‘Grandma Flo!’ Guin’s excited squeal heralded the noisy arrival of three very excited children as they burst into the room. Jim whisked the teacup away from his mother’s hands seconds before her arms were filled with blonde-headed invaders, catching her thankful grin as he did so.
‘Now, now, calm down lovelies! Stop wriggling for a moment and let me look at you. Girls, I do believe your father has been stretching you again.’
‘No he hasn’t,’ Daisy giggled. ‘We’re just growing. Look!’ She broke free of her grandmother’s embrace and pointed to the highest of a vertical row of pencil marks on the wall by the dining room door. ‘That’s how tall I am now!’
Guin and Elsie followed suit, excitedly chatting at once about their new heights, although Elsie couldn’t quite remember which one was hers, pointing at several in her haste to be part of the impromptu show-and-tell.
‘Gracious, isn’t that something? I can see you’re eating your greens then.’
‘Trees!’ Elsie yelled. ‘Daddy gives me green trees for my tea and they make me grow big.’
‘Broccoli,’ Jim explained, seeing Grandma Flo’s confusion. ‘I learned early on with Elsie that she wouldn’t eat it unless we called it green trees.’
His mother’s eyes glistened with pride. ‘You’re a natural, James. A wonderful father …’ The sadness in her expression completed the sentence as a moment of understanding passed between them.
Jim nodded. ‘I know.’
‘Grandma, have you seen the pretty dress book?’ Guin asked, and Flo and Jim turned to see – too late – the wedding album in her small hands.
Swallowing hard, Grandma Flo unpacked her calmest smile. ‘Yes, I have, darling.’
Daisy and Elsie were crowding around the photograph album now, causing Jim to look away as a sharp shard of pain pierced him. Instinctively, his mother reached out and took his hand, her eyes never once leaving her grandchildren.
‘Daddy looks so handsome,’ Guin said, stroking the cellophane that covered the photographs on the open page.
‘And what about the lady in the pretty dress?’ Grandma Flo asked, her expression steady. ‘Do you know who she is?’
‘That’s Mummy,’ Daisy replied, her baby blue eyes suddenly old beyond their years. ‘She doesn’t live with us anymore. But it’s OK: we have Daddy.’
Jim’s smile at his little girl belied the tears he was biting back.
*
The day of the wedding could almost have been a portent for what was to come, being beset by angry thunderstorms that churned the sea, turning the waves a murderous dark green as they crashed onto the shingle beach. But for the young couple embarking on a new chapter of their lives, it was everything their relationship was: drama, passion and high adventure. Moira laughed when her mother insisted on crossing herself repeatedly whenever another rumble of thunder punctuated the wedding service in the small Roman Catholic chapel of her hometown.
‘Stop being so superstitious, Mother! This is the happiest day of my life.’
It was not – as was blatantly obvious to everyone else at the ceremony and small reception afterwards – the happiest day of Mrs O’Shaughnessy’s life, however: a fact evident in her disgruntled complaints and pursed lips over everything from the order of service and the playing of the church organ, to the flowers, the food and the wedding cake. Her vociferous opinions rose like the growing storm overhead until it appeared she was engaged in a shouting match with nature itself. Jim’s mother, aunts and friends all failed in their attempts to silence her, their intervention only serving to heighten the woman’s disdain.
But Moira and Jim saw nothing but each other: the thunderstorm, raging mother-in-law and everything else in the dining room of the seafront hotel paling in the blaze of their love for each other. The photographs in the album attested to this fact.
‘Daddy looks so handsome,’ Guin breathed, her small fingers tracing the outline of Jim’s figure in the photographs. ‘And everyone looks happy. One day I’m going to marry someone just as handsome as Daddy.’
Jim reached out to ruffle the mess of curls on her head. ‘I’m sure you will, darling.’
‘Let’s put this away, shall we?’ Jim’s mother suggested, gently pulling the photograph album from her granddaughter’s hands.
‘Awww! Just a bit longer, Grandma Flo!’ Guin protested. ‘I love looking at Mummy and Daddy when they were happy.’
