The Single Mums' Picnic Club

by Jennifer Joyce

  George attempted to break free again, but Veronica was sticking to her like glue. Why couldn’t George have a backbone and just say no?

  ‘The thing is, Veronica…’ What was the thing that would get her out of this? ‘The thing is… I need to speak to Jack.’ Yes! That was the thing. She pointed ahead, practically bouncing up and down, as Jack made his way over with the buggy.

  ‘Jack?’ Veronica narrowed her eyes. ‘I don’t think Leo’s dad will be interested in knitting chicks with us.’

  George was banking on it.

  Wriggling free, she made a dash across the stretch of playground separating her from Jack.

  ‘Help me,’ she hissed when she reached him.

  Jack looked over her shoulder and groaned. ‘What’s Benjamin done now? Won the Nobel Prize for Literature? Learned how to sing the national anthem in Japanese? Unmasked Jack the Ripper?’

  ‘Probably, but this is way worse than a case of bragging.’ George glanced over her shoulder. Veronica was making her way towards them, a steely look in her eye. ‘She wants me to knit chicks with her.’

  ‘She wants to what?’ Jack asked, but George didn’t get the chance to elaborate as Veronica swooped in.

  ‘Well? Are you able to contribute or not, George? Because I need to set up the hall and get everyone started before I whiz Benjamin over to his French tutor.’

  ‘It starts today?’ So she couldn’t even make murmurs of agreement and then feign illness at a later date? George turned to Jack, eyes stretched wide.

  ‘That’s a shame then.’ Jack threw his hands up in the air. ‘Because we have plans.’

  ‘You do?’ Veronica’s eyes were slits again, nostrils poised to sniff out lies.

  ‘We do!’ George could hug Jack right now. ‘We’re going to…’ To what? What could they possibly have plans to do right now?

  ‘We’d agreed to meet for coffee.’ The lie slipped from Jack’s mouth as smooth as silk. George was impressed.

  ‘But you can have coffee here.’ Veronica pointed towards the school hall. ‘And help out a good cause at the same time.’

  ‘We can’t.’ George gave her head a vigorous shake. ‘Because…’ Because what? She was useless at this lying malarkey. She may as well start casting on yellow yarn right now.

  ‘Because we were meeting up to have a private discussion.’

  Yes! George could kiss Jack right now. A private discussion. Perfect! Nobody would be rude enough to probe any further.

  ‘About what?’

  Oh. It seemed George was mistaken as Veronica folded her arms and awaited an answer.

  ‘About an idea for a new business George has had.’ Jack held Veronica’s gaze until she was satisfied all was above board. Jutting her chin in the air, she unfolded her arms.

  ‘I see. And it can’t be postponed?’

  Jack shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not.’ He nodded towards the school and started to move forward with the buggy. ‘The doors are opening. You’d better get going if you want to get Benjamin to his Japanese lesson on time.’

  ‘It’s French, actually. But you’re right.’ Turning abruptly, Veronica marched away, leaving George to breathe a sigh of relief.

  ‘Thank you so much for that,’ George said as they followed at a safe distance. ‘I didn’t think I was going to be able to get out of that.’

  ‘No worries.’ Jack shrugged. ‘Shall I meet you at the gates after I’ve picked Ellie up?’

  George stopped, her face screwing up in confusion, but Jack kept striding on, so she was forced to scuttle after him. ‘What for?’

  ‘For coffee and a chat about business.’ Jack raised his eyebrows at George, face serious. ‘That’s what we told Veronica we were doing, and I never tell lies. I’m shocked you think I would.’ And then he surged ahead, leaving George to wonder whether he was being serious or not.

  They walked along the promenade, Ellie and the boys whooping when they were permitted to gallop down the stone steps and run along the beach while their parents kept a careful eye from above. The town was still dozing away the winter months, with metal shutters down on at least half the shops lining the road, but spring was just around the corner, with Easter following close on its heels. Once the school holidays hit, Clifton-on-Sea would become the bustling, joyful town George knew and loved, with shutters being thrown up with abandon, the smell of fish and chips, smoky barbecues and sun cream filling the air, and a beach full of brightly coloured towels and a rainbow of bucket and spades. There was a crumbling sandcastle on the beach now, and Thomas and Leo delighted in stomping on it until it was flat.

