Moving On (2011)

by Jacobs, Anna

  Brian took the not-so-subtle hint and thanked his stepmother for the meal, then nodded to Geneva, who sniffed and tossed her head. ‘Can’t we even be friends now?’ he asked her, forgetting the others.

  ‘I’m not staying friends with a slob like you.’

  He felt angry all the way home. He wasn’t a slob. He was just . . . a bit untidy.

  But when he looked round the tiny studio flat, he couldn’t deny that Geneva was right. It was a right old mess. And he’d forgotten to buy any cleaning materials, even though he’d put them on the list. Of course, if you didn’t take the list with you when you went shopping, it wasn’t much use, was it?

  Even he didn’t want to live like this, so he went out to the local supermarket. He was amazed to find a whole aisle devoted to cleaning materials. He tried reading the labels, but they all claimed to work miracles and he was utterly lost as to which to buy.

  ‘Can I help you, sir?’

  He turned to see a neat young woman in the store uniform. ‘Would you? I’ve just moved into a flat and I need to clean it, only I don’t know what to get.’

  She questioned him and gradually loaded his trolley with items, the cost of which shocked him rigid. At this rate, the money his father had given him wouldn’t last till his next payday.

  ‘I can’t afford all that!’ he blurted out. ‘I’ve got to buy food as well.’

  ‘Hmm.’ She looked into his trolley and began unloading it, leaving only a few items plus a packet of cleaning cloths.

  ‘I’m really grateful,’ he said when she stepped back. ‘Can I buy you a coffee?’

  ‘No, thank you. I’m on late shift tonight.’

  He saw then that her name label read Carol, Deputy Floor Manager. ‘Another time, perhaps.’

  ‘There’s really no need. It’s all part of the service. Now, if you have everything you need, sir . . . ?’

  ‘I’d better get a cookery book. Cheap and easy.’

  ‘There’s a free one if you buy certain frozen foods. It’s quite good, too. I’ll show you.’

  He bought some frozen vegetables and potato wedges, looking at the book doubtfully as he put it in the trolley. He’d never so much as opened a cookery book in his life.

  ‘If you can read, you can follow instructions and cook,’ she said with a smile. ‘It’s far cheaper to cook for yourself than to buy ready meals, unless you try to cook expensive stuff.’ She stepped back. ‘And now I really must get on.’

  He watched her walk away. She had a nice manner, a lovely smile and he liked her face too. Not glamorous, but wholesome and healthy looking. Well, you could keep glamorous from now on. Geneva might have looked good, but she’d been a high maintenance chick and had cleaned him out of money.

  Honesty made him add mentally as he queued at the checkout that though she’d encouraged him to spend money, he’d not been reluctant.

  He’d have to find out about the value of his toys; see if he could sell them. He had very little household equipment or furniture. He was using a friend’s camping stuff, a blow-up mattress and pillow, and an old sleeping bag, plus a yellowed plastic garden chair that he’d found on someone’s verge waiting for the rubbish collection.

  It was a far cry from the comfort of his mother’s house. And he’d better iron a shirt for tomorrow. He’d been forced to buy ironing equipment early on because he had to look decent for work. He didn’t know what he’d do if he lost his job.

  As he smoothed the shirt carefully, terrified of burning it, he wondered where his mother was. She’d be all right, of course she would.

  But still, he wished he knew. She annoyed the hell out of him sometimes, and she’d made a fool of herself at the wedding, but she was his mother.

  Molly followed Euan to the front door of a cottage that looked picture-book pretty. It opened before they got there, and he gave Avril a hug before introducing her.

  Secretary indeed! Molly thought. Avril was more like an honorary aunt and looked at him just as fondly.

  She gave Molly a very thorough appraisal in thirty seconds flat, relaxing visibly. ‘Do come in. I’ve got everything ready.’

  ‘Apple pie?’ he asked.

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Of course. And yes, I’ll bring some in for lunch tomorrow.’ She said confidentially to Molly. ‘He’s not hard to please. Are you any good at making apple pies? If you’re going to work for him, it’s useful to know how to soften him up.’

