‘No, I’m not,’ she eventually says, in a quiet voice. ‘How did you guess?’ She glances at her arm, where the burn mark is. I pull my top lip down and bite hard, stalling for time, as I don’t want to break Millie’s confidence.
‘Well, the burn is on your left arm and you’re left-handed, aren’t you, so I figured you probably didn’t catch the iron on your arm all by yourself …’ We sit in silence for a few minutes more, watching the children making a sticky mess with their ice creams. ‘I don’t have all the answers,’ I say eventually, ‘but I’m a good listener.’
She turns away. ‘Yes, sorry, I do want to talk, but not about that … It isn’t what you think, anyway – I was ironing and things got out of hand. He got cross because I hadn’t ironed his shirt the way he likes it, so he grabbed the iron intending to show me, and I went to stop him, figuring I wasn’t going to let him take control of me all the time, and well …’
‘I’m so sorry.’ I smile sympathetically, and wait for her to continue, but she doesn’t, so I do. ‘Jessie, you don’t have to explain to me. I just want to help. Please tell me what I can do for you.’
‘Thanks Meg, that’s very kind, but I really don’t know yet … I need some time to think – at least I can do that while he’s away. And he was sorry after the iron incident – he said so as he left for the airport. Yes, he can be controlling, but he’s not violent. Not really … It’s not like that.’ She looks away. ‘Honestly, it isn’t,’ she adds, when I keep quiet, unsure of what else to say, but why then did she flinch when I tried to console her earlier?
‘So when does he get back?’ I ask tactfully. There’s a short silence.
‘Will you think I’m ridiculous and pathetic if I tell you that I don’t actually know for sure?’ Jessie leans forward in her deckchair and clasps her hands together, as if willing herself to draw strength. ‘It’ll be at least two months this time, but I only know this because his PA’s secretary told me – I think she feels sorry for me.’ She shakes her head, while I wonder what a big cheese her husband must be if his personal assistant has her own secretary.
‘I don’t understand, how come?’ I ask. It seems odd.
‘He doesn’t tell me the exact day that he’ll be back. He says the element of surprise is exciting, stops marriages from becoming dull; that it’ll keep me on my toes … whatever that means.’ Jessie pulls a face and shakes her head.
‘Oh Jessie, I’m so sorry,’ I say, unable to imagine a life like that, always on tenterhooks, dangling on a string like a puppet. It’s clearly no way to treat the person you’re supposed to love. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘Do?’
‘Well, you seem pretty stressed and unhappy …’ I begin carefully, looking into her eyes as I try to gauge how far I can go in projecting my own opinion on her personal situation. At the end of the day, we haven’t known each other very long, and I also don’t want her to feel I’m wearing my head teacher’s hat and being interfering, but it’s clear the situation is putting her and the children under a huge strain.
She seems to come to a decision. ‘To be honest, if it were just me, I would leave him. But there’s the children to consider …’
‘What do you mean?’ I ask. From my perspective it seems likely they’d be happier out of the current situation. They’re clearly unhappy, and it can’t be good for them to see their mum so miserable.
‘Sebastian would stop me from taking them, I know he would. He said as much, when …’ Jessie pauses. She presses her lips together and inhales deeply through her nose. Her hands are trembling again. ‘When he found out that—’ She stops talking abruptly as Max yells from down by Jack’s old tree house.
‘Mummyyyyyyyy!’
‘Um, I’d better see to him.’ And Jessie shoots out of her deckchair and darts off down the garden, a mixture of relief and anxiety etched on her face, leaving me to sip my wine and wonder about what she was going to say next.
An hour or so later and the children are exhausted. It’s been fun seeing them play in the garden. I found Jack’s old paddling pool in the shed and used my bicycle pump to inflate it; they splashed around in the water in their pants before wrapping up in some beach towels, still warm straight from the airing cupboard. I’ve really enjoyed having a house full of children again; it reminds me of the long summer days gone by, when Jack and all his school friends would rush in from school, pull off their uniforms and make camps or dens in the garden until the sun went down. It sometimes felt like an extension of my school, with around twenty or so children here at any given time. Running in and out of the garden, asking for lollies and drinks and ‘please can I use your toilet, Miss Singer?’ and generally keeping me busy and very happy. Ahh, those were the days … Noisy and chaotic, and my home feels so quiet in comparison now.
