‘I don’t know why he doesn’t set up direct debits for all the bills, either,’ I muttered to myself. ‘It’d make his life so much easier.’
And then I remembered a conversation I’d had with him about such things, a few weeks earlier.
I’m just old-fashioned, Jess, he’d said. It’s a bit late for me to change. But if you want to set up things like that and take them over from me, you’re welcome to go ahead.
I hadn’t liked to do that; it had felt wrong. Jim was the boss and he’d always dealt with the financial side of things. I couldn’t just take things over from him – could I? I thought about it a bit more while I made myself a coffee and prepared space on the shelves for the new food order. Maybe, just maybe, Jim had been saying he’d like me to take it over. That it would make everything easier for him, saving him from having to remember about paying the bills and so on. Why hadn’t I thought of it like that?
I logged onto the computer and into the shop’s internet banking; Jim had given me access and I knew my way around it. Could I do this: set things up for him, to help him? Would he be pleased? By the time the pet food order arrived, I’d decided to go for it. I’d also decided to have a look at Jim’s accounting system and see whether I could use a software program to make that easier too. Jim often told me he wasn’t good with technology, so I knew it wasn’t something he’d consider doing himself. Perhaps I’d email our accountant and ask his advice. I wouldn’t actually do anything to change Jim’s system until he came back, but at least, if it was a quiet day in the shop, I could do some research into it, so that we could talk it over.
The day passed quickly. Apart from unpacking the new stock, setting up the direct debits and talking to our helpful accountant, I served several customers, two of whom – to my surprise – turned out to be people who had picked up my PAT leaflets from the Christmas market stall. One was a man who’d just retired and loved the idea of being involved in something useful with his dog; the other was a young mum whose children were both now at school or preschool, and reasoned that she’d now have some time to visit a hospital or care home. Both wanted to chat, seeming to have got the impression that I was somehow in charge.
‘No, I’m just an ordinary volunteer, in fact I’m quite new to it myself,’ I explained, having made each of them a cup of tea and suddenly wishing, again, that there was space for another chair beside the counter. ‘In some areas, there’s a volunteer who acts as a coordinator, but I was told when I joined that there isn’t one around here. If you’re really interested, you just need to go onto the PAT website to apply. Your dog has to be assessed, for temperament, and if you’re accepted, you contact whichever hospital or care home you want to visit, yourself. Or school,’ I added, explaining quickly about read2dogs.
The young mum, who I realised with an odd pang, despite having two children was probably at least five years younger than me, looked a little taken aback at the thought of making her own contacts.
‘Well, of course, I suppose I could talk to the people I know at the hospital and the school for you, if that helps,’ I offered. ‘And I’d be happy to go with you on your first visit, if you do go ahead. But as I say, you must do the application first and have your dog assessed.’
I was feeling happy and proud by the time both the potential volunteers had left. Who’d have thought I would be able to talk to two strangers about something like this, so confidently, as if I’d known them all my life and wasn’t a shy, nervous little social misfit at all. What had happened to me since I’d started with PAT? If only it had had the same effect with my personal life!
I wasn’t too surprised not to have heard from Jim. I guessed Vera had given him the runaround all day, fetching her drinks and soup and paracetamol. But when he finally called me, just as I was considering shutting the shop for the night, I was taken aback by the tone of his voice.
‘She’s really poorly, Jess,’ he said quietly. ‘The doctor’s sure it is flu, and he says the first week will be the worst.’
‘The first week?’
‘Yes! This is flu we’re talking about, not just a cold or some kind of twenty-four-hour virus. As I kept trying to tell Vera when she refused to have the flu jab, it’s a serious illness, especially … well, especially for people of our age.’
‘I hope it’s not because she got cold yesterday in that elf costume—’
‘No, Jess, it’s a virus. You catch it from other people, not from getting cold.’
It wasn’t like Jim to sound so snappy. I realised he must have been really worried.
‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ I asked gently. ‘Can I come over and sit with her for a while?’
‘No. I’m staying here. I went home quickly to pack a bag, and—’
‘She’s letting you stay?’ I said, surprised.
