The Single Mums' Picnic Club

by Jennifer Joyce

  They somehow managed to manoeuvre the hulking dog from the bush to the back of the car without causing Jake too much discomfort. Frankie squeezed herself on the back seat so she could continue to stroke his head as Alex drove the short distance to the vet’s.

  ‘I don’t even know if I said thank you,’ Alex said as they sank onto the plastic chairs in the reception area. Jake was in with the vet, who thought the wounds to his neck and paw had probably been inflicted during a battle with barbed wire. ‘I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t spotted the poor bugger.’

  ‘I’m sure someone would have found him.’

  ‘But they wouldn’t have known he was mine.’ Alex pulled a face. ‘Sort of. Temporarily. You know what I mean. If they’d have brought him to the vet, the chip would have had my sister’s details in Thornton.’

  ‘She’s still in Cyprus then?’

  Alex nodded. ‘With no plans to return just yet. Still madly in love, apparently.’

  ‘It’s good that she’s happy, though, right?’

  ‘Absolutely. It’s just a pity she can’t be happy in England. With her mad dog living under her roof.’

  Frankie nudged him playfully. ‘You’ll miss Jake when he goes back home.’

  ‘Miss him chewing through my kitchen lino and hiding my socks at the bottom of the garden?’ Alex laughed lightly. ‘You’re probably right.’

  Frankie had seen the worry painted on Alex’s face as they’d rushed to the surgery, how he’d whispered in Jake’s ear before he’d left him in the hands of the vet. She didn’t know what he’d said, but she knew they hadn’t been words of anger.

  Frankie started as her phone buzzed in her pocket with a text notification. Isaac had taken the twins to see their grandmother, who was out of hospital and probably drinking gin with her neighbour again, so she assumed he’d be letting her know they were on their way home.

  ‘You’re not going to run out on me again, are you?’ Alex asked. His tone was teasing and he was smiling at her, but his eyes were wary.

  ‘Sorry about that.’ She slipped her phone back into her pocket. The message was as expected, and she’d reply in a minute, but this couldn’t wait. ‘I should have called you, explained. I’ve been in a bit of a bad place. Mixed up. It’s complicated but I don’t think I was ready to start dating again.’

  ‘Complicated how?’

  Frankie was about to brush off the question with something vague, but she found herself opening up. She was tired of bottling everything up inside, of hiding Bradley away. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t be bound by the stigma of mental health anymore and she was going to start right now. If Alex regretted his question, he didn’t show it as he listened to Frankie talk about her loss and how she’d struggled to cope in the aftermath.

  ‘Pretty heavy stuff.’ Frankie wrapped her arms tight across her body and grimaced.

  ‘Yep.’ Alex nodded and exhaled. ‘I’m so sorry you had to go through that. But thank you for sharing it with me. It can’t be easy.’ Frankie shook her head but found, after all she had revealed, that she couldn’t say the most basic of words. ‘I thought you’d run out of the restaurant because you realised what a dud date I was. You know where people have a friend phone part-way through in case they’re on a date with a loser? To give them a get-out clause?’

  Frankie shook her head and was glad to find her voice again. ‘That wasn’t it at all. I was enjoying our date. And my mum really did have a fall. But I didn’t call afterwards because… well, you now know why.’ She picked a loose thread on the sleeve of her jacket. ‘Do you think we could try again? Finish that date?’

  Alex didn’t speak for a moment, and she was about to take his silence as an answer when he asked, ‘Are you ready for that?’

  She shrugged. ‘I want to be.’

  He smiled sadly at her. ‘That isn’t the same thing.’

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Katie

  Katie thought about all the times she’d complained about cleaning her parents’ house after they’d turned the property into a holiday let as she scrubbed around the bath taps with an old toothbrush. All the times she’d grumbled about guests leaving dirty dishes in the sink for her to deal with, or the times she’d had to tug tangled up hairs from plugholes, trying not to think about which part of the body they’d originated from, or the utter revulsion as she’d been met with unflushed logs when she stepped into the bathroom. Obviously, there were model guests who kept the house reasonably clean and tidy, but it was the horror stories that made a lasting impact. Was she glad she would never have to deal with any of those again? She wasn’t sure. She knew she’d missed the house, but the holiday let had always been a compromise; Rob wanted to sell up, Katie wanted to keep the house in the family. In the end, Rob was getting his wish.

