The Single Mums' Picnic Club

by Jennifer Joyce

  ‘It could be a regular thing.’

  ‘Hmm.’ She gave a hesitant nod.

  ‘Every Friday night.’ Jack thrust his thumb behind them. ‘The Red Lion.’

  ‘Sounds… fun.’ She smiled tightly. ‘But Jack? Do you remember what we said about not being ready to date?’

  ‘Yep.’ Jack gave a curt nod and waited for Katie to elaborate, but she left her question hanging in the air. ‘Oh my God. You think I fancy you.’

  ‘No.’ Maybe. Was it such a ridiculous assumption when he had his arm around her and was asking her out? ‘But you don’t have to sound so horrified at the idea.’ A much younger man had found her attractive, so why not a bloke in his mid-forties? She wasn’t an ogre, even if she was fond of dry shampoo, almost threadbare sweaters and leggings that should probably have been put out to pasture several months ago.

  ‘I’m not horrified. Far from it.’ Still, he removed his arm and shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘It’s just, we’re mates, right?’

  Katie nodded, resisting the grin that wanted to plant itself across her face. ‘Plus, you’re not my type.’

  Jack sniggered. ‘I saw your type last week, and I’m afraid I don’t match up.’

  ‘He isn’t my type either. Not really.’ She didn’t think she had a ‘type’, but she did know the teacher and her ex couldn’t be more different.

  ‘So.’ They’d reached the row of seafront houses, with Katie’s and Jack’s homes visible just ahead. ‘We’re mates, yeah?’

  Katie nodded. ‘Yep, just mates. No funny business.’ She reached up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. ‘Goodnight, Jack.’ She forged ahead, swinging open her gate before she turned to wave. She may not have hunted down her handsome teacher, but she was in a surprisingly good mood. If nothing else, tonight had taught her that her life wasn’t over just because Rob had left. She had friends, a new job to sink her teeth into, and a brand new social life. Yes, it still hurt, but she could see now that somewhere in the future, it would lose its sting and its power over her. Her own life was in her hands and she was going to take back control.

  Starting with the divorce papers.

  Kicking the front door shut and ignoring the unease of knowing the house was completely devoid of her family, she marched into the living room, only pausing momentarily to flick on the light switch before she snatched the acknowledgement of service from its hiding place. ,She was finally taking back control.

  For once, there was a pen to hand, and although her hand quivered as the ink made its initial dot on the paper, she felt strong and accomplished as she scribbled her signature. There, it was done. She was in control of her life once more because she had decided when and where to sign her marriage away.

  Kicking off her shoes in the hallway, she climbed the stairs and crawled into bed, looking forward to the morning, when her new life would begin.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Frankie

  Frankie had been making an effort to up her fitness levels, and she’d started to run three times a week, either in the park, up to the cliffs, or along the beach. As well as the obvious health benefits, she loved the feeling of freedom she got from running and the way it cleared her mind of her worries and fears (which she definitely needed after her freak out the evening before), as well as the sense of achievement when she pushed her body that much further. And the fresh air gave a definite boost to her creativity. She usually ran during the afternoon, when the twins were at nursery, but Isaac had agreed to babysit again that evening.

  ‘I meant I’d babysit while you went out,’ he said when she skipped down the stairs in her running gear.

  ‘I am going out.’ She gathered her hair into a ponytail and slipped her earphones in.

  ‘Out out. With friends. Or, you know, a date.’ He scratched the back of his neck, clearly as uncomfortable discussing Frankie’s love life as she was.

  ‘I went out with friends last night.’ She decided to completely sidestep the whole dating thing, because it was just plain icky.

  ‘Frankie.’ Isaac puffed out a sigh. ‘You were back before ten. That isn’t going out.’

  ‘Why, because I wasn’t trashed and puking into a bucket all night, like you do when you go out with Sisqo?’

  ‘Hey.’ Isaac frowned at her. ‘I used to get trashed and puke into buckets, but I’m more mature than that now.’

  Frankie threw him a sceptical look, then started her playlist and dashed out of the house before Isaac could change his mind about watching the twins. And before she could change her mind about leaving them, albeit for an hour, max.