‘In her spare room. She’s in no position to refuse. She feels so ill, she can’t even move without me helping her.’ He paused. ‘I’m staying with her for as long as she needs me to, Jess. I’m sorry, can you manage the shop on your own? I’ll ask my nephew to cover Wednesday.’
Jim’s nephew Dean was a university student who’d often helped out before when we needed an extra pair of hands to cover a holiday. He was apparently already home for the long Christmas holiday and Jim thought he’d be pleased to be offered some work, even it was only a couple of Wednesdays.
‘Of course I’ll be OK,’ I said at once. ‘And don’t worry if Dean can’t do Wednesday, I’ll have to cancel—’
He brushed this aside quickly, distractedly. ‘I don’t want you to have to do that. Letting the children down.’
I’d planned to tell him about the direct debits and the accounts, but I realised he really didn’t need to be worried about these right then. ‘OK. Please give Vera my love.’
I looked around me before I turned off the shop lights and set the alarm, and nodded slowly to myself. Of course I could do this – run the shop on my own for a week, or for as long as it took for poor Vera to feel better. Why had I ever doubted myself? I’d not only run it, I’d make everything better and easier for Jim on his return. Smiling with satisfaction, I set off home with a spring in my step. It took me a few minutes to realise: I was feeling calm, confident and self-assured. It was such an unusual sensation for me, I hadn’t even recognised it!
‘I wouldn’t have wished for poor Vera to be ill, obviously,’ I told Pru as we went for our walk later. ‘But I must admit, I’m quite looking forward to being in charge for a few days.’
Well, don’t get too used to it. I don’t want you working late, and forgetting to come home to me.
‘Don’t worry. You’ll always come first with me,’ I reassured her, and she gave a couple of little jumps as she ran off through the trees, as if she was pleased to hear it.
I was busy with the shop during the next few days so I hadn’t had too much time to feel sorry for myself about Tom until the Wednesday afternoon, when I saw his son as usual at the reading session. Prudence was used to the sessions now, and seemed to recognise some of the children. When they came into the classroom with their books she wagged her tail and looked excited, which of course was really encouraging for the kids. Jacob was making especially good progress; his voice was becoming more confident week by week as he read to Prudence, and this week for the first time I noticed that he was also making eye contact with the other children in the group, and smiling at them. His spontaneous act of speaking Number One King’s lines in the nativity play seemed to have helped to build up his emerging self-confidence.
He was the last of his group to read that day, and when he came up afterwards for his turn to stroke Prudence, he laid his face against the fur of her neck and blew kisses at her face.
‘Ah, she likes that,’ I said, as Pru wagged her tail.
He smiled. ‘I do it with my cat. She likes it too,’ he told me shyly. Then his smile faded and he suddenly leaned across Prudence and laid his face against me instead.
‘Jacob—’
Mrs Armstrong began to warn him gently, but I looked up at her and shook my head.
‘It’s fine,’ I mouthed to her. I sensed that the little boy wanted to tell me something, and fortunately Mrs Armstrong picked up on this at once, and gathered the other children together, leading them across the room to look at some pictures on the wall.
‘I cuddle my cat like that when I’m sad,’ Jacob whispered in my ear as soon as he could see that the other children weren’t listening. ‘Because she’s nice and soft.’
‘Are you often sad, Jacob?’ I whispered back.
He nodded, looking at the floor.
‘That’s nothing to be ashamed of,’ I said. I knew there were all sorts of rules these days about how much contact we were allowed to have with the children, but Jacob so obviously needed a hug. As I put my arm around him and he rested his cheek against me, I glanced up at Mrs Armstrong and she gave me a discreet little nod. ‘We’re all sad sometimes. Even grown-ups,’ I told him quietly.
‘Even you?’ he asked, looking up at me.
‘Yes, of course. But cuddling a cat or a dog really helps, doesn’t it.’
‘Yes.’ He hesitated for a moment and then leaned to whisper in my ear again. ‘I cuddle Coco and close my eyes and pretend Mummy’s cuddling me. Mummy’s hair was nice and soft like Coco’s fur.’