  Giving the bath a final wipe with a damp cloth, Katie headed downstairs, popping the cleaning products under the kitchen sink. She made herself a cup of tea and took it out into the back garden, dusting off a plastic chair from the patio set. The grass was a little too long and the flowerbeds were in need of a good weeding, but she didn’t have the energy to make the outside sparkle as well as the inside that afternoon, and she didn’t have time anyway. The estate agent was due in less than twenty minutes and it would take her that long to wrestle the lawnmower from the shed at home. Perhaps she should ask Rob to tackle the garden, since it was down to him they were selling in the first place.

  Ha! Rob couldn’t even be bothered to turn up for the estate agent’s valuation. There was no way he’d be getting his hands dirty. He’d cited work commitments for his absence – Katie didn’t bother to point out that she’d had to use annual leave to make sure the house was ready. Her ex-husband, she’d realised as she picked her way through the wreckage of their marriage, was selfish and lazy. But he was Anya’s problem now, and that thought almost cheered her as she headed to the front door to let the estate agent into the house. After a quick introduction, Katie led the way along the short passage towards the kitchen, where the estate agent dumped her files down on the bistro-style table squeezed into the corner of the room. The table only seated two (at a push) but it was nice for the guests to have somewhere to enjoy their morning coffee.

  ‘Would you like a cup of tea? Coffee?’ Katie wandered towards the kettle, but the estate agent – Jo, as she’d introduced herself a moment ago – shook her head.

  ‘No, thank you.’ She was more interested in the room than refreshment, her eyes taking in the tiny details of the kitchen. ‘This space is quite reasonable, for a cottage of this period. The ceilings are a bit low and I know some of the other properties in this area have extended out into the garden, but a new buyer has the option to make more use of the available space if they’d like to.’ She pulled a face as she reached into her satchel and pulled out a tablet. ‘The layout is fine, but those units…’ She shook her head as she started to tap away on the tablet’s screen. Katie decided she didn’t like Jo very much. Those kitchen units may have been a little bit weary with age, but her dad had installed them with the help of his mate from the pub. Katie remembered the radio blaring as she played in the back garden (she’d been banned from the kitchen while the work was being carried out, but the back garden gave her access to have a nosy whenever she felt like it). It had been summer and the grass had been too long back then as well, and it had tickled her bare ankles as she crept closer and closer to the back door in her sandals. Her dad had shooed her away with a carton of Um Bongo, which she’d sipped under the shade of the tree at the bottom of the garden, the music drifting from the kitchen over the sounds of her dad and Pete hard at work.

  ‘I’ll just take some measurements and a few photos for the website and then we’ll move on to the next room.’ Jo reached into her satchel again, pulling out a device which she used to take the kitchen’s dimensions without trailing measuring tapes across the room.

  ‘There are two reception rooms, right?’ Jo asked as they moved
back into the passage.

  ‘That’s right.’ Katie reached for the nearest door and opened it. ‘This is the dining room.’ She stepped aside so Jo could enter first, and almost collided with her as the estate agent came to an abrupt stop.

  ‘Oh. It’s very small, isn’t it? Some of the neighbouring properties have lovely open living spaces, but this feels…’

  Cosy, Katie thought. Warm. Inviting. A room that had seen family Christmas lunches, countless board games and a space that was Katie’s art station one minute and her mum’s sewing room the next.

  ‘…Quite oppressive, doesn’t it?’ Jo looked at Katie for confirmation, but she wasn’t going to get it. ‘Those dark bookcases don’t help. We should look at removing those before the viewings begin. And the sideboard. Perhaps you could store them somewhere?’