I glance at my watch and see that it’s nearly six o’clock.
‘We should go,’ Jessie says, gathering up the children’s clothes.
‘I’ll come with you, if you like,’ I say, thinking about Sebastian making one of his sudden appearances. And if he does, then I’m not sure I won’t want to have a word with him. I shan’t, of course, it could make things worse for Jessie and the children, but he can’t just carry on making their lives miserable.
‘Thank you, but there’s no need, really, we’ll be fine. If we go now, we can catch the bus from the stop opposite – on the hour, every hour,’ she says, already sounding like a local, having picked up a familiar Tindledale saying. ‘I’ll pick up the Mini from the village tomorrow.’
‘OK. If you’re absolutely sure?’ I ask, figuring she’s a grown woman who knows her own mind and I mustn’t treat her like one of my school children.
‘Definitely. I’m absolutely sure.’ She touches my arm as if to emphasise her point. She pauses for a second, before saying, ‘Meg, can I tell you something?’
‘Sure you can. What it is?’
‘I’ve felt so isolated since moving here.’ She pauses. ‘Well, and before then actually – Sebastian has never really liked me having friends; he says he likes to keep me all to himself. So I lost touch with all my old school friends soon after the wedding, and then if I got close to any of the baby mums, or women from my yoga class, they tended to drift away once they met him.’ She stares at her hands. ‘And it’s hard to put yourself forward and get involved, make new friends … and, well …’ Her voice fades.
‘I bet it is,’ I nod, thankful that I’ve never had to move away and start all over again. Familiarity and a sense of belonging suit me. ‘But you’ve settled in so well – the children are in nursery and you’re making lots of friends in the village; getting involved in the show and so on …’
Jessie grins back, and suddenly I get a glimpse of a much younger, more carefree woman – a girl, almost. The contrast in her is remarkable. Her skin is slightly flushed from the heat of the sun and her hair mussed where she was leaning back against the deckchair – the country girl look suits her so much more. And suddenly, her expensive blonde highlights, perfectly polished manicure and fashionable yoga clothes with designer shoes seem so misplaced, like they aren’t really hers; like they belong to somebody else … a trophy wife – one of those women I’ve seen on the telly, a lady who lunches and looks after herself in salons and spas and so on. A ‘real’ housewife. Although they never seemed very real to me … the stay-at-home school mums I know don’t spend hours on their make-up before setting off on the school run.
‘Thanks, Meg. That means a lot to me,’ Jessie continues. ‘You’re so strong and together, and meeting you has made me feel … well, empowered I guess.’
‘Oh well, appearances can be deceptive,’ I laugh, feeling flattered but a bit embarrassed too. I’m not used to people saying stuff like this about me. ‘And it can’t be easy running an efficient household and looking after three young children under five – it’s obvious you are a pretty determined woman yourself.’
‘Perhaps I was, a very long time ago, but all that seems
to have drifted away somehow …’ She falls silent for a moment before adding in a quieter voice, ‘I have some big decisions to make about my life, I know that.’
I squeeze her hand and we stand together, each of us mulling over the implications of her words. ‘I’ll be here … to help, however I can – feed you ice-cream sandwiches and such-like. Or look after the children – I’ve loved having them here today,’ I grin, glancing over at the triplets. ‘It’s brought back such wonderful memories of when Jack was their age, playing in the garden with his friends.’
‘Ahh, you must miss him,’ Jessie says.
‘Yes, it’s taken some getting used to, but he seems to love uni, so that’s OK,’ I grin.
A few seconds later, and Jessie busies herself with dressing the children. ‘Thanks so much for having us. They’ve loved it,’ Jessie says. I pick up Olivia’s dress and give her a hand to put it on. ‘And so have I,’ she adds, and then, after the children have said goodbye and thank you to me, she chivvies them out of the front door, with instructions to wait by the gate, and definitely not to open it. Jessie turns to me. ‘I know we haven’t known each other very long, but I’m so pleased we are friends.’
