New Hope for the Little Cornish Farmhouse

by Nancy Barone

  ‘You mean she has designed a programme that generates number combinations. Based on what criteria?’

  ‘Huh?’

  I sighed. ‘Based on what criteria does the programme generate numbers? Or are they random?’

  He scratched his head. ‘I dunno. All I know is that people are gonna rush to buy them and we’re going to make loads! And then I’ll pay you back.’

  Yeah. I’d heard that one before. I was still waiting for him to return the seventy-five thousand pounds he’d kindly relieved our joint account of. But because he had no earnings and no capital anywhere, the courts were helpless.

  And on top of that, he wanted my hard-earned money, without even paying me back what he’d already stolen? Murder was too kind.

  ‘I’m sorry, Phil. I don’t have any money to spare for you.’

  And between you and me, even if I did, there was no way in hell’s chance that I was going to feed his megalomaniac and fruitless ideas on how to make a living when all he had to do was get off his arse and get himself a proper job like the rest of us.

  He shoved another biscuit into his mouth. ‘I don’t believe you, Nina. They paid you an advance, didn’t they?’

  I bristled. ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Good. Maybe I should have a look at the contract when it arrives, seeing as I have good business sense.’

  Oh my Lord, please kill me now.

  I put the packet of biscuits in a small paper bag and pushed it into his hands. ‘I don’t need your expertise, Phil. Now go. I’ve got work to do.’

  He stood up, scratching his head. ‘But what about my money?’

  ‘It’s not your money, Phil. Now piss off.’

  ‘But I still love you, Nina!’

  ‘Tell that to your new flame.’

  ‘But she’s nothing like you, babe!’

  ‘Oh my bloody God, Phil. Will you please get out of here?’

  ‘You need me, Nina.’

  At the thought of that, I grinned. ‘Sure I do. Just like a hole in the head.’

  He rolled his eyes, just like Chloe did, and then rubbed his knuckles against a stain down his front. ‘Fetch the kids, I’m taking them out,’ he said suddenly.

  I took a deep breath. ‘First of all, you get them every other weekend – when you don’t forget or have other plans. And second of all, you don’t give me orders anymore,’ I said, and, just like that, we were back in the past, when I’d realised what he was and that I’d had enough. That the children and I could no longer live under him like that. We were no longer captives of his dissolute ways, and the children would never again have to be subjected to his mood swings and the erratic behaviour typical of a gambler. Thank God the courts had been on my side, although bi-monthly visitation rights had been even too generous in my opinion.

  ‘And while we’re on the subject, how dare you talk to my daughter about our relationship?’

  ‘Our daughter. And it’s true. You,’ he continued, jabbing his index finger into my chest. ‘You with all your frownin’ and worryin’! You’re nothing but a killjoy. And then you took away the sex to top it off! You’ve put me off sex completely! You’ve made me a monk, you have!’

  Which I found hard to believe. It was a wonder we didn’t have an army of little Jenkinses running around the place.

  In any case, how the hell did he expect me to think about sex and frolicking around in bed with all the worrying I did concerning our very survival? How could I have been the only one seeing the cliff we had been barrelling towards? Of course I worried on a daily – no, hourly basis – about my children’s wellbeing and happiness. No one else would bother to. If I’d had someone to share the burden of my daily grind and worries with, someone to talk to in those brief moments before dropping off to sleep in sheer exhaustion, while he was gambling away all our money, I might have been able to take my foot off the pedal and have a go at living a decent, even happy, life. But now, things were finally going to change.

  ‘And thanks to you, I’m not interested in a serious relationship anymore!’ he continued to yell.

  ‘You never were, Phil. And if that’s still true, I’m glad to have been of service to some poor woman who’s just dodged the ill fortune of meeting you.’ And with that, I pulled him up and marched through the front door.

  ‘Nina!’ he called as I closed the door in his face.

  With Phil removed as a major influence, I did my best to educate my children and teach them respect for others and themselves. They went to the best school in the county. They were surrounded by top-quality people with integrity and hearts of gold. I could only do so much on my own, provided he didn’t influence them negatively any further.

  There was another knock at the door, and thinking Phil would have the gall to return, I swung it open, ready to resume the battle.