There was a lump in my throat now that was threatening to overwhelm me. I swallowed, managed to give him a little smile and whispered back:
‘That’s a very good way to stop from feeling too sad, isn’t it, Jacob. I do the same thing with Prudence, when I’m feeling sad.’
‘Do you?’ He sat up now and glanced anxiously across the room at his classmates before whispering in my ear again. ‘Don’t tell anyone, will you?’
‘No,’ I promised him. ‘Not if you don’t want me to. Perhaps the others don’t need it.’
‘No, they don’t,’ he agreed in quite a matter-of-fact tone. ‘They’ve still got their mummies.’
He got up, gave Pru a last hug goodbye, and Mrs Armstrong looked round, pretending she’d forgotten he was still with me.
‘Ah, Jacob – you’re ready now? Come on then, children – back to your class. Say goodbye to Jess and Prudence,’ she said cheerfully, shepherding them to the door. She looked back over her shoulder at me and gave me a thumbs-up.
‘Thank you, Jess – how nice to see Jacob chatting to you like that,’ she said as soon as she returned to wait for the next group.
‘He told me about his mum,’ I said with a sigh.
‘Good. He never talks to any of us about her. He’s obviously bonded with you.’
‘I lost my own mum when I wasn’t much older than Jacob,’ I told her quietly. ‘He doesn’t know that, of course, but … I suppose it makes it easy for me to empathise with him.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that, Jess.’ She touched my hand briefly, and went on: ‘Perhaps Jacob can sense, somehow, that you understand.’
I’d wondered the same thing. But whatever had prompted it, I was pleased to think that our little private chat might have helped Jacob, and I was gratified that he’d managed to confide in me. It was so satisfying to see the gradual change in the shy little boy, and I’d have loved to talk to his father about it. But I had made up my mind not to hang around in future in the hope of seeing Tom at the school gates. After all, he might be with Rhianna again. I left as quickly as I could after Prudence and I had finished, promising her an extra long walk.
But the next day, to my surprise, Tom turned up at the shop early in the morning again.
‘Hi, Jess.’ He gave me a smile and I tried to keep my breathing steady. He’s in a relationship, I reminded myself sternly. Don’t look at that smile; just don’t. ‘I looked out for you, yesterday, at the school.’
‘Oh. Sorry, I had to … um … rush off, after I finished.’
Don’t get into any more of a conversation. Don’t take any notice of him saying he looked out for you. Remember about Rhianna. How perfect she is. How happy they looked together.
‘No worries. I just wanted to thank you again. There’s been such a huge improvement in Jacob recently. I don’t just mean his reading, but everything: his confidence, his mood – he’s even asking to bring a friend home to play. He asks every morning whether it’s his Prudence day; he looks forward so much to seeing her.’
‘I’m so pleased,’ I said. At least, in this, I could be honest and open. ‘We hoped it would help, obviously, but I didn’t expect so much so soon.’
‘No, neither did I.’ He smiled again. ‘Well, I’d better let you get on – I see you’re still on your own here. I presume Jim’s still looking after Vera?’
‘Yes. He called me last night to say she’s no better yet. Poor Vera. Jim’s very good to her, though.’
‘I can see that. He seemed very concerned. Well, I hope she’s soon better. I miss seeing her out and about.’ He paused. I waited, wondering whether he was hoping for a cup of tea or coffee again. I wasn’t going to invite him to sit down; I had to act polite but cool. I had to ignore my feelings, and remember that I was happy being single.
Happy being single, happy being single, I repeated to myself inside my head as Tom said goodbye and headed for the door.
‘Have a good day,’ he said as he left.
‘You too.’ I watched him go, wondering about the fact that I still didn’t even know what he did for a living. I knew hardly anything about him, I reminded myself, apart from where he lived, the fact that his wife had died, that he had a lovely little son, and … a tall, gorgeous, blonde girlfriend. And to be honest, that was enough. However much I liked him, this man was not for me, any more than Nick had been. It seemed I had a knack for liking men who weren’t suitable for me! Perhaps it was just as well, I repeated to myself, over and over for the rest of the morning, that I was happy being single.
