by Lilac Mills
He shook his head firmly. ‘Want sweets.’
‘Nope. Sorry. No sweets.’
Predictably, he went all limp and floppy, throwing himself down on the ground and beginning to wail.
‘I remember the “terrible twos”,’ a voice said, and Lottie looked up to see Mairi Edwards, accompanied by her neighbour Nessa Millbrook, gazing sympathetically at her. ‘My Alison used to make a right show of me when she was that age.’
‘Hello, Mrs Edwards. How are you?’ Lottie ignored her screaming child, as the parenting books advised she should.
‘Not so bad. I’ve got my helper with me today.’ The old lady pointed to Nessa. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without her.’
Mairi, who lived in the bungalow next to Nessa, had suffered a stroke a while back. Nessa and her fiancé, George, were Mairi’s unofficial carers, even though the old lady lived alone in her own home.
‘She’s doing ever so well,’ Nessa said, and Mairi beamed at her.
‘Now then, young man, what’s all this fuss about?’ Mairi asked, holding onto Nessa’s arm as she bent down to speak to Morgan.
Morgan stopped wailing and stared up at her.
‘You must have a magic touch,’ Lottie said, shaking her head. ‘He can carry on screaming for ages.’ As if to prove her right, Morgan started screaming again, his little feet kicking the floor. ‘Sorry, he wants some sweets, but I’ve said no.’
Mairi laughed. ‘Watch this.’ She put a hand in her pocket, pulled out a cola cube, showed it to Morgan, then popped it in her mouth. ‘Mmm, I love sweeties,’ she said to the incredulous child, who yelled even harder at the unfairness of this strange adult eating sweeties in front of him.
Then Mairi cried, ‘Oh, no!’ She put her hand to her mouth and suddenly she was toothless. She grinned at Morgan, who abruptly stopped crying and stared at her with wide eyes. ‘Too many sweets make your teeth fall out,’ she gummed at him. ‘And if your teeth fall out, you will never be able to eat sweets again. Or much of anything else, for that matter,’ she added.
Morgan’s bottom lip trembled, and Lottie saw he was close to real tears this time. Mairi certainly had an unconventional way with children, and Lottie hoped the old lady hadn’t scarred him for life.
‘Grape?’ Mairi asked, plucking one out of a punnet in Nessa’s basket.
Morgan took it and scrutinised it doubtfully. After a second or two, he put it in his mouth and ate it.
‘Thanks,’ Lottie said, grateful her son’s tantrum had ceased, but not entirely convinced about the method Mairi had used to achieve it.
‘Are you all right, my dear?’ Mairi asked her.
‘I am now he’s stopped screaming,’ Lottie said. So much for spending quality time with her youngest.
‘I meant generally.’
There was something in the way Mairi said it that made Lottie frown. ‘Yes, why do you ask?’
‘It’s probably nothing, but about a week ago I saw your Henry sitting in his car outside my bungalow and he seemed upset, so I wondered if everything was all right.’
‘We’re good,’ Lottie said, thinking furiously. That must have been when Henry called up to John Porter’s farm, the day he spotted the boat. She wondered what could have upset him, because whatever it was seemed to have continued to upset him over the past week or so.
He had been moody even before then, and she thought back to last night. She’d known there was something up with him, but he’d denied it. And immediately afterwards, he’d brushed her off when she’d tried to initiate some passion.
Henry, she suddenly thought, is acting like a man who has something significant on his mind; something he doesn’t want to share with me.
The question was, what was he hiding?
But Lottie, to her chagrin, discovered she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
Chapter 7
Henry
‘I’m going to have to borrow the car,’ Lottie announced the following Saturday morning. ‘Sabrina needs new shoes and I can’t put it off any longer.’
Henry groaned inwardly – school shoes weren’t cheap. He knew he could kiss goodbye to the best part of forty quid. Nor was there what Lottie termed a ‘proper’ children’s shoe shop in Applewell, so she would be taking Sabrina to Aberystwyth, where the possibility for spending increased exponentially.