  ‘I enjoy cooking.’

  ‘Good.’ She gestured to a chair at the table. ‘I hope you don’t mind eating straight away, but since you’re a bit late, everything’s ready and I don’t want it to overcook.’

  It might have been a purely social gathering, it was so pleasant, except that Molly was aware of Avril leading the conversation with a masterly hand and finding out a lot about her in the process. Somehow she didn’t mind answering these questions, because they weren’t asked with malice by a person likely to come back and worry at your weak spots afterwards. This was a woman determined to protect Euan Santiago, a man who ought not to need protecting, but somehow, it seemed, did. How intriguing!

  It was probably because this project was his dream, Molly guessed as the conversation continued. You only had to listen to the way he spoke about it. The words were out before she could stop them. ‘I really envy you, Euan.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because you have a dream and you’re making it come true.’

  ‘Don’t you have any major dreams?’ Avril asked.

  Molly shook her head. ‘When I was married, Craig was trying to get his career established and we put everything into that. I simply didn’t have time to daydream. Now . . . I haven’t got my own act together yet. That’s why I’ve come away. Even after we split up, he was there, either in person or getting at me through our children.’

  ‘How long have you been divorced?’

  ‘A little over a year.’

  ‘You’ll have to tell me about it sometime – just general things – if you don’t mind, that is. My niece has just split up with her husband and she’s having a hard time. I’m not sure how best to help her.’

  ‘She has to help herself. It took me a while to figure that out.’

  ‘Is that what you’re doing?’

  Molly shrugged. ‘Starting to. And about time too. Now, tell me more about the leisure village and what gave you the idea for building one, Euan.’

  They allowed her to change the subject, thank goodness. She wasn’t yet ready to air all the dirty washing from her marriage in public. And besides, she didn’t think she came out of it well. She’d been so . . . spineless! And even now, wasn’t as strong as she’d like to be.

  While she was helping Avril wash the dishes, the other woman said abruptly, ‘Don’t forget to stand up for yourself in your new job.’

  ‘Who against?’

  ‘Everyone. Euan, for one. He sometimes lets his needs run away with everyone else’s time, though he’s mostly very caring about his employees.’ She patted Molly’s forearm with one soapy hand. ‘And think about finding some dreams of your own, my dear. Everyone needs them.’

  ‘My main dream is learning how to stand up for myself.’

  Another pat. ‘That’s a good start. But it shouldn’t stop you working out what you want to do with your life, how to find joy again. They’re not mutually exclusive.’

  Avril’s sympathy gave Molly the courage to say, ‘Unfortunately, I don’t have any particular skills or even any hobbies, except for reading. I’m just . . . ordinary. A housewife, really. I’m not even good at choosing clothes for myself. You should have seen how awful I looked at my daughter’s wedding. Craig used to send one of his staff out shopping with me when there were big events. I’ve got a wardrobe full of formal clothes in store.’

  But she’d given her wedding outfit to a charity shop. She never wanted to see it again, even though she’d lost enough weight in the past few weeks to make it fit properly. Strange, that. She hadn’t been trying to l
ose weight. She realized Avril had said something. ‘Sorry, I was just thinking about something.’

  ‘I said, if you need help shopping, come to me. I love choosing clothes. Not for fashion statements but to make the most of people. And I’m quite good at it too. All my nieces come to me for help with important outfits. Now, let’s take Euan’s coffee through.’

  He was asleep on the sofa, all his weariness showing in his face.

  Avril set the tray down with a sigh. ‘I hate to disturb him, but he needs to go home to bed.’

  ‘If you want to let him sleep for a while, I can catch a taxi back. It’s not far.’

  ‘Oh, no. I’m too fond of my privacy. And how would he respect my authority if he saw me wearing my tatty old dressing gown with my hair in its morning tangle? Let him run you back, then make sure he goes straight home. Do not allow him to go back to his office.’

