Uphill All the Way (13 page)

Judith chose strawberry, and finished first, licking her spoon and her fingers. 'That was a good idea of yours, Mum.'

Wilma laughed, still trying to manoeuvre the tiny blue spoon. 'It's all on my chin and my hands! Have you got a tissue, Judith? Then we can go and look for my new bag.'

But after they'd rolled around the mall from department store to department store for what seemed to be hours, Wilma sighed. 'They're jolly expensive and I don't like any so much as my old one. And you must be getting awfully tired, heaving me about.' She sounded suddenly dreary.

Judith squeezed her shoulder and sighed inwardly. The shopping trip seemed to be more a trial than a treat. She cursed herself again for not appreciating her mother's world. Molly would have known, Molly always knew how to handle their mother. 'Is this all a bit much, Mum? Would you rather I took you home?'

Wilma considered. 'But we shouldn't leave without having a cup of tea first, should we? And a scone, with lots of jam. John Lewis does
lovely
scones.'

Two scones later they set off home, Judith reminding herself that she really must stop pouncing on her mother on whim, interrupting Wilma's routine and not giving enough thought to whether she'd actually enjoy what Judith decreed a treat.

Later in the week, Judith met Kieran for dinner, accompanied, naturally, by Bethan, taking Molly with her because Frankie was at work.

The insurance company paid up and she chose new carpet.

She was glad that next week she'd have her part-time job to occupy her mind. She hadn't begun scouring the sits vac ads yet because helping Adam wasn't demanding, was generally interesting and quite often fun. Hopefully, the froideur between them would soon thaw.

Being a full-time lady of leisure would surely have confirmed her in the flea-jump mental responses from which she was suffering, flitting from thought to thought.

Because, however much she'd yearned to be on her own, now that she was she felt unlike the self she'd always known, it was like hearing a familiar song with the words changed.

She searched around for occupation.

And phoned Melanie.

Melanie had been Judith's friend since school. At Brinham Grammar she'd been an absolute knock-out, the one that all the lads fancied rotten, with a lush figure, clear skin that tanned rapidly in the days when a deep tan was considered a desirable sign of health, and a sultry brown gaze.

She'd peaked early, unfortunately. Her beauty became overblown, her busty body overweight, the one people always said, 'Shame, because she's got a lovely smile,' about.

But so far as Judith was concerned Melanie was still Melanie, a ready grin, a dry wit, and a sympathetic nature.

Melanie was enchanted to hear from Judith and demanded a girls' night out that very night, organising tickets on-line to see a play about murder and betrayal at the modern Derngate Theatre in Northampton, and booking a table in a wine bar afterwards.

And it was so
wonderful
to see Melanie again, to be yanked into a big, squashy hug, Melanie's cry of delight ringing in her ears, 'Judith, how I've missed you! How fantastic that you're home!'

Judith felt unexpectedly choked. 'Oh Mel, I've missed you, too! I wish we hadn't bothered with the play, now. I just want to go somewhere and talk our heads off.'

Ian, Melanie's husband, waited outside in the car, sportingly prepared to undertake chauffeuring duties to allow for a decent session at the wine bar. His eyes twinkled through his big, silver-framed glasses at his wife and her friend squashed in the back seat of his Punto so they could talk without drawing breath all the way to Northampton.

But the play was good, although they agreed that they preferred the old Royal Theatre next-door, joined on to the Derngate now, and the pantomimes there when they were kids. The ice-creams had seemed bigger and the performances magical.

After the curtain, Melanie threaded them through the streets to a wine bar with a primrose frontage and a grapevine painted across the windows. So,' said Melanie, pouring big glasses of deeply red wine. 'Poor old Adam blotted his copy book, did he, and you had to throw him out?'

Judith felt a flush heat her cheeks. 'His son, Caleb, had a party and trashed the place. Adam instantly agreed to leave. Hard luck on Adam, I realise, but it's good to have my own place back.'

'And it's your house, of course. But, yes, hard luck on Adam. And he's had enough bad luck lately.' Frowning slightly, Melanie fanned her face with a beer mat.

The flush deepened. 'I know he's a friend of yours.'

Melanie's ready smile burst across her face. 'A good friend of Ian's, really, but yes, Adam's lovely. He's moving in to a new place this weekend, a flat.'

Judith knew that. She sipped her wine. But she hadn't felt able to ask him where he was staying prior to the flat becoming available. Felt guilty that in leaping at the opportunity to reclaim her house afforded by righteous wrath she hadn't much cared where he went. 'Been staying with friends, I suppose?'

Melanie fanned herself harder. 'Shelley, his wife. They were never what you'd actually call
devoted
, you know. But they're fond of each other. I don't know if she ever actually wanted him to leave. She certainly misses him.'

'So why did he go?'

A shrug of Melanie's rounded shoulders. 'Who knows what goes on in a marriage?' She blotted her face with a tissue. 'Do you remember Adam, from school? A bit of a star attraction in the sixth form. Too much sought after to bother with us fifth years.'

Judith let her lips curve up in a tiny smile. 'I think I spoke to him once.'

At the weekend, Adam came to call.

When she opened the door, his smile was polite but his eyes were wary. 'Are you safe to be spoken to, yet? Or still likely to erupt?' His brows drew down intently.

She shrugged. 'Depends what you have to say.'

'A Judith answer.' He turned and beckoned. Caleb stepped into view. 'Don't be shy,' he said. 'This is your conversation, not mine.'

Gingerly, Caleb edged closer.

His thick, dark hair looked combed, his jeans were unripped and his T-shirt bore no offensive slogan. Judith could imagine Adam instructing, 'Make yourself presentable.'

'Hello, Mrs. McAllister.'

