Rules for a Successful Book Club (The Book Lovers 2)

by Victoria Connelly

  ‘Yeah? Because I could use a good idea about now,’ Polly said with a weak smile.

  ‘We’re not far from Ipswich. How’s about we pop into town and visit a party shop I know? Pick up a few things for Archie’s do. What do you think?’

  Polly looked up at him. ‘I think you think of the sweetest things!’ she said, standing up on tiptoes to kiss him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The best birthday present a boy of seven can have is finding that his birthday falls on a Saturday. Of course, that meant that Polly didn’t get her usual extra half an hour in bed. Still, it wasn’t every day that you were seven, Polly thought, as she swung her legs out of bed and drew open the curtains. It looked like a wonderful spring day and Polly smiled as she saw that the daffodils on the village green were now open, their yellow throats wide as if they were about to launch into a flowery rendition of “Happy Birthday”. Polly’s own modest garden had been filled with snowdrops earlier in the year but Polly always thought that it was the yellow of the primroses and daffodils that heralded the real arrival of spring.

  ‘Mum? Are you up yet?’ Archie called from the landing.

  Polly opened her door. ‘Happy Birthday, sweetheart!’ she said, kissing his cheek and hugging him to her. ‘Why don’t you go and play your new guitar whilst I get dressed?’

  ‘Okay,’ he said.

  An hour later all of Archie’s presents had been opened. There was a new football from Uncle Josh, a box set of books by a new adventure writer from Aunt Bryony, a selection bag of evil-looking sweets from Aunt Lara, a waterproof digital watch from Uncle Sam and a Meccano model set from Grandpa Frank and Grandma Eleanor. Great Grandpa Joe had given Polly some money towards the party on behalf of himself and Nell.

  Polly had chosen some new computer games for him and a skateboard.

  ‘Which is only to be used when I’m around to supervise!’ she warned him.

  ‘Thanks, Mum!’ he cried, launching himself into her arms.

  Jago came over mid-morning, bringing with him a huge present wrapped in shiny blue paper with a large silver ribbon.

  ‘Happy Birthday, Arch!’ he said as Archie opened the door to him. ‘I won’t sing. Well, not yet anyway!’

  ‘Thanks, Jago,’ Archie said, taking the gift from him. They went into the living room where Dickens was sniffing around the discarded wrapping paper, no doubt hoping to find something edible amongst it all.

  ‘What is it?’ Archie said.

  ‘Open it and see,’ Jago said.

  Archie tore into the paper, the ripping sound making Dickens so excited that he started turning circles and barking.

  ‘Oh, wow!’ Archie said.

  Polly blinked in surprise. ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s a guitar stand,’ Jago said. ‘When you’re playing and you just want to put your guitar down for a moment, you don’t want to keep putting it in its case. Plus it’s great to just look at in your room. Makes you think about it.’

  ‘Thanks, Jago,’ Archie said, giving him a hug.

  Polly blinked back the tears as she watched the two of them. It was such a wonderful moment full of tenderness.

  ‘I’ve put a couple of music books in there for you too. We can go through them together.’

  ‘Thanks!’

  ‘Thank you, Jago,’ Polly said. ‘It’s an amazing present. And the guitar of course. We mustn’t forget the guitar.’

  ‘Hey, I only found it for you.’

  ‘Jago?’ Archie said.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Can I join your band one day?’

  Jago grinned. ‘If you keep practising and improving, sure you can.’

  ‘Cool!’ Archie said and Polly laughed.

  The noise made by ten six and seven-year-olds had to be heard to be believed. Polly should have spent less time shopping for party poppers and more time researching ear defenders, she thought, as she dived back into the throng in the living room. She was glad she’d had the foresight to move her beautiful velvet cushions upstairs because Tiger had spilled his lemonade and little Tommy Manders was now jumping on the sofa.

  ‘Off from there, Tommy!’ Polly said, doing her best not to shout as she removed Dickens from the fray in case he decided to join in.

  Jago was in the thick of it all. He’d been playing both the guitar and the piano and Polly thought she might have to put him on the payroll as an official party entertainer. The children adored him.