  It was Jack, watching Phil getting onto his bike. The last time they had met was when Jack had told him to stay away from us outside visiting days and Phil had told him to, let’s say, Eff Off.

  But this time Phil simply glared at him and drove off, leaving a pound of rubber on the tarmacadam.

  ‘Hey, you okay?’ Jack asked as I moved aside to let him in.

  ‘God, what I wouldn’t do to erase him from my past. Jack, be very careful who you marry, because once the kids come, that’s it. You can never get rid of your ex.’

  ‘Can’t you get a court order?’

  ‘I would, but the kids would never forgive me. They don’t know what he did, and I don’t want to break their hearts.’

  ‘That’s a mother’s love for you, keeping her children safe at all costs. You are a star, Nina.’

  ‘To be honest, I don’t feel like one,’ I huffed, suddenly tired of everything. ‘You know what? Maybe I should just dump Chloe on his hands twenty-four-seven. See what a great job he does.’

  ‘As if you’d ever do that,’ he said loyally, nudging me.

  ‘Ooh, sometimes I just want to clobber him over the head, so neither of us would have to remember we were actually married to each other once.’

  ‘Marriage is not always bad,’ he said. ‘If you meet the right person, that is.’

  I stared at him. ‘Jack! Are you… in love?’

  ‘Nina—’

  ‘Oh, my God, who is it? Tell me, tell me!’

  ‘There’s nothing to tell.’

  ‘Ooh, you dark horse! Does Em know? I’ll feel left out if you’ve told her and not me!’

  Jack moved away and huffed. ‘Will you just let it go, Nina?’

  *

  Today was Wednesday, the day that Olly and Joe, Ben’s best friends, always came over to work on a long-standing school project, which was due at the end of the year. They had met at Little Acorns nursery school and had stuck to each other thanks to a common love of cars and crossword puzzles. Yes, ladies and gents, my son is a self-confessed, popular nerd and I am over the moon about it. During some tests at school he scored at university student level, Olly and Joe not far behind. They were not the typical, quiet, isolated nerds, but rather enjoyed everyone’s company and everyone enjoyed theirs. Smart enough to be set as a standard, but not too much so as the other kids would resent them.

  Ben was an original child, unique in many ways, and he made me proud every day.

  He’s going to turn out a prissy one day, he is, Phil had scolded me when Ben had mastered making muffins. It’s a good job he likes cars or I’d be very worried.

  Ben must be free to do whatever he wants in life, I defended. But deep down in my heart, I knew that until his leg was operated on, he would never be able to do that. He enjoyed watching sports and cheering everyone on, often jumping up and down with sheer glee when someone scored, but then in the next few days he’d become all pensive.

  Now, intellectually and socially, I knew that Ben would do well in life. What I wanted was for him to feel the joy of his feet pounding on the ground as he ran laps around the school playground or played tag and later in life, ran to catch the train for his fir
st job interview, or to see off a friend or even propose to his girlfriend the old-fashioned, romantic way. Ben had to be okay. There was no way I could ever be happy knowing that my little man wasn’t enjoying his young life to the full. And I would see to it that he did, even if it meant selling the shirt off my back.

  18

  The Odd Couple

  Luke and Jessica were scheduled to arrive on 1st August, and in the week before that, I was in a funny new kind of hell that most women would liken to menopause, i.e. hot flashes, memory loss (had I ever got round to cleaning out the box room?) and mood swings (what kind of crappy movie is going to come out of this?).

  And of course, self-doubt: How the hell do you prepare yourself to write a script, when you’ve never written one before in your life, with a man you’ve just met who, incidentally, wants to change at least half of it?

  And how on earth do you prepare your home for a Hollywood star? Where would we write – on the kitchen table? I looked around and suddenly the things that hadn’t mattered before were humongous issues now, like the noisy pipes, the five-minute delay before you actually got any hot water and the green bathroom suite. My tablecloths were all faded with washing, most of my mugs were chipped and the back door screeched like a banshee when you opened it. And the fridge barked as usual, but for once, it was the very least of my worries.

