by Pamela Evans
Jane reopened for business again at the end of November, after laborious days spent scrubbing the soot off the walls and painting them. Fortunately there wasn’t too much structural damage but the shop fittings had to be renewed.
Work was the perfect antidote to the stress she was under, and she was glad to have a structure to her life again. She liked routine. It comforted her somehow.
Perhaps now we can put the events of the last few months behind us and rebuild our family life at the cottage, she thought.
But when Trudy Hamilton called in to see her one frosty morning in December, it was obvious that this wasn’t going to be possible.
‘I don’t suppose Giles has said anything to you about his latest spot of bother, has he?’ she asked, drinking coffee in the kitchen while Jane spooned creamy mixture into cake-tins ready for the oven. Her assistant was out delivering to the cafes they regularly supplied, so the two women were able to speak freely.
‘I’ve heard nothing about any trouble,’ she said, looking worried.
Trudy looked concerned too. Jane and Giles had taken her into their confidence about Mick so she knew what he was capable of.
‘I don’t suppose he will tell you,’ she said darkly.
Jane paused in her work, giving her visitor a shrewd look.
‘What’s happened?’
‘Giles doesn’t want to worry you with it but I think you ought to know,’ said Trudy, reluctant to be the bearer of such bad news. ‘Just in case it’s the forerunner to other things.’
‘Mick’s done something to Giles, hasn’t he?’ asked Jane.
‘An anonymous letter was sent to his headmaster,’ explained Trudy.
‘Oh, no . . . what was in it?’
‘Words to the effect that Giles isn’t fit to be working with children, that he’s a bad example because he’s morally degenerate . . . that he’s been having an affair with the mother of a pupil at the school.’
‘My God!’
‘At least you weren’t named . . . that’s something to be thankful for, I suppose.’
‘That’s terrible,’ gasped Jane, dropping her spoon into the bowl and sinking weakly on to a chair. ‘How did the headmaster take it? Will Giles lose his job?’
‘No. He was given a dressing down by the headmaster, who reminded him of the need for a teacher to be above reproach and of the stupidity of allowing himself to become vulnerable to this type of mischief maker. But his job’s safe. I hope there’ll be no more letters, though.’
‘So do I.’
‘There’s no proof that your husband was responsible, of course . . .’
‘But we all know it was him,’ sighed Jane.
‘Could it have been a neighbour wanting to make trouble?’ suggested Trudy.
‘I don’t think so. Mrs Robinson is a nosy old gossip but she’d make her feelings obvious to us rather than make trouble for Giles at school,’ said Jane. ‘No, this has Mick’s hallmark written all over it. I suspected he hadn’t finished with us when he left. Despite all that contrition, there was something about him that made me suspect he still hadn’t accepted our marriage was over. Honestly, Trudy, I just don’t know him any more. He never used to be so malicious.’
‘The letter had a London postmark, apparently,’ she pointed out. ‘Not Sussex.’
‘That’s easily explained . . . either he gave it to someone who was coming up to town to post or he took a trip up himself.’ Jane looked at Trudy in despair. ‘How could he stoop so low? He was once the light of my life. Now he brings me nothing but trouble. I just don’t know what he’s going to do next.’
‘Yes, I’m worried about what else he might do too,’ agreed Trudy. ‘I don’t know if Giles’s headmaster will be quite so understanding if there’s any more trouble. He does have the reputation of the school to consider.’
‘I’ll have to go and see Mick and put a stop to this, once and for all,’ said Jane.
‘Go to Brighton?’
‘Yes. It’s no good phoning or writing,’ she said. ‘I need to see him face to face. I’ve got his address somewhere.’
‘Confronting him in person would probably be the best thing.’
Jane looked at the clock, frowning. ‘But I can’t leave here until my assistant gets back, which means I won’t be back from Brighton when the children get home from school.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Trudy. ‘I’ll pick them up from school and bring them home and give them their tea.’
‘That would be a tremendous help,’ said Jane, rising purposefully and getting back to work. ‘I’ll be on my way as soon as I can.’
It was late-afternoon when she arrived at Mick’s flat. Relying on the element of surprise to wring the truth from him, she didn’t telephone to let him know she was coming and had to take a chance on finding him in. She planned to wait outside until he did come home if he wasn’t there but that proved to be unnecessary.
‘Jane,’ he said, opening the door and beaming at her. ‘What a lovely surprise.’
‘Cut the flattery,’ she said, marching into his hallway. ‘You know why I’m here.’
‘Could it be that you’ve brought me a Christmas present?’ he suggested lightly.
‘Leave Giles alone,’ she said as Mick ushered her into his luxurious living room.
He invited her to sit down.
‘No, thanks, I’m not staying,’ she said, standing stiffly in the middle of the room, her feet sinking into the thick-pile carpet. ‘I’ve just come to tell you to stop making trouble for Giles.’
‘I haven’t touched the bloke.’
‘No, but you sent an anonymous letter to his school, didn’t you?’
‘There you go again . . . blaming me when you’ve no proof.’
‘I know no one else who would want to make trouble for Giles.’
