Skeletons (33 page)

Now that she had got things straight in her head – she wanted the baby, she didn’t want Jason, didn’t want the Mastersons except as her children’s family, nothing more – Jen felt as if she could actually start to look to the
future, start to see the positives rather than the negatives for once. She felt, if she was being honest, happy.

She found herself checking the future bookings every few days to see if Sean had pencilled himself in, but she knew the chances were slim. Although she had promised him she would let him know how she was, how things had worked out between her and
Jason, she wasn’t really sure he’d meant it when he said he wanted to know. She picked the phone up a hundred times to call him, and then chickened out. She couldn’t stop thinking about him, though. Couldn’t stop wondering if she’d made a terrible mistake.

In the end, she decided she had nothing to lose. She could spend her days wondering what might have happened, or she could find out once and for all.

She persuaded a reluctant Judy into phoning Sean’s showroom and asking for an appointment with him. She had recently moved into a large detached house nearby, she told him, and was looking to find a few statement pieces. Money was no
object.

‘Look at how it backfired when you did this with the sister,’ Judy said when she got off the phone, convinced her performance had been less than BAFTA-worthy.

Jen had finally told her the whole story behind the family break-up, filling in the gaps that had been left in the paper.

‘This is different.’

‘Why exactly?’

‘Because Sean will be pleased to see me. Hopefully.’

It had crossed her mind several times that Sean might be thinking he’d had a lucky escape. Not to mention the fact that, even though he knew Jen was pregnant, the last time they had set eyes on each other she hadn’t yet been wearing
trousers with an elasticated waist.

She didn’t even know what she was hoping for. She just knew she had to see him again, to understand how she felt about him. To see if there was anything there worth trying for. And to know if – after the way she had messed him around – Sean
had any residual feelings left for her.

She travelled up on the train to Moreton-in-Marsh to make Judy’s appointment. She had agonized over what to wear and had decided, in the end, not to even try to disguise her growing bump. He might as well get an instant visual reminder of
the situation as soon as he saw her. She felt sick with nerves. At least, she thought she did. It might just have been a return to morning sickness.

Sean’s vintage showroom was in a picture-perfect converted church with thick-stemmed wisteria growing around the door. Outside, ornate stone statues rubbed
shoulders with bird baths and intricate
wrought-iron gates that no longer led anywhere. Inside was like a treasure trove in the Tardis-like space. Jen picked her way through to the back, looking around for him, both anticipating and dreading the moment when he caught sight of her and realized what was going on.

‘Ah, there you are.’

She jumped as she heard his voice. He sounded anything other than surprised to see her.

‘Did you find it OK?’

‘I … um … yes.’ What was going on? ‘You sound like you were expecting me.’

Sean smiled. Jen’s heart raced, her stomach flipped, bells rang, choirs sang. She sat down on the nearest chair. An Eames classic, if she wasn’t mistaken.

‘You should never have told me about the way you arranged to meet your husband’s sister. Plus, I’ve spoken to Judy countless times on the phone before, so I recognized her voice straight away. That and the name Lulu DeVille kind
of gave it away.’

Damn Judy. ‘I told her she should have come up with a more realistic name. I’m sorry. You must think I’m ridiculous.’

‘I thought it was kind of funny, actually. And I’m intrigued. To what do I owe this pleasure?’

‘You asked me to tell you what happened, so here I am.’

‘Blimey. I meant send me a text, now and then.’

He was making light of it, but she could tell he wasn’t as calm and cool as he was pretending to be. She couldn’t work out if he was pleased to see her or not, though.
Without the element of
surprise, there hadn’t been an honest reaction she could gauge. She told him the whole story, everything that had happened since she’d seen him last, and he listened without interrupting. And then, Sean being Sean, he asked her questions about exactly how she felt, and they
talked and talked about Jason and what might happen in the future.

‘Nothing,’ Jen said emphatically. ‘I know that now …’

‘God, that lot sound weird,’ he said when she told him about Poppy and Amelia’s about-turn. ‘Sorry, I know they’re your family and all that.’