  She decided to venture down towards the seafront as it was a gorgeous, fresh evening, with a faint promise of spring in the air. Although it was still quite nippy and already starting to grow dark, the grey clouds had shifted, and the sky was clear for a change. In a few months, the area would be crowded with tourists, but the stunning view would pretty much belong to Frankie alone that evening. She turned right as she reached the cliffs, moving away from the path that would wind up to the clifftop, and instead made her way along the promenade. The ground was crunchy underfoot with the sprinkling of sand that had been swept up onto the pavement, and the wind had picked up along the seafront. She’d go as far as the shelter at the halfway point between the cliffs and the pier before turning around and heading back home.

  She’d almost reached the seaside shelter when she caught sight of someone waving at her from across the road. She slowed down, tugging at her earphones as she tried to make out who it was. He was tall, with dark blond hair, and wearing a fitted suit, and he was dashing across the road, hurrying to avoid the bus trundling along the road towards him.

  ‘Hi!’ He raised a hand again in greeting, and Frankie stopped, recognising him now. ‘I was hoping to bump into you again. I see the knee’s all better now.’

  Frankie nodded, gulping down air as she clutched her side. ‘Yep. All better. Thanks.’ She bent over, her hands resting on the tops of her thighs. ‘No dog today?’ She swiped at her brow, removing the wispy bits of hair that were clinging to her clammy skin. ‘Or is he back with your sister?’

  ‘He should be.’ He tugged at his tie to loosen the knot. ‘But she only went and supposedly fell in love while on holiday in Cyprus.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘It’s just a holiday fling, but she’s convinced herself he’s The One and gone back out there, lumbering me with the dog. He’s at home now. I dread to think what the mad bastard is up to, unsupervised. He chewed up the TV remote the other day. I can’t find the buttons for the volume control or the number nine, but I can guess where they ended up.’

  Frankie grimaced. ‘Lovely.’

  ‘Sorry. Not a pleasant image.’

  Frankie, having got her breath back somewhat, straightened, giving her head a shake. ‘Not in the slightest.’

  ‘Change of subject?’

  Frankie laughed. ‘Yes please.’

  He narrowed his eyes in thought. ‘How about we talk about… you and I going for a drink? I think I owe you one after Jake almost maimed you the other week.’

  ‘Oh, that was nothing.’ Frankie gave a wave of her hand. ‘It was fine by the time I got home.’

  ‘Oh.’ He nodded and started to back away. ‘Fair enough.’

  He thought she was turning him down for the drink, Frankie realised. But then she was, wasn’t she? Because she didn’t do this. She didn’t meet guys and go for drinks with them, even if they were pretty cute (especially in a fitted suit, Frankie hadn’t failed to notice). But why not? She was single. Had been for two years now, and maybe Isaac was right and it was time she had some fun again. Because as much as she loved being a mum, she’d enjoyed being Frankie too, once upon a time.

  ‘He did wolf my lunch down, though,’ she said before she could talk herself out of it. ‘So perhaps you do owe me.’

  He gave a slow nod of his head and took a couple of steps back towards Frankie. ‘It sounds like I owe you dinner.’

  Oh! This had progressed rat
her quickly. Frankie wasn’t entirely sure she was ready to be going for a drink with this guy, never mind a full-blown meal. But then she couldn’t remember the last time she went out for dinner that didn’t involve highchairs and glares from neighbouring tables as the twins made a game of splatting their food on the floor.

  ‘Okay.’ Frankie bobbed her head up and down in an effort to convince herself this was a good idea. The best idea. ‘I’d like that.’

  ‘So, we’re going out for dinner on Friday evening.’ Frankie grabbed a napkin and dabbed at the corner of her mouth, where she suspected there was a great big blob of hummus. The weather was quite mild that afternoon, so Frankie had met George and Katie on the beach for what was becoming their weekly picnic lunch. It had been Frankie’s turn to provide the food and she’d brought a mix of pre-prepared, shop-bought items (sausage rolls, hummus and carrots sticks, a box of cherry Bakewell tarts) and homemade (sandwiches and a tuna pasta salad).

  ‘A date?’ George clapped her hands together. ‘An actual date with the gorgeous Alexander?’

