by Cathy Lake
That had been the most eventful trip to Tesco he’d ever had. Not only had he found out that his sister’s new lover had a daughter, he’d also found out that Clare was apparently an incontinent nymphomaniac. The latter made him smile. Perhaps the pants were for her mum and perhaps the condoms weren’t for her; either way, it was none of his business, but seeing her had brought the feeling of vulnerability rushing back. He felt raw and bruised after bumping into Alyssa and Sebastian, as if he’d been left out of a secret, and that in itself bothered him. Alyssa was perfectly capable of choosing who she dated, who she became involved with, but Sam was hurt that she hadn’t told him the full story. Although he had to admit that, if she had, it would have given him something else to worry about. And now he knew. His sister was involved with a man who had a child – and that was going to be a complicated situation if ever there was one.
As for Clare . . . He had wished she’d been alone and not flanked by Jenny, who hadn’t actually looked very well. She’d been pale with deep dark shadows under her eyes and she’d been quite curt with him, as if in a hurry to get away.
He opened his eyes and gazed out of the windscreen across the car park to the grey brick wall with its coating of dark green moss. Someone had tried to scrape the moss away but given up after the first metre of bricks, leaving a jagged line. He understood that feeling; he tried to do the right thing by Alyssa, tried to adopt new ways of thinking and to be more open to new ways of acting, but he kept circling back to the same thoughts and feelings. And he knew why. He still hadn’t properly faced up to what had happened that night when Alyssa fled the house, hadn’t accepted that, even though he blamed himself, he couldn’t change a thing.
And in the here and now, Alyssa had a whole new life and he was all alone.
The hot chocolate was rich and sweet, the teacake dripping with butter, the air in the café laced with aromas of toast, roasted coffee beans and cake. Clare sat opposite Jenny at a table by the window, watching her friend carefully while trying not to seem as if she was.
Jenny only nibbled at her toast, but she gulped down the hot chocolate and Clare was relieved to see that it brought some colour to her cheeks.
‘Eat your toast if you can, Jen. You’ve got a full afternoon of work ahead of you.’
Jenny nodded and picked up her toast but instead of taking a bite, she started pulling it apart then dropping small pieces onto her plate.
‘What if it’s positive?’
Clare tried to think of how to reassure Jenny.
‘What if it’s not?’
‘I hope that’s the case. But then, if it’s not menopause it could be something else . . . like . . . cancer . . .’ She whispered the last word, clearly finding the idea too horrific to say it out loud.
Clare shook her head. ‘It’s nothing bad, I’m convinced of it. You are probably just menopausal.’
Jenny crossed the fingers of both hands and tapped them against the sides of her head.
‘I’m going to do it now.’
‘Now?’
‘Now.’ Jenny’s jaw set. ‘I have to go back to work soon and I just need to know. I could wait and do it later at home with Martin, but I’m not even sure how I’m going to react, so I’d prefer to do it now, with your support. If that’s OK?’
‘Of course it is! I’m just glad I can be here for you.’
Jenny reached across the table and took Clare’s hand. ‘So am I, Clare, so am I.’
‘You want me to come through with you?’ Clare asked.
‘No, love, I’ll do this bit by myself, but when I come out, can we go for a walk away from people so we can find out in peace?’
‘Of course.’
Jenny stood up and unhooked her bag from the back of the chair, then trudged away, hunched over as if she’d aged twenty years in the past hour.
When she had gone through the door to the toilets, Clare drained her mug, then stood up and put her coat on. She went to the counter, paid the bill, left a tip, then picked up Jenny’s coat and waited by the door.
Five minutes later, Jenny emerged, her bag clamped to her side, her lips pale. She hurried to Clare’s side and they left the café, heading out into the now bitter wind.
The bench they chose was at the end of the village green, the furthest away from Turning Heads and the village café. As they sat down the breeze swirled crumpled leaves around their feet and whipped their hair, so they kept having to tuck it behind their ears.
Clare shivered, wishing she had a hat and gloves as well as her coat, but she suspected that Jenny was shivering for another reason. She put an arm around her friend’s shoulders and squeezed.