  The trip to the party shop in Ipswich had been a great idea of Jago’s and they’d got all they’d needed to fill the party bags for later. Polly had also made a cake in the shape of a guitar which she was particularly proud of.

  ‘I hope I get one of those for my birthday,’ Jago had told her when he’d first seen it.

  ‘Don’t fret about it!’ she’d joked.

  ‘Very funny,’ he said, pulling her in for a kiss. Polly had truly never been kissed more in her life than in the last week and she had to admit that she liked it.

  Now, she took a moment to look at the spread of buffet-style food that had been prepared by her, Jago and Eleanor who had nipped over just before the party had kicked off and delivered heaps of sausage rolls and iced buns.

  She barely heard the knock at the door and nearly ignored it, but it sounded again. An early parent, she thought, looking at the clock, but it was very early at just gone five in the afternoon. The kids hadn’t had their tea yet. She brushed her hair back from her face with the back of her hand and checked the front of her dress for bits of crisps and jelly. She was good to go.

  ‘Coming!’ she cried over the din of small children, closing the kitchen door to prevent Dickens from getting over-excited. She took a deep breath and opened the front door, but her smile soon vanished as she saw who was standing there.

  ‘Sean,’ she said, the word exiting her mouth as if it had been shot out.

  At first, he didn’t say anything, but just stared at her with those startlingly blue eyes of his. And Polly stared right back, not knowing what to say although there were about a thousand thoughts flying around her head. Three and a half years’ worth of unanswered questions, for a start.

  ‘Aren’t you going to invite me in?’ he asked.

  ‘What?’ she said. He hadn’t even said hello yet.

  ‘I want to see Archie,’ he said. ‘It’s his birthday, right?’ He gave a kind of smug smile as if he expected Polly to congratulate him on having remembered this little fact.

  ‘Sean,’ she began again, ‘we thought you... we thought you might have died.’

  He gave a little shrug. ‘What can I say? I’m still alive!’

  His flippant tone riled Polly. ‘You’ve been missing for three and a half years!’ she told him in case he’d forgotten. ‘And now you just turn up on our doorstep and expect me to let you in?’

  ‘I want to see my son, Polly. Don’t make this difficult for me.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘You’re accusing me of making things difficult?’

  ‘I’m back now. Isn’t that the main thing?’

  Polly almost choked. ‘Are you serious? You’re back! You’ve just decided to come back.’

  ‘I thought you’d be happy to see me,’ he said, making a move towards her. ‘Polly–’

  Polly backed away from him. ‘No,’ she said, shocked by how frightened she was.

  ‘Polly,’ he said again, ‘come here.’

  Suddenly, his arms fastened around her and she found herself in his embrace. She could barely breathe and her heart was racing wildly, making her feel as if everything was spinning out of control.

  ‘Sean,’ she cried, and there were tears coursing down her face. ‘Sean!’

  ‘It’s okay. I’m here now,’ he said, holding her tightly.

  ‘I didn’t know what to do.’

  ‘Shush,’ he said.

  ‘I tried to find you. I tried so hard,’ she said. ‘Why didn’t you call me? What happened?’

  ‘It’s all right,’ he whispered. ‘
I’m here now. That’s all that matters, right?’

  Polly felt too confused to answer. She also felt lightheaded and as if she might faint at any moment and, all the while, Sean kept telling her it was all right. But it wasn’t all right, was it? He hadn’t so much as said sorry or even tried to explain where he’d been. It was as if he expected her to accept the fact that he could disappear for more than three years and have god only knew what kind of adventures whilst she was left to prop up the remnants of their life together, terrified that each knock on the door or telephone call would bring news of his death.

  ‘Are you going to let me in?’ he asked her again. ‘Can I see my boy?’

  ‘Archie,’ Polly said as he finally relaxed his hold on her.

  ‘Yes, Archie,’ he said with a little laugh, but Polly wasn’t laughing. She didn’t quite know what to do. ‘I’ll come in, okay?’

  She couldn’t stop him. He had pushed her gently to one side and was through the door. As soon as he entered the hallway, Dickens raced through from the kitchen barking. Archie or one of his friends must have been in there and left the door open.

