“Dad didn’t really know him.”
“Yes, he did. We all did.”
The back door was flung open and suddenly the kitchen was full of Luke. A streak of tortoiseshell fur sped in past him, waiting rewarded. Luke held his bag hefted over his shoulder with one hand. Without breaking his stride he lifted two chocolate cakes from the cooling rack on the ledge.
“Hey, Jay! What are you doing here?”
“I just felt like coming home for a bit.”
Luke and bag made a bulky exit into the hall. “No accounting for some,” he mumbled, his mouth full of cake.
Luke spent much of the evening revising. His mock exams were coming up soon. Jenna brought him coffee and a sandwich in his room at supper time. He was sprawled on his side on the bed, his head propped on one hand. A bulging ring binder of notes was open in front of him. Jenna stepped over another file on the floor. Music made a tinny rattle from the earphone that wasn’t in his ear. At least Luke never played his music too loud. She didn’t think her mother and father had any idea how lucky they were.
“By the way,” said Luke turning a page without looking up, “Paul wants to do a city shoot soon. He says he’s been commissioned to get some new Belfast pics and I can help him.”
“I didn’t know you and Paul were still in touch.”
Luke felt around till his hand found the sandwich. He took a bite. Then his eyes swivelled up beneath his brows. “You weren’t the only one who got his number.” He looked back at his notes, crumbs scattering over the ink. “He’s more fun than Adam the aardvark anyway.”
Jenna grinned at the top of his head. Luke knew she had said goodbye to Adam. That comment meant he approved. He ripped another bit of sandwich with his teeth.
“He says he’ll pick me up at your house.”
“Does he indeed? Can you afford the time?”
He looked up. “I can’t work all the time. There’s a party at Beezer’s on Friday week. I can walk to your place from there and stay over. We could do the shoot next day.”
We? Jenna felt a pang of jealousy. She turned to leave. “OK. Just come in quietly. I’ll probably be asleep for hours by the time you get in.”
Luke waved the sandwich airily. “I’ll not disturb your beauty sleep. Are you going to have a nose job now you’ve got the hair fixed?”
Jenna reached for a jumper that lay in a heap on the floor.
“Watch your mouth, brat, or you’ll need a nose job!” she growled. Luke rolled backwards laughing as the jumper landed on him.
She found her father in his study.
“Hi, Dad. Getting ready for tomorrow night?”
Donald sat back and put an arm out to propel her to the low soft chair that occupied the corner on the far side of his cluttered desk.
“I won’t have too much to do tomorrow thankfully. Someone else will do the talking. I can just listen for once. And drink the coffee and eat the buns afterwards.”
And talk to all the people who will surround you, Jenna added silently. He had helped, advised and comforted so many people and they loved him for it. Some had brought their troubles to this room, sat in this chair and held up their broken hearts to him. Even when he was tired and sometimes even when he was ill himself, he never turned anyone away.
“Dad?”
His head tilted in curiosity. “What’s on your mind?”
She hesitated, trying to feel her way to what she wanted to say. “Don’t you ever…” she waved a hand round the room “… get tired of all this? Being who everyone expects you to be?”
“Yes, indeed I do.”
“So why do you do it?”
“Because people need me. Because I know I’m doing what I was meant to do.”
Jenna frowned a little. “But how can you be sure you’re doing what you were meant to do? That you’re doing the right thing?”
Her father leaned an elbow on his desk. “Is this about Adam?”
She shrugged. “In a way, I suppose.”
Donald looked down and moved some papers about. “If sticking with Adam didn’t feel right, then you’ve done the right thing.”
“Oh, I’ve no doubts about that.”
“Then what is it?”
Jenna reached for a pen on the desk. She fiddled with it, twisting it in her fingers absently. Suddenly she said in a rush, “Have you ever felt in your heart that something is very, very right, but your head tells you it’s very, very wrong?”
Her father gave her a long steady look. “Are you going to tell me any more?” She shook her head, half smiling. He sighed. “Follow your head. The heart knows no boundaries and that leads to all sorts of trouble.”