  The morning Luke was due, I was one huge mass of nervous jelly. I had pulled the dining room table closer to the window, exchanging it with my War Desk which was too tiny, retrieved the two good chairs, while pulling out notebooks, writing pads, coloured pens, highlighters and even Post-it Notes in case Luke was old-school. I had no idea how he worked.

  And as I fidgeted like a schoolgirl before an exam, it dawned on me that this could really tank if we didn’t work well together. My family’s every hope lay in the success of this project. So I had to be as professional as possible. And speaking of which, I realised, glancing at my watch, that Luke was late. It figured. Stars always made an entrance, I knew that, but wasn’t that supposed to be limited to the red carpet?

  I drove over to the village of Little Kettering where he would be staying, bringing along a bottle of Jack’s cider and a box of scones for Jessica. I knew that was her one weakness, only she continued with the travesty of putting cream on first. I would make a Cornish girl out of her yet. I waited, chatting away with the receptionist at The Old Bell Inn, my stomach a king-size butterfly cage.

  A half hour later, when Luke’s taxi finally arrived, he got out, all harried, something akin to a scowl on his face.

  Oh, no, no, no, I begged as I watched him pay the taxi driver through the hotel doors. Please don’t be angry. This is supposed to be the third most beautiful day of my life!

  ‘Hello and welcome to Cornwall!’ I sang, hugging Jessica and wrapping her hands around the box. ‘These scones are for you.’

  ‘Thanks, Nina!’ she said, feeling her way up my arm to kiss my cheek.

  ‘Hi…’ Luke breathed, exhaustion on his face. So much for jet-setters. ‘Jet lag is horrible flying east!’

  ‘Oh. Yes, it is.’ There went the ultra-original opening gambit I’d prepared, i.e. How was your flight?

  As the driver pulled their cases out of the boot, Luke looked around and suddenly jolted forward to kiss me as if he had almost forgotten we were absolute bosom buddies. ‘Good to see you, Nina.’

  ‘And you. The kids are at home, preparing you a welcome party.’

  Luke forced himself to not cringe.

  ‘Oh, it’s just us!’ I assured him. ‘I mean, of course, what with the papers, everyone knows you’re coming, but I’ll try to get them to leave you alone while you’re in Cornwall.’

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, taking Jessica’s arm and I followed them into the lobby. ‘We’ll need to catch up on our sleep first.’

  ‘Of course. So, uhm, I’ll let you get on with it. You have my number. Just give me a ring when you’re ready for me to come pick you up.’

  ‘I’ve hired a car locally.’

  ‘Okay, then. Just, uhm, let me know when you want to meet up. Have a lovely afternoon. Bye, Jessica…’

  ‘Bye Nina, thanks for these. So, it is jam first, right?’

  ‘Right. We have a certain way of doing things properly here in Cornwall.’ And to Luke I simply said, ‘Goodbye’ and left.

  Talk about ice. Had I crowded him? All I did was show up to greet them, and yet, Luke apparently hadn’t appreciated it. Fine. At least now I knew my boundaries.

  ‘Where are they?’ Ben asked when I got in, somewhat deflated.

  ‘Oh, they’re absolutely exhausted, love, but they’re meeting us once they have rested.’

  ‘When’s that?’ Chloe wanted to know. ‘I blew Chanel over today for Jessica. The least she could have done was messaged me.’

  ‘Oh, come now, don’t be so demanding. Don’t you remember how knackered you were when we came back?’

  ‘Yes, and we had Jack to pick us up. We could have asked Jack to pick them up too, couldn’t we, Mum?’ Ben asked.

  I laughed. ‘No, my darling. Luke and Jack aren’t even friends.’

  And little did I know, those would be my famous last words.

  Everything was in place. If they came in the morning, breakfast was to be eaten in the kitchen, facing the garden. Granted, it wasn’t the Pacific Ocean, but the English Channel would have to do.

  The whole of the next day went by, as I had anticipated, and then I received a text from Luke saying they were on their way. Well, at least he had recovered some of his manners.

  I was at the door by the time he rang and flung it open with the biggest of smiles for everyone’s benefit. ‘Well, hello there!’ I said and Jessica lifted her head and gave me a tired but sincere grin.

