by Alice Castle
‘You’ve deleted Tinder?’ Katie’s squawk was loud enough to grab the attention of the few customers scattered around, munching surreptitiously on Jane’s delicious sausage rolls or grabbing a quick coffee in peace.
Beth, scarlet, withdrew completely behind her fringe as all eyes converged on their table. All that could be seen was the mulish straight line of her mouth, but a cross grey gaze bore into her friend from underneath the curtain of hair.
‘Sorry, sorry,’ Katie said, leaning forward and whispering to placate her friend. ‘But you shouldn’t have done that! You haven’t even got started.’
‘I know. But it’s what I found,’ said Beth, twisting uncomfortably in her seat. ‘I was looking at it one evening and I saw Jeff on there.’ This wasn’t strictly the reason she’d given up on Tinder. She’d finally removed the icon from her phone several days later, when she’d realised that, for all her flicking through, she had no intention ever of swiping right. But it was something she’d been meaning to tell Katie about anyway. It had certainly got the desired result.
‘No! Jeff was back on Tinder?’
‘Back on it? You mean that’s how he met Jen in the first place?’
‘Well, I just assumed. I think it’s the thing everyone uses nowadays, isn’t it? I’m no expert.’
That was the trouble, thought Beth. People her age were out of the loop on all that stuff, well, certainly if they were in relationships or happy enough on their own.
‘That’s what I’ve been wondering. Do you think I should mention it to Jen?’ said Beth, crinkling her nose at the very idea.
‘Well. There’s a question. It’s one thing asking lightly if everything’s ok, it’s a whole other thing to say, “actually, did you know your husband is on Tinder?” What would that do to the marriage? And do you know what he was actually up to on it?’
‘It just said he was “active”. That sounds bad enough, but according to some of the Reception staff at school, that could just mean going on his profile without, you know, arranging anything.’
‘So I should hope! But he shouldn’t be on it at all, should he? Let’s face it, the only thing he should be doing with Tinder these days is deleting it, pronto. Poor Jen.’
‘You won’t breathe a word, will you? I can’t decide what to do, but I’d hate it to get out.’
Katie sat back, a little affronted. ‘When, in all the time you’ve known me, have you ever heard me gossip?’
Beth smiled widely. ‘Well, there was that time when Belinda’s au pair-before-last put hair removal cream in her shampoo…’
‘Oh yes. But that was different. It was funny. This really isn’t. But maybe we’re reading too much into it. Maybe he was just on it to get rid of it, and that shows up?’
‘Maybe,’ Beth agreed but, much though she wanted to believe that, something told her there was more to it. ‘So, you think I shouldn’t say?’
Katie stirred her cappuccino for a moment, considering. ‘It’s so hard, isn’t it? You don’t want to be responsible for causing a huge rift. And what if it’s something completely innocent? Then you’ll have interfered for no reason, and she might not forgive you for that. On the other hand, if he is actually on Tinder and hooking up with people, then she definitely ought to know.’
‘I wish I’d never downloaded the bloody thing in the first place. I knew dating was a really bad idea,’ said Beth glumly.
‘Wait a minute, you can’t lump these two things together. The whole thing with Jen, that’s a mess. But you should definitely get back out there, no question.’
‘What? When there’s men out there like Jeff, who seem fine but are trying to cheat the moment your back is turned?’
‘Well, we don’t know that. And you wouldn’t pick a man like Jeff anyway, not in a million years.’
‘So you think there’s something funny about Jeff, too?’
Katie paused. ‘I suppose I do. I’d never thought about it before, and Jen has seemed so happy. But I always felt, well, maybe that he was too good to be true? Do you know what I mean?’
‘The way he just slotted right in, and was so great with Jessica? That’s really a shame if we find that suspicious. But you’re right. It all seemed very neat. And so fast. One minute she was single, like me; the next minute they were married. And now this, with the app. And before you even say it, it’s not that I’m just a bit cross that the only other single person in Dulwich found someone.’
‘Beth! I’d never say that. I hadn’t even thought it. You’ve had your reasons for being on your own, the circumstances were completely different for you and you haven’t been ready. But over the past few months, well, I’ve thought you might be moving on a bit.’