Jim looked away, the poignancy of his daughter’s words too intense.
‘I don’t,’ Daisy said, suddenly. ‘Mummy doesn’t love us any more.’
‘Daisy Heartsease! What a thing to say!’
Daisy ignored her grandmother’s rebuke and stood her ground. ‘It’s true! She promised to love Daddy forever, but she lied. Just like she lies about everything.’
Grandma Flo cast a startled glance in the direction of her son who was gazing out at the garden. ‘Sweetheart, sometimes grown-ups have the best intentions but they find they can’t keep promises. It’s nobody’s fault when things go wrong …’
‘Why did Mummy go away?’ Elsie asked suddenly, her small cheeks reddening. ‘Why doesn’t she want us any more?’
Heart shattering at the sound of his youngest daughter’s stark summation, Jim turned back into the room. ‘Oh, baby. Your mum loves you.’
‘She said she loves us, but she isn’t here,’ Daisy agreed, joining her youngest sister in a defiant show of solidarity in the middle of the dining room carpet.
Guin burst into tears and Flo gathered her into a secure embrace. ‘Of course your mummy loves you my darling,’ she said, her eyes searching out a response from her son. Say something to them, James …
Words failed Jim as he stared helplessly back. What could he say that wouldn’t be a lie? His heart still yearned for their mother, but how could he justify what she did? Given the apparent ease with which Moira had discarded him and their girls, what other conclusion could there really be?
*
The signs had been there, of course, but Jim had chosen not to see them. Maybe he thought it was temporary, or could be solved with enough love and time; perhaps he was blinded by his own unwillingness to accept the inevitable. When hindsight illuminated the truth it was as obvious as the sun in the summer sky, but by then it was too late.
Moira’s mood had blackened over several months; she had lost a worrying amount of weight, hiding her body beneath voluminous jumpers; and her eyes, ringed with permanent dark circles, seemed to be sinking inside her. She abandoned her expensive London salon shampoo and scraped her lifeless hair back into a severe ponytail. Her interest in everything waned: even the weekly arrival of her copy of The Stage, which had been a highlight of her week for as long as Jim could remember. Instead of being eagerly pored over, the trade papers lay untouched in a pile by the front door, greying with dust. Jim saw all of this with gnawing concern, but said nothing. In fact, neither of them said anything: to the point where Jim was tempted to provoke arguments simply to break the silence that hung like a shroud between them.
But then, quite unexpectedly, an old RADA friend of Moira’s who had since become an agent, called with a job offer. A production of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof would tour local secondary schools – and the part of Maggie was hers if she wanted it. To Jim’s relief, Moira appeared to rally, and the mood in the seaside townhouse lifted. He helped her learn lines, while the girls played contentedly around them. Her appearance improved and her smile made a welcome return. And Jim, seeing a glimpse of the girl he loved, believed the storm had passed.
Three weeks after Elsie’s second birthday, Moira asked Jim to take the girls to Brighton beach to give her time to focus. The start of the tour was less than a fortnight away and nerves were getting the better of her.
‘Two hours, Jim. That’s all I need to sort this.’
So Jim gathered their children and set off for an afternoon of seaside fun. Walking along the promenade, the early summer sun warming his head and the laughter of his daught
ers warming his heart, he allowed himself to relax. Contentment that had eluded him for so many months now flooded his being and he felt alive again. It was like stepping out of a cold, dark building into brilliant sunlight – and it felt good.
He bought ice creams from a kiosk on Brighton Pier, and they strolled together along its length, watching as green waves moved far below through the gaps in the boardwalk. It was a perfect afternoon, with seagulls wheeling lazily overhead and the tang of sea salt in the air – and life felt good again.
‘Daddy?’ Elsie’s face was one-third human and two-thirds raspberry ripple as she gazed up at Jim.
‘Yes poppet?’
‘Are we going on holiday?’
‘No, honey. But then we don’t need to, do we? It’s like being on holiday right here.’
‘So are we going on holiday when we get home, then?’