  ‘Hey,’ Luke huffed. ‘Sorry I’m late. Jessica had a horrible night. You must be thinking I’m a real pro. I figured I could get here in time.’ And then he looked up at me and grinned his Hollywood smile that melted every woman’s knickers. ‘I figured wrong…’

  ‘No worries. What’s all this stuff you brought?’ I asked, eying the bags in his arms.

  ‘My laptop, Jessica’s vitamins and stuff… plus some American goodies for everyone.’ He was trying to buy his popularity back, but I was a tough nut to crack.

  ‘Thank you. But we have snacks here in England too, you know?’

  ‘Ah, but you haven’t tasted junk food until you’ve tasted American junk food.’

  I sighed inwardly. Years and years of hammering healthy habits into my kids, and now?

  ‘Want to see my room?’ Chloe asked and then realised what she’d said.

  ‘Sure!’ Jessica said, taking her arm and they disappeared up the stairs as Ben shook his head.

  ‘Girls!’

  Luke laughed. ‘I know, buddy boy! But this summer you and I are going to hang out, right?’

  Ben looked at him. ‘Of course. Jack can teach you how to drive a tractor and how he harvests his apples. It’ll be fun, right, Mum?’

  Oh, yeah. Sparksville. I couldn’t imagine any men being any more different than Jack and Luke. Like chalk and cheese. ‘Absolutely, darling.’

  ‘Who’s Jack?’ he asked.

  ‘He’s our friend. And only the smartest bloke in the village!’ Ben boasted, bless his soul.

  But it was true. There was nothing Jack couldn’t fix.

  ‘Yeah?’ Luke said, ruffling his hair, then turned to me. ‘And here’s some chocolate for everyone and some groceries for the amazing dinner I’m going to cook you,’ Luke said.

  ‘But I’ve already cooked dinner…’

  ‘Lunch tomorrow, then. God, what’s the time anyway?’

  I grinned. ‘Cornwall time. We take things easy here, Luke.’

  *

  ‘This is heaven, you know that, Nina?’ Luke said as I poured him another glass of wine with his dinner, the kids having holed themselves up upstairs. After that, I’d open Jack’s cider and with a little luck, through
the haze he wouldn’t see that my walls needed painting, or the green sink and bathtub.

  ‘What is?’

  He took a sip and put the glass down, smacking his lips. ‘The warmth from the fire, the silence. Your home is lovely. It sends out a great sense of security. And love…’

  I giggled. ‘Love, yes, loads of it, but security? Uh-uh. Every day is a struggle. If it hadn’t been for my books we’d have literally starved…’

  His eyes widened. ‘Does your ex-husband not…?’

  ‘Who, Phil? God forbid. He bums it off me, if anything. Or, he used to. Not anymore. I’m done being his bank.’ And his doormat, for the record, but I wasn’t about to tell Luke that. Granted, Luke had figured out that Written In The Stars was sort of autobiographical, but it wasn’t something an author would easily admit to, was it?

  All the same, Luke’s face went serious. ‘And your kids?’

  ‘At the moment, I’m working on damage control. I try to brainwash them after every visit with the new and latest girlfriend. They come and go like commuters at Victoria Station. Ugh sorry, I didn’t mean to max you out on ex-talk.’

  ‘No, it’s fine. Can’t you do anything? Talk to a lawyer?’

  I shrugged. ‘Unless he hits the kids over the head with a baseball bat or something, he has access to them twice a month.’

  ‘Can’t you get another lawyer? One who will sort him out once and for all?’

  ‘I don’t want to put the kids through that, Luke.’

  I could see it on his face, the question I’d asked myself so many times: How could I have allowed things to get so bad?

  *

  The next day, Luke and Jessica were over bright and early, which boded well with me as I was a lark. Also, I hadn’t been able to sleep a wink, knowing that today was the first day of my professional life.

  The kids took Jessica out into the garden onto the swings, and Luke cast a quick glance out the back window.

  ‘She’ll be all right, Luke. They have been instructed to be considerate.’

  He smiled at me. ‘I have no doubt, Nina. Your kids are cool. So, let’s get started!’

  ‘Let’s,’ I said. ‘Care for a brew?’