‘Me too,’ I step forward and give her a gentle hug before she turns to walk down the path, ‘and Jessie.’ She looks back over her shoulder. ‘I’m here, any time. Just call me or pop in, whenever,’ I tell her, smiling warmly.
‘Thank you, I really appreciate it, Meg.’ She hesitates. ‘And I’m sorry for keeping on about myself. Next time we’ll talk about you …’
‘Ahh, don’t be silly. To be honest, there’s very little to know about me … my life is really quite ordinary,’ I laugh and pull a funny face. ‘School, cross stitch, wine-making, gardening – Jack when he’s home – and now the village show. See, nothing very remarkable at all.’
‘Well, the effort you’re putting in at the school is amazing, and it was your drive that chivvied the show committee along … making sure everything was on track and nobody bickered.’
‘You’re very kind,’ I say.
‘And I don’t think I’m the only one you impressed …’ she adds quietly and hesitantly.
‘What do you mean?’ I crease my forehead in curiosity.
‘The chef …’ Jessie looks me straight in the eye. ‘Dan Wright – I have to say that I went a bit fan-girl when he strode in. And did you see how none of the villagers even batted an eyelid? Apart from that small group of women from the school … So I reckoned I should act the same – unmoved by his celebrity status.’
‘Ha! Yes, the Tindledale villagers can be a hard bunch to impress, being off the telly won’t cut it around here, unless you’re presenting Countryfile or one of those gardening or allotment programmes – they go mad for those,’ I say, wondering what Jessie is going on about.
‘Well, Dan Wright didn’t really look at anyone else. He couldn’t take his eyes off you,’ she says, seeming impressed.
‘Whaaat? Oh, don’t be daft,’ I tip my head back and laugh, wondering how on earth she can think so. ‘Dan?’ Jessie nods. ‘Really?’ I make big eyes. ‘You have to be joking.’
‘No, seriously, I saw him watching you, studying you, when you were talking to the crowd. I’d go as far as to say he was spellbound. His gaze didn’t leave your face the whole time … and he seemed pretty pleased at the prospect of you two having lots of fun together – getting everything organised for the juice bar. And he is very good looking …’ She grins.
‘No way!’ I shake my head. ‘Not that he isn’t good looking – that part is true,’ I nod, as he is, there’s no denying that, ‘but he hates me. And, to be honest, I’m not very keen on him either. He’s so rude and, well, incredibly bumptious!’ I fold my arms across my chest.
‘Bumptious? What does that even mean?’ Jessie laughs, creasing her face in amusement.
‘You know … full of himself. Or to be exact, “irritatingly assertive”,’ I say, rolling my eyes and remembering the dictionary definition I gave out in Year Six’s English class a few days ago.
‘Hmm, maybe so … but what if that’s just bluster? You know … it could be a cover-up. Not all men are naturally confident when it comes to women; maybe he’s shy underneath all that bumptiousness,’ she says knowingly, and I wonder who she’s referring to … surely not Mr Cavendish, I’m sure he has no problems when it comes to confidence. Maybe she’s talking about the mysterious Sam? And I wonder, too, if that’s what she was about to tell me earlier, before Millie came over – how Sam fits into her life, or not, as the case may be. I’m assuming Sam helps look after the gardens around Jessie’s farmhouse; they are far too much work for one person with three children and a house to look after. But I saw the reaction his appearance provoked in her on the village green that time, so I can’t help wondering if they’re more than just employer and employee. And what if Mr Cavendish knows? What if that’s why they argued over the iron?
Stop it, I say inside my head, feeling bad. I’m making up stories about Jessie without knowing any of the facts, and that’s not nice. I inhale sharply before letting out a long breath, bringing myself back to focus. Speculating is no better than gossiping, really.
‘Ha! Dan shy? I don’t think so. If you saw the way he bowled into my office and made himself at home, then I’m sure you wouldn’t think so either …’ I shake my head.
‘Your office? Ooh, so he came to see you at the school then?’ she asks, excitedly.
‘Yes, but …’ I pause, and Jessie lifts an inquisitive eyebrow. ‘Oh no, it was nothing like that, definitely not,’ I protest, cringing all over again at the memory of the misspelt cross-stitch fiasco.