Beth studied Katie carefully. This was interesting. Did she want to know more? She decided to risk the question. Head on one side, she asked, ‘What makes you think that?’
It was Katie’s turn to think for a moment, clearly weighing up the pros and cons of honesty. Beth knew that one of her flaws was being prickly, but although she was already feeling wary about what was coming next, a little corner of her psyche was alarmed that even her best friend didn’t dare offend her. Was she really that over-sensitive?
‘Maybe someone should say it, and no-one’s closer to you than me…’ Katie said tentatively. ‘Well, here goes. Don’t shoot me, but that policeman—’
‘What about him?’ Beth snapped, sitting up a little straighter, trying to resist an overpowering urge to leap to her feet and rush straight out of the café, trampling any stray toddler or nanny in her way.
‘I said keep calm! There just seemed to be a little… something, that’s all. On both sides. There, I’ve said it now. Don’t be angry.’ Katie held her hands wide and looked imploringly at Beth. ‘I really think he likes you. And you, well… I think you might like him a bit, too.’
Beth took a deep breath and felt her racing heart calm down just a little. She gripped her hands round the sides of her chair and the reassuring feel of the wood, solid and smooth, made her feel more grounded and a bit less panicky.
‘I’m sorry I’m so frightening. I’m not angry. It’s just that… it’s complicated. I feel guilty about James. I know it’s been a long time, in your eyes, but to me it’s all still yesterday. Or maybe the day before yesterday, now. And then there’s Ben. And then the policeman, well, Harry, he’s always shouting. James and I never shouted. I don’t know if I want to argue all the time, and I don’t want Ben to see me in that sort of relationship. And anyway, I haven’t heard from him since that whole business with Matteo, ages ago now. It’s just, you know, a lot.’
For Beth, it was a very long speech. It left her flushed and pink. Katie looked at her with a fond smile. ‘So, you’re not denying the spark bit?’ she said impishly, head tilted slightly to one side.
‘Hmm. Isn’t it your turn to get the coffees?’ said Beth, suddenly aware of her flaming cheeks. There was a tinny beeping noise. ‘Oh, that’s my phone.’ She fished it out of the depths of her bag, and studied the screen for a calming few moments longer than she needed to. It was a text from Jen, saying they were on for a cup of tea that afternoon. ‘Looks like I might have a chance to find out what’s going on with Jeff later,’ said Beth, and the conversation was successfully turned.
Chapter Six
Sitting in traffic later on, inching over to Jen’s where a cup of tea had her name on it, Beth wondered exactly how on earth she was going to broach the more-than-ticklish subjects of dating and infidelity. She had parked the question of her own feelings for Inspector Harry York, to return to at some very long-distant moment when she had nothing else pressing on her mind. Which, as she well knew, was quite likely to be never.
As soon as Jeff opened the front door and ushered Beth in, with an affectionate kiss and hug, she realised that any deep discussion with Jen just wasn’t going to happen today. Jeff showed no signs of disappearing off upstairs to work this time, and was positively bouncing with bonhomie.
He led
her straight through to the stylish little kitchen where Jen was pottering about. To Beth’s relief, her friend seemed happy and smiley today, with no trace of the slight tension she’d detected on previous visits. Perhaps whatever had gone awry had been straightened out.
Jeff had a new project on the go, they explained – getting the garden in order. It was badly in need of taming, Jeff said with one of his stage frowns. While Jen had been brilliant at keeping everything moving as a single mum, she had never embraced her inner Alan Titchmarsh, even when she’d lived in Dulwich. Beth couldn’t really remember ever seeing what lay beyond the kitchen windows here in Camberwell, and had never ventured outside.
The scrubbed pine table was heaped with books on garden design and the back door was open, Jen’s little tabby cat Meow lurking rather anxiously on the threshold. She didn’t look too keen on having her exclusive domain reclaimed by Jeff. The tangle of shrubs beyond was hard to make out in the gathering dark. Though it wasn’t even five o’clock yet, it was promising to be a gloomy evening, with the sort of autumnal mistiness in the air that made you shiver. Despite that, Jeff insisted on taking Beth outside to explain the plan while Jen put the kettle on.
