The New Beginnings Coffee Club

by Samantha Tonge

  Yesterday I’d moved most of our stuff over to the cottage. Most of our belongings had had to go in the outhouse in boxes. But Noah had been brilliant and already given the loft conversion a quick lick of paint – a lovely subtle shade of yellow. Appropriate really. It suited Noah’s ever-sunny demeanour – and my car. I’d bought a cheerful velvet throw for the little sofa in there and already made up the twin beds with matching orange owl duvet sets.

  My eyes pricked again as I let my arms fall by my sides. No double bed for me any longer, with Zak’s warm body curled around mine. During the first months of us living together, I’d make him yelp when placing my cold feet against his back, when he got into bed. His revenge? Tickling me under the arms until I begged for mercy. How he’d accuse me of talking in my sleep and I’d tease him for snoring. What pillow jokes did he now share with Chanelle?

  I closed my eyes for a second, took a deep breath, and then opened them, before heading swiftly downstairs. I had on an old pair of jeans I hadn’t worn for years and my hair was scraped back in a ponytail. Zak stood by the front door and a few bags containing the last of our clothes. My phone buzzed and I pulled it out of my back pocket. It was a message. I glanced towards the kitchen door. There was no sign of April coming back yet. ‘It’s Martini – I mean Jane Martin. She helps Noah and Elle out with the cottage – cooking, cleaning …’

  ‘Looks like you’ll still be waited on hand and foot then,’ he muttered.

  I swallowed hard.

  ‘She knows everyone in the village. Even the head of Laventon Primary School and was going to see her at church this morning.’

  Zak stood straighter.

  ‘Martini said she’d subtly enquire about spaces there next year.’ I gave him a pointed look. ‘This was before you admitted that our needs were more pressing. Anyway, the gods must be looking down on us favourably. There’s room right away in April’s year due to twins leaving last month.’

  ‘Laventon Primary?’ he scoffed. ‘April getting an education out in this backwater? I don’t think so. It feeds an equally small, rural secondary school.’

  ‘Don’t be such a snob. It’s got an excellent reputation and it’s not as if we’ve got any choice.’ My voice rose. ‘And to be honest, we’re damn lucky to find anywhere for her so quickly. Pull your head out of the sand, Zak. The move has got to happen whether we like it or not and it may as well be to somewhere decent that’s local.’

  Zak folded his arms. ‘There’s always the city. She’d be better off studying there – at a bigger place where everyone is more anonymous.’

  Palms sweating as I recognised that determined line of his jaw, I stepped towards him. ‘And who’s going to pick her up each day?’ I hissed. ‘I’ll be at work like you now. At least if she’s here I can nip out for ten minutes and walk down to the local primary school to pick her up.’

  Zak threw his arms in the air. ‘Chanelle can. I’ll work it out.’

  ‘No,’ I said in a strangulated voice and clasped my hands together. Mustn’t lose my calm. ‘And what about those evenings when April has after-school clubs? You often work until eight or nine.’ I lowered my voice. ‘Or has all your overtime in the last six months been spent shagging Chanelle?’

  ‘She’s not moving to a village school where she’ll stand out a mile as the new kid,’ he said, in a steely voice. ‘Forget dealing with things amicably. I’ll be ringing my solicitor first thing in the morning.’

  A sudden coldness filled my chest and I stared at him. He stared back.

  ‘Look, Zak, I understand. I know you had a hard time at April’s age at a state school. But that doesn’t mean to say she won’t make new friends, and teachers are trained more than ever these days to spot bullying and deal with it. Ultimately, you simply aren’t being realistic. You’ve had your fun with Chanelle …’ My lips pursed. ‘And now you have to face the consequences of your actions. Laventon Primary is the answer.’

  ‘But she won’t fit in – that’s just the point,’ he said. ‘How many of those kids’ parents own a house the size of ours or their own multi-million pound business?’

  ‘Or a bankrupt one,’ I muttered and Zak scowled. ‘Wake up, Zak! The point is we don’t now own a multi-million pound business. In fact soon we probably won’t own anything. Far from being at the top of the pecking order, she’ll be at the bottom, wherever she goes.’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘Still, you always hear about the levels of bullying that go on in state schools these days – it was bad enough for me. Do you know what it’s like having your head flushed down a toilet? The smell of urine stains on the seat stays with you for days afterwards. The panic rising in your chest as you fear the kids might accidentally drown you by mistake. The humiliation when you eventually surface, dripping with water, hearing jokes about you looking like shit.’