  The kids reluctantly plodded up a set of stone steps near the pier, stamping the sand from their shoes before they crossed the road to a café on the corner. With cups of tea for George and Jack and toffee-flavoured hot chocolates for the little ones, they squeezed into a booth by the window. The pier was in view but, after a quick burst of energy during the half-term holidays, it had been put to rest again.

  ‘Have you thought any more about the picnic catering idea?’ Jack secured Vevie in the plastic highchair and passed her a lidded beaker.

  George shrugged, looking out at the Ferris wheel, frozen in time, on the pier. ‘A little bit.’

  If she were being honest, George would tell Jack about the reams of notes she’d made, the menus she’d planned, and the Pinterest boards she’d set up with inspiration for themes, décor, and entertainment. But she didn’t want to appear too eager, as though she actually believed the idea could work with her steering the ship.

  Jack sat back on the padded bench and cradled his mug. ‘You should seriously consider it.’

  ‘I am.’ She was playing with the idea, at least for fun. And it had been fun, daydreaming as she scrubbed at floors, as she wiped down kitchen counters and stripped beds. Her playlist of upbeat songs wasn’t the only thing that could make menial tasks more enjoyable.

  ‘Do you have any questions?’

  George had plenty; why was a handsome man like Jack Benson single? What happened with his wife? And why was he using up his valuable time with his kids pandering to her silly picnic-themed fantasy?

  She didn’t ask any of those questions.

  ‘I don’t know. It all just seems so… massive. Overwhelming. I wouldn’t know where to start.’ She plucked a napkin from the dispenser on the table and mopped up a hot chocolate spillage. ‘Were you scared, when you set out on your own?’

  Jack huffed out a laugh. ‘I felt sick with nerves, but it was something I needed to do. I was good at my job, I worked hard, so why shouldn’t I reap the benefits?’

  ‘It’s a lot of responsibility though.’ George scrunched up the napkin and placed it in the centre of the table. ‘What if it all went wrong and you were left trying to support your family with no income and mounting debts?’

  Jack nodded. ‘It’s a risk. Still is, even though I’ve been established for a few years now. All it takes is another recession, a prolonged illness, etc and the business could go under. But I was willing to take that risk because I believed in myself.’

  It was a bit like her decision to have Thomas. She’d been scared about the prospect of going it alone then, of taking a giant leap into the unknown, but she’d done it anyway, because she believed in herself, in the love she had to offer, and she’d taken courage from the feeling deep in her gut that this was something she had to do. Could she be brave again? Could she have faith in herself to finally follow her dreams?

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Katie

  ‘What we need to establish first is what you each wish to accomplish and whether there is any common ground.’

  Katie focused on the mediator, watched as she unfurled her fingers and picked up the glass of water beside her so she wouldn’t have to look at Rob. She doubted they would find any common ground with their differing priorities, but she had to remain calm. They’d arranged these mediation sessions as a way of figuring out how to share childcare and divide their assets i
n a mature, sensible way, and acting like a surly teenager was counterproductive to that.

  She straightened in her chair and smoothed away the pout on her face.

  ‘I don’t want to sell my parents’ house.’ Katie wanted to be clear on that from the very start. ‘They worked so hard to buy that house, and I won’t toss it away because he…’ She cleared her throat, giving herself a moment to remember her strategy to be calm and mature about the process. ‘Because Rob decided to leave us.’

  ‘We can’t keep going as we are,’ Rob said. ‘Sharing what little money we make from using it as a holiday let.’

  Katie nodded. ‘I couldn’t agree more on that one.’ Why should Rob and his new family profit from her parents’ home? It wasn’t as though he made any effort with the holiday let business anyway; it was Katie who took the bookings, who cleaned the house once the guests had left and stocked it with homely essentials, who kept the accounts up to date. She couldn’t remember the last time Rob had set foot in the place.