  That sideboard had been her great-grandmother’s, and her mum had arranged for it to be shipped from Katie’s grandparent’s house when her lovely gran had passed away. It had come all the way from Inverness, which Katie had thought was an epic journey when she was little.

  ‘This is more like it. This is what will sell the house.’ Jo was much more in favour of the living room, with its large sash windows, original fireplace and coving, and the polished parquet floor. ‘With a bit of work, this will make the perfect family home again.’

  It already was the perfect family home, Katie thought as she shuffled after the estate agent, trudging up the stairs to be praised for the ‘absolutely stunning view of the harbour’ (if you stood on tiptoe and craned your neck to the left) from the front bedroom.

  ‘The house should sell quite quickly, considering it’s such a short walk down to the harbour and local amenities,’ Jo said as she packed her things away. She said this as though it was the best news, while it made Katie want to weep for the house she was giving up. ‘I’ll go back to the office and do a little more research before I give a firm valuation, but I think you’ll be quite pleased considering the current condition of the property.’ She smiled at Katie, while she silently seethed. ‘I’ll be in touch soon.’

  Katie locked up the house and climbed into her car, making the short journey home. The sight of her seafront house used to fill her with such joy, but she didn’t feel it now as she pushed the door open and stepped into the empty house. It felt so much larger now, frightfully so. Elliot and Lizzie would be having dinner with Rob tonight, so she’d have the house to herself for another four or five hours. She’d picked up a new book from the library after finally finishing her psychological thriller, but it was a wartime saga and the opening chapters hadn’t been particularly cheering, so she wasn’t inclined to pick it up now she was feeling low. Instead, she slumped down on the sofa with her phone, intending to call Rob with an update about the house. But she found she was even less inclined to speak to her husband than the harrowing tale sitting on the coffee table, so she sent him a quick text instead. With the phone still in her hand, she scrolled through her contacts, pausing when she came across ‘Mr Thompson’. If there was anything that could shake her out of her melancholy mood, it was him. And with Rob having the kids after school that evening…

  ‘We need to get up.’ She knew without peering at the little clock on the bedside table that it was getting late. Sunlight was still flooding in through the curtains but the happy chatter as families took advantage of a warm day to head down to the beach had waned.

  ‘What’s the rush?’ His voice was muffled as his lips continued to brush the nape of her neck.

  ‘My kids will be home soon.’ She attempted to sit up, but his hand was on her thigh, anchoring her down, and it was all too tempting to sink back down onto the pillows and forget about anything but the two of them, right here, right now.

  ‘You really have to go now.’ She turned to flash him a mock-stern look when she finally forced herself from the covers.

  ‘You get a kick out of throwing me out of the house once you’ve finished with me, don’t you?’ A lazy smile spread across his face as he watched Katie cross the room to grab her dressing gown from the back of the door. ‘I’m starting to feel used.’

  ‘Which is exactly how I like my men.’ Katie winked at him as she threaded her arms through the sleeves of the tatty dressing gown she’d had for years. It wasn’t remotely sexy, which was handy when she was trying to coax her lover out of the house.

  ‘Do you think we could spend more time together?’ He sat up in bed, swinging his legs over the edge so he could start to dress.

  ‘What, now?’ She glanced at the clock. Elliot and Lizzie really would be back soon.

  ‘No, not now.’ He grabbed a sock and pulled it on. ‘Another day. When you’re not in a rush to shove me out of the door. When we can go out on a proper date instead of just rushing back here for sex.’

  Katie tried to hide a smile but failed miserably. ‘I like rushing back here for sex.’ It was so much better than the perfunctory routine she and Rob had going for the latter part of their marriage; Sunday evenings, after Downton or some other Sunday evening drama, missionary, quietly so their children didn’t suspect their parents still had a sex life, however unimaginative.

  ‘I do too.’ He pulled on his jeans and stepped towards Katie as he fastened them before placing his hands on her hips. ‘I like it very much.’ He leaned in to kiss her, too briefly. ‘But I want more.’