  ‘Woah! You got a dog?’ Sean cried in alarm.

  ‘Yes, we got a dog,’ Polly said.

  ‘You know I hate dogs.’

  Polly stared at him. ‘What?’

  ‘Why did you get a dog when you know I hate them?’

  Her mouth dropped open. ‘In case you’d forgotten, you’ve not been around.’

  He shook his head. ‘I can see you’re not going to let that go easily, are you?’

  Polly was literally dumbstruck. When she’d been told by Sophie that Sean was alive, she’d tried to imagine their first encounter and it hadn’t been anything like the one before her. She’d thought he’d apologise. She’d thought he’d explain. There’d even be tears of remorse for what he’d put her through. But there was none of that. Instead, the old arrogant Sean was now in her house, remonstrating over the decisions she’d made in his absence.

  A couple of Archie’s friends ran from the living room into the kitchen and then back again in some sort of game.

  ‘Looks like a fun party,’ Sean said.

  ‘It is,’ Polly said. ‘It was.’

  It was then that Jago popped his head around the living room doorway.

  ‘Who is it, Polly?’ he asked.

  Polly turned to face him and saw the smile drop from Jago’s face as it obviously dawned on him who it was standing in the hallway. He looked at her as if to gauge what she wanted to do, and what she wanted him to do.

  ‘Jago,’ she said hesitantly, ‘this is Sean.’

  Jago stared at the intruder, a cautiousness in his eyes.

  ‘Jago?’ Sean said, repeating the name. ‘Children’s entertainer?’

  ‘No,’ Jago and Polly both said at once and Polly felt the full weight of Sean’s gaze upon her.

  ‘You didn’t waste much time, did you?’ Sean said.

  ‘Just three and a half years–’

  ‘Oh, here we go again with the three and a half years,’ Sean said.

  ‘Hey!’ Jago said, moving towards Polly and putting a protective arm around her. ‘What did you come here for?’

  ‘You’re asking me what I came here for? This is my home!.’

  Before she could stop him, Sean had pushed passed both her and Jago and was in the living room.

  ‘Sean – no –’ Polly cried, but it was too late.

  ‘Archie? Which one of you is Archie?’

  Polly was standing behind her estranged husband when Archie turned around, a huge smile on his face. The room fell quiet. Perhaps the kids thought that Sean was someone hired to entertain them.

  ‘I’m Archie,’ Archie said.

  ‘And do you know who I am?’ Sean said.

  Archie shook his head.

  ‘I’m your father,’ Sean continued.

  ‘No you’re not,’ Archie said without a beat and Polly watched as Archie ran out of the room and tore up the stairs. A moment later, they heard the sound of his bedroom door slamming.

  ‘I think you’d better go, Sean,’ Jago said as he came into the room.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Sean said.

  ‘Nobody wants you here,’ Jago said.

  ‘And who are you again?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter who I am.’

  ‘Oh, really?’ Sean said. ‘You think you have the right to tell me what to do in my own home?’

  ‘Yeah, I think I do. Because this isn’t your home anymore, pal. This is Polly and Archie’s home.’

  ‘Please leave, Sean,’ Polly said. ‘This isn’t the time.’

  Sean stared at her as if she was mad. ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ he retorted. ‘I came here to see my son.’

  ‘Get out,’ Jago said. ‘You’re upsetting everybody.’

  ‘Archie!’ Sean called, going to the foot of the stairs.

  Polly followed him, grabbing his arm.

  ‘He’s upset,’ Polly said. ‘Please leave – let me talk to him.’

  ‘Archie?’ Sean shouted again.

  ‘This isn’t the way to do this!’ Polly cried.

  Sean turned to face her. ‘Don’t tell me–’

  ‘Hey!’ Jago said. ‘This isn’t doing anybody any good. There’s a room full of children here in case you hadn’t noticed, and you’re scaring them.’

  Sean glanced towards the living room. Several of the youngsters were standing in the doorway, eyes wide as they watched what was happening.

  ‘This isn’t over,’ Sean said at last in a low voice.

