The Great Village Show (19 page)

I squeeze her hand and we stand together, each of us mulling over the implications of her words. ‘I’ll be here … to help, however I can – feed you ice-cream sandwiches and such-like. Or look after the children – I’ve loved having them here today,’ I grin, glancing over at the triplets. ‘It’s brought back such wonderful memories of when Jack was their age, playing in the garden with his friends.’

‘Ahh, you must miss him,’ Jessie says.

‘Yes, it’s taken some getting used to, but he seems to love uni, so that’s OK,’ I grin.

A few seconds later, and Jessie busies herself with dressing the children. ‘Thanks so much for having us. They’ve loved it,’ Jessie says. I pick up Olivia’s dress and give her a hand to put it on. ‘And so have I,’ she adds, and then, after the children have said goodbye and thank you to me, she chivvies them out of the front door, with instructions to wait by the gate, and definitely not to open it. Jessie turns to me. ‘I know we haven’t known each other very long, but I’m so pleased we are friends.’

‘Me too,’ I step forward and give her a gentle hug before she turns to walk down the path, ‘and Jessie.’ She looks back over her shoulder. ‘I’m here, any time. Just call me or pop in, whenever,’ I tell her, smiling warmly.

‘Thank you, I really appreciate it, Meg.’ She hesitates. ‘And I’m sorry for keeping on about myself. Next time we’ll talk about you …’

‘Ahh, don’t be silly. To be honest, there’s very little to know about me … my life is really quite ordinary,’ I laugh and pull a funny face. ‘School, cross stitch, wine-making, gardening – Jack when he’s home – and now the village show. See, nothing very remarkable at all.’

‘Well, the effort you’re putting in at the school is amazing, and it was your drive that chivvied the show committee along … making sure everything was on track and nobody bickered.’

‘You’re very kind,’ I say.

‘And I don’t think I’m the only one you impressed …’ she adds quietly and hesitantly.

‘What do you mean?’ I crease my forehead in curiosity.

‘The chef …’ Jessie looks me straight in the eye. ‘Dan Wright – I have to say that I went a bit fan-girl when he strode in. And did you see how none of the villagers even batted an eyelid? Apart from that small group of women from the school … So I reckoned I should act the same – unmoved by his celebrity status.’

‘Ha! Yes, the Tindledale villagers can be a hard bunch to impress, being off the telly won’t cut it around here, unless you’re presenting
Countryfile
or one of those gardening or allotment programmes – they go mad for those,’ I say, wondering what Jessie is going on about.

‘Well, Dan Wright didn’t really look at anyone else. He couldn’t take his eyes off you,’ she says, seeming impressed.

‘
Whaaat?
Oh, don’t be daft,’ I tip my head back and laugh, wondering how on earth she can think so. ‘Dan?’ Jessie nods. ‘Really?’ I make big eyes. ‘You have to be joking.’

‘No, seriously, I saw him watching you, studying you, when you were talking to the crowd. I’d go as far as to say he was spellbound. His gaze didn’t leave your face the whole time … and he seemed pretty pleased at the prospect of you two having lots of fun together – getting everything organised for the juice bar. And he is very good looking …’ She grins.

‘No way!’ I shake my head. ‘Not that he isn’t good looking – that part is true,’ I nod, as he is, there’s no denying that, ‘but he hates me. And, to be honest, I’m not very keen on him either. He’s so rude and, well, incredibly bumptious!’ I fold my arms across my chest.

‘
Bumptious?
What does that even mean?’ Jessie laughs, creasing her face in amusement.

‘You know … full of himself. Or to be exact, “irritatingly assertive”,’ I say, rolling my eyes and remembering the dictionary definition I gave out in Year Six’s English class a few days ago.

‘Hmm, maybe so … but what if that’s just bluster? You know … it could be a cover-up. Not all men are naturally confident when it comes to women; maybe he’s shy underneath all that bumptiousness,’ she says knowingly, and I wonder who she’s referring to … surely not Mr Cavendish, I’m sure he has no problems when it comes to confidence. Maybe she’s talking about the mysterious Sam? And I wonder, too, if that’s what she was about to tell me earlier, before Millie came over – how Sam fits into her life, or not, as the case may be. I’m assuming Sam helps look after the gardens around Jessie’s farmhouse; they are far too much work for one person with three children and a house to look after. But I saw the reaction his appearance provoked in her on the village green that time, so I can’t help wondering if they’re more than just employer and employee. And what if Mr Cavendish knows? What if that’s why they argued over the iron?