‘Are you ready?’ she asked.
Jenny nodded, but her face was ashen again.
‘Whatever the result, Jen, I’m here for you.’
‘Thanks,’ Jenny whispered, then she opened her bag and pulled out a wad of tissues. She unfolded them on her lap and Clare held her breath.
‘What does it say?’ She peered at the stick.
‘I don’t know. I can’t look.’ Jenny had closed her eyes and was holding the test away from her as if it was toxic.
‘Shall I?’
‘Please.’
The ends of the tissue waved in the breeze and covered the result window, so Clare reached out with a finger and pushed them out of the way. She grimaced and her surroundings seemed to lurch.
‘Do you want to know, Jen?’
Jenny opened her eyes and turned to Clare, who took her friend’s hands in hers, ignoring the test that was now enclosed in Jenny’s palm.
‘No, but I need to.’
Clare licked her lips.
‘You’re going to have another baby, Jen.’
She held Jenny tight, waiting for her reaction.
Jenny’s face changed from white to grey to puce, then the colour drained away altogether. She snatched her hands from Clare’s grasp, stood up, letting the test and wad of tissues fall to the ground, then she vomited into the bin behind the bench.
Chapter 15
‘What time do they start the fireworks, Nanna?’ Kyle sashayed into the kitchen and Clare started to laugh.
‘Oh my goodness, you look amazing!’
‘Why thank you, Mum!’
He gave her a twirl so she could fully appreciate his outfit. He was wearing red jeans with an orange shirt, a red puffa jacket and red lace-up boots.
‘But why are you dressed up?’ Elaine asked.
‘To celebrate it being bonfire night, Nanna, of course. It was something we did when I was growing up, wasn’t it, Mum?’
Clare nodded. It was a tradition that she’d started as a bit of fun when Kyle was a toddler, where they’d dress up in all the red and orange clothing they had on 5th November . Jason had gone along with it for a while but even after he’d stopped joining in, Kyle and Clare had continued. Although over more recent years, with Kyle preferring to go out with friends then away at university, Clare hadn’t been to see any fireworks, so she was really looking forward to the display.
‘Where are your special clothes, Mum?’ Kyle eyed her outfit of black jeans, boots and black jumper.
‘I haven’t got everything with me,’ she explained. ‘A lot of it’s in storage.’
He nodded. ‘Well, I brought all my red and orange things because I had a feeling I’d be here for bonfire night. I have a red scarf and hat that you can borrow.’
Elaine looked at him and pursed her lips. ‘Hold on a moment.’ She left the kitchen and was back five minutes later wearing a red knitted dress with red boots and she handed Clare a red faux fur coat.
‘There you are, Clare. If you borrow Kyle’s hat and scarf and wear this coat, we can all coordinate.’
Clare smiled, enjoying the sense of unity, and accepted the coat while Kyle got his scarf and hat for her.
When they were ready to leave, Kyle made them stand together for a group selfie with him between them. ‘Aren’t we a family of firecrackers?’<
br />
They all had to agree.
As they walked to the village green, Clare asked for the fiftieth time, ‘Are you sure Goliath will be OK?’
Her mum nodded. ‘I’ve put that soothing plug-in on that Sam recommended and left the radio up high, but to be honest with you, fireworks have never bothered him. Most dogs hate them, I know, but Goliath isn’t fazed by them. If he’s in the garden when they’re going off, he runs up and down and barks at them but it’s an excited bark. I know that Sam said we could leave Goliath with him if we wanted to because he does a kind of “dogs’ night-in” at his, so that anyone with nervous dogs can drop them off then pick them up after the fireworks, but I didn’t think we needed to.’
‘Sam won’t be there?’ Clare’s heart sank; she’d assumed that as one of the villagers, he’d attend the fireworks.
‘When he arrived in the village he encouraged everyone to be considerate of the local pets with regard to fireworks and requested that they only run for a few hours at most. So the display only lasts about an hour and a half and everyone else is respectful enough to either attend the village green or to only light their own fireworks during that time.’
‘That’s a really good thing to agree on as a community,’ Clare said, thinking about how, over the years, she’d heard fireworks going off at all times of the day and night and set the local dogs howling for hours.
