She did try to make conversation with me, but again it was all work-based. She said she was working from the office locally this week although she would probably be back late most nights. I told her Molly was welcome at ours whenever she wanted to stay and she thanked me. It was a genuine thank you and for a moment it looked like there was a sadness behind her smile, and I couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for her and the life she had. She was missing out on so much with her daughter, and in just the small amount of time I’d spent with Molly, I knew what a shame that was.
Monday
Lou was back at work today. She looked different. Her hair was usually a mass of untamed wild curls, but today it was pinned to the back of her head with her crocodile clip and she looked frail. I went in and gave her a huge hug and it felt like she had lost weight.
She apologised for being unwell last week and asked me how I’d managed while she had been away. I told her it had been fine, and it had. I mean, I needed Pat to help, but we had managed perfectly. Lou gave me a white envelope, told me to pop it in my bag and open it when I got home and keep it between us. I agreed but felt uneasy.
I had brought in a tray of Pat’s brownies today as I wasn’t sure if Lou would definitely be back and upon her trying one, she asked if Pat would be interested in earning a bit of money and doing the baking while she was staying with me. I said I’d ask, but was sure she would.
By 10am a huge bouquet of flowers had arrived for Lou, with a card that read ‘Thank you for being the best wife to me and mum to our boys’. She looked embarrassed, but I told her the flowers were beautiful and divided them up and scattered them around the café in the quirky little collection of vases we had accumulated from bottles and other items the kids had found on the beach.
Jen came in at lunchtime, greeting us with the line, ‘Ooh, that quiche looks to die for, and I need a treat today. I’ll have a big slice please, with salad.’
I delivered it to the table she’d chosen right by the counter and noticed that she looked ruffled.
‘All OK, Jen?’ I asked her.
‘Yeah, kind of,’ she said with a shame-faced grin. ‘It’s been a bit of a morning. I dropped the kids off at school and nursery this morning then on the way back a man in a white van pulled out in front of me. I beeped my horn at him but that only riled him and he gave me the middle finger. I overtook him on the dual carriageway and gave him another hand gesture but then he started following me.’
Jen lives near a farm, down long winding roads that get minimal traffic, and when the guy in the van was still following her, she went into a panic and called the police. They told her to keep driving and so she drove past her driveway then watched the van turn into her house, massively freaking her out. She kept driving and by now was in a total state. A few minutes later her husband called her to say the plumber had rang him to say he was outside the house to fix the leaking tap but no one was home ….
Lou and I cried with laughter at the way she told the story. She was so mortified that she’d called the plumber a wanker that she couldn’t face going home and she made her husband leave work to go and let him in while she sat in her car up the road and waited for him to leave. Only Jen …
Wednesday
I woke up this morning and suddenly remembered about the envelope Lou had given me. I opened it and there was a card in it, which read: ‘Thank you, you have no idea how much you have helped. Please keep this between us two, Much love, L’. There was £500 in cash. Five hundred pounds – ridiculous. I told Jamie and Pat immediately. They said it was a nice gesture, she could afford it, and reminded me I had been running the café on and off, so I should gracefully accept and not worry about it.
I arrived at work and went on a meltdown as soon as I walked in, saying to Lou that I couldn’t possibly accept the money.
‘Nonsense,’ was her response. ‘Remember, it’s just between us,’ she said.
I decided to accept, gracefully – and I felt secretly chuffed at the appreciation she had shown me.
We still haven’t heard anything from Laura or her parents and it’s slightly unnerving, and, in a way, makes me worry more, but at the same time it’s so nice to just be able to raise the kids without any drama.
Pat, as usual, reminds us that ‘everything will work out for the best’, and I can’t help but worry that maybe she’s wrong on this score. She’s so calm, and convinced the children will be looked after, and I’m not sure how she always remains so positive and happy.
I catch her squeezing Jamie’s shoulder after dinner as we’re collecting the plates off the table and I see him reach up and hold her hand in his. The kids don’t pick up on it, but it’s heart-warming to see: a mum looking after her little boy, her only child, who’s now a fully grown adult and dad, who’s trying his best to look after his children; and him responding to her touch to thank her.
It reminded me of a chiropractor I’d visited years ago when I was pregnant who had told me that her teenage daughter had met her first boyfriend. I’d asked her if she liked him and she’d told me that she’d treated his nan for years before meeting him. She’d said that this lady had always spoken of how she loved spending time with her daughter and her grandson, doing the school runs with him and hanging out on weekends with them. I remembered her words from that day: ‘When you know someone has been raised feeling that much love, by such lovely people, chances are they’re going to be a good person’. Her words flooded back to me tonight when I watched Pat and Jamie.
Friday
David called Jamie this morning and said he’d received a letter from Laura’s solicitor’s firm agreeing to us keeping the children with us for the foreseeable future. It stated that Laura has accepted she has ‘issues’, which she is currently getting help with. The letter was just a few sentences long but ended thanking us for all we had done and continued to do for the children.