  ‘No? Well, it is for today,’ Jago said, escorting Sean down the hall before shoving him through the door and closing it in his face.

  By the time Jago walked back to Polly, she was shaking. He leaned forward and hugged her.

  ‘How’s about we serve the tea, eh?’ he said.

  Polly looked up. His grey eyes were full of warmth and love and she nodded. ‘But I have to talk to Archie.’

  ‘I’ll go and get him,’ Jago said.

  ‘What will you say?’

  ‘I’ll say it’s his birthday and it’s time to cut the cake.’

  ‘But what about Sean?’

  ‘I’m not going to talk about him, and you’re not going to talk about him. Not yet. Not today. Okay?’

  ‘Okay,’ she said.

  ‘Today is Archie’s birthday. It’s about presents, cake and friends. That’s all.’

  He gave her a quick kiss on her forehead before going upstairs.

  How Polly managed to get through the next hour, she didn’t know. When Archie finally appeared at the kitchen door, his face looking a little paler than normal, she was filled with relief that he’d rejoined them and she watched in delight as his face brightened at the sight of the guitar-shaped cake lit with seven candles for him to blow out.

  There’d then been a mad scramble for plastic plates as food was grabbed by eager little hands, and the smile which Polly had forced onto her face after Sean’s departure soon became a real one.

  Finally, when the knocks on the door began for the children to be taken home, Polly and Jago handed out the party bags and Archie said his goodbyes. The house was horribly silent when the last guest had left and Polly and Jago exchanged glances as Archie disappeared upstairs.

  ‘You okay?’ Jago asked.

  ‘I don’t know how I got through today without a complete meltdown,’ she said.

  ‘Because you’re the best mum in the world.’

  She smiled. ‘I don’t know about that.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I do.’ He hugged her to him. ‘Do you want me to stay?’

  ‘That’s sweet of you,’ Polly said. ‘But as much as I’d like to have you with me, I think it needs to be just me and Archie.’

  Jago nodded. ‘What are you going to tell him?’

  Polly closed her eyes for a moment. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I really don’t know. But I’ll answer his questions if he has any. Reassure him.’


  ‘You know where I am if you need me.’

  She leaned forward and kissed him on the mouth. ‘I couldn’t have got through all this without you.’

  ‘Yes you could,’ he told her.

  ‘Well, maybe,’ she said, ‘but I might have spiralled into insanity before Archie had blown his candles out.’

  She walked with him to the front door.

  ‘Call me – soon!’

  She nodded and, closing the door, took a deep breath before going upstairs.

  Archie’s bedroom door was shut and Polly stood outside on the landing, her hand hovering before knocking softly.

  ‘Archie?’ There was no reply. ‘Arch? Can I come in?’ She opened the door slowly. Archie was sitting on the floor, his back up against his bed. ‘I thought you’d want to play with your toys.’

  He shook his head and Polly walked into the room, squatting down to sit beside her son. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d sat on the floor of her son’s bedroom and she took a moment to take in life at Archie-level. For a start, his carpet could do with being replaced, she thought, cringing at the murky thinness of it. She shook her head. Now wasn’t the time to think about carpets. She was just trying to delay the inevitable.

  She cleared her throat. ‘You okay?’ she asked. He nodded. ‘You sure?’ He nodded again but, when he looked up at her, she could tell he’d been crying. ‘Oh, Archie,’ she said, hugging him to her. ‘Don’t cry, darling. Please don’t cry. It’s your special day.’ She let his tears fall, allowing a few of her own to join them before she spoke again.

  ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ she asked him gently.

  ‘Was that man really my dad?’ he asked, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his jumper and sniffing loudly.

  ‘Yes,’ Polly told him, handing him a clean tissue from her pocket of never-ending tissue supplies.

  ‘But I don’t remember him.’

  ‘I know, darling,’ Polly said. ‘He left a long time ago. That’s why it was such a shock to see him today.’

  ‘Did he know it was my birthday?’

  ‘He did. He remembered,’ Polly said kindly.

  ‘Will he come back?’

  ‘I think so,’ she said. ‘He’ll want to see you.’