  As she went to the cloakroom, Molly wondered how she was supposed to make sure a powerful man like Euan Santiago went straight home. Though he didn’t look so powerful when he was asleep. Or when he was sitting on a desk swinging his feet and laughing about something.

  When she went back into the cosy sitting room, Euan was yawning and stretching. ‘Sorry. I must be more tired than I’d realized.’

  ‘I’m just sorry you’ve had to come out this evening. You should have had an early night.’

  Neither of them said much on the drive back, but as he pulled up at the hotel, Euan touched her arm to stop her getting out of the car. ‘Avril approves of you, so if you’re still willing to work for me, could you please go into the office and give her your employment details tomorrow morning? I’ll show you where the office is now. I’ve got a bit of paperwork to catch up on before I go to bed. We have an office suite just off reception. There is a separate entrance, but we mostly keep it locked after office hours, because it’s easier and safer to use the hotel entrance at night.’

  She couldn’t think of a tactful way to say it, so blurted it straight out before she lost her nerve. ‘You shouldn’t go back there now. You need to get some sleep.’

  ‘I can manage without much sleep.’

  ‘It’s obvious you need more than you’re getting. Besides, I have instructions from Avril to send you straight home after you’ve dropped me. Are you really going to disobey her? I wouldn’t.’

  He stared at her in surprise, then burst out laughing. ‘No. I wouldn’t dare either. And I am tired. Perhaps . . . Oh, very well, I’ll go straight home. I can always come in early tomorrow.’

  ‘Not too early.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am – or do I mean, No, ma’am?’

  After they’d got out of the car, he hesitated, as if wondering whether to do the kissy-kissy thing.

  Molly took a step backwards. She hadn’t grown up with all this kissing stuff and never felt comfortable having such close contact with complete strangers. And she especially didn’t want meaningless air kisses from Euan. She wanted . . . employment. A professional relationship. And that was all. She’d had enough of high flyers from the business world, however attractive they were physically. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll just watch you drive off.’

  ‘Don’t you trust me?’

  ‘Not where work is concerned.’

  He chuckled and gave her a mock military salute. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  She stood there for a few moments, watching the big silver car purr away, then went inside to find the clerk at reception studying her with interest. Nodding a greeting, she headed for the lifts. The clerk could think what he chose. She was longing to sleep. It had been a long, busy day.

  It wasn’t till she was lying in bed that she let herself think of what she’d achieved. She’d found a job! She really had.

  Or rather, it had found her.

  Well, it amounted to the same thing. She beamed into the darkness, vowing to do whatever was necessary to keep the job and prove to the world – no, to herself first and foremost – that she really could stand on her own feet.

  What do you say to that, Craig Taylor?

  To her surprise, for the first time in many years, she realized she didn’t care what her ex said or thought. She was enjoying taking the first hesitant steps towards . . . what? Freedom was such a cliché. So was making your dreams come true. Independence, then. That was what she was seeking.

  It’d be best if no one from her family knew where she was, so they couldn’t come and harass her. Especially Craig. She’d never dreamed he’d go so far as to try to rob her of what her house was worth. All the years they’d had together seemed to mean nothing to him, and she’d never forgive him and Tasha for the wedding fiasco.

  He hadn’t always been so ruthless. Why had he changed? She didn’t know; didn’t understand him these days. She wasn’t even sure she understood herself, either.

  Perhaps she ought to send Jane next door a couple of postcards to forward to Brian and Rachel – no, she wouldn’t do that. Let them worry about her, as she’d worried about them over the years. She wasn’t even going to send them an email to remind them that they still had a way of contacting her.

  She was going to build a new life alone and try to find a little quiet happiness.

  And anything else would be a bonus.

  Seven

  Craig looked across the table at Tasha. ‘What do you suppose the silly bitch is doing now?’

  ‘Who cares? It’s about time you let Molly go.’

  ‘You were the one who wanted to live in a better address, among older money. My old house is perfect for us.’

  Her voice grew noticeably sharper. ‘It’s her house now. I repeat: let it go, let her go. We can find somewhere else to live.’