David said we had two options, to apply to court now to make the children living with us a permanent thing – chances are the courts would wait on her treatment plan, etc., anyway and it would be a long drawn-out process – or we wait. She could get treatment, and recover – and ultimately, this was in the children’s best interest in the long run anyway. It could potentially save a stressful costly battle and tens of thousands of pounds, or there was the other option that she wouldn’t get better, the children would remain with us for a longer period, then if she did decide she wanted them back we would have better grounds to keep them residing with us as it would disturb them too much to uproot them again.
We decided to wait and instructed David to reply asking her for an update in a month’s time.
I called Jen and spoke to her about it all – she’s sweet and offers good advice, and she texts regularly to ask me how things are and just check in on me. I haven’t had that before, and it’s a nice feeling when my phone pings and I know it’s a message from her.
We’ve arranged to go on a spa day on Monday. It’s my day off from the café and Pat offered to ferry the children to and from school so we could enjoy the whole day without watching the clock. The spa is in a hotel on a cliff that overlooks the whole town and has huge sheets of glass as one of the walls to show the view across the beaches. We invited Lou but she’d got the boys off as they school privately so have different/longer holidays, meaning that she can’t make it. But I’m looking forward to just spending time with Jen.
Sunday
Jamie and I went for lunch today, just the two of us. We walked into town and ate at a pub/restaurant on the harbour. It’s quite exclusive, done out in an industrial theme with matte silvers, brass and coppers and wooden décor that looks old, battered and funky, but the food is amazing. I had a pint of prawns to start and a trio of pork for main and Jamie had steak, and we shared a bottle of wine.
Belle and Molly went and met Jacob and his friend – I wondered if I should have informed Jaclyn that they were hanging out with boys, as although Molly is allowed to sleep at ours she comes armed with
a strict set of ‘do’s and don’ts – but I thought about it, and by telling her there was every chance she would have come and collected her and locked her back up in her tower like Rapunzel, and actually I don’t think there is anything wrong with fifteen-year-old girls hanging out with fifteen-year-old boys so I decided against it. Rex and Ruby went to Meg’s and played with her kids, and Pat took Art and Will swimming.
I realise, when it’s just the two of us, how much I miss Jamie. Time alone with him is something I love but don’t get very often.
When it’s just Jamie and me, we get to be us. We get to talk about everything and nothing and giggle at stupid stuff, and I learn so much more about him every time we’re alone. I think I know it all and then he will tell me a tale from his childhood or a story of a holiday or something that happened to him at work years prior to meeting me and it makes me laugh until I cry. I love learning about him; I love knowing what he likes and dislikes. I never want us to stop talking and being interested in one another, no matter how old we get or how stressful and busy our lives are.
We finished lunch, had a wander round the little shops in town, and then wandered back up the hill with an ice cream. We got home late afternoon and Pat had roasted a chicken with salad and crusty bread for tea.
All the kids were dotted around the house, watching films or on their tablets, and Belle was in her room chatting to Jacob on FaceTime. When I went in, she whispered to me that Molly was staying at her own house tonight then ushered me out. As I was closing the door, I heard her say, ‘Sorry. I muted you because my mum came in.’ Like Jamie said, this is where the fun starts …
After the kids were fed, bathed and in bed, Pat went out to the summer house with a cup of tea and a book, and Jamie and I opened a bottle of red wine and got on the sofa together. He rubbed my feet and smiled along to the TV and I got one of ‘those’ moments again, and I haven’t had one for a while. The one where I thought, if this all goes wrong one day – if it all ends in disaster somehow – I will remember how I felt right now and it’ll be worth it for this feeling here, today, because some people never feel this happy in their entire lifetime.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Absent Fathers
Monday
I met Jen in town today, as we both live a ten-minute walk away but from opposite directions. We got the bus up the hill to the spa as it’s a real trek but also because Jen suggested having a prosecco or two with our lunch, so we left the cars at home. Jen’s husband is working from home today and Pat is at mine so they’re doing the school runs this afternoon. For once there is no rush for us to get back, which feels lovely, and unusual.
The spa was ridiculously stunning. The view of the beach over the cliffs was breathtaking (although it made me have a quick horrid flash of Laura and I wondered what she must have been thinking on ‘that day’. I quickly stopped myself and remembered I was here to rest and relax!).
The spa décor was dark, all plums and navy. The ladies working there had matching uniforms – some navy, some plum and a mix of buttons, collars, skirts and trousers. The smell was divine, the standard of cleaning was amazing and they had dispensers of drinking water dotted about with berries and slices of cucumber and lemon in.
From 10.30am until 4.30pm we swam, steam-roomed, saunaed and lazed about on the plush beds chatting, snoozing, people-watching and reading the books we had brought along. I brought The Star Outside my Window. It’s a book about domestic abuse, written from the innocent child’s point of view. Jen asked me if it’s good, I told her heart-breaking, but amazing.