CHAPTER 29
During the following week I did my best to keep my mind on my work. The shop wasn’t too busy, but without Jim there I had far more to do, and I was still enjoying the responsibility. The next Wednesday was the last time Prudence and I would visit the hospital before Christmas. It was lovely to see how beautifully the children’s ward had been decorated. There was a giant snowman in one corner, a big Christmas tree on the other side, and lots of colourful garlands to brighten up a dismal December morning.
‘Nobody likes being in hospital over Christmas,’ Cheryl said with a sad smile, ‘and we do our best to discharge every child who’s fit enough to go home, even if it means they just have one or two days with their families and have to come back afterwards.’
‘That’s nice to hear.’ I smiled at a little girl called Katy who had trotted up straight away to stroke Prudence. I’d got Pru a nice red coat from the shop and put a garland around her neck – just for the children’s sake, although I was aware that she’d soon find it irritating and shake herself until she’d managed to dislodge it!
‘I’ve got a present for Prudence,’ the little girl said shyly, producing a piece of paper on which she’d drawn a dog in bright purple crayon. At the top of the page were the words Hapy Cismus Pooduns in red, with lots of kisses.
‘Aw, that’s lovely, Katy. Look, Prudence is saying thank you.’
Sure enough, Prudence was wagging her tail enthusiastically as she sniffed the paper, probably enjoying the smell of the wax crayon. Katy grinned happily and gave her another stroke.
‘She looks well enough to be going home, I hope?’ I said quietly to Cheryl as she skipped off again.
‘Yes, luckily she’s completely recovered this time, but unfortunately she’s a fairly frequent visitor.’
‘I thought I’d seen her before. She has asthma, doesn’t she?’
‘Very severe asthma, poor little thing. She’s developed pneumonia in the past so we always keep her in overnight if she has a cold or virus and gets a bad asthma attack, to keep an eye on her. But as you can see, she’s bouncing around now and hopefully she’ll be fine over Christ
mas.’
It was humbling to see how cheerful the children were, despite the fact that two of them were most likely to still be on the ward on Christmas Day. Even the weakest little boy, prostrate in his bed wearing an oxygen mask, was able to smile at Prudence and nod his head when I asked him if he was looking forward to Father Christmas visiting the hospital. I’d taken a box of sweets with me which I left with Cheryl to share out with the little patients.
‘Tell them they’re a Christmas present from Prudence,’ I said, and we both laughed as Pru, hearing her name, looked up excitedly and wagged her tail.
My enthusiasm for my PAT visits renewed, I walked cheerfully down the hospital corridor, vowing to myself that I’d make the school visit that afternoon in the same spirit, treating all the children the same and paying no extra attention to a certain shy little boy with black hair and big brown eyes – unless of course he initiated it again. And as I walked along, lost in these thoughts, Prudence trotting happily beside me, relieved now of the Christmas garland from round her neck, the door of a ward opened in front of me and out came … Liz.
For a moment, we both just stood there, staring at each other. She was wearing a blue dressing gown, her feet in stripy slippers, and somehow this made her look so vulnerable, so old, that I wanted to cry. And then it all came flooding back to me – how she’d let me take the blame for her mistake, how she’d let me be sacked, how she’d stood there and said nothing, and then refused to take my calls or answer my messages. I pulled Prudence closer to me, turned abruptly and started to walk the other way, back down the corridor.
‘Wait!’ she called after me. ‘Jess, wait, please.’
I stopped, but didn’t turn round. My heart was hammering against my ribs. My instinct was to scream at her, to tell her what she’d done to me, how I could never forgive her. I wanted to say something, anything, that might hurt her as much as she’d hurt me. But my mouth had gone dry, my brain had frozen at the sight of her. Looking so old, so … wounded. What was she doing in hospital? But why should I even care?
The Pet Shop at Pennycombe Bay Page 25