She folded her arms. 'Hello Caleb.'

Caleb eyed her, apprehensively. 'Would it be OK if we came in for a minute?'

She stood back and let them troop past and into the sitting room, having trouble keeping a straight face at the deep sigh Caleb vented as he trudged back to the scene of his recent crime.

In the sitting room, Caleb and Adam waited to be invited before they sat down, and Caleb kept his eyes averted from the still-damaged fire surround. 'I've come to, like, apologise.'

Judith, seating herself across from him, raised her eyebrows. 'Only
like
apologise? Something similar to an apology, but in actual fact something else?'

Adam coughed.

Caleb looked bewildered. Hesitated. 'No, I
have
come to apologise.'

'Go on then.'

He scratched his head and stared at her. 'Um, sorry,' he said, sounding baffled.

'What for?'

'For, like, trashing your house. No!' Before she could open her mouth. 'Not
like
; I
am
sorry for trashing your house. I thought it'd be cool to have a party while Dad was away, but it got completely out of hand. People turned up that I'd never met, and they were seriously out there. Know what I mean?'

Judith frowned. 'Not really. Everybody's out there, aren't they? Except we three, I mean, because we're in here.'

He stared at her again. 'I meant that they were... they went mad. Smashing stuff up, and everything. And I think some people had too much to drink.'

Judith assumed a look of horrified amazement. 'Really? I wonder how that happened?'

Silence. Then, softly, Adam. 'Caleb!'

Caleb heaved another huge, mournful sigh. 'Yeah, OK.
Everyone
had lakes of stuff to drink, and most people were stoned, too. There's no excuse. I shouldn't have had a party here, it was totally out of order and I'm totally sorry.'

For the first time, she smiled. 'Thank you.'

He looked slightly relieved, but still shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 'Dad thought... no,
I
thought that I might do something, you know, something to help you out. To make up.'

Beside him, Adam caught Judith's eye, and nodded slightly.

She cast around for a job that she could reasonably expect him to accomplish without taxing him unduly or placing herself or her property in too much jeopardy. 'How are you at cutting grass?'

'I expect I could do it,' he admitted cautiously.

'Shall we find out?'

Judith and Adam took to the patio bench while he began, a bench that had been green wrought iron with white slats last time Judith saw it, but was now all black, which she rather liked. Adam had been the perfect tenant; he'd decorated everything in sight, kept the house immaculate, then, precisely when she wanted to evict him, had made it possible by fouling up so comprehensively. Or, at least, having a son who fouled up on his behalf.

Her conscience twinged afresh.

Once settled on the bench where they had a good view of Caleb trying the lawn mower's pull-cord starter, they swatted gnats and drank tall glasses of orange juice, rediscovering rapidly the easy companionship that had developed prior to Caleb's party.

'I kept thinking you were going to giggle.'

Judith sniffed. 'I wasn't aware that anything about the episode was funny.'

He swung around accusingly. 'Your eyes were laughing.'

She shrugged, and sipped at her juice. 'Perhaps,' she admitted, her lips curling. 'A teeny bit.'

Adam grinned briefly. Then touched the back of her hand. 'And now Caleb's made his apology, it's time for me to offer my thanks. Thank you for not involving the police. I'm sure you must've considered it, I wouldn't have blamed you. But I am grateful that you didn't. Caleb's wayward enough, he doesn't need a police record, however minor.'

'Really
out there,
is he?'

Adam laughed, eyes gleaming silver in the sun, and she thought, objectively, what a very attractive man he was, especially with his day's growth of beard to emphasise the angle of his lean jaw. Then he sobered, groaned, and sighed. 'You've been brilliant, and now I have to give you some really bad news, and you're going to hate us all over again. And you'll be right to hate us, because it's something really annoying.' He put down his glass on the floor, and leant forward on the bench to look into her face.

His expression was one of concern and apprehension. In fact, he looked a lot like Caleb had in the sitting room. 'Go on, get it over with,' she said, resignedly.

He hesitated. 'You're really going to hate it.'

'You're scaring me.'

He ran his hand over his hair. 'After the party I noticed something was missing from the smallest bedroom.'

She felt herself relax. Why should he think this would make her hate him again? 'Camera equipment? I'm afraid there were two lads messing around with it, but I wasn't in the mood to attempt a rescue at the time. It's up to you if you want to take it further, I could give a reasonable description of the hoolies involved.'

But he was shaking his head. 'No. Although my equipment
was
rather mauled about by those disrespectful bastards. I'd love to get my hands on them - He broke off, glancing down as if tripped by a sudden and unwelcome reminder of the state of one of those hands.

He gathered himself. 'But there was something else I kept in there, and I think it must still be in your house, somewhere.'

He blew out a breath. 'I'm afraid it was Fingers. My snake.'

Chapter Twelve

For a moment she didn't absorb the full import of his words. 'You called your snake
Fingers
?' He eyes flicked involuntarily to his hands. The left one was clasped around the right, keeping the damage, as so often, out of sight.

He smiled, faintly. 'Caleb's idea of a joke. He bought Fingers for me after I lost mine, and at first I thought I'd take him straight back to the exotic pet shop where Caleb got him. But then I began reading the book about keeping corn snakes, and I got interested. In fact, I got to like him.'

All at once, Judith felt a funny sensation in the pit of her stomach; a pulse began behind her eyes and her neck to sweat. 'I hate snakes! Is he dangerous? Is he poisonous? Is he
big
?'

'He's harmless, honestly! He's not poisonous, he's a couple of feet long. Not much longer, anyway. He's still young, his markings haven't changed into stripes, yet. But I'll get him back, I promise. Just don't go around spraying wasp killer or whatever, trying to gas him.'