She stopped fiddling, went very still. “Boundaries? But maybe the boundaries that we set for ourselves stop us finding wonders elsewhere.”
He laughed. “I wish you’d tell me what’s on your mind, Missy.”
She moved in the chair, restless. “I’m talking just… generally.”
“No, you’re not. If I didn’t know what a sensible girl you are, I’d be worried. Outside those boundaries are…” he leaned towards her and pulled a fierce face “… dragons!”
She was silent for a moment and then she stood up. “Well. Maybe I’ll go and sharpen my spear!” she said, her voice light. She leaned down to put her arms round his neck and plant a kiss on his warm cheek. “I love you, Dad.”
He smiled up at her. “I love you too, Missy.”
She went to the door, hesitated, and then turned. “Do you think you could stop calling me Missy? Please?”
He was already picking up his pen, but his eyebrows rose as he looked at her. “But you’ll always be Missy to me.”
“Please.”
“I’ll try. If you promise to stay my little girl?”
She gripped the door handle. “No promises, Dad.”
She had almost closed the door behind her when he called her again. She put her head back into the room, inquiring. Her father had sat back again, put his pen down.
“There are many new, attractive things – and people – beyond this village, Jenna. They’re not all worth having.”
“Maybe not all of them,” she said.
The hall was in semi-darkness, lit by one lamp on the table below the portrait that Paul had taken. Jenna stopped to look up at it. She put her hand up and stretched to touch her own face with the tips of her fingers. That’s the girl who’s no trouble at all, the girl that Paul didn’t need to bother about that day, the one in the group he could ignore. She pulled her hand back and touched the side of her head where he had tucked the ivy into her hair while she slept. You’re not ignoring me now, are you?
The sitting room door was closed. Her mother was watching television and, probably, doing embroidery. She was a talented needlewoman, her fingers never still, always working, always aiming to make money for some good cause. Jenna went through to the kitchen where everything was neat and clean again, all the spoons and bowls put away, the cakes ready in their tins. She turned on the outside light and unlocked the back door.
With her arms folded against the cold, she crossed the lawn and paced the length of the back fence. The light from above the back door splashed across the grass and lit the wire and posts for half its length. Then the line marched away into darkness. The lights of the village pricked the sky in the distance, blocked by the jagged silhouettes of the old huts crouched in the field. The lights from the sitting room were muted by heavy curtains, but above, half way along the upper storey, the lights of Luke’s room were a bright patch on the dark house.
Jenna wandered past the gable of the house, the broad sweep of lawn damp under her feet, not a sound from any wild thing. She stood still under the stars. In front of her, the bare branches of a cherry tree spindled up towards a sickle of moon.
Suddenly she whirled round and ran. A hand on a fence post, feet flung high, knees bent to take the fall on the other side. She collapsed onto the lumpy field, exhilaration firing through every bone in her
body. She ripped at a clump of grass and threw it high into the night. As it drifted down to fall on her hair and shoulders, she laughed aloud. Clap, clap, clap for me now!
21
IT WAS AN awkward evening. Was it his birthday or the first anniversary of Christopher Shepherd’s death? They sat round the remnants of the meal, drinking coffee from tiny cups and eating birthday cake. Adam was peeling the marzipan off his piece; Dianne looked cool and self-possessed in a green top and skirt; Hazel was quiet. Irritation was gnawing at Paul. Dianne had shut Jack in the garden shed.
Hazel looked round the table. “It’s a pity Jenna’s not here. I like her.” She turned to Adam. “Is it really over between you?”
Adam lifted his cup. “Afraid so, Mum. It wasn’t going anywhere. Better making a clean break.”
Paul sat back and looked at the ceiling. “I thought she dumped you.”
“How would you know?” said Adam scornfully.
“Oh, just going by your track record.”
“Paul!” said his mother. “That’s not nice.”
“But true,” Paul shrugged.
Dianne broke in smoothly. “I still see Jenna sometimes. In fact, I was going to see if she’d take that cat back.”