After waving Jessie and the triplets off, and waiting by my front door until the bus arrives to make sure they’re all safely on it – Don waves from the driver’s cab as the bus judders off up the steep lane towards the High Street – I close the door and figure that I should probably go and collect my bike in the morning.
As I go to walk through to the kitchen, shaking my head and laughing inwardly – Shy? Bluster? Ha I don’t think so … sheer swagger, more like, as Jack would say – the phone rings. I dash into the lounge and take a look at the caller display.
Ahh. Spooky coincidence. It’s Jack. Wonderful.
We’ve spoken a few times since Taylor last asked if I had heard from him, but whenever I’ve mentioned her, he’s changed the subject, which feels a bit strange. Call it mother’s intuition, but there’s definitely something he isn’t telling me. I make a mental note to find out what is going on this time.
‘Hello darling, I was just thinking about you!’
Jack is going to South Africa for the summer holidays. I’m really pleased and proud that he’s capable, independent, and keen on doing his own thing. After all, I wouldn’t be much of a mother if I hadn’t brought him up to stand on his own two feet. But a part of me can’t help but feel a little tinge of sadness that an era has come to an end and that Tindledale, his home, and his mum will no longer be featuring highly in Jack’s priorities.
‘I’m so pleased for you,’ I tell him, honestly.
‘Are you sure, Mum?’ he asks, suddenly sounding far more mature than his eighteen years.
‘Of course I am, Jack. It’s an amazing opportunity,’ I say, trying to convey my enthusiasm without sounding falsely jolly.
‘It is, isn’t it? And I’ve managed to save enough for the flight …’ He sounds so animated, excited and alive.
‘Wow, well done.’ I am seriously impressed. I know he’s been working evenings and weekends in a trendy bistro attached to an upmarket hotel, but I had no idea he’d manage to earn enough for a return flight almost to the other side of the world. And I’m sure it wasn’t that long ago that he asked to borrow twenty pounds, telling me he was skint … hmm.
‘And I’ve done a bank transfer for that money you lent me,’ he adds, right on cue. Ahh, that’s nice. He’s being responsible. But nevertheless it feels strange that he doesn’t even
need my money any more. ‘The tips I get are really good, Mum; the people who stay in the hotel must be loaded. Everyone leaves at least a fiver, sometimes a tenner; I’ve even had a few twenties. You know … if it’s a big party and they’re celebrating. And I can cover ten tables in a night, easy.’ He laughs. ‘And Stevie’s dad is such a top guy …’
‘Stevie?’ I ask, trying to take it all in. I don’t remember Jack mentioning a friend called Stevie before.
‘Yep, you know, his room is next to mine. I told you about him. He’s doing biochemistry. Boring. But he’s actually all right.’ But Jack doesn’t even pause to draw breath. ‘He’s from Liverpool, but his dad lives in South Africa, Cape Town … left when Stevie was a kid, but he always spends the summer with him. So cool. And I spoke to his dad on Skype and he’s going to take us out on his yacht and he said that he’ll teach me how to sail. We might even get to swim with some dolphins too, if we’re lucky.’
Jack sounds really excited, and I’ve heard him like this before – the time he went on a school trip to the Natural History Museum in London, and when he went with Josh – Cooper and Molly’s eldest son – to the cinema for the first time on their own in Market Briar, with a couple of girls. But this is something more. Something I can’t quite put my finger on.
‘And we are going to surf, hang out, that kind of thing.’ Jack sounds so charged, so high on life. ‘Yeah, it’s going to be awesome.’ And then I get it! I know what’s so appealing about this trip – Jack can spend time with Stevie’s dad!
For a moment it makes me feel inadequate, as if I’m not enough. Like I should have tried harder to make it work with Liam, Jack’s dad. For Jack’s sake. So he could have all that father and son time. Play football, mess around in the garden, instead of feeding the ducks with his mum. Isn’t that what people do? Stay together for the child? But then I think of Jessie, and I realise that I’m being ridiculous. Sometimes it just isn’t possible, or what’s best at all for the child. Life isn’t like that. Black and white. No, it’s mostly grey. I did my best. And Will was wonderful with Jack, until he left.
The Great Village Show Page 14