Jen was reading The Secret by Rhonda Byrne – I was intrigued as she explained how it had changed her life, she reads passages regularly as a self-help book, which is what she was doing today. It focuses on the law of attraction and teaches people how positive thinking can lead to happiness, health and wealth. I wasn’t sure if it was true, but she sold it to me and I could do with more positivity, so it arrives Thursday.
We ate the loveliest lunch which came on a china stand full of tiny sandwiches, with the cucumber and salmon being the best. We had lots of dainty cakes which we washed down with a bottle of prosecco then we strolled to have our pedicures in a fit of the giggles because the fizz had gone to our heads! Bliss.
I walked in at home to everyone sat round eating dinner. Pat gave me a huge hug and asked if I’d had a lovely day. Jamie was making all the kids laugh delivering crap accents on their orders of whatever country and city they fancied choosing.
I have spent tonight buzzing. I have had the best day, going out away from the house and kids and just having a friend that I can speak to about stuff is the nicest feeling ever and just before I came up to bed to write this Jen messaged: ‘Had the best day in a long time today, thanks for making me laugh so much. Must do again soon and drag Lou along.’
Made me smile because she was right, and I know Lou would feel exactly how I do next time we go.
Tuesday
I met up with Megan this morning for a coffee on the beach. I brought the flask and she bought the most delicious homemade flapjacks that I have ever tasted.
She told me that she’s really struggling at the moment and feels isolated. Although she can always talk to me about what happened, having a stillbirth isn’t something you can stop and chat about to the supermarket checkout girl or an old friend in the street – and sometimes, she feels desperate to talk about it. She doesn’t do social media, and although I’ve never been one to understand people that declare war and peace across their social media pages, I did mention to her about joining some like-minded groups on Instagram or Facebook.
At first, she didn’t seem sure, but I explained to her that after Mark left, I found my evenings utterly boring once the kids were in bed, and joining social media had given me a support system just when I needed it most. I had read some horrid internet stories, but after joining Instagram and Facebook, I’d found quite a community of people who were going through the same thing as me – pages set up by women who help and support other women.
I had a look today after speaking to Megan and found a baby loss support group that looked really good. People have set up accounts to share their stories, to raise awareness and to let others know it’s OK to talk. I think that it may help Megan to speak to other women who have been through what she has and she said she would think about setting up an account.
I can’t imagine what it must feel like to go through an entire pregnancy then be met with nothing but devastation. I keep thinking about when her milk must have come in, but her having no baby there. It’s just soul-destroying. And you have to just carry on for the children you do have.
I finally emailed my sister Kitty tonight to tell her about my plan to visit Dad. The time difference in Hong Kong means she will probably respond tomorrow. I haven’t heard from her in a few months, she tends to message me a batch of pictures and quick update every eight weeks or so. She always asks how the kids are; she would have made the best auntie if things had been different. She was always way more natural and maternal with kids than I was when we were growing up and it’s ironic that I’m now the one surrounded by them 24/7, and she’s still showing no signs of settling down or having kids.
I think, for her, teaching kids every day but then being able to do what she wants when she wants is a life she’s got used to and enjoys … and who can blame her for that?
Thursday
Lou seemed really quiet today at work.
I invited her, David and the boys to a BBQ at our house with Megan and John next weekend, but she didn’t seem sure. I thought it may be a bit weird with David advising Jamie about the issues with Laura, but they seemed to get on fine and it’s not like we would start talking about child access arrangements over hot dogs and beer.
She said she would speak to David and let me know, as she wasn’t sure what plans they had. I asked what stuff they did together on weekends, but it seems like the boys have a lot of sports clubs, so they mainly spend their time fe
rrying them about, which I understand. I wondered if she has any other friends; no one other than Jen ever comes in to see her at work and I don’t think they socialise much together out of the café. Some people, though, myself included, just like being at home with their families. Social lives and large friendship groups are not something that interest them, and David and Lou are always together doing stuff on weekends and in the evenings, so it must just work for them.
Saturday
I don’t even know how to write this … I feel like I’m in a dream. A daze.
My brother called at 7 o’ clock yesterday morning to let me know that Dad had passed away.
‘Jojo,’ he said, using a name I hadn’t heard in forever so I knew something was wrong, ‘Dad’s neighbour, Mavis, has just called me. It’s bad news. Dad had a heart attack. He didn’t make it …’
As I write this, I should have been on the train for three hours already, travelling to see him to somehow try to make things right – at the very least make peace with him. Only now it’s too late.
I don’t know how to feel, but I feel a huge amount of guilt. I can’t get the image of my dad, my elderly dad, all alone, dying on his own with no one he loves near him. Jamie keeps telling me it isn’t my fault, that I was going to go and make amends, but that almost feels worse – that it took me so long. That I never got there and he never knew I was coming. He died not knowing, after not speaking to me for well over a decade.
Joseph asked if I wanted to tell Kitty or if he should. I explained I had emailed to tell her I was going to see Dad today, but that I’d had no response. When I told him that, he said, ‘I’m sorry, Jo. He would have loved that,’ and my heart throbbed again.
A Different Kind of Happy Page 14