“I’m sure she would,” said Adam.
Hazel brushed some crumbs into a heap and dropped them onto her plate. “The poor little thing. I’ll take him if you like. Widget might be grumpy for a while, but he’d get used to him.”
“Well, there you are!” said Dianne. “Two homes on offer. He’ll be spoiled.”
Paul spoke very quietly. “Jack’s going nowhere.” He looked up, straight at his wife. “He’s staying here.”
Dianne folded her arms on the table. “We’ll see.”
There was a silence. Adam swallowed the marzipan and changed the subject. “I’ve something to tell you.” His mother and Dianne looked at him expectantly.
Paul’s eyebrows rose. “Rachel’s under the table. Metaphorically speaking, of course.” He flicked a piece of cake in the air and caught it in his coffee cup.
Dianne put her head in her hands. A flush spread over Adam’s fair skin.
“I’m going to England,” he said.
Hazel’s eyes rounded. “Another sales trip, you mean?”
“More than that. To stay. The boss wants me to set up an office just outside London so that English business can be dealt with more effectively.” He moved the salt and pepper together neatly. “It’s promotion. Good promotion.”
Dianne sat upright in delight. “Wonderful, Adam! You’ll be near us. I mean,” she corrected quickly, “near my father’s house. I’m sure he can help you some way.”
“That would be great. I can do with all the contacts I can get.” When his mother spoke again, there was a small quaver in her voice. “When do you go?”
“In a fortnight. The office is already leased. I just have to set up the procedures and… staff it.”
Paul stood up suddenly and pushed in his chair. He leaned on the back of it to stare at Adam. “Let me guess. You’ll be bringing some staff with you. Maybe just one.”
Adam looked down at the table, moved the salt again, lined up the pepper beside it. Then he looked up defiantly. “Maybe.”
Paul leaned across the table, picked up the salt and moved it to the other end of the table. He picked up the pepper. “I’m going out for some fresh air.” He put the pepper on the window ledge as he left the room.
He went through the kitchen and out into the back garden.
Bad temper was sparking through him like static. He knew he was leaving silence behind him, but the only one he felt guilty about was his mother. He would talk to her later.
The stars were hidden by rumpled black clouds that skidded along in the fresh wind. As Paul picked his way along the dark path to the garden shed, he heard a faint mewing and a scuffling at the door. Jack was much too small to make an impression on that door, even in its dilapidated state.
He called softly and the mewing increased in volume and hope. He slid the bolt and bent to put his hand to the crack in the door. His fingers closed gently but firmly on the little body that wriggled through. Jack settled on his shoulder, small rump in the palm of his hand, as he stepped into the shed and wedged the warped door behind him. Only the faintest hint of light filtered from the cold night through the pane of glass in one wall.
There was nowhere to sit. In fact, Paul hardly knew what was in here. It smelled of rust and earth and old wood. There was an ancient pair of shears hanging on a nail on the wall opposite the window. In one corner there was a collection of tools: a hoe, a fork, a spade. Well, he did remember using those. Once. When Adam had helped him with the front garden last autumn.
The kitten was licking his ear, whiskers tickling and purrs escalating to heights of delight, deafening him. Paul hunkered and dropped cross-legged to the floor. It wasn’t too clean but he didn’t care. He set the kitten down beside him and it rolled onto its side and started to wrestle with his fingers, its teeth nibbling harmlessly and claws half sheathed.
“Hey!” he teased, “behave yourself. You’re a manse cat. Love thine owner.” He ruffled the soft fur of its tummy.
The shed was lit suddenly by a slash of light from the back door as it opened again. Footsteps paced away and back, approached, hesitated. Then the shed door was tugged open. The kitten jumped in surprise and hid under Paul’s knee. Paul looked up into the face of his brother.
“Come back in, idiot. Mum’s upset.”
“I wonder why.”
“Because you walked out. Remember what day it is.”
Paul stood up slowly, hooking Jack into his hand as he rose.
