Authors: Amanda Prowse
Jacks sat on the lounge floor, eating chocolates she didn’t really want, just because they were there, and half paying attention to the Christmas movie. She shot the occasional look at Martha, who was a little quieter than usual. She had her phone on the cushion by her side and was regularly sending and receiving texts, alerted by the tiny buzz that saw her fingers dart out and reach for it. Jacks didn’t have to ask who they were from.
As Jacks washed the pots at the end of the day, she thought about the year to come, another year without her dad. Pete came and stood next to her, picking up a tea towel to help dry.
‘Just think, next Christmas our girl will be home from university and when everyone else is asleep, I’ll sit here with her, glass of wine in my hand, and listen while she tells me all about it.’
‘You’ll miss her, won’t you?’ Pete whispered.
‘I really will. But I’d never stop her. It’s right she goes, goes and lives!’
‘You’ve done us proud today. The food was lovely, it’s been great.’ Pete pulled his wife towards him and kissed her gently on the mouth.
‘Blimey, Pete, reckon that glass of whisky’s gone to your head.’ She leant into him.
‘My head and my toes! It’s making me want to dance!’ He placed one hand on her waist and raised her hand inside his as he waltzed her in a circle, lifting her off the floor and ignoring her squeals.
‘Fancy an early night?’ He looked at his wife, his eyes crinkling into a smile.
‘Only if you promise to take that bloody jumper off.’ She giggled.
‘Deal.’
Pete leant in again for a second kiss when Jonty’s voice called from the landing.
‘Mu-um? Martha’s being sick!’
Jacks rested her head on her husband’s chest. ‘How much wine did she have?’
‘I’m guessing too much!’ He laughed. ‘Let’s get her sorted and I’ll meet you under the duvet in ten minutes.’
Jacks nodded. She was relaxed and content, emotions that had been absent of late, and it felt good. She got a flash of guilt, remembering her secret dreams. She didn’t need adventure, didn’t need glass decks and champagne on tap; everything she needed was right there under that cramped little roof. She took a sip from her glass of Baileys – her fourth of the evening, but who was counting? It was Christmas after all.
Nineteen Years Earlier
Jacks hesitated on the wide front step, hating that she felt unworthy to be a guest in such a grand house. And what if, after all the years of wondering what it might be like to live somewhere like that, she was disappointed?
She wasn’t.
‘Come in. Shut the door!’ Sven beckoned her into the vast square hallway.
She looked down at the intricately designed floral pattern of blue, brown and green tiles. ‘This floor is beautiful.’
‘It’s original Edwardian, apparently.’
Staring up at the high, vaulted ceiling, she noted the blue glass chandelier and then the wide staircase and its mini landings, off which she could see doors that led to more rooms than one family could ever need. ‘The whole house is beautiful!’ The decor was minimalist. No clutter, no fringing, no chintz. Everything was plain and clean looking.
‘Well, it’s not ours, not really. It’s only a rental, but it’s our stuff in it.’ Sven shrugged and opened the kitchen door. ‘You can leave your coat and bag on the floor. Unless you want to do homework?’
She smiled as she shrugged off her coat. ‘The International Monetary Fund? Think I’ll pass.’
Sven grinned at her as she relaxed and began to enjoy herself.
Everything was in good order: pristine paintwork, swept corners, shiny surfaces and smear-free glass. Large modern paintings, the kind her own mum and dad would mock, took pride of place on the high walls. It was stunning.
The kitchen at the rear of the house was no less impressive. It was the biggest she had ever been in, with white units, shiny white countertops and an enormous double-fronted fridge, an American fridge. She pictured her parents’ cramped kitchen, harshly lit and stuffed with blackened saucepans that hung from a rack, jars full of beans, pulses and pasta sitting on dusty shelves and a stack of newspapers, the phonebook and several aged breadboards taking up valuable workspace. That room would fit into this one three times.
A noticeboard was hung with notes and memos written in Swedish. She studied the letters, forming words she couldn’t pronounce, the odd O and A with little dots above them. She ran her fingers over the immaculate double sink and tried to imagine standing in front of the sparkling range, cooking a meal and serving it to her family gathered at the long rectangular table. Tall ladder-backed chairs of the palest blue, each with a small navy-and-white gingham ribbon tied to its frame, encircled the table, in the middle of which sat a wicker bowl full of lemons. The room looked like something out of the design pages in her
Marie Claire
.