‘So, there’ll be a line of beds here, we’ll do away with all that overgrown stuff,’ said Jeff, waving at what looked like a forest shielding the garden from the neighbours. ‘And here at the end,’ he said, striding away into the darkness, ‘this will be the pièce de resistance.’
‘Jeff. Jeff,’ came Jen’s anxious voice from the house. ‘Be careful of the pit. Don’t take Beth down there.’
Something in Jen’s voice made Beth stand stock still. Pit? What did she mean? Unearthing her phone from her jeans pocket, Beth quickly flipped on the torch mode and played the greenish light over the tussocky damp grass, studded with a couple of mysterious dark shapes which revealed themselves to be forlorn, deflated footballs, mouldering like windfalls. Maybe they belonged to whoever had owned the place before Jen. Otherwise, there was nothing much to see, except a narrow but surprisingly long and wild garden stretching all the way down to a high wall, beyond which must be the railway track running to Denmark Hill. Yes, suddenly she heard the chug-chug of a train passing, gathering speed to a metallic scream, wheels grating on the rails. Jeff was right at the end of the garden now, rooting about near the high concrete wall.
Suddenly Jen was at her elbow.
‘Glad you didn’t go all the way down. There’s a dirty great hole at the bottom of the garden. That’s one of the reasons I hate it,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t really want Jessica out here. I even worry about the cat. Come on, let’s go inside.’
Beth followed Jen back to the house, glad to return to the brightness and warmth of the kitchen and to sit at the table, warming her hands round a very welcome mug of tea. The ankles of her jeans were unpleasantly damp from the wet grass, and she felt herself blaming Jeff.
‘What is this pit? I don’t understand,’ she asked.
‘Oh, it’s not really a pit exactly, I just call it that to make it sound less intriguing to Jess. It’s actually an old bomb shelter. An Anderson shelter, you know?’
‘Really, left over from the Second World War? That’s rather amazing.’
‘Ha, that’s the historian talking. I should have known you’d love it. You’ll have to come round in the day time, and have a proper look. You can’t see a thing when it’s dark like this. Honestly, it’s a death trap. I can’t wait for Jeff to sort it out. He’s great at stuff like that, so practical.’
‘It must be brilliant to have someone around who can do all that,’ said Beth, thinking that if she ever did really get going on Tinder, which would now involve the added bore of downloading the app again, it would be to find a handyman as much as a lover. Could you specify you wanted someone who had his own spirit level and knew how to use it? That reminded her, unfortunately, of the difficult subject she needed to tackle.
Just as she was about to say, ‘Talking of dating…’ Jeff burst in through the garden door, his chunky jumper festooned with bits of twig and leaf from all his rummaging, his jeans wet, too. Jen jumped up to brush off his shoulders, smiling indulgently at a pile of detritus which would have had Beth tutting and vacuuming in her own home, as he wandered off to change. Jen was obviously a lot more understanding with messy males than she was. Beth instantly felt a flash of guilt for all her nagging of Ben to wipe his feet and wash his hands. Not that he seemed terribly scarred by it, as he never took a blind bit of notice.
Jen slid a casserole into the oven and they sat chatting for a few minutes, as the rich smells of beef and tomatoes started to tickle Beth’s nose and remind her that she still needed to pick up Ben and organise their own supper.
‘Jessica with her dad again?’ she asked Jen. She thought a touch of sadness passed her friend’s face as she nodded. Jeff, sauntering back into the room in sweatpants and another comfy sweater, slapped a hand down heavily on his wife’s shoulders. ‘Yes, she’s got it easy. Just me to look after tonight.’
‘Surely you’ll be looking after Jen, too?’ said Beth lightly.
Jeff frowned for a second before sitting down heavily, stretching his legs out wide under the table, and ostentatiously looking at his watch. ‘Sun over the yardarm yet? What do I have to do to get a drink round here?’
‘Oh, time for me to be on my way,’ said Beth, jumping to her feet.
‘Can’t you stay for a quick one?’ said Jen.
