom if I just got one straightaway. Could I do some jobs for you, Mum, like Tom is for Susie? Him and me could see who earns the most money each week, then. It’d be fun. And then we could buy our skateboards together.’

  My eyebrows rose. Wow. I hadn’t been expecting that and gave her the biggest smile. ‘Of course. I’ll have a think. And maybe Noah and Elle have some jobs you could do – like weeding the garden.’

  She wrinkled her nose. ‘Not sure I’m that keen.’

  We caught each other’s eye and laughed, then got out of the car and headed towards the pub. It was a black and white Tudor building – a little ramshackle, as if it suffered from subsidence. Outside stood a dusty brick wishing well and lopsided wooden tables. Attached to the wall to the left of the entrance door was a tap with several dog bowls beneath it.

  ‘Okay. Here we are. What do you think?’

  April looked around. ‘Of what?’

  I jerked my head towards the sky. April glanced upwards and noticed the pub sign: ‘Rainbow’s End’. It bore the picture of a rather muted rainbow, which looked as if it had been through Instagram’s sepi
a filter, rather than the original bold colours.

  Her eyes widened. ‘That’s well clever, Mum, but it’s not a proper rainbow – like the ones going over the mountain in the film. And it means there won’t be proper treasure.’

  ‘Luckily I searched out the pub’s history on the computer,’ I said, as we followed a path towards the big hill. I took my sunglasses out of the rucksack and wish I’d worn a vest top instead of a blouse with sleeves. ‘Apparently, in the sixteenth century, there was a terrible storm. A lightning bolt set fire to a house in the village. The flames soon spread. A lot of damage was caused.’

  ‘Did people die?’

  I shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but everyone feared another bolt would wipe out their community altogether. Then unexpectedly sun broke through the cloud and a rainbow shot across the skyline. Locals swore it ended here, at the bottom of this hill.’

  April glanced over her shoulder back at the pub.

  ‘Some said it was the work of God. Others the work of the devil – especially when an unscrupulous businessman said he’d build a pub right here to represent how lucky the village was. Rumour has it that he only bought the land so that he could hide a stash of gold coins that he’d stolen.’

  April’s eyes shone. ‘Ooh. So they could still be here?’

  I took out the sun cream, put my rucksack on the ground for a moment, and took off the lid. ‘Well, let’s go to the top and find out. He might have buried it up there!’

  ‘Do I have to wear that?’ she moaned as I rubbed the cream into her cheeks. ‘Tom says sun cream is for wusses.’

  ‘Better a healthy wuss than a sunburnt one. Unless, of course, you want to go home instead …’

  She grimaced, closed her eyes, and rolled in her lips so that they didn’t get splattered with cream. However, all sun protection moans were forgotten five minutes later, as we started to hike up the hill – we could both moan about our aching thighs instead. But this soon changed into gasps of delight, pointing out wildflowers and insects we didn’t know. Bees buzzed around dandelions and for a while we stopped to sit down and make a daisy chain. I couldn’t believe it was something we’d never done before and when the necklace was finished, April put it over her head and squealed with delight. As we continued our ascent, she picked me a bunch of wildflowers and we both decided it would be possible to make the best perfume ever from their smell.

  ‘April! Look!’ We had stopped about halfway up. I pointed and her gaze followed my index finger.

  ‘School!’ She clapped her hands. ‘How tiny it looks. And over there is the church.’ Her hand waved in the air and then we both took out our mobile phones to take photos. Then April insisted we take a selfie.

  She coughed a few times and instinctively I looked at the sky. Clouds were slowly moving in and it was chillier the higher we went as the afternoon breeze picked up. I tried to locate a phone signal to check the weather forecast again but that proved pointless. I opened my rucksack and pulled out April’s cardigan. She folded her arms and shook her head.

  ‘Mummy!’ she said in a disapproving tone. ‘It’s summer. If we run the rest of the way that will keep us warm.’ She coughed again.

  ‘Do you need your inhaler? Is your chest tight, with all this exercise?’

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t know why you still ask me that when all I do is cough. I’ve only ever been in hospital once.’

  My eyes tingled. It was true, but I would never forget that episode where a tickly throat had turned into pneumonia. Zak and I had stayed by her bedside and hadn’t slept for two nights.

  ‘How often have you had to use your inhaler at school lately?’

  ‘Hardly ever.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Only a couple of times after netball. And a bit whilst camping with Daddy last weekend as I ran around the fields a lot with my new friend. Maybe my asthma is getting better?’

  ‘Hmm. Maybe …’ I stared at the sky, not sure what to do next. Indecisiveness was new to me and a common feature of my life now. I really appreciated how hard single parenthood was. Before I’d always had Zak’s opinion to rely on – even if I sometimes ignored it. Sharing the big decisions and small everyday ones was, I realised, something I’d always taken for granted. Did it matter that her new shoes slipped at the heel a little? As it’s summer, should she be allowed to stay up a little bit later at night? What exactly should I say to her maths teacher now that April had been moved down a set?