‘Is this where your mum makes her meatballs and pickles?’
‘And heats up pizza!’ He smiled.
‘I can’t imagine living anywhere with this much space.’ She stretched out her arms and threw her head back. ‘I want to live in a house with space, room to breathe, to move! That’s my dream.’
‘We’ll go out to Montana and buy a ranch, with hundreds of thousands of acres that you can roam all day. We’ll have so much space, you won’t be able to see the boundary, whichever way you look. And we’ll sit on our deck at night and listen to the insects and animals, watch fireflies and rock back and forth on our swing-seat. And we’ll have dogs, definitely.’
‘That sounds nice.’ She looked up as Sven walked towards her.
‘It will be nice. We’ll get old and do crosswords together and take walks and grow our own vegetables and keep horses!’
‘Will we have children?’ She hardly dared ask, but with all that space and a big house…
‘No.’ His answer was definite. ‘They would only distract us. And trust me, I was one once – they’re not that appealing.’ He smirked.
Jacks swallowed the flicker of disappointment, but he was probably right, this boy who had seen life and experienced things she could only dream of and whose parents were far from provincial. What did she know?
He walked over to the window, in front of which stood a pale-blue daybed with a button back, facing the garden. Two fat pillows of an oriental design in blue and pale gold sat at the head. Sven pushed off his trainers using the opposite heel and lay on the long couch. He reached up, taking her hand into his, and pulled her down on to the bed.
She shivered, despite the warmth, and knelt by his side. ‘Can anyone see?’ She pointed towards the window, through which the sunlight poured.
‘No. It’s just the garden and then a wall.’ He paused. ‘I have something to tell you.’ His tone was earnest.
Jacks hovered on her knees, poised, waiting for his revelation as he massaged the backs of her hands with his thumbs.
‘I love you. I loved you the first time I spoke to you and I knew I’d love you before that when I saw you across the hallway.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘That’s it! I love you!’
Jacks felt her face break into a wide smile at the same time as tears threatened. ‘I love you too, Sven, and I always will.’
He shuffled across the daybed until he was lying in the middle of it. ‘Are we safe? Protected?’ he asked huskily.
‘Yes.’ She nodded. ‘I feel very safe when I’m with you. And no one knows about us, we are a secret!’
She kissed him as he pulled her leg until she was sitting on top of him. She bent forward, kissing him deeply and with unrestrained passion, which he returned as he arched forward, reaching up under her school shirt and unhooking her bra with dexterity. There was no discussion, no planning, no permission sought or given; what happened next came naturally to them both. It was the perfect and predictable act between two people who were very much in love.
As they lay hand in hand in the aftermath of their union, Sven brushed his fingers through her hair.
‘Can we get a couch just like this, when we live in Montana? We could put it on our deck and lie on it while we watch the fireflies.’ She smiled against his chest.
‘I think that’s a very good idea.’
‘Promise you’ll never leave me,’ she whispered.
He kissed her forehead and lay back on the pillow, dozing. She laid her head on his chest, feeling very protected indeed and wanting to stay in that moment forever.
‘I can’t believe I am doing this!’ Jacks practically squealed as they boarded the train and found their allocated seats, laughing like teens at the slightest provocation.
She had spent the previous night and that morning tearing around the house in a tizz, wanting to get everything organised for the twelve hours she would be away from home. It didn’t matter that Pete told her he would take care of things. In fact the nicer he was, the worse she felt about nipping off to London. He had given her some spending money, urging her to get herself ‘something nice’. She attempted to assuage her guilt by leaving things as ordered as possible. The kids would come downstairs to find cereal in bowls, with spoons by the side, school shirts ironed and hanging on the doorframe of the lounge. She had even made rounds of sandwiches for her mum that were clingfilmed and on a shelf in the fridge, clearly labelled with a Post-it note.
‘For God’s sake, Jacks!’ Pete observed. ‘They aren’t babies, they can get their own breakfasts. And the lady coming in said she’d do your mum’s lunch. You have to stop making work for yourself. I know you’re tired, but you don’t help yourself, love. If you eased off a bit and let everyone else do more, things would be easier for you.’
‘I like to be in control, I like things to be done properly,’ she answered as she wiped down the drainer by the sink.