  ‘Then we should sell.’ Rob shrugged while Katie’s fists tightened. ‘Have a clean break.’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘There’s no way I’m selling. That’s my childhood home we’re talking about.’

  ‘You can’t let your emotions get in the way, Katie. We’re never going to resolve these issues if you’re going to be so dogged about it all. It’s just a house.’

  Luckily, the mediator stepped in then, otherwise Rob may have ended up gargling on her fist.

  Once their first meeting with the mediator was over and arrangements had been made to meet up again to further discuss the division of their assets, Katie and Rob headed outside in silence. They were like strangers now instead of two people who had shared a life together not so long ago. It wasn’t until they’d reached their cars that Rob finally spoke.

  ‘I’d like to pick the children up from school and take them out for dinner. Just the three of us. I haven’t spent as much time with them as I possibly could have since I left.’

  And whose fault was that? Katie hadn’t put any restrictions on his access because she knew as much as she wanted to hurt Rob, her kids shouldn’t become collateral damage in the process.

  She bit her tongue. ‘Okay. Fine by me.’ She pushed down on her fob to unlock the car doors. ‘It may take more than a trip to McDonalds, though.’ She really couldn’t help herself.

  ‘I wasn’t going to take them to…’ Rob shook his head. ‘Never mind. I’ll drop them back to your place at around nine?’

  Your place. AKA your former home, she thought.

  ‘Fine.’ She yanked open the car door and slipped inside, her grip tight when she held onto the steering wheel. She drove home in a state of agitation, and even the familiar sounds of the choppy waves and the smell of salt in the air as she approached the seafront didn’t calm her as it normally would. Her grip was still tight, her jaw set, as she replayed the meeting with Rob. He really didn’t care about her feelings, didn’t care that he’d crushed them once before and was well on his way to repeating the process, foot poised to stomp all over her spirits. It’s just a house. She pushed open the car door once she’d parked and stomped her way to the front door, her key jabbing at the lock. The house was empty, hollow without the kids yelling at each other or leaving trails of empty crisp packets and homework in their wake.

  Great. She had a whole evening stretching out in front of her, and she wouldn’t even have a night in the pub to occupy her time. Jack wouldn’t be child-free until the weekend. Maybe she could coax Frankie and George to come round and keep her company?

  Yanking off her coat, she slung it onto the hook before reaching into her bag for her phone, scrolling through her contacts as she moved through to the kitchen. Her thumb hovered over Frankie’s name as she sank down onto the sofa.

  She could invite Frankie and George over for a takeaway and a bottle of wine after work tonight. Or she could invite somebody else round to keep her company. A certain teacher who was rather keen on her companionship. He’d be in the classroom right now, but she could text him. Something light. No pressure. Obviously, it took at least twenty minutes to perfect the tone she was aiming for, but once she’d achieved the ideal message – quick, casual, not-fussed-either-way – she pressed send before she could change her mind.

  ‘You’re the naughtiest teacher I’ve ever met.’ Katie sank back into the soft pillows, her arms stretching wide across the super king-size bed that she’d once hated. They’d bought the oversized four poster in an attempt to fill out the enormous master bedroom – which it did – but it had also kept Katie and Rob apart. The bed was so vast, she’d often woken to find Rob had managed to roll over to the other side of the bed during the night, out of arm’s reach. Yes, she could shuffle closer and wrap her arms around his slumbering body, but it wasn’t a cosy bed, that was for sure.

  What is was, however, was a wonderful space to get to know her new friend.

  ‘And you are the naughtiest bookkeeper I’ve ever met.’ He collapsed onto the pillows next to her, propping himself up on an elbow so he could gaze down at her. ‘Granted, I think you’re the only bookkeeper I’ve ever met, but I assume they’re not all as filthy as you.’

  ‘Hey!’ Katie batted him on the arm, but she was grinning. Texting him had definitely been a good idea; the house no longer felt hollow and her ego had been given an almighty boost.

  ‘We should go out.’ He trailed rapid kisses from her shoulder to her collar bone before pushing himself into a sitting position. ‘Get something to eat. Go for a drink?’ He raised his eyebrows in question, but Katie shook her head.