  ‘It won’t be like that, Zak. The school was ranked outstanding in last year’s Ofsted school reports,’ I snapped. ‘This is the perfect solution – unless you’ve suddenly made back all the money you lost and she can continue at Oakwood?’

  Again, he scowled.

  ‘And all of her new friends will live close. As for the courts …’ My shoulders jerked up and down. ‘Time and time again you’ve ignored my concerns about her weight. I am this close …’ I held up my finger and thumb ‘… to taking her to the doctor. I think the courts will put her health before worries about the size of her school, don’t you?’

  We both looked towards the kitchen entrance. There stood April. Purple rucksack bobbing up and down on her back, she walked forward, face white.

  ‘What’s the matter? Did I hear something about a new school? It’s bad enough having to sell our home.’

  ‘How does she know that?’ said Zak. ‘I thought we were telling her the minimum at this stage.’

  ‘She was asking lots of questions upstairs. We can’t lie for ever – much as I’d love to protect her from the havoc you’ve caused.’

  ‘Then you may as well tell her about her new school, seeing as you’re in such a hurry to sort it out,’ he said, sarcastically.

  I glared again at him and he folded his arms.

  ‘What’s this all about, Mummy?’

  ‘Zak. This isn’t fair,’ I snapped, in a low voice. ‘The place isn’t confirmed yet – I haven’t even talked to the headmistress.’

  He raised an eyebrow and with a heavy heart, I turned to April. ‘In a week or so, sweetie, you might change schools – to Laventon Primary. You’ll still keep in touch with all your friends and Skye can come over any time. I’ve heard they have an amazing library, plus a woodland club, and …’

  Tears filled April’s eyes. ‘What? No! I won’t go! Don’t want to. Won’t know anyone. And what about fashion design club? Miss was talking of a trip to New York. You and Daddy said I might be able to go and …’

  I took her hand. ‘You’ll make new friends who live just around the corner.’

  ‘Daddy?’ April pulled away her hand and ran over to him.

  ‘We’ll talk about it, princess,’ he said.

  ‘April. Go to the car please,’ I said. ‘Now.’

  She flung her arms around Zak’s waist and he crouched down, eyes shining.

  He pushed her gently away so that he could look into her distraught face. ‘I’ll see you next weekend. And we can phone and text.’

  ‘And Daddy can pop into the cottage whenever he likes after work,’ I said, in a firm voice.

  Damn. Why did I feel as if I were the one tearing this family apart?

  ‘Go on April,’ I said gently. ‘I’ll be out in a minute.’

  With a noisy sob, she looked up at us both. ‘You’re arguing about me, aren’t you?’ A sob escaped her mouth. ‘I knew it was all my fault that you’re splitting up.’

  ‘No!’ I said. ‘Of course not!’

  She shot me a fiery look. ‘Then I want to stay here. Stay at my school. All of us to live together like friends in this
house. Skye says I’m lucky Daddy is with someone nice, someone I already know. Her Daddy introduced a total stranger.’

  Lucky? Zak caught my eye and his cheeks, at least, had the decency to flush.

  ‘We can’t stay here,’ I said quietly and leant out to squeeze her shoulder, but she shook me off. Oh God. Was I a terrible mother? Should I swallow my pride and stay on at The Willows, right until the last minute? My throat hurt. No. That would just be putting off the inevitable.

  ‘I hate you!’ she yelled at me ‘Daddy doesn’t talk about selling The Willows or about a new school. It’s all you, you, you!’ She ran out of the house.

  My hand rose to my throat as I suddenly panicked I might be about to throw up. ‘Happy now?’ I snapped at Zak. ‘It’s as if I’m the one who’s been lending out money to lovers when we’ve not had enough to keep our own business afloat.’

  He met my gaze. ‘I think you now have April’s view on the move. Bravo. You’ve made her into one very unhappy little girl. The air might be a bit frosty in your twin bedroom tonight.’