  ‘More sex?’ Katie certainly wouldn’t say no to that, though she’d have to work out the logistics. ‘The kids go to Rob’s after school every Wednesday now, so we could meet up again then as well as Fridays.’ She reached up onto her tiptoes to kiss him, but he pulled away.

  ‘A quickie while your kids are out of the house isn’t exactly what I was aiming for.’ He stepped back and searched the carpet for his T-shirt.

  ‘What did you have in mind then?’

  He bent to retrieve his T-shirt and pulled it roughly over his head. ‘I was thinking more along the lines of an actual date. You know, dinner, a movie, something out of this room.’ He threw his arms up in the air. ‘What’s going on with us, Katie?’

  She frowned. Where was this coming from? ‘We’re having a bit of fun.’

  ‘And that’s it?’

  He didn’t look impressed with the idea.

  ‘What else do you want?’

  He closed his eyes and sighed. ‘A relationship, or at least the opportunity to start something more meaningful. I don’t want this to be about sex and nothing else.’ He ran his hand through his hair and sighed again, softer this time. ‘I like you, Katie.’

  ‘But why?’ She wasn’t fishing for compliments here. She was genuinely baffled why he would want a relationship with her. She was a mess, both in body and mind, and he could do so much better than a slightly drab mum of two who was floundering through life.

  ‘Why?’ He gave a short laugh, his brow furrowed. ‘Do you want a list?’

  Katie shrugged. ‘If you could manage to make one.’ She couldn’t imagine it would be extensive.

  ‘Fine.’ He held up his thumb as point number one. ‘I like your smile. You don’t do it enough, but when you do, your whole face lights up and you get this mischievous glint in your eye.’

  ‘I do not.’

  ‘You really do.’ He unfurled his index finger for point number two. ‘You’re funny and gorgeous and you keep me on my toes.’ He unfurled another finger for the next point. ‘You’re passionate and feisty but you also have a vulnerable side that you try so hard to keep from me. But I see it, Katie, and it makes me want to hold onto you tighter, to keep you safe. But then you don’t really need me to, because you’re strong.’

  Katie shook her head. ‘I’m really not.’

  ‘You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.’

  Katie shoved her hands into the square pockets on the front of her dressing gown. ‘Even if all that were true, I’m still married. You’re just out of a long-term relationship. This was supposed to be a bit of fun. For both of us.’ She shook her head.
‘I don’t even know your name.’

  He frowned at her, his head tilting slightly. ‘You what?’

  She shrugged, her hands still burrowed deep into the pockets. ‘I don’t know your name.’

  He laughed, but there wasn’t a hint of humour. ‘Of course you know my name.’

  ‘I know you’re Mr Thompson.’ Katie smiled weakly. ‘But I have no idea what your first name is. I must have missed it or forgotten it the night we met – I was pretty drunk, remember? – and it never seemed the right time to ask again. And the longer it went unknown, the more I couldn’t ask.’

  ‘Oh my God.’ He sank down on the bed, shaking his head as frown lines etched themselves deep into his forehead. ‘This really means nothing to you, does it? I’m just something to pass the time when you’re bored.’ He placed a hand over his mouth and shook his head again.

  ‘I’m sorry, but I’m married. I’m not ready for a new relationship when I’m not even fully out of the last one.’

  ‘Legally – or emotionally?’ He grabbed his shoes and pushed his feet into them. His fingers were working so furiously, Katie was surprised when he managed to tie them.

  ‘You want too much from me.’ She couldn’t answer his question. She really wasn’t sure. ‘And it isn’t just that I’m still married. I’m much too old for you. You should be with someone more your own age, who doesn’t come with a whole moving van’s worth of baggage.’

  ‘Age isn’t an issue here.’ He stood up but made no move to leave. ‘I’m not a kid. I’ll be thirty next year.’

  Katie nodded and offered a sad smile. ‘And I’ll be nearly forty.’ She took her hands out of her pockets so she could open the bedroom door. ‘I think you should go now.’

  They walked down the stairs in silence. Katie knew this was it. Their relationship – or non-relationship, whatever it was – was over. It wasn’t working for both of them, and that wasn’t fair.