  ‘I can’t. My kids will be back from their dad’s at nine.’ She turned to check the time on the alarm clock beside the bed. It wasn’t yet seven. ‘Plus, it’s a school night, Mr Thompson. You can’t be teaching those reception kids with a hangover.’ She shuddered to think of how that would go down; if his head wasn’t pounding before he arrived at the school, it certainly would be as thirty boisterous kids descended.

  ‘A quick drink then. Very little food.’ He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, but Katie grabbed his arm, tugging him closer.

  ‘I’m not hungry. Or thirsty.’ Katie pulled him towards her, pushing against the mattress so she could meet him halfway with a kiss. ‘Let’s stay here.’

  He didn’t mention food again.

  She was still smiling the next morning as images of her evening with the sexy teacher flashed through her mind. Even an argument erupting over breakfast cereal wasn’t enough to dim the beam on her face. She hummed to herself as she added the bowl, spoon and glass she’d used for her own breakfast to the empty dishwasher.

  ‘Mu-um. Have you seen how much he’s left me?’ Lizzie jiggled the bag from inside the box of cereal at her, rattling the remaining handful of Coco Pops.

  ‘What?’ Elliot turned in his seat at the table and shrugged. ‘I’ve only had one bowl.’

  ‘Yeah, but look at the size of the bowl.’ Lizzie pointed an accusing finger at the ceramic casserole dish.

  ‘I’m a growing boy.’ Elliot grinned at his sister before shovelling a mouthful of cereal in his mouth.

  ‘You’re a greedy pig. You should be eating out a trough.’

  Katie moved across the kitchen and opened the cupboard, pulling down the box of Cheerios. ‘Have these instead. Quickly.’ She pushed the box into Lizzie’s hands. ‘I can’t be late for work, so if you want a lift to the station…’ Leaving the subtle threat in the air, she headed into the hallway, resuming her humming as she crouched down to pick up the post waiting on the mat. Junk, junk, bank statement, something addressed to Rob. The smile finally waned as she placed the letter on the table in the hallway, face down.

  ‘Are you eating yet, Lizzie?’ she called as she headed for the stairs.

  ‘I can’t.’ Lizzie appeared in the kitchen doorway, thrusting a bottle of milk out in front of her. ‘He’s used it all.’

  Katie squeezed her eyes shut, supp
ressing a sigh, her good mood dead and buried. ‘You’ll have to make yourself some toast and eat it on the way.’

  She managed to get to work on time after dropping the kids off at the train station and her good spirits started to nudge their way back in. She was no longer humming cheery tunes, but after almost two years of disheartening interviews, followed by soul-destroying rejections, walking into the office at the golf club and sitting down at her desk felt like a privilege. She was sure the shine of having a desk, with drawers and her own set of filing cabinets, would soon wear off, but she was enjoying the simple pleasure of turning up for work three days a week while she could. She sent a quick, cheeky text before she switched on her computer, but she had to wait until lunchtime for a reply (the downfall of sleeping with a teacher, she supposed). They sent a couple of messages back and forth until he was called into a meeting, so Katie pulled her book out of her handbag to keep her occupied while she ate her packed lunch on the bench overlooking the golf course. She had a beautiful view of the lush greenery and a little wooded area in the distance, but she was engrossed in her novel. While it had taken her months to crawl through the first seven chapters, she’d been suddenly gripped by the unfolding mystery and was flying through the pages in a bid to unmask the killer.

  She was thinking about heading back into the office soon and wondering if she had enough time to finish the chapter when her mobile pinged with a new message. Dropping the book into her handbag, she snatched up her phone, a smile spreading across her face when she saw the sender.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  George

  It was a bedding-changing day at Cecily’s place and while some people may not have got on too well with wrestling duvets into their covers – especially the king-sized variety this particular set of clients preferred – George took a no-nonsense approach to the task. She wouldn’t be beaten by a set of bedding! Once the bedding was changed, she moved onto the easier tasks of the morning: the dusting and wiping down of bedroom furniture and windowsills, emptying the bins and vacuuming. With her playlist cheering her on, George worked methodically, moving from the master suite to the less-used guest bedrooms.