  ‘That’s the whole point,’ I said, voice wavering. ‘Unlike Chanelle, I’m not looking for a mini-me who’s a best mate and goes to the nail salon with me or likes my favourite reality shows. I’m April’s mother, above being her friend. That means not always giving in to everything she wants. This is the right choice. I’ve no doubt about that. And if it means I’m the bad guy for a while and making a tough decision, I can live with that.’

  ‘Don’t call my bluff, Jenny. I mean it, I’ll get a court order if needs be,’ he said. ‘I’ve tried to be reasonable. In fact, I told Chanelle no because I knew you’d really not like the idea, but after today …’

  The hairs stood up on the back of my neck. ‘No to what?’

  He clamped his lips together and then sighed. ‘Chanelle found out that Oakwood Towers is introducing some boarding places available on means-tested bursaries. It would be one way of April staying there. She’s a bright girl. The head has said several times the school is sorry to lose her. Skye’s dad could probably be persuaded to pay for his daughter to board as well.’ He gave me a steely look. ‘Whatever you say, I can’t see any judge denying the school’s excellent reputation and facilities. And by the looks of it, April would prefer that to living in basic lodgings and attending a school where she knows no one.’

  ‘Zak! No! You can’t be serious!’

  His eyes flashed. ‘Just don’t push me too far, Jenny. You may hold the moral high ground in terms of our marriage but that doesn’t give you the last say when it comes to our daughter.’

  ‘Do I mean nothing to you?’ My voice shook. ‘How can you turn off the … the caring, so easily? You’d really separate me from April like that?’

  He met my gaze for a few seconds, then his shoulders slumped. ‘Look …’ he sounded tired ‘… I’ll give you one month. April’s got four weeks to settle into Laventon Primary and be happy, with no sign of upset or bullies. But if she’s still miserable at the end of that period, then I mean it – one way or another I’ll make sure she gets one of those boarding bursaries for September.’

  Chapter Seven

  As a rule, I’ve never agreed that Monday mornings are dismal. Until recently, the months, the years had passed with me being grateful every day for my lot – a man who loved me (no … don’t), a gorgeous, healthy daughter, and a home that belongs in an interior-design magazine. People often used to comment that they only ever saw me smiling. In fact, Monday mornings were special as my body still glowed from spending two whole days with Zak.

  However, this Monday was the first in a long time I’d dreaded the day ahead. Slight arms folded, April stood in front of me, in our loft conversion, wearing a green checked dress and matching cardigan.

  ‘I hate this uniform,’ she muttered. ‘I miss my red blazer and straw hat.’

  Mentally I agreed. Stylish wasn’t a word that popped into my mind. It was two weeks since we’d moved out of The Willows. The local primary had been more than happy for April to join Year Five straight away. That had meant a fortnight for April to say her goodbyes at Oakwood Towers and hopefully settle into Noah’s cottage. Guilt had gnawed at my insides most nights. She missed Zak. And Dot’s cooking. Her plush bedroom fittings. Us buying whatever we wanted at the drop of a hat.

  Sounds spoilt, doesn’t she? But I was no better. We’d both become accustomed to the trappings of a wealthy life. There was no way I could afford to get my nails done any more and I’d started visiting the local pound shop. I tried to get excited about finding a bargain, but getting a discount price on a six pack of crisps didn’t provide the same rush as buying the latest must-have handbags in the designer sample sales.

  I sat down on my bed and stretched out an arm. April looked away. She’d barely talked to me since she’d got up.

  ‘Come on. Let’s go down for breakfast. Elle said she’d make pancakes.’

  ‘I don’t like pancakes. And I don’t like Elle,’ she said and pursed her lips.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘She sings too loudly.’

  I smiled. Elle certainly did enjoy musicals. Last night it had been a slightly out-of-tune rendition from Les Misérables as she’d done the washing up. An appropriate choice for us, I’d thought.

  ‘I can’t eat anyway,’ she said. ‘I feel sick.’

  ‘You must try something,’ I said gently, although I had no appetite myself. ‘Let’s at least get a juice.’

  I took a deep breath. This was the worst thing about living in someone else’s place – when you just didn’t feel like talking to anyone but had to put on a false face.