Jim suppressed a grin as he looked at his youngest’s seriousness. ‘No, darling.’
‘But we must be going on holiday, Daddy!’
‘Why?’
‘Because Mummy got the big suitcase out.’
‘That’s right,’ Guin agreed. ‘I saw her put it in the downstairs loo when you were making breakfast. Perhaps it’s a surprise for when we get back.’
At that moment it was as if the world froze on its axis. Jim’s ice cream cone dropped to the boards of the pier as he scooped Elsie into his arms and grabbed Guin’s hand. ‘Girls, we have to go.’
‘But we only just got here,’ Daisy protested, following her father as he walked quickly towards the pier exit. Saturday strollers milled aimlessly across their path, causing Jim to swerve around them, but once his feet hit the tarmac of the promenade he broke into a run, dragging Guin alongside him with Daisy struggling to keep up. Terrified, Elsie burst into tears, her pitiful wails loud as a siren in Jim’s ears as he ran.
‘Daddy! Slow down! Where are we going?’ Guin shouted.
‘We’re just … I have to go back … I forgot something …’ he panted, a terrifying image of what he dreaded most hanging stubbornly before his eyes.
‘I don’t want to go home!’ Elsie sobbed.
‘It’s all going to be fine,’ he lied, his heart plummeting as he rounded the corner of their street and saw the waiting taxi.
Reaching the gate, he stopped, lowering Elsie into the arms of her eldest sister. ‘Girls, just wait here, OK? I won’t be a minute.’
Staring at him, Guin took Daisy’s hand and Jim walked into the house.
‘What’s going on?’
Startled, Moira froze in the hallway, the packed suitcase in her hand and folded coat over her arm answering the question before she spoke.
‘I’m – I have to do this. I’m sorry.’
‘No. No, you don’t have to do anything until we’ve talked, Moira. Where are you going? How long are you going for?’
Guilt dragged her shoulders towards the tiled hallway floor. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Is that all you can say?’
‘That’s all there is to say.’
‘Don’t do this …’
‘I don’t have a choice!’ she yelled. ‘This place smothers me, Jim! I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything! I don’t know who I am anymore …’
‘You’re my wife. And their mother …’ Jim pointed through the open doorway towards the three small, forlorn figures at the end of the garden path, ‘or had you forgotten that?’
‘None of it matters, don’t you see? This isn’t who I am, Jim! It’s not what I was destined for.’
‘But they need you—,’ he stepped forward, placing his hand on her birdlike wrist, ‘—I need you …’
Her eyes met his and the coldness of them made him draw back.
‘But I don’t need any of you.’
She brushed past him and walked out of the house.
As Jim’s universe began to implode, a taxi door slammed and the shock of three young screams shattered the calm of the quiet suburban street …
*
‘I am Princess Poppy and I have a magic bird called Cassandra who can talk,’ Elsie grinned proudly at Daisy, who beamed back, ‘… and a puppy called Spot.’
Jim shrugged as Daisy’s face fell. ‘Sounds like a good compromise to me, darling.’ He sat back in his armchair, pride blazing within him as he watched his daughters performing their latest masterpiece for their beloved grandmother.
How far we’ve all come.
He saw Daisy, strong, confident, her character already suggesting the beautiful young woman she would one day be; Guin, independent and full of energy, refusing to compromise and proud to discover her own way through life; and little Elsie, remarkably resilient at such a young age and developing a sense of humour that would no doubt serve her well in the future.
My beautiful family…
Whatever lay ahead of them, Jim Maynard was confident he and his girls would be fine.
‘… and they all lived happily ever after. The End!’
THE END
Four for Home is the story of a relationship that comes to define one man’s life. I wanted to look at how love can bind and break people – and how life’s unexpected twists and turns bring us to places we never imagined.
Jim Maynard is a central character in my novel When I Fall in Love – and this is the story of his incredible journey from young traveller to devoted father of three. I hope you enjoy it!
An exclusive extract from When I Fall in Love will follow the short story, drop me a line and tell me what you think.
