She checked that no one else had driven into the car park and went back to the computer.
I’ll give you my phone number, but please don’t use it during the daytime, unless you want to text me, as I’ll be at work. And above all, don’t give the number to your father. I don’t want any further contact with him. Craig’s behaved despicably.
Have you seen Rachel? How’s she settling into married life? If you’re in contact, give her my best wishes, but don’t tell her the new phone number, either. She’d definitely pass it on to your father.
Love
Mum
Only after she’d sent it did she realize that most of what she’d said had concerned Craig. She was still afraid of meeting him, still afraid of what he’d do.
How did you make yourself be brave, when you’d been a pushover all your life? She worried about that.
That left her with nothing to do but think about Euan and worry about what she was going to wear tonight.
Had he meant it when he said he loved her? Did she dare love him?
No, she was going to be honest with herself, at least. She loved him already. It had seemed as natural as breathing to tumble in love with him.
But she wasn’t sure she trusted that things would work out, that she wouldn’t become dependent on him and lose the small start she’d made at independence.
Life wasn’t easy at the best of times, but new love was even more complicated – at least, she found it so.
Did every divorced woman agonize about making the same mistake again?
Brian decided he could afford half an hour at an Internet café to investigate his collection of toys and see what they were worth.
Before he did that, he checked his emails and found one from his mother. It’d only just been sent and it sounded as if she was speaking to him.
He was so relieved to hear she was all right and had a job. What sort of job was it? He hoped it wasn’t too menial, only she hadn’t worked for so long, she had no experience, so it probably was. Still, you couldn’t despise anything that brought in money, as he was proving. The café job was going to make all the difference to his finances.
He frowned. Why did his mother need to work? Surely she’d had a settlement from his dad? He’d heard his father ranting on about men being financially gutted by their ex-wives.
He still felt ashamed of how he’d mooched off his mother.
He was wasting his Internet time thinking; needed to have a look for some of those boxed toys.
Five minutes later he sat back, shocked rigid at how much his toys might fetch – though of course you couldn’t be certain of auction prices. He’d need to do more research, find an auction house that specialized in rare toy auctions.
What a bit of luck he’d kept those two boxes of toys! He’d done it for sentimental reasons, but if it paid off his bank card debt, to hell with sentimentality! Even if he got top money for the toys, he’d still keep the job at the café. He actually enjoyed it there. Mel kept him hopping around, but she worked far harder than he did, and he admired her initiative. And the food was to die for, good solid food, not that airy-fairy stuff Tasha produced, which left you hungry an hour later.
Besides, working at the café was a good way of keeping in touch with Carol, at least he hoped it was. She wasn’t all over him like some girls, but she’d invited him out for coffee, hadn’t she? And she’d been fun to work with when they were helping Mel.
He’d never met girls like those two, what with the private boys’ school he’d been sent to and his father trying to steer him towards the ‘right’ sort of girl. Then there had been the debacle with Tasha’s daughter, which still made him wince to think of it. Talk about a clone of her mother.
Not
his sort of girl, Geneva.
What was his sort of girl? He wasn’t at all sure. But he wanted to spend time with Carol, get to know her. He’d just take it easy and see if it led anywhere.
Or he would once he’d sold his toys and cleared his debts.
After his half hour at the computer was up, he went home, if you could call that hovel home. He decided to ring his mother. It was Sunday, after all. That’d be out of working hours and wouldn’t cost him a lot.
He did want to speak to her.
Molly’s mobile rang during another lull.
Euan called across, ‘Go on. Answer it.’
‘Not in working hours.’
‘I hereby give permission – in triplicate, if necessary.’
Smiling, she caught the call on the last ring before it went to voicemail.
‘Mum?’
‘Brian? Oh, how lovely to hear from you!’
‘I read your email, and I wanted to ring. I won’t give this number to anyone, I promise. Thanks for trusting me. I don’t deserve it.’