The family wasn’t quite on the bread line, but he was acutely aware he only had two weeks left to find another job. Two weeks until his final pay. Then they’d have to live on fresh air if they weren’t to touch their extension funds. Sabrina’s need for new shoes couldn’t have come at a worse time.
‘How long will you be?’ he asked, hoping Lottie was only making a flying visit. If she parked the car, bought the shoes, then drove straight back home there wouldn’t be any opportunity for Sabrina to talk Lottie into popping into Sparkle and Glitter for a look at all the girly stuff they sold. Because it wouldn’t be just a simple ‘look’, would it?
‘Why? Do you have something planned?’ Lottie’s question was sharp.
‘Nothing. I assume you want me to have the boys?’ He’d be glad to have them, if only to mitigate any chances of further spending, because no doubt one of the children would be hungry or thirsty, and eating out wasn’t cheap.
‘Is that a problem?’ Lottie had her hands on her hips, and for a second or so Henry tried to think what had put her back up.
‘I was just checking – you might have been planning on taking them with you.’
His wife shot him an incredulous look. ‘Do you honestly think I’d want to take the boys shoe shopping, when the shoes wouldn’t even be for them?’ She shook her head and rolled her eyes. That’s where Sabrina got it from, he saw now – the eye-rolling thing. Females were so much better at it than males; it was as though they were born with an eye-rolling gene.
‘Are you looking after us today, Daddy?’ Robin asked, appearing at his elbow. ‘Can we go to the cinema?’
Good Lord, no – it was far too expensive, and Henry didn’t fancy trying to keep Morgan in his seat when the little boy would doubtless lose concentration after ten minutes and would want to go exploring.
‘I’ll take them to the beach,’ he called to Lottie’s retreating back, as she made her way upstairs. It looked to be a decent day outside, fine if cold, and at least the beach was free, so hopefully the kids would wear themselves out.
‘Good idea,’ she threw over her shoulder. ‘But try not to tramp sand or mud through the house. The path down the valley will be as muddy as anything, so they’ll need their wellies.’
Henry tried an eye-roll on for size and decided it fitted rather well. ‘Come on, guys, let’s find your wellies – we’re off to the beach to look for crabs.’
No matter what the season, his children loved dibbling around in rock pools, and winter storms often flung up interesting things, depositing them at the high tide mark.
‘Yay! Can I have a new net?’ Robin asked, leaping up and down.
Morgan jumped around, too. ‘New net! New net!’ Why did his youngest son only ever seem to speak in exclamation marks?
‘No one needs a new net. If you two get dressed in some warm clothes, I’ll fetch the nets and buckets from the shed.’
Robin tore up the stairs, narrowly avoiding Lottie who was coming down them, Sabrina trotting after her, her expression one of hopeful excitement.
Henry knew it wasn’t because of the prospect of new shoes.
He waited for Morgan to thump up the stairs after his brother, ruffled Sabrina’s hair (much to her annoyance) and debated whether to kiss his wife.
The moment passed as Lottie bent down to straighten the leg of her jeans, so he simply wished them a good trip and took himself off to the shed.
Henry guessed the large outbuilding had been put up around the time the house was built. It was made of grey bricks covered in smooth render – the reason he was aware of the colour of the bricks was that some of the render had come off and had yet to be r
eplaced. It was another little job that needed doing at some point in the dim and distant future, when the rest of the more essential jobs in the house had been completed.
He unlocked the double doors and stepped inside, coughing as dust motes swirled around his head, illuminated by the weak winter sun streaming in through the windows. The first thing to catch his eye was the boat. Or the bed – because although it still retained the rowing boat shape, Lottie had already done a significant amount of work on it.
All the old varnish had gone, revealing the bare wood underneath. A solid base had replaced the planks people would have previously sat on, and both sides of the boat had sections cut out and little doors put in revealing storage spaces underneath. The prow had been transformed into two shelves. It appeared that all she needed to do was to paint it, and he noticed a couple of pots on the workbench. Blue and white – perfect.
Henry looked at the bed for a while, pride filling him. His wife had talent, and it put his pathetic attempts at DIY to shame. Nevertheless, he was delighted he’d seen the potential, even if he had initially been reluctant to accept the boat. Robin would be thrilled – Henry would bet that the little boy with the fire engine bed wouldn’t be able to boast that his bed was made out of a real fire engine.