Stop it, I say inside my head, feeling bad. I’m making up stories about Jessie without knowing any of the facts, and that’s not nice. I inhale sharply before letting out a long breath, bringing myself back to focus. Speculating is no better than gossiping, really.

‘Ha! Dan shy? I don’t think so. If you saw the way he bowled into my office and made himself at home, then I’m sure you wouldn’t think so either …’ I shake my head.

‘Your office? Ooh, so he came to see you at the school then?’ she asks, excitedly.

‘Yes, but …’ I pause, and Jessie lifts an inquisitive eyebrow. ‘Oh no, it was nothing like that, definitely not,’ I protest, cringing all over again at the memory of the misspelt cross-stitch fiasco.

After waving Jessie and the triplets off, and waiting by my front door until the bus arrives to make sure they’re all safely on it – Don waves from the driver’s cab as the bus judders off up the steep lane towards the High Street – I close the door and figure that I should probably go and collect my bike in the morning.

As I go to walk through to the kitchen, shaking my head and laughing inwardly –
Shy?
Bluster? Ha I don’t think so … sheer swagger, more like
, as Jack would say – the phone rings. I dash into the lounge and take a look at the caller display.

Ahh. Spooky coincidence. It’s Jack. Wonderful.

We’ve spoken a few times since Taylor last asked if I had heard from him, but whenever I’ve mentioned her, he’s changed the subject, which feels a bit strange. Call it mother’s intuition, but there’s definitely something he isn’t telling me. I make a mental note to find out what is going on this time.

‘Hello darling, I was just thinking about you!’

J
ack is going to South Africa for the summer holidays. I’m really pleased and proud that he’s capable, independent, and keen on doing his own thing. After all, I wouldn’t be much of a mother if I hadn’t brought him up to stand on his own two feet. But a part of me can’t help but feel a little tinge of sadness that an era has come to an end and that Tindledale, his home, and his mum will no longer be featuring highly in Jack’s priorities.

‘I’m so pleased for you,’ I tell him, honestly.

‘Are you sure, Mum?’ he asks, suddenly sounding far more mature than his eighteen years.

‘Of course I am, Jack. It’s an amazing opportunity,’ I say, trying to convey my enthusiasm without sounding falsely jolly.

‘It is, isn’t it? And I’ve managed to save enough for the flight …’ He sounds so animated, excited and alive.

‘Wow, well done.’ I am seriously impressed. I know he’s been working evenings and weekends in a trendy bistro attached to an upmarket hotel, but I had no idea he’d manage to earn enough for a return flight almost to the other side of the world. And I’m sure it wasn’t that long ago that he asked to borrow twenty pounds, telling me he was skint … hmm.

‘And I’ve done a bank transfer for that money you lent me,’ he adds, right on cue. Ahh, that’s nice. He’s being responsible. But nevertheless it feels strange that he doesn’t even need my money any more. ‘The tips I get are really good, Mum; the people who stay in the hotel must be loaded. Everyone leaves at least a fiver, sometimes a tenner; I’ve even had a few twenties. You know … if it’s a big party and they’re celebrating. And I can cover ten tables in a night, easy.’ He laughs. ‘And Stevie’s dad is
such
a top guy …’

‘Stevie?’ I ask, trying to take it all in. I don’t remember Jack mentioning a friend called Stevie before.

‘Yep, you know, his room is next to mine. I told you about him. He’s doing biochemistry. Boring. But he’s actually all right.’ But Jack doesn’t even pause to draw breath. ‘He’s from Liverpool, but his dad lives in South Africa, Cape Town … left when Stevie was a kid, but he always spends the summer with him. So cool. And I spoke to his dad on Skype and he’s going to take us out on his yacht and he said that he’ll teach me how to sail. We might even get to swim with some dolphins too, if we’re lucky.’

Jack sounds really excited, and I’ve heard him like this before – the time he went on a school trip to the Natural History Museum in London, and when he went with Josh – Cooper and Molly’s eldest son – to the cinema for the first time on their own in Market Briar, with a couple of girls. But this is something more. Something I can’t quite put my finger on.