‘Little Bramble is a lovely community,’ her mum said and nodded as if just remembering that fact.
They reached the green and saw the local firefighters in full kit standing in a square area at the opposite end from the large tree that they’d cordoned off with yellow tape. Some stood around the outside of the square to stop anyone from getting too close to the fireworks.
‘Safety first, eh?’ Kyle said.
‘Definitely.’ Clare looked around at the gathering crowds, wondering if Jenny would turn up. She’d texted earlier to say she wasn’t sure if she’d come because she still felt rough, so Clare told her to stay warm and get lots of rest.
‘Ah look, there’s the vicar.’ Her mum waved at Iolo Ifans, and he waved back then made his way over to them.
‘Good evening, Elaine.’ He smiled broadly. ‘And who have we here?’ He winked at Clare to let her know that he recognised her.
‘You know Clare, Iolo, you joker, and this is my grandson, Kyle.’
‘Lovely to see you both again.’ Iolo shook their hands in a warm greeting. He was so well-wrapped up in a thick coat, boots, scarf, hat and gloves that only his mouth, nose and eyes were visible. ‘The last time I saw you, Kyle, you were about so high.’ He gestured at his knees and Kyle laughed.
‘I don’t think he was ever that small.’ Clare peered up at her son.
‘How are you, Elaine?’ Iolo said, and Clare followed his gaze to her mum, who flushed. It was dark, but under the street lamps, Clare could definitely make out some colour in Elaine’s cheeks.
‘I’m all right, thanks, Iolo.’
‘I’ve brought a flask of hot chocolate with me,’ he said, sliding his arms out of a backpack and opening it. ‘And I have extra cups. Isn’t that lucky?’
Clare laughed. For as long as she’d known Iolo, he’d carried a backpack and always had something useful in it, whether it was bottled water on a hot day, a flask of something hot on a cold one or tissues when someone had a cold or was emotional.
He handed a large flask to Elaine, then pulled out a packet of thick paper cups. Clare and Kyle watched as her mum and the vicar shared the hot chocolate between the cups, then handed them out. She accepted hers gratefully, glad to hold the warm cup between her gloved hands.
A cheering spread through the crowd as one of the female firefighters tapped on a microphone. ‘Good evening, Little Bramble!’
‘Good evening!’ the crowd replied.
‘I’m Helen Boden, the Fire Station Manager here in the village, in case you don’t know me. I’m just going to run through some safety regulations, then we can get started.’
While the station manager spoke to the crowd, Clare gazed around her, absorbing the contrast of the lamps that lit up the green and the seemingly velvety black of the sky. It was a clear evening and, high above, the stars twinkled, silver pinpricks in an endless ebony canvas. The air was icy, fragranced with woodsmoke, black powder and frying onions and meat from a burger stall at the far end of the green. Clare thought she could see some familiar faces, but with hats pulled down over eyebrows and scarves up to noses, it was difficult to tell. And it had been so long since she’d been a part of the village community that she wasn’t sure how many people she would actually recognise.
Next to Clare, Kyle sipped his hot chocolate and slid his arm through hers, pulling her closer. Her mum and the vicar chatted quietly and she felt her lips curving upwards. It had been a long time since she’d felt a part of something, that she belonged, but here, in a familiar setting, with a warm drink and her son and mum close, something inside her was flickering. Like a candle flame, it was fragile and could easily be extinguished, but it was there, it was lit, and she could feel its delicate warmth spreading out through her belly and lifting her mood.
When the first fireworks shot into the sky, spiralling upwards like shooting stars then exploding and catapulting shimmering orbs of red and green in all directions, the crowd gasped and clapped. The air was filled with crackling, whistling, booming and humming and plumes of grey smoke drifted off on the breeze. More fireworks were sent whirling upwards, splattering the sky with silver glitter and golden waterfalls. Clare felt like a child, filled with joy and excitement as all of her troubles and cares melted away.
When the last rocket had been fired into the sky and the air was heavy with smoke, Clare turned to Kyle to find him grinning at her.