She didn’t know what to say and there was silence from his end as well.
‘I wanted to speak to you and now I can’t think what to say.’
‘I’m the same.’
‘Tell me about your job.’
‘I’m an amanuensis.’
‘A what?’
‘General factotum. Part PA, part sales. Whatever needs doing.’ She saw Euan grinning at her from across the room and pulled a face back at him.
‘You didn’t waste time getting a job, did you?’
‘No.’
‘Good for you. Oh, I thought you’d like to know. I read in the paper that Mr Benton had died.’
‘I knew he was terminally ill. I hope he didn’t suffer too much. Poor Jane. I must write to her.’
‘I’m sure they’d want you to go to the funeral.’
‘I can’t risk it. I’m sure she’ll understand. But I’ll ring her up.’ She glanced outside as two cars drew up. ‘Look, I have to go now. I’m at work and someone’s turned up. I’ll ring you one evening. Take care.’
‘Yeah. You too.’
She sighed happily, then turned to face the door, ready to help someone else.
Twelve
Since she’d had a very late night, Rachel cried off from having Sunday lunch with Jamie’s parents, and she was looking so heavy-eyed, he didn’t try to persuade her to go. She might not have got drunk, but she was obviously hungover.
‘You’ll be happier on your own with them.’ She took a long drink of the coffee he’d brought her to bed.
‘As you were happier on your own with your father.’
‘Exactly.’ She finished the coffee, then sighed and wriggled down in the bed. ‘No one knows how to make a girl feel special like Daddy.’
She had no idea how rude this was to her husband, Jamie thought. It was a pity she couldn’t have married her father! They were a matched pair. He got ready and went out.
But it was difficult at his parents’ because they guessed at once that something was wrong.
‘Want to talk about it, son?’ his father asked quietly as his mother was serving up the roast dinner.
‘Not yet, no. It’s . . . difficult.’
‘We’re always here, you know. If you ever need help, come to us first.’
After that they talked about soccer and his mother’s reading club, safe subjects.
When he left, he couldn’t face going home, so went along to the pub. But his half pint went down only slowly and he sat in a quiet corner, not making eye contact with anyone.
Could he actually do it? Was he making a hasty decision?
Euan picked Molly up by driving the hundred yards to her caravan.
She came to the door, still uncertain about what she was wearing to go out, though she’d tried on the few smart clothes she’d brought with her. By now Craig would be criticizing her. She gestured to herself. ‘Is this the sort of thing you want me to wear?’
‘I don’t care what you wear as long as you’re comfortable, though maybe you need a sparkly scarf to brighten up that top.’
She squinted at herself in the narrow mirror, then went to open the drawer. ‘This one, do you think?’
‘No, this one.’ He flung it round her neck, using it to capture her and kiss her. ‘It brings out the blue in the skirt, and it makes your eyes look bluer.’
A huge sigh of relief escaped her. ‘That’s sorted, then, thank goodness.’
‘Were you that worried? About clothes?’
She shrugged. ‘Craig used to say I had no dress sense whatsoever.’
‘And since when has that been a crime?’
‘He made it seem like one.’
‘He really destroyed your confidence, didn’t he?’
She nodded. She’d got so het up trying to choose what to wear that she was still on edge.
‘Come and give me another kiss, then we’ll get on our way.’
The kiss made her feel much better, so she put her arms round his neck and stayed there, cheek to cheek for a minute or two.
‘I hate to break this up, but we have a booking and I’m really hungry.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘To a restaurant in what used to be a pub. I know the owner – Brett’s wife worked for me a few years ago – and the food’s great.’
The food was indeed wonderful and after the main course had been cleared away, she found herself enjoying a conversation with Brett about exactly how the dishes had been prepared. Then she told him about a cheesecake recipe she’d made up, using mascarpone instead of cream, for a friend who was lactose intolerant but could eat cheese.
‘You sound as if you really know your stuff about cooking,’ Euan said when Brett left them to enjoy the desserts.