‘Driving, and late as usual,’ said Beth ruefully. ‘But I’d love another cup of tea next week, if it suits you and you’re not busy?’
‘Course, I’ll look forward to it,’ Jen was saying, when there was a crash from Jeff’s side of the table. He’d been moving the tower of gardening books, and one had caught the edge of Beth’s mug and sent it flying. Luckily, the tea was almost all gone, but the china cracked into three neat pieces on the patterned tiles.
Jen ducked down to pick the bits up. Beth got up to help her, but once Jeff had leapt up as well and was getting out two plates and glasses, the little kitchen seemed full to bursting.
‘Listen, you’ve got your hands full, I’ll leave you two to it, I’ve got to rush anyway,’ she said.
Jen, who’d ducked into the cupboard under the sink to get out a floor cloth to wipe up the splashed tea, smiled at her and started to get up to see her to the door. But Jeff, laying the table with a clatter, called out, ‘Yep, just let yourself out. See you soon, Beth.’
She clicked the door shut and trailed up the street to her car, a tiny frown on her face as she zapped the lock with her key and slid into place behind the wheel.
***
The next morning, by dint of setting her phone ten minutes earlier than usual and putting their entire morning routine on fast forward, Beth had pulled off the monumental feat of getting to the playground early. Once his initial surprise at not trailing in after everyone else had worn off, Ben quite enjoyed the feeling of being first on the equipment and lord of all he surveyed. Beth, hanging about on her own in the morning chill and glancing at her watch every five seconds, wondered if all the effort had been in vain.
But just as she was cursing herself and her bright ideas, Jessica burst into the playground at a run, spotting Ben and making straight for him over on the slide.
Beth craned her neck to see if she could see Tim. Sure enough, there he was, just loping away into the distance. With his gangly, slightly stooped figure and hangdog air, it was very hard to believe that this was the lothario who’d had two Dulwich women on the go at the same time. Heartbreakers came in all sorts of packages, Beth thought with a mental shrug, and to be fair, Tim wasn’t facing stiff competition. The daddies all seemed to relax visibly once they’d snared their life partner, reproduced, and got mortgaged up to the hilt. They developed comfortable paunches, bald patches, and entrenched opinions about the niftiest route round the South Circular before you could say Jeremy Clarkson.
She shouted a quick farewell to Ben, who barely t
ook any notice of her, and sprinted out of the gate, catching up with Tim just as he made to cross the road up to Calton Avenue. He was in a suit, under a battered khaki raincoat, a smart but dull tie slightly askew.
‘Fancy seeing you here,’ said Beth, a little pink in the face.
Tim, who’d been minding his own business, waiting for the lights to change, started visibly, his glasses slipping a little on a long, thin nose, sandy eyebrows raised in alarm, face becoming slightly mottled. It had been months, if not years, since one of the mothers had addressed him.
‘Er, just dropping off Jess,’ he said tentatively, as though he were being accused of something.
‘It’s great that you’re around so much for her at the moment,’ said Beth, nodding to signal her sudden approval of Tim and all his doings.
Though seeming a little taken aback, he immediately started to smile with a bit more confidence. It apparently didn’t take much to restore him to his usual unwarrantedly high opinion of himself. Perhaps it was this that women found strangely attractive.
‘Just helping out, you know. While Jen is so snowed under with this huge work project. I like to do what I can,’ he said, shifting his battered laptop case from under one arm to the other. He had the faintest twinge of a Scottish accent.
‘Fantastic that you can really give her a hand,’ said Beth, marvelling that the man believed he was bestowing a huge favour on Jen by pitching in with his own childcare arrangements for a change.
‘Yep, well, she’s working twenty-four seven at the moment. Luckily, Babs – that’s my, er, partner – is fine with getting Jess from the afterschool club.’
Right, thought Beth. The whole of the school knew Babs – by reputation anyway – and the word that Jen had often used to describe her, in turbulent pre-divorce days, was definitely not ‘partner’. It looked as though Tim was actually only doing the daily drop-off, and lumbering Babs with pick-up and presumably entertaining Jess until her dad got home. Not quite as heroic an effort as he thought.