  ‘It’s still the best address in the area,’ Geneva put in. ‘All my friends joke about how the old snobs live in Lavengro Road, but really they’d like to live there too. They were jealous when Brian used to take me there. And it’s a lovely house, Mummy. Or it could be if it were redecorated with your flair. You should see it. Big rooms, but not just squares. I loved it.’

  ‘Out of the mouths of babes . . .’ Craig said with a smile.

  But Tasha merely sniffed and continued to eat her morning yoghurt and fruit slowly.

  ‘I’ll be out tonight,’ Geneva said. ‘I’m going clubbing with my girl friends.’

  ‘No, you’re not.’ Tasha put another half spoonful into her mouth.

  ‘But you let me go clubbing with Brian.’

  ‘He’s a tall, strong guy and I trusted him to look after you. You’re not going to a club on your own with that drunken bunch you call friends. They don’t even have the sense to elect a driver who can stay sober and get them back safely.’

  ‘I can catch a taxi back.’

  ‘Drunk? I think not.’

  ‘Hello! I am twenty-one. If I want to get drunk, I can.’

  ‘And you’re dependent on me till you’ve finished your studies.’ Tasha laid her spoon down neatly beside her empty yoghurt carton. ‘And do not think you can deceive me about where you’re going or the state you get into.’

  Craig watched his wife turn a basilisk stare on her daughter, who scowled down at her own breakfast but didn’t argue back. He had to confess that he didn’t argue with Tasha, either, when she got that look on her face. He decided to change the subject. ‘What’s the agenda for this weekend?’

  ‘Look in the engagement diary. That’s what it’s for.’ Tasha got up, cleared away her things and left the room. Her heels clicked along the white marble tiles of the corridor, stopped and clicked back again. ‘And do not leave your breakfast dishes lying round. Either of you. I don’t appreciate slovenly clutter in my kitchen.’

  When her mother had gone, Geneva rolled her eyes at her stepfather, but he wasn’t getting into any exchange of comments on Tasha. His stepdaughter shrugged and went to get ready for college.

  Craig finished the breakfast Tasha had prepared and got himself an extra slice of toast. He sat thinking about his stupid ex. It was all right
Tasha saying let it go, but why should he? He had to keep an eye on Molly, under the guise of helping her out, for his children’s sake, or goodness knows what messes she’d get into and maybe drag them into as well. He didn’t want his name blackening because of her.

  It’d be a long time before Rachel forgave her. He’d made sure of that.

  Where could Molly have gone? And why had she rented out the house she’d sworn before a legal officer of the court that she loved too dearly to leave? He’d better have a drive past on his way to work and see if he could spot the tenant. Maybe he’d recognize him, if Brian thought the fellow looked familiar.

  There had to be some way to get the house back. Craig had a rule for his personal life, stemming from when he’d been bullied as a child, that no one ever got the better of him – ever! – without payback. Even if it took years. And she wasn’t going to be the first. He had a moral right to that house. Anyway, Molly didn’t need it and he did. He’d paid for its maintenance for years, hadn’t he? And it was perfect for a rising man, just as Tasha was the perfect wife for him at this stage of his career.

  She was a bit too perfect, perhaps, but it was better than being plump and dowdy. Far better. He was proud to be seen out with Tasha, who was a sleek, elegant creature, and he knew that he was envied by other business acquaintances.

  On Monday morning Stuart strolled round the garden, admiring the roses. He’d just stepped behind a holly bush to pick up some rubbish when he heard a car draw up further down the road. It needed servicing, had a faint ticking sound to it that you couldn’t mistake – well, not if you knew anything about cars. He risked a quick glance through the gates and smiled as he confirmed that it was Craig Taylor’s car. Again.

  He risked a peep and blessed the excellent long-distance vision you got as you grew older when he recognized Taylor staring at the house through a pair of binoculars. Grinning, he ducked back behind the bush and waited. The hidden camera would catch the car and he’d pick the visual details up from it later. He glanced at his watch. Eight thirty.