‘And we are going to surf, hang out, that kind of thing.’ Jack sounds so charged, so high on life. ‘Yeah, it’s going to be awesome.’ And then I get it! I know what’s so appealing about this trip – Jack can spend time with Stevie’s dad!

For a moment it makes me feel inadequate, as if I’m not enough. Like I should have tried harder to make it work with Liam, Jack’s dad. For Jack’s sake. So he could have all that father and son time. Play football, mess around in the garden, instead of feeding the ducks with his mum. Isn’t that what people do? Stay together for the child? But then I think of Jessie, and I realise that I’m being ridiculous. Sometimes it just isn’t possible, or what’s best at all for the child. Life isn’t like that. Black and white. No, it’s mostly grey. I did my best. And Will was wonderful with Jack, until he left.

I wonder if Liam thinks about Jack? Misses him? Or, more pertinently, does Jack miss Liam? I wonder if I let my own feelings of hurt and disappointment cloud what was best for Jack. I know that’s why I don’t let people, men mostly, get close: I didn’t want to let myself – or Jack – get hurt like that again … But Jack is a grown-up, he has his own life now. Maybe Lawrence was right; perhaps it is time I broadened my horizons …

‘Do you miss your dad, Jack?’ The minute the words are said, I panic. An ominous silence follows. ‘Um, err … sorry sweetheart, I shouldn’t have just blurt—’

‘Mum, it’s cool. I spoke to him and …’

‘What do you mean?’ I had no idea Jack was in contact with Liam. I sink down into the sofa, feeling … actually, I’m not entirely sure how I feel. It was all such a long time ago, and Liam is Jack’s dad … he has every right to a relationship with him. Of course he does. I feel dizzy from the sudden surge of mixed emotions.

‘It’s no big deal, Mum. He messaged me … to see how I was getting on.’

‘Oh!’ I breathe, calming down a bit. ‘And what did you say?’

‘Yeah, I said I was doing OK,’ he tells me casually, like it’s no biggy, as he would say. ‘I told him uni is awesome, and he showed me some pics of his fam. That was it really … Oh, and he asked if you were all right, and how Gran was, if she still lives in Tenerife. Just the usual, polite chat stuff. I said you were both doing great … never better.’

‘His family?’ I ask, trying to process it all quickly, and wondering if I really want to know the finer details of Liam’s life.

‘His kids. My half-sisters, I guess. He has two …’ Jack informs me and, somewhat to my surprise, I don’t feel very much at all. It’s funny, how sometimes the thought of something is far, far worse than the actual reality. What I really feel is indifference. Obviously I’m happy for Liam that he isn’t on his own, that he has a family. And what about Jack? I wonder how he feels about this news.

‘That’s nice,’ I say diplomatically, but what else can I say? And then Jack tells me everything I need to know.

‘Yep, he doesn’t see much of them.’ Silence follows. ‘He’s a rubbish dad, really, but it could be worse, I suppose,’ Jack says, blithely.

‘Oh. How’s that then?’ I manage, quickly followed by, ‘I’m sorry, Jack.’ I feel like I made a bad choice, but then I wouldn’t have Jack if it weren’t for Liam, so I mustn’t ever regret meeting Liam.

‘Well, it would be a right disaster if I had a rubbish mum too!’ and he laughs. And I laugh too as my heart swells.

I wish Jack were here, so I could get a proper gauge of how he really feels about all of this. But I have to trust that he’s OK, that he’s as laidback about the situation as he sounds. Jack has always been happy-go-lucky – he has a serious, caring side, too, though – and he tends to take things in his stride … like when his skateboard got stolen from outside the sweet shop in Market Briar. I felt so upset for him, and wanted to call the police or scour the streets for the culprit. But he just shrugged, and then promptly got himself a paper round to earn enough money to pay for a new one.

‘Are you crying, Mum?’

‘No! Don’t be silly.’ I find a tissue and dab my eyes, before taking a deep breath.

‘What’s that noise then?’ Jack chuckles. ‘Awww, don’t go soft on me, Mummy,’ he adds, teasing me. He used to call me Mummy at school, in the playground, in front of the other children, when I was training to be a teacher and trying to be professional with my very scary teacher face on, and it always made us laugh as we cycled home together.