Lottie was doing a grand job and Henry couldn’t wait to see the finished result. She’d mentioned something about displaying a pair of oars on the wall above the bed, and he reminded himself to speak to John Porter in the hope that there may be some oars knocking around the farm.
Quickly he found the nets and brightly coloured buckets, and went back inside – to discover Robin wearing his swimming shorts and nothing else, and Morgan stuck half-in and half-out of his Spiderman outfit and bawling his eyes out.
‘Sorry, mate, we won’t be going in the sea today, it’s too cold,’ he told Robin, as he pointed him in the direction of some fleecy jogging bottoms and a jumper, before turning to his youngest son.
It took him a while to extricate Morgan, calm him down, and dress him in what he was supposed to be wearing. By that time, Robin announced he was hungry, and Henry was faced with the prospect of never getting out of the door.
‘If you can wait, I’ll make us a picnic and we can eat it on the beach. How does that sound?’ he suggested.
From the excitement that ensued, Henry deduced the boys liked the idea, so he made some sandwiches, grabbed a few pieces of fruit out of the bowl, added three cheeky packets of crisps to their impromptu lunch, and nearly forgot some drinks, having to race back into the house to fill a couple of water bottles.
Finally, they were on their way, Morgan stopping every few paces to examine something or other. Henry didn’t mind, although Robin was getting slightly angsty, wanting Morgan to hurry up so they could get to the beach more quickly. But Henry was content to allow Morgan to stop and stare as much as he pleased. After all, there was no rush, and if it took them two hours to make what should have been a forty-five minute walk, then so be it.
After a while, though, Morgan began to flag so Henry picked him up and put him on his shoulders. He wished he could carry both his sons, and maybe he’d have to on the way back – which would be an interesting exercise in logistics – because Robin was getting cranky, too. How does Lottie cope when she walks with the children to the beach? he wondered, then an image of the folded-up stroller in the porch popped into his head and he groaned. Of course!
Feeling as useless as a chocolate teapot, he chivvied Robin along until they eventually dropped down into a steep-sided, wooded valley with a stream trickling at its base. Lottie had been right about the path being muddy, and Robin had great fun squelching through it. Morgan was more interested in the golden beach with sparkling blue water that could be seen through the trees, and he kept kicking Henry, urging him on.
As soon as they reached the sand, Henry put Morgan down and rotated his shoulders, wincing at the unaccustomed ache and wondering whether he’d have any bruises from his youngest son’s hard little heels. He watched the two boys scamper off to pick a spot to have their picnic, and he paused to take in the view.
The cove was a small one, bordered by cliffs on either side – both with navigable paths to their tops – and the valley to his back. In front of him lay an expanse of sand and the sea. The tide was out, unveiling rocks with their intriguing pools, and the water glittered as the sun shone on its surface.
Robin had the stick end of his net firmly planted in soft sand in a suitable spot, so Henry spread out a couple of old towels to sit on and took the picnic out of his rucksack. He discovered he was just as hungry as the boys, and they fell on the food, demolishing it within minutes. Henry wished he’d had the foresight to bring a flask of coffee with him; he remembered Lottie always packed a flask when they went out for the day, but it hadn’t occurred to him. At least he’d remembered hats and gloves.
Once fed and watered, the children were eager to dabble in the rock pools, urging him to turn over large boulders to see what was underneath. He had great fun pointing out crabs, periwinkles, cockles, limpets, tiny fish and the varieties of seaweed. They even saw a starfish in one of them, which made Morgan’s day. Once Henry had counted to five on his own fingers to indicate the arms on the starfish, Morgan took great delight in holding up his own little starfish hand and shouting ‘Five!’ at the top of his voice.
After rock pooling, the boys decided to make sandcastles using the buckets (Robin), and then stamping on them (Morgan), which seemed to be their favourite things to do when they visited the beach, while Henry dug a moat and a trench leading to the incoming tide.