‘I love cooking. I used to cook for big dinner parties. It was fun choosing a menu. You must let me cook a proper meal for you one day – but not in the caravan.’
‘More hidden talents, my little treasure. I’d love you to cook for me.’
By the time they got back, they were both pleasantly tired.
‘Do you want to come in?’ she asked, but was caught out by a yawn.
‘Not tonight. We’re both weary. It’s been an eventful week, hasn’t it? Did you realize today was the anniversary of when we first met? A whole week we’ve known one another now.’
‘Is that all? It feels as if I’ve known you for ever.’
‘Me too. Now go to bed, Molly my love, and remember you have the morning off tomorrow.’
She lay for a few moments, reliving the evening, then felt herself slipping happily towards sleep.
Molly, my love
, he’d called her.
Molly, my love.
She was beginning to believe he meant it.
After he’d put the phone down, Brian realized he still hadn’t apologized to his mother, not properly, anyway. In fact, they hadn’t talked about anything except trivia. But it’d been comforting just to hear her voice. She sounded happier, he couldn’t figure out why he thought that, until he realized she hadn’t been breathless and hesitant.
He did hope she was happier.
He looked at the clock. What was he going to do with the rest of the evening? He didn’t have the money to spend on booze or going out, and anyway, these activities had lost their attraction. He smiled. Maybe he was growing up. And maybe it wasn’t as bad as he’d thought it would be.
If he sold his toys, if they really were worth so much, he might be able to afford a TV and a computer connection. That’d make a big difference to his life. On that thought, he went to get out the boxes, spreading their contents all over the floor, for lack of a table, then making up a detailed list.
Next thing to do would be to research special toy auctions and see if there were any coming up in the near future. The sooner the better.
But he wouldn’t try to sell everything at once. He wanted to check out the people doing the selling, try them out on two or three items. See how close his research had brought him to actual prices obtained.
His phone rang. He picked it up and checked who it was. His father. He didn’t feel like speaking to him tonight, so let it go to voicemail.
It suddenly occurred to him that he should write a condolence note to Mrs Benton. A note would be cheaper than a card. And perhaps he should tell Rachel that Mr Benton had died.
He picked up his phone. ‘Rach? I thought you should know that Mr Benton’s died. The old guy next door. You might want to send a note of condolence to Mrs Benton.’
‘Why should I do that? I don’t live there any more.’
‘You lived next door to them for years, and she was kind to us when we were kids.’
‘Yes, well, I’ve got troubles of my own and Mrs Benton won’t care whether I write or not.’ She started sobbing.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘You wouldn’t understand. You men are all alike.’ She ended the call.
He put the phone away. Sounded as if she’d been quarrelling with Jamie. He didn’t intend to get involved in that. Rach would go her own sweet way whatever he said.
He got out a piece of computer paper, folded it in half and wrote a brief note of condolence to Mrs Benton. He’d put it in the post tomorrow.
Then, because there was nothing else to do, he went to bed with a library book. First, he had to pull the air mattress across the room so that it was under the central light.
A good thing he still had a sense of humour. His friends would crack up laughing if they could see him now.
His smile was a little wobbly and soon faded. He concentrated on the book. He’d done enough thinking for today.
Rachel put the phone down and went to look out of the window. But there was no sign of Jamie. How long could a Sunday lunch take?
He must be upset at her going out and was staying away to punish her. Well, they’d agreed to keep up with their old friends, hadn’t they? And she’d got back safely, so why this fuss?
She’d been careful not to drink too much when she went out with her father. He didn’t approve of drunkenness. But even a moderate amount seemed to have reawakened her hangover. It’d been the worst she’d ever had. She’d definitely be a bit more careful what she drank in future.
She’d spent rather a lot, too, having to dip into the housekeeping money. That’d be what had upset Jamie so much, but she’d show him she’d learned her lesson, which would sort things out, surely.