‘Don’t kid yourself, Jane. A man who plays around with other men’s wives won’t be short of enemies.’
She slapped him so hard across the face, it hurt her hand.
‘Now see what your poison has driven me to!’
‘Why doesn’t lover boy come and see me himself if he’s an accusation to make?’ asked Mick, looking aggrieved, hand to his face.
‘He doesn’t even know I’m here.’
‘The bugger deserves everything he gets. I hope he loses his job and rots in hell.’
‘So you admit to sending the letter?’
‘Yeah, I admit it, and there was nothing in it that isn’t true.’
‘You’re sick!’
‘Sick at heart because of what that bastard’s done to me.’
‘He hasn’t done anything to you,’ said Jane with rising impatience. ‘You are the architect of your own misfortune.’
‘He took you away from me.’
‘He did not. How many more times must I tell you?’ she said with a weary sigh. ‘Anything that happened between Giles and me, I entered into of my own free will. But it’s all over between us now anyway. You’ve seen to that.’
‘I bet you were back in his bed as soon as I’d gone?’
‘It may come as a surprise to you to hear that sex isn’t the main priority in my life,’ said Jane scathingly. ‘At the moment I’m concentrating on trying to bring back some sort of stability to my children’s lives after the upheaval you’ve caused. Giles and I aren’t seeing each other in that way.’
‘Oh, do me a favour, Jane,’ he said cynically. ‘When you’re living next-door to each other? Don’t insult my intelligence.’
‘I’ll move out of the cottage if it’ll stop you making trouble for him.’
‘Huh! You’d move out to protect him but you wouldn’t move out of there when I wanted you to.’
‘And I don’t want to move out now,’ she said. ‘But if Giles and I aren’t neighbours, maybe your nasty little mind will stop jumping to the wrong conclusions and you’ll leave him alone.’
‘Don’t move out on my account,’ said Mick, but it was only a token protest. The sooner she
moved away from the hero of the playing field, the better he would like it.
‘I’ll have to. You’ve made it impossible for me to stay there.’
‘Well, it’s time you were out of that dungeon of a place anyway.’
‘It isn’t a dungeon,’ she said, glancing around this room which had more show than David Bowie but remained dull and uninteresting despite its cream leather sofas and marble-topped tables. ‘I like living there, as you very well know.’
‘Time you were moving on, though.’
‘Seems I have no choice.’
‘Where will you go?’
‘I can’t leave the area because of the children’s school and the shop,’ she said, adding with a sigh, ‘See what difficulties you’ve made for me?’
‘No one’s forcing you to move from that dismal dump.’
‘I can’t stay there now, being terrified to speak to my next-door neighbour for fear you’ll hear about it and make more trouble for him. It was a wicked thing you did.’
‘I was feeling wicked.’
‘Anyway, it’ll probably be just as well if I’m not living next-door to Giles. At least it will prevent any gossip since you won’t agree to a divorce so we can be together legally.’
‘I’m surprised you’re not gonna shack up together anyway.’
‘And give you an excuse to complain again about Giles setting a bad example to his pupils?’ she rasped. ‘Not likely!’
‘Well, now that you’ve got all that off your chest, can I offer you anything? A drink . . . something to eat, perhaps?’
‘No, thanks,’ she said coldly. ‘I have to get back to London.’
Mick didn’t try to persuade her to stay but led the way to the door. She got the distinct impression that he wasn’t sorry to see the back of her.
‘I can’t forgive you for what you did to Giles,’ she said at the door. ‘Hurt me if you must but not him . . . leave him alone.’
‘If you keep away from him, I will.’
‘I could have you done for threatening behaviour.’
‘You won’t though, will you?’
Jane stared hard at him.
‘I don’t know what I ever saw in you,’ she said in reply.
And on that parting note, she went out into the cold night air and hurried down the steps to her car parked outside.
Driving along the London Road, she was shivering violently despite having the heater on full. She kept her speed down and drove with extra care because the roads were slippery. Her head ached and she felt sick. She thought this was probably a physical reaction to the misery of losing the cottage she adored and the man she loved, both victims of Mick’s selfish refusal to face the truth about the failure of their marriage.
What upset her most of all, though, was the loss of something good and special such as she had once had with Mick, and how this loss had changed him from a person of charm and vitality into a vicious and evil man. She knew in her heart, though, that he had never shown his true colours in those halcyon days because she had always let him have his own way about everything. She had a nasty suspicion that the darker side of his nature would have come to the fore rather sooner had she been more assertive then.
Soon after Jane had left, Mick went to the Drake’s Arms to see a man about some leather handbags, the spoils of a robbery on a leather goods merchant in North London. With Christmas approaching, he could shift any number.
Having completed the deal to his satisfaction and seen his business contact off the premises, he went over to the bar and spoke to Patsy.
‘Well . . . have you got an answer for me?’ he asked, leaning on the counter and giving her one of his most winning smiles.
‘That depends,’ she said with a half smile, teasing him a little.
‘Now don’t mess me about, Pats.’
Her expression became more serious.
‘It depends on whether or not it’s definitely all over between you and your wife?’
‘It is,’ he assured her. ‘How many more times must I tell you?’