Finally, as the sea inched closer and closer, Henry took them to the water’s edge, and they had fun splashing through the wavelets and jumping over them, squealing when the cold water sloshed into their wellies.
Eventually, though, the children were exhausted. Henry hefted his youngest son onto his shoulders once more, and the three of them made their slow way home again, the promise of a gingerbread man from the bakers stifling Robin’s grumbling about being too tired to walk and wanting to take turns on his father’s back.
It was only when he set Morgan down to walk the last few hundred yards to their house that Henry realised he hadn’t once thought of his impending redundancy. His previously buoyant mood quickly evaporated.
Oh, well, it had been nice while it lasted; it had certainly been lovely spending time alone with his sons, and Henry resolved to do it more often. He hoped his wife and daughter had had a successful afternoon, and hadn’t bickered too much over the type of shoes to buy – Sabrina always wanted something fancy with a low heel, and Lottie always insisted on practical and plain flats. He also hoped they hadn’t cost too much… the minute the thought popped into his head, he hated himself for thinking it.
Thankfully, his previously good mood hadn’t disappeared entirely by the time they arrived home, and he busied himself with sorting the boys out – very early baths, with the two of them in the tub at the same time – and he’d even made a start on preparing the evening meal when Lottie and Sabrina returned.
His wife and daughter bustled into the hall, Sabrina chattering nineteen to the dozen, and Henry heard Lottie’s tinkling laugh and he smiled to himself. Everything was going to be all right – he had a wonderful wife, three happy, healthy children, a roof over his head, and—
‘Blimmin’ heck, what have you bought?’ he demanded, seeing Lottie enter the kitchen.
Her laughter died and her expression hardened. She held up one of the bags she was carrying. ‘Shoes for your daughter. A new school jumper for your daughter. Knickers for me – is that OK?’ She carried on, before he had a chance to say anything: ‘Two new pillows for our bed, because I’m sick of tossing and turning all night on those pancakes we’ve currently got. Oh, and a sledge.’
‘How much did that cost?’ He eyed the wooden sledge with mistrust. It was old and didn’t look particularly safe, although he knew Lottie would make sure it was before she allowed the
children to have a go on it.
‘All of it, or just the sledge?’
‘Er…’
‘I bought the sledge from a charity shop near the pier. Hang on, I’ve got the receipts for everything in my purse.’ Lottie dropped the bags on the floor. ‘Sabrina, can you take your things upstairs, please? Where are the boys?’
‘In the living room, watching—’
‘Good. Here you go.’ She slammed a fistful of receipts down on the worktop.
Henry looked at them but made no move to pick any of them up.
‘Go on,’ she urged, her face tight and her voice low. ‘Make sure I didn’t spend too much of your hard-earned wages.’
‘That’s not what I meant,’ he protested, even though that was exactly what he’d meant. Not the hard-earned wages bit, but the spending too much bit. ‘I thought we were trying to save for the extension?’
‘We are, but we don’t have to live on bread and gruel while we’re doing it. And apart from the blasted sledge, everything else was essential. I wish I hadn’t bought it now,’ she muttered. She was about to leave the room, when she halted and said, ‘It’s not as though I throw money away, and I do save in other ways. If it’s going to cause this much of an issue, the extension can wait – it’s hardly essential.’
Neither is buying a sledge, he thought. Especially considering there wasn’t any snow and hadn’t been since that flurry a couple of weeks ago, on the day he’d been informed of his redundancy.
He turned back to the stove, his hunger gone, and he continued cooking with his stomach churning and a sour taste in his mouth, as he heard Lottie leave the room.
‘Tea’s ready,’ he called up the stairs ten minutes later, and although the children zoomed in on the table like the creatures from Alien when they discovered prey, Lottie took her time to appear. Just when he was beginning to think she wasn’t going to bother, she drifted into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water before greeting the boys.
‘Why are you in your pyjamas already?’ she asked Robin and Morgan. Her voice was a bit croaky and her face was blotchy. He wondered if she’d had a quick nap while he’d been slaving over a hot stove. Her eyes were slightly bloodshot and her hair was mussed, so he thought she probably had.