‘That was brilliant, wasn’t it?’ she said, as she hugged his arm tight.
‘I was half watching the fireworks and half watching your face.’
‘Why?’
‘You look so happy, Mum. It’s wonderful to see.’
Clare kissed his cheek, then gazed back up at the sky, blinking away the tears that his words had conjured. He was right; she knew it. She hadn’t been truly happy for a long time; being back in Little Bramble was having a very positive effect upon her. She had no illusions the being back home was the answer to her problems, but spending time with her family was lifting her, giving her a sense of belonging and of not being as alone as she had felt even before her marriage had officially ended.
It was as if she was finding her way again in the place where she had grown up – and there was a lot of comfort to be found in that.
Chapter 16
‘Where did you learn to cook like that?’
Clare leant against the kitchen unit and admired her son’s efforts. They’d agreed to make dinner for Elaine that Saturday evening and had told her not to make any other plans, which she’d scoffed at because clearly she had no intention of going out. Clare and Kyle had gone to the local farm shop to buy some supplies and Clare had expected to be the one cooking while Kyle observed and drank some of the chilled Chablis they’d purchased. Growing up, he had always liked to help out in the kitchen but usually followed Clare’s lead, mainly because she’d done the shopping and had the week’s meals planned. However, it seemed that Kyle’s time away had led to him becoming a very accomplished cook and Clare’s mouth was watering at the delicious aromas filling the kitchen.
‘Oh, here and there, Mother.’ He winked at her. He only called her ‘mother’ when he was being facetious, and his reaction made her suspect that he’d learnt his rather polished culinary skills from some of his romantic acquaintances.
‘Well, you certainly didn’t get it from your father,’ Clare said, then she winced. ‘Sorry . . . after everything I said about not wanting to be that parent. I really didn’t mean it like that, Kyle, it was just a joke.’
He laughed, then scooped more seasoned juice over the chicken he was frying. ‘No problem, Mum, I know
that. And you’re right, Dad is a shit cook. In fact, I can’t recall him actually trying in the kitchen at all. Now you can see that the advantage of having a pansexual son is that I’ll try anything.’ He giggled and Clare shook her head at him; sometimes his jokes ran a bit risqué.
‘So we’re going to tell Nanna tonight. I mean, ask her what she thinks.’ Clare blinked hard. They intended raising the Christmas Show idea she and Kyle had come up with over dinner and she had no idea how Elaine would react. Their idea was a good one, Clare thought, but whether Elaine would think so had yet to be determined.
Clare hadn’t seen Jenny since Wednesday when they’d discovered that she was pregnant, but they’d been in touch via text at least three times every day and she felt sure that Jenny knew she was there for her. She’d asked Jenny if she’d like to join them that evening, but her friend had declined, saying that Martin and the girls had plans: he was meeting an old rugby mate for a beer and the twins were going on dates, so she was looking forward to a bubble bath and an early night. She hadn’t told her family about the pregnancy yet, only she and Clare knew, so the secret was safe until Jenny felt ready to share the news.
Goliath got up off his bed and went to the back door, standing with his nose almost touching it, his body tense.
‘He wants to go out,’ Clare said, as she wandered over to the door and opened it. Goliath jogged outside, activating the sensor on the security light, and started sniffing around.
Clare stepped back into the warm kitchen, leaving the door ajar.
‘I swear the temperature has dropped dramatically this week.’
‘It’s freezing, isn’t it?’ Kyle said as he transferred the chicken to a Le Creuset pot, then poured the juices from the pan over it. He topped it with the lid, then slid it into the Aga. ‘I was quite surprised that Halloween passed so uneventfully here, with it being such a big event in some places now. Apart from a few trick or treaters out on the village green and the spooky decorations in the shops and hair salon, I didn’t see anything at all.’
Clare thought of the fuss some of the parents in Reading made of Halloween, with decorations, costume parties and traipsing the streets to knock on doors. ‘No, there wasn’t much of a fuss, was there? I know that we used to have a party here because Mum and Dad loved hosting parties and they used to decorate the cottage, but that hasn’t happened since Dad . . .’ She trailed off, not wanting to feel the sadness that accompanied the words.