“Thanks for the birthday card,” he said.
“What birthday card?”
“Ah. Silly me. There wasn’t one.”
“Don’t be so selfish.”
Idly rubbing Jack’s chin, Paul walked towards him. “Of course. It’s also the anniversary of the day your dad died.”
Adam’s hair tugged in the night breeze as he stood with his hand on the shed door, stopping it from banging backwards. Impatiently he swept his other hand across his hair. “Yes. The day your mother’s husband died.”
“Did you have to choose today to tell her you were leaving? And so suddenly?”
Adam shrugged. “Well, we were all together. Seemed like a good opportunity. You’re back now. She’s just swapping one son for the other. Anyway, you were always her favourite.”
“And you were always his. Are you really going to England to open an office?”
“I am.”
“Is Rachel going with you?”
“What is this? The Spanish Inquisition?”
“Is she?”
Adam looked away. “She is.”
Paul held Jack up and tickled his ear. “You’ll live together over there. Won’t you? This is all part of a plan. Isn’t it?”
Adam turned suddenly and moved away towards the light of the back door. “It’d freeze the balls off a monkey out here. Get back inside. Mum wants you.”
Paul stepped out of the shed and, gripping a delighted Jack in one hand, he wriggled the bolt on the twisted door until it gripped.
“Were you and Rachel planning this while you were still seeing Jenna?”
Adam spun round. His foot kicked a pebble that rolled away in the dark. “What’s that to you?”
Paul came up to him and they stood face to face, Adam’s in shadow and in turn shadowing Paul’s. “She’s not the kind of girl you do that to.”
Adam snapped his fingers. “She’s a girl like any other.”
“Did you ever really know her at all?”
Faintly, Paul saw Adam’s eyes narrow. “What’s this about?”
“Maybe it’s about you being a bloody bastard.” Paul’s voice was calm.
Adam took a step forward and thrust a finger into Paul’s chest. His voice was low and vicious. “Oh no. You’re the bloody bastard. My father said so. And he w
as right.”
Jack bit his finger.
Later Adam left the room briefly. Dianne was in the kitchen. Jack raced across the room, a ping-pong ball springing from his flying paws, pinging off chair legs, spinning under the table. He skidded after it, twisting and turning, ears perked and eyes darting. The ball flew past Paul’s foot and he kicked it across the room. Hazel laughed as Jack leapt in the air and turned after it before his paws hit the ground.
“He’s a lovely kitten,” she said. “You must be feeding him well. His coat’s shining like glass.”
Paul sat on the sofa beside her and she linked her arm though his. “Happy birthday, Paul, and many more of them.”
His smile flashed briefly. “There’ll be many more anniversaries like this one for you too.”
“I’m not really one for anniversaries. Christopher was dead yesterday, he’s dead today and he will be tomorrow too. What’s special about a date? Besides…” she stopped and fiddled with his sleeve, “there’s been an anniversary every December for twenty-nine years and no-one mentions it.”
“I think of him. Often.” He heard Dianne in the kitchen. She would be back any minute. “How do you feel about Adam going to England?”
She was quiet for a moment. “Not happy.” She turned her face to him. “But I’ve got you back now.” Adam’s steps sounded down the stairs. Quickly Hazel pecked Paul on the cheek. “And you’re my firstborn. It’s back to the way it was twenty-nine years ago. Just you and me.”
Adam flung the door open. Jack was just behind it and there was a soft thump. The kitten picked itself up and shook its head vigorously. Adam glanced down. “Toughen up, scrap,” he said. “It’s a big bad world. OK, Mum. Better get you home.” He rocked on the balls of his feet and smiled broadly. “I’ve a lot of things to see to.”
Paul went down the drive with his mother, steering her by the light from the front door past his own car and the edge of the lawn. It was a crisp night, with a frost not far away. He opened the car door, but before she got in, she put her arms round his waist and hugged him. Surprised, he kissed her brow. She reached up to tousle his hair.
Maker of Footprints Page 21