  ‘He prefers Alex, apparently.’ Frankie looked down at the picnic blanket, smoothing it out over a particularly lumpy mound of sand.

  ‘I like it,’ George said. ‘It’s less formal. Especially now you’re dating.’

  ‘We are not…’ Frankie paused when she looked up and realised George had a twinkle in her eye. She was only teasing. ‘It’s just dinner,’ she finished quietly.

  ‘It sounds lovely.’ George sighed. ‘I wish somebody would take me out for dinner.’ She frowned. ‘I can’t remember the last time I went out to a restaurant…’ She shook her head. ‘Anyway, where are you going? Let me live vicariously through you.’

  Frankie placed her carrot stick down and grabbed her can of Diet Coke, brushing the grains of sand that had made it onto the opening. The only downside to picnicking on the beach was the unexpected grit added to your lunch.

  ‘We’re going to the seafood place, down in the harbour.’ She took a sip of her drink, ignoring the scratch of rogue sand in her throat. ‘I’m meeting him there. I haven’t told him about the twins yet, and it’s pretty obvious I have kids with just a glance at my house. Is that weird? Should I have told him upfront?’

  ‘It’s entirely up to you what you tell him and when.’

  ‘I guess.’ Frankie turned to Katie, tucking a strand of hair the breeze had worked free behind her ear. ‘Did you tell Jarvis about Elliot and Lizzie?’

  Katie shook her head, her mouth full of food. She swallowed hard and shook her head again. ‘There wasn’t a great deal of talking involved once we got back to my place.’ The other women whooped and nudged her, and Katie batted them away good-naturedly. ‘You’ll know when the time’s right.’

  Frankie wasn’t too sure about that. She wasn’t even sure the timing was right for her to date Alex in the first place (or have dinner, whatever) so how could she ever trust her judgement when it came to telling him about her kids? She picked up a nearby shell, her finger absent-mindedly running over the soft pinks and creams, finding the sharp edge where the shell was broken.

  ‘This doesn’t have to go anywhere you don’t want it to,’ George said as Frankie threatened to wear the shell down to dust. ‘It can be just dinner. Take it slowly, but if you don’t feel comfortable, for whatever reason, then you don’t have to see him again at all.’

  Frankie tossed the shell on the sand. ‘You’re right. I’m worrying over nothing.’

  If only she believed her own words.

  Chapter Eighteen

  George

  George had to admit – reluctantly, because she’d feel sick with guilt otherwise – that she’d quickly grown accustomed to her new routine since Thomas started school. She missed him, obviously, but she no longer felt heavy with grief as she waved him off, and she no longer worried he wouldn’t fit in as he’d made lots of new friends over the past few weeks. He already had two best friends – Lottie and Anil – who he chatted about constantly. George was planning to invite them both over for tea after the upcoming half-term holiday.

  So, George would drop Thomas off at school in the mornings, safe in the knowledge that he was happy and thriving in his new environment, before heading to work. Once school and her cleaning had finished for the day, George would pick Thomas up and they’d go home for a snack and a catch up of their days. George loved this time, loved hearing about Thomas’ day and how he was growing in confidence in both his academic and social skills. He adored his teachers, though not as much as his mummy – and George had been elated by the clarification.

  ‘You really should get him into at least a couple of after-school activities,’ one of the playground mums was telling George that morning as they waited for the whistle to blow. She’d latched onto George as their sons tore off towards the wooden play area together and had been singing her son’s praises relentlessly ever since. ‘Benjamin is really excelling at the violin – perhaps you should encourage Thomas to take up an instrument.’

  ‘He has a whole box of instruments at home.’ George raised a hand as she saw a familiar face heading her way, hoping to silently convey she was in need of rescuing. She’d already heard about Benjamin’s Oscar-worthy performance as Innkeeper #2 in the early years’ nativity, his astounding numeracy proficiency and his love of Dickens (he wasn’t yet competent enough to read a whole novel himself but they made fantastic bedtime stories, apparently).

  ‘Real instruments?’ Benjamin’s mum wrinkled her nose. ‘Or those nasty plastic things? I’m not talking about toys here.’