And Jen, who had never said a word against the Mastersons as a whole, an entity, a corporation, to anyone before, said, ‘I think they are a bit. And for the record, they
were
my family. Now they’re just my children’s
family. Big difference.’

‘For what it’s worth – which is nothing, by the way – I think you’ve done the right thing.’

Later, once he’d closed up for the day, he insisted on cooking her dinner in his surprisingly-modern-on-the-inside but chocolate-boxy-on-the-outside cottage that was a few minutes’ walk from the showroom. She knew she should head for
the station and home, but she liked being around him too much – even when what he wanted to talk about was difficult.

Afterwards, despite her protests that she didn’t want to intrude, he made up the bed in the spare room and she spent the night in there, lying awake for most of the time listening to the foxes out in the back garden and wondering
what was going to happen. She knew what she wanted now. Seeing Sean again had confirmed for her that, more than anything, she wanted them to give it a go. She wanted a relationship that was based on more than compatibility, more than the fact that
it was right on paper. One where they could be a couple first, and sod everyone else. But why he would want to be saddled with a pregnant woman, with baggage as heavy as her ever expanding belly, she had no idea.

She waited, hopeful that he might creep into her room, overcome with the desire to cement their relationship. Thought about creeping into his.

Neither of them did.

In the morning, he made her breakfast, dropped her off at the train station on his way to the showroom, saw her on to a train, hugged her goodbye and planted a kiss in her hair.

‘Thanks for coming. Really,’ he said. ‘I mean, you could have bought something, but anyway … There is a recession on, after all, and everyone’s meant to be supporting small businesses.’

Jen laughed. ‘When I can afford two thousand pounds for a couple of old decanters in a wooden box, I’ll let you know.’

‘I think you’ll find that’s called a tantalus, and it’s a very good investment. It stops the hired help drinking your best whiskey. It’d save you a fortune in booze.’

‘I like my servants drunk. It adds to the air of decadence.’

‘Ha! Remind me to come to yours for dinner.’

‘Any time you like,’ she said, suddenly serious.

‘I’ll call you,’ he said. ‘Or you call me. One of us will call the other.’

‘Definitely.’ She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. ‘One of us will definitely call the other.’

Jen still loved Christmas, only this year she had missed most of the build-up. Betty had been born on 9th August, a week and a half early, and her life had been in chaos ever since.

She had forgotten how much work a baby could be. Betty was gorgeous, that went without saying. Tiny – obviously – with a shock of dark curly hair. She had the Masterson big dark eyes, but also a look of Elaine around the nose and mouth – a fact
which made Jen happy.

She and Jason had sold the house in Wimbledon, finally. They had had to let it go at a knockdown price in the end, but Jen had wanted it all tied up before the baby was born. No loose ends. Simone and Emily, fired up by the prospect of a little
brother or sister (who was she kidding? No one ever even suggested it might be a boy) had come home on three successive weekends and helped her pack everything up, ready for the move.

The girls had taken everything that had happened in their stride. Jen thought that after the shock of Jason moving out, and Charles turning out to be the oldest swinger in town, they were prepared for anything. Although there had been a brief
hairy moment, when Emily had thought Jen might be pregnant by a new boyfriend, and had turned into Mary Whitehouse in a split second, lecturing her about waiting and contraception.
Once Jen had managed to set the record straight, Emily had been all
for it, assuming, as both girls did, that nothing would stop a reconciliation between their parents now.

The moment she had had to tell them they were mistaken had not been so easy.

She had wanted to put her family back together but, she realized now, it was never going to be possible to go back and rewrite history, however much you wanted to. Too much had happened. Too much had changed. But that didn’t mean you
couldn’t change with it. Families came in all shapes and sizes. It was all about figuring out who you couldn’t live without, and finding a way to make it work.

She and Jason could still be great parents, just not living in the same house. Plenty of other people did it.