  ‘Come on, Mummy! Please! I want to see the treasure.’ She took my hand and pulled me up the hill. ‘You’re using my cough as an excuse. Lazybones! You should be jogging. What would Noah say?’

  ‘You cheeky madam!’ I couldn’t resist her wide smile and teasing eyes. And by my calculations we only had about twenty minutes’ walking left to get to the top. No doubt April was fitter than ever after weeks of bike rides. But the trouble was, twenty minutes proved to be plenty of time for thicker, low cloud to sweep in.

  I recalled Noah’s comment about how the top was known for suddenly becoming foggy. Stomach twisting, I passed April her cardigan and she didn’t complain about putting it on. She was coughing every few minutes now. Was that my imagination or did her chest sound wheezy? As we finally reached the top I leant her against the big boulder, which marked the peak.

  ‘April. Use your inhaler. No arguments, now.’

  She nodded. ‘My chest does feel a little tighter since it got cold.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘I was having fun!’ she said and, bottom lip jutting out, took her inhaler. The daisies around her neck now looked wilted and limp.

  What a shame the cloud was so low. You couldn’t see further than five metres away, let alone enjoy the horizon. I pulled our waterproofs out of the rucksack to give us another layer. I’d then give April the bag of treasure and get her back home as soon as possible.

  ‘Mummy?’

  I looked at April. Saw her pinched face. Noticed her chest heaving. Heard her wheeze.

  ‘My inhaler isn’t working.’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  ‘What?’ I examined it. A nauseous sensation backed up my throat. ‘That’s because this one has run out. Where’s the new canister? Daddy must have needed it last weekend. This one had almost finished then.’ Mustn’t panic. She’d be fine. But what if …? I shook myself and once again examined the inhaler.

  April pulled the waterproof on, her hair starting to glisten in the fog. ‘I had just enough puffs the last time I used it, on the Sunday morning. Daddy took it off me and said he was going to put the new canister in. He gave it back to me just before we got in the car to come home.’

  I pursed my lips together to stop angry words coming out. Zak must have forgotten about putting the new one in and I could have kicked myself for not checking the inhaler before April and I came out.

  ‘My chest is starting to hurt. How am I going to get down the hill without it?’ Her eyes looked wet.

  ‘Come on,’ I said, calmly. ‘Let’s go back the way we came up. It will seem more familiar. And going down is the easier part.’

  Her wheezing became louder. ‘I can’t stop it. The tightness. The pain.’ Her eyes widened as she coughed again. My heart raced, all the background worries about Zak, Chanelle, their betrayal, and my new life forgotten.

  I looked at my watch. It was almost six o’clock. I sat on the ground next to April and put my arm around her to keep her as warm as possible. Noah and Elle would be closing the café. Zak would be on his way home from the office. Inwardly I groaned. Not that I could contact them for help – there was no reception up here.

  I tightened my arm around April as the wheezing became worse.

  Okay.

  Must remember the advice I’d read over the years about what to do if ever caught without an inhaler …

  ‘Right. Sit as upright as you can, sweetie. And long deep breaths … In and out. In and out. That’s it.’

  Her chin trembled.
‘I’m not going to die, am I?’

  ‘Of course not,’ I said firmly and smiled. ‘We will wait until you feel a little better and then start walking down, away from the cold and cloud.’

  I could have kicked myself again. If only I’d brought a flask of coffee. Hot caffeinated drinks can open the airways. I should have thought that it might be colder at the top. I bit the inside of my cheek. Damn Zak and damn me. Damn us both for our foolishness.

  I took off my coat and wrapped it around her hunched shoulders.

  ‘But … you’ll … get … cold …’ She was breathless now.

  ‘Shh, I’m fine. You concentrate on making each breath long and deep. Remember, in through your nose and out through your mouth.’ All these weeks I’d spent fretting about having no money or a big enough house. None of that really mattered – I saw that clearer than ever now.

  ‘It’s … hard.’

  I didn’t know what to do. Hopelessly, I tried my phone again. Nothing. I couldn’t leave April here. And she wouldn’t make it back in this condition. What if the fog didn’t clear again, into evening sunshine, and we ended up staying here all night?

  Huh? I sat up. ‘Did you hear that?’ I said.

  ‘What?’

  I stood up. ‘Anyone there?’ I shouted.

  Silence.

  I tried again. ‘Help!’

  ‘Jenny? April?’ called back a voice.

  My eyes tingled. Thank God. I squinted through the fog and Elle appeared, followed closely by Zak, in his suit. He strode forward and bent down by April.

  ‘Christ, princess. Are you okay?’

  ‘Daddy … can’t breathe …’ Tears streamed down her face.

  Zak looked at me. ‘Sorry for being an irresponsible idiot,’ he muttered and held out the canister. ‘I completely forgot about putting the new one in last weekend.’

  ‘We know,’ I snapped and quickly changed the canisters over. Zak and I both knelt down and watched April use the new one. Slowly her breathing eased.