  ‘I’m afraid Thomas and I are all about the nasty plastic instruments at the moment.’ She turned away from Benjamin’s mum as the familiar face drew near. ‘Hello, Jack! I’ve been hoping to catch you.’

  Jack came to a stop with the buggy. ‘You have?’

  George nodded, her eyes wide and pleading as she flicked them towards her new bragtastic pal. ‘Can I have a quick word, please?’

  Jack’s gaze followed George’s and a look of understanding dawned on his face. ‘Yes! Of course.’ He turned the buggy, aiming for a cluster of trees near the railings, and the pair peeled away. ‘I see you’ve met Benjamin’s mum.’

  ‘Thank you for rescuing me.’ George peeked over her shoulder and was relieved to see the woman was marching towards the play area rather than following them.

  ‘No problem. I fell victim to her once myself.’ Jack shook his head as he handed a lidded beaker to his daughter in the buggy. The older two had dashed away to sword fight with a couple of wobbly twigs. ‘She chewed my ear off about Oxford versus Cambridge and how Benjamin was still deciding which path to choose. My kids can’t decide between Coco Pops and Sugar Puffs, but Benjamin’s apparently making decisions about his future university. The woman’s from another planet.’

  ‘Poor Benjamin though. It sounds like his life is all about learning with very little fun. What happened to kids being kids?’

  Jack looked at Ellie and Leo, who’d abandoned their twig swords and were now charging across the playground, their hands held aloft as they attempted to roar the loudest. ‘I think my kids have nailed that. They may not be able to recite Wordsworth but they’ve mastered playtime.’

  ‘Veeeee-vieeeeee!’ Having given up their roaring game, Ellie and Leo were now charging towards the cluster of trees. Leo leapt at his little sister, kissing the top of her head briefly before taking off again with Ellie at his heels.

  George laughed as the toddler’s forehead wrinkled as she watched her siblings tear away. ‘What was that about?’

  Jack shrugged. ‘With my kids, you never know – they’re completely bonkers. It’s best to just go with it.’ He peered over the hood of the buggy, pulling a silly face at his daughter as she arched back to look at him. She giggled, the grin smoothing out the frown lines of her tiny face.

  ‘Vevie’s an unusual name,’ George said when the child’s attention was caught by a pigeon on the other side of the railings. ‘I’ve never he
ard it before.’

  ‘It’s not actually a name. Not that I know of.’ Jack pointed ahead, where Ellie was cantering after her brother, her scarf hooked around his middle. ‘It was Ellie who started it. She couldn’t say Ivy properly – it somehow came out as Vevie – and it stuck. I don’t think she even knows her real name.’

  ‘That’s sweet.’ George wished Thomas had a sibling, someone who would share his childhood and help to shape it, but it was never going to happen. Not now. She’d often felt quite lonely growing up as an only child and had always wanted a big family herself, but she’d left it too late. Still, she was grateful to have Thomas, and she’d love him as fiercely as if he had a father and a dozen brothers and sisters.

  The whistle cried out, loud and shrill, carrying itself across the entire playground. Jack went off to round up Ellie and Leo while George rushed to Thomas to give him one of her tight squeezes before they said goodbye for the day.

  ‘Thomas doesn’t strike me as particularly musical,’ Benjamin’s mum said as the children shuffled into their lines. ‘But if you start to guide him now, he could achieve great things.’

  George’s fingers curled into her palms, but she managed to smile sweetly at the woman. ‘But Thomas is very musical. He’s already mastered Beethoven’s Fifth on his nasty plastic maracas.’

  Benjamin’s mum regarded her with pursed lips for a moment. ‘I don’t think you’re taking your son’s education seriously. I’m only trying to help.’

  ‘I appreciate it.’ George didn’t; she wanted this woman to leave her alone and take her unsolicited advice with her. ‘But Thomas is only five. Right now, he’s only interested in playing with his friends and laughing at fart jokes.’

  There was a heavy sigh beside her. ‘Beethoven had published his first work by the age of twelve. Do you think he messed around with his friends or made vulgar jokes?’

  George swore loudly at her, but only inside her head. She was relieved when the children started to file into the school and instead of hanging around like she usually would, George made a dash for the gates.