Once Jason had realized she was serious, there were no histrionics; he hadn’t tried to persuade her to change her mind. They had fallen into planning the practicalities – selling the house, using the money to buy two small places, close
enough to each other but not too close, in an area that suited both their needs. She didn’t know if he just didn’t care enough, or if he thought she would come round eventually, but she was grateful, either way. She had never doubted that he would help support her and Betty. She
just didn’t want to be married to him any more. And once she went back to work she was sure he and his family would be there to help with childcare too.

She had seen them all occasionally since Betty’s birth. At the christening, for a start. She had invited Judy and Neil (and Mrs Neil, who turned out to be called Sara and to be very nice and normal, and not a smart-arse at all) to
beef up her side. They were polite enough with each other – friendly, but no more. Jessie was still struggling to acknowledge Jen’s existence as anything more than a vague and not too well-liked acquaintance, but she was being a good auntie to
Betty, which was all Jen really cared about. Charles, ever the polite gentleman, was always courteous and pleasant whenever she saw him. Funnily enough, neither he nor Amelia called her sweetheart any more.

They were still a clan. A unit, a clique, a gang. A cult. Ben had apparently been admitted to the ranks, and Jen was glad for Poppy. When she heard they were planning their wedding, she waited for the feelings of loss and bereavement that would
arise from her being excluded from the process, but they didn’t come. She wished the two of them well, that was all.

This year’s Christmas Day couldn’t be any more different from last year’s. Last year, she had gone through the motions for Simone and Emily’s sakes, sobbing into the gravy when she thought neither of her daughters was
looking.

This year, they were in High Wycombe attempting to assemble a round table that threatened to take over the whole of Elaine’s front room. Jen had had to bribe Simone and Emily to be there, to miss the traditional Masterson big day. They owed
it to their grandmother on their mother’s side, she had said. There had been too many years when they had all put their heads in the sand and decided to ignore the fact that she would have been spending Christmas Day alone. To be fair, now they were here, the
girls were at least giving the impression of having a great time. They would spend Boxing Day with their other family, taking baby Betty with them.

Jen had taken all three of her girls to see Rory the day before. Simone and Emily had looked a bit bored, as they always did when they were asked to visit this slightly smelly old man who was, apparently, their grandfather. They were getting used
to him. Betty was at her chubby best, smiling toothlessly at him as he smiled almost toothlessly back. He had bought Jen a bottle of Burberry perfume, from the market – clearly knock-off and undoubtedly not going to smell of anything except water after the first spray, but it was the thought
that counted. He gave Simone and Emily vouchers for iTunes, which Jen had bought and paid for. He had got a bottle of wine in and some mince pies. He was spending Christmas Day, he told them with a wink, with Jean from next door.

She smiled as she looked at the faces around the table – her mother, her three daughters. This was her family. They were all she needed. Almost. She knew that at about four o’clock the doorbell would ring and Sean would be there, fresh
from lunch with his brother and sister-in-law, probably laden down with sweet and thoughtful gifts for them all. It wasn’t the first time he’d met them, but he would be on his best behaviour, she knew, still nervous about saying the wrong thing, still not quite at home enough
around them to relax.

It hadn’t happened quickly. Sean had been wary, understandably. Not only did he want to make sure that, this time, Jen really knew what she wanted, but he had the
whole idea of having a child in
his life – and one that wasn’t his, at that – to contend with. In fact, they were still a work in progress, but so far it was definitely so good. And at least she always knew where she was, how he felt. They had no secrets from each other, that was one of their rules. To be honest, she
found all the talking a little exhausting sometimes. She liked the idea of it in principle, but in practice it could get a bit wearing, airing their feelings and their grievances all the time. As faults went, it wasn’t a bad one, though. And if Sean had been too perfect she would never
have relaxed, she would have been looking around all the time, waiting for his fatal flaw to rise up and grab her.

One day, maybe, they would talk about the next step. About how to bridge their two worlds. There was no rush. Jen was in no hurry. He was there, and she thought – she was pretty sure – she loved him and he loved her. The rest could wait.