You can chat to me on Twitter @wurdsmyth, join the lovelies on my Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Miranda-Dickinson/151177097525 and see my blog and vlogs at my website: www.miranda-dickinson.com.
Looking forward to meeting you!
Read on for an exclusive extract of Miranda Dickinson’s novel, When I Fall In Love:
CHAPTER ONE
Not supposed to be like this
‘Excuse me, miss?’
Elsie Maynard looked up from her half-crossed-out shopping list to see the hulking figure of a security guard blocking her way. ‘Hi. Sorry, I’m in a bit of a rush, actually, so if you’ll just …’
‘I’m going to have to ask you to come with me, please.’
This was the last thing she needed today. Not only had her lunch break been delayed by forty-five minutes by a particularly persistent wafer-cone salesman but also, in her haste to complete all the shopping tasks on her list, she had left work without her umbrella just as the heavens opened. And now this …
‘I’ve told you, I don’t have time to stop.’
The huge security guard gave a world-weary sigh and clamped an enormous hand rather too heavily on her shoulder. ‘I must insist, miss. I believe you have goods you have not paid for, so if you will just accompany me back into the shop, please …’
What on earth was this man-mountain on about? Of course she had paid! What kind of person did he think she was? Incensed at the very notion, Elsie opened her mouth to protest, when a new voice interrupted her.
‘Hey. Can I help?’
He was young, arguably handsome, with dark brown hair and green eyes. Everything about him gave the impression of someone in complete control: from his neat haircut to the well-cut suit and overcoat he wore, together with the fact that, frustratingly, he was apparently immune to the large splats of rain Elsie could feel soaking through her too-thin work uniform and tights. Over his shoulder Elsie caught sight of a blonde-haired young woman dressed in a turquoise and black Fifties diner waitress outfit, looking as if somebody had just tipped a bucket of water over her head – and her heart sank as she realised it was her own reflection in the shop window.
Mr Impervious-to-Rain’s smile would probably have been welcome, were it not for Elsie’s sneaking suspicion that he was enjoying the sight of her, bedraggled, flustered and now squirming with embarrassment on the steps of the high street chemist’s.
‘I’m fine, thank you. It’s just a misunde
rstanding …’ she began, but Mount Kilimanjaro had turned his attention from her to seek solidarity with the recent male addition to the street spectacle.
‘She hasn’t paid,’ he confided, pointing a thick finger at the haemorrhoid preparation and earwax softener in Elsie’s hand, ‘for those items.’
Oh. My. Life. In her fury at being accused of theft, Elsie had completely forgotten the two quite possibly most embarrassing items in the whole world that she now held. But of course she had paid for them! Hadn’t she?
The young man suppressed a smile and Elsie felt her stomach lurch again as cold raindrops permeated her collar and began to run down the back of her neck. ‘I’m sure it’s just a small misunderstanding,’ he smiled affably at the gargantuan unsmiling man still gripping Elsie’s shoulder. ‘Look, here’s twenty quid. Can’t be any more than that, can it?’
A brief glimpse of softness flashed across the security guard’s steely expression. ‘Well …’
Sensing his opponent weakening, the young man’s smile eased wider. ‘I imagine you see this kind of thing every day, huh? Lunchtime shoppers, brains left at the office, so many shiny things to buy that they make one tiny slip of judgement …’ He turned the whiteness of his sincerity on Elsie, a move which may have been intended to comfort but had the directly opposite effect. ‘I mean, this girl seems very lovely and not really your average shoplifter, eh?’
The steel returned as Mountain Man surveyed her. ‘Takes all sorts.’
‘I’m sure it does, officer. But, trust me, I see all manner of felons in the course of my job and I can spot a wrong ’un a mile off. This, sir, is not one of them.’
This? Despite the help obviously being offered by the smartly dressed stranger beside her, being referred to as an inanimate object was a step too far for Elsie. ‘Now hang on a minute …’
Her planned tirade was halted by a raised, gloved hand and a look that threatened dire consequences if she defied his gesture. Fuming, she dug her drenched heels into the pavement and glared at him.
The Perfect Escape Page 6