‘I had noticed.’ He sat at the table and poured milk on to his cornflakes. ‘Just try and forget about us all for a day. Try and relax, have fun!’
She stopped cleaning and looked at her husband. The reason for her trip sat in her throat like a golf ball, the deceit as hard as a lump that she couldn’t shift. ‘Thanks, Pete. I’ll be back tonight. I love you.’
‘I know.’ He beamed.
‘How are you feeling?’ Gina asked as she shrugged off her coat, bundled it up and threw it on to the rack above their heads. She adjusted her bra strap and got comfy for the journey.
Jacks blew air from bloated cheeks. ‘Like I did when we were fourteen and used to skive swimming and go to the arcade! Excited, nervous, shit scared of getting caught, but like I’m alive. If that makes sense?’
‘Perfectly. You okay going backwards? Only it makes me feel sick.’ Gina grimaced.
‘Sure. I can’t remember the last time I was on a train. They are much smarter than they used to be.’
‘Yes, this one isn’t even steam!’ Gina quipped.
‘You know what I mean! It’s quite luxurious.’ Jacks ran her hand over the newly upholstered seat. She stowed her bag on her lap, dipped inside it, found her purse and removed her ticket, which she held in her hand.
‘Why are you holding your ticket?’
‘I don’t want to lose it and if the inspector comes round I’ll panic if I didn’t know where it is. I don’t want to get chucked off.’
Gina laughed.
The train was only half full. There were a number of men in suits, a couple of women with laptops open and the odd student, nose deep in their phones. Jacks smiled, picturing Martha. It had almost been a spur-of-the-moment decision to come. After the magic of Christmas had fizzled, she had felt the familiar low. With all the excitement out of the way and nothing but the credit-card bills and cold weather to look forward to, she agreed with Gina that a bit of adventure might be just what she needed. Ever since seeing Sven in the magazine, she had carried this new image of him around in her head and she had to admit that, like a rotten tooth, she couldn’t stop probing, no matter how painful.
‘Do you think Mum’ll be okay?’ Jacks flicked the ticket between her thumb and forefinger.
‘You said she was fine when you left?’
‘Yes,’ Jacks confirmed. ‘Very calm. Didn’t flinch when I introduced her to the nurse and said I was going out for a bit.’
‘And you said the nurse was nice?’
‘Oh yes, she’s lovely. Seemed really kind, an older lady who said there was nothing she hadn’t seen or done. I liked the way she spoke to Mum – respectful, gentle. And she said I could call any time for any reason.’
‘Well, that’s great then.’ Gina looked at her watch. ‘Thing is, Jacks, we have been together for forty minutes and that is the sixth time you have asked if Ida will be okay.’
‘Sorry.’
‘No, no need for sorry. I understand, I do, but you have to try and relax. This is a day of adventure and you have to enjoy it.’
‘That’s what Pete said, bless him.’
‘You mustn’t feel guilty, Jacks. This is just a bit of fun and it will do you good. Sven is the distraction you need right now.’
Jacks shrugged. She wasn’t very sure of anything.
‘When’s the last time you had a day that was just yours? When you went out for lunch and mooched the shops, stoked your fire?’
Jacks looked out of the window and thought hard. It was probably when Jonty was tiny and her mum and dad had taken the kids out so she and Pete could have a day. They had gone into Bristol and walked on the harbourside and had lunch at the Mud Dock bike café overlooking the water. ‘About six years ago, I think.’
‘There you go then. You deserve this.’ Gina smiled. ‘It’s exciting, isn’t it? Are you nervous?’
‘Oh God, so nervous and guilty all mixed in together. There was Pete waving me off and the kids saying have a great time! I nearly didn’t come.’
‘Well, I’m glad you did. It’s not like you’re running off with the bloke, never to return.’ Gina rearranged her chunky multi-coloured necklaces over her ample bosom and sat back in her seat. ‘You’re not planning that, are you?’
‘Don’t be daft!’ Jacks shouted, unable to confess that in her imagination she kept seeing herself either being swept up in Sven’s warm, friendly embrace or redecorating two of the bedrooms in a mansion in San Francisco for Martha and Jonty. She shook her head. It was only fantasy, but Pete deserved more. She felt another wave of guilt. ‘Do I look okay?’