  ‘Morning, Noah,’ I said as we walked into the kitchen. The kettle steamed. Rock music played on the radio in the corner. He and Elle fought continually to have control over the cottage’s soundtrack. Last week there had been a rather heated debate about whether to play Annie Get your Gun or Guns N Roses.

  He wore shorts and a T-shirt, having just got back from one of his runs. I couldn’t help admiring the solid legs, which looked just as strong as his forearms. Noah looked at April and then caught my eye, one eyebrow raised. I shook my head. Rays of sunshine through the window highlighted his choppy fudge-coloured hair.

  ‘And a beautiful morning it is too,’ he said. ‘Just look at that blue, June sky. There were far more joggers out than normal this morning. And don’t you look lovely in that uniform,’ he said to April who’d sat down at the pine table and was swinging her feet.

  April didn’t reply. I poured out two orange juices and Elle bustled in. ‘Pancakes all around?’ she said and beamed.

  ‘Not for us, but thanks.’ I gave a small smile. ‘I don’t think either of us is hungry.’

  I went to the cupboard that Noah had allocated to me and took out a Tupperware box for April’s lunch. One cupboard for us – as opposed to a whole open-plan kitchen with a breakfast bar, top-of-the-range juicer, and huge American-style fridge-freezer. Ten minutes later a shot of caffeine surged through my veins as I made cheese sandwiches and, determined to set a good example, made myself munch on a slice of toast. Whistling, Noah read the paper and I forced my mouth to upturn. Things could be a lot worse, I said to myself, ignoring the little voice in my head asking how?

  ‘There’s a good film on tonight,’ he eventually said.

  Talk about speaking too soon – I turned around and looked at Elle and we both groaned. One thing I’d already discovered about Noah – he was a massive sci-fi fan.

  ‘Good thing April and I have our own television,’ I said. ‘I don’t think I could face another minute of space travel or aliens.’

  ‘Sci-fi is the best genre, no arguments,’ said Noah, tawny eyes twinkling as he met my gaze. ‘It’s timeless. Star Trek episodes from the Sixties and their stories are still highly watchable nowadays. And Frankenstein – that was written in 1818 and can still be read as a relatable tale. Whereas, take romance, for example, in films or books – it d
ates. Bridget Jones’s Diary already isn’t as relevant as it once was. Your modern carb-free woman doesn’t relate to a character who sits at home, eating cake and drinking away her sorrows, and that’s practically the main plot.’

  Sounded good to me, at this particular point in time – except that I’d have to drink cheap plonk instead of Prosecco. ‘Generalise, why don’t you!’ I said with mock disapproval. ‘Pride and Prejudice still has relevance and was actually written five years before Frankenstein.’

  I’d missed this – having someone to chat to about books. Voracious reader Mum had filled the gap over the years, but I didn’t see her as often as I wanted. Oh the ‘discussions’ we’d had over Fifty Shades of Grey. I couldn’t find anything redeemable about the characters whereas they’d moved Mum to tears several times. Yet I’m no snob and adored the equally popular Twilight series. Mum couldn’t tut loud enough and argued that it presented women as the weaker sex. Er, just like Fifty Shades of Grey, Mum … Needless to say, those arguments still weren’t resolved. Over the last couple of weeks it had been a joy to talk about books again with someone who read even more than me.

  ‘Not that any of us will be watching TV tonight,’ said Elle and cleared her throat. ‘Noah has a little surprise.’

  April stared hard into her juice glass. A sure sign she was trying to hide genuine interest.

  ‘I love surprises,’ I said in a bright voice. ‘Can you give us any clues?’

  ‘Nope!’ said Noah and his face split into a grin. ‘But it … this … is something I’ve been meaning to do and Elle agrees. So, April …’

  Sulkily my daughter looked up.

  ‘Make sure you are in this kitchen at six o’clock sharp,’ he said and winked.

  I glanced at Elle who beamed. A week ago it might have taken me aback that this surprise was Noah’s decision, not ‘theirs’. But by now I knew their relationship wasn’t quite what I had thought. For a start, they slept in separate bedrooms and from work conversations I’d overheard it was clear the business belonged solely to Noah. Having said that, the looks they exchanged seemed so intimate. Yet physical affection seemed minimal apart from the occasional hug – unless they were just very private.