‘I have to be really sure of that before I make my decision.’
‘You can be.’
She still looked doubtful.
‘I need to know for certain that you’re being straight with me?’
‘I am, I am. Honest, Pats,’ he said, his dark eyes meeting hers persuasively. ‘I’ve told you, my marriage didn’t work out so I’m as free as a bird again.’
Treating him to one of the wide and warm smiles that Mick found so endearing, Patsy said, ‘Okay, Mick, you win. I’ll move back in with you as soon as you like.’
‘That’s brilliant,’ said Mick, who had been working really hard to persuade her to move back in with him ever since Jane had given him his marching orders. As heartsick as he was for his wife, he saw no point in denying himself the comforts that were available to him.
Chapter Twenty Two
The improvements Jane had made to the cottage meant she had no trouble in securing a buyer for it. Finding something she liked as much, however, proved to be impossible so she settled for a traditional semi in Wilber Road near to Chiswick High Road and they moved in March.
Leaving the cottage was a painful wrench but there were certain advantages to the new house; Jane’s shop and the school were within walking distance and the house was larger than the cottage and had a spacious kitchen which adapted easily for commercial use.
After the usual trials and tribulations of moving house, including general hysteria when Shadow went missing for a few days, presumably to explore his new territory, life settled into a new pattern for Jane. As spring turned to summer she committed herself to making the house into a comfortable home and creating a secure atmosphere for Davey and Pip after the disruption caused by Mick.
She saw him about once a month when he came to collect the children for a weekend outing. Although she went to pains to persuade Davey to make an effort with his father, she herself kept her distance.
Because Davey and Kevin continued to be close friends despite the move, she saw Giles fairly often. But they didn’t resume their affair. Not from any lack of interest on either side but because of Jane’s determination to protect both his reputation and his health, while living in hope that Mick would eventually agree to a divorce. Until then, it was safer this way.
Cottage Cakes continued to thrive and the celebration cakes side of the business grew. Jane’s biggest problem was finding a reliable assistant to work with her in the kitchen. There had been several since Marie but none with the same commitment to the job as she’d had. They never stayed long, despite the excellent pay and conditions. Jane supposed that working in someone else’s kitchen just wasn’t glamorous enough for a lot of people. Marie had been more like a business partner than an employee, and Jane still missed her, even now.
That autumn Pip joined her brother as a pupil at the Grammar School which was soon to become a comprehensive, in accordance with government policy. In September also Jane’s father astonished them all by enrolling for evening classes at the Technical College.
‘Dad’s woodwork classes certainly seem to have given him a new lease of life,’ Jane remarked to Trudy one day when she’d called at the new house.
‘Do they really?’ asked Trudy, choking back a giggle.
‘What’s so funny about him joining a woodwork class?’
‘Nothing . . . nothing at all.’
‘Personally, I think it’s great,’ enthused Jane, surprised by Trudy’s obvious amusement. ‘I’ve been nagging him for years to take up a new hobby.’
Trudy snorted into her handkerchief.
Jane was puzzled by her friend’s attitude.
‘Is it the thought of some hideous coffee table or wobbly stool he might present me with that you’re finding so hilarious?’ she asked, smiling. ‘I’m quite looking forward to seeing the end result of his work, actually.’
Managing to compose herself, Trudy said rather lamely, ‘Sorry, Jane. I’m not laughing abo
ut your father’s classes. Something amused me at a showgroup rehearsal the other day and it came back to mind. You know how it is when something makes you laugh and you can’t forget about it?’
Jane knew exactly how it was. So why didn’t she believe Trudy? Why did she get the distinct impression that she was hiding something? What could she possibly want to conceal from Jane about her own father? Nothing at all and you’re imagining things, she told herself, and put it out of her mind as the conversation moved on to other things.
Joe Harris gave his shoes a last polish before inspecting himself in front of the wardrobe mirror. His tie was straight, his hair, what was left of it, neatly combed into place, blazer brushed, the crease in his trousers razor sharp. You’ll do, he told himself, eyes bright with excitement. His new hobby had taken years off him. He was having a wonderful time.
His conscience troubled him slightly for being dishonest about it. But he just couldn’t face the ribbing he’d have to take if people knew where he really went twice a week when he was supposed to be at the tech learning how to be creative with wood. He could hardly believe he was having such fun. It was the last thing on earth he’d expected to enjoy.
But he found it so exhilarating having something to look forward to outside the family and work. And he was getting better at it all the time, learning something new at every session. He was bursting to tell Jane the truth, but even his warm-hearted daughter wouldn’t be able to keep a straight face then. Heaven only knew how he was eventually going to explain the absence of any evidence of his supposed handiwork.
Time enough to worry about that later on. Right now he was going out to enjoy himself. The sound of a car’s horn outside in the street informed him that his companion had arrived. He hurried out of his flat with a spring in his step.
‘Why don’t we have the children here sometimes, Mick?’ suggested Patsy one Sunday afternoon in February of the following year as they lounged around the flat drinking tea, smoking and browsing through the Sunday papers. ‘Instead of you always going to London to see them.’