Authors: Katie Fforde
The next morning, Sian managed to persuade Rory to eat Marmite soldiers. At first he’d been too excited for breakfast but Sian had been firm. He couldn’t go to the play scheme on an empty stomach. She had only been able to sip a cup of tea; she seemed much more nervous than her son.
As they walked up the lane, Rory chatted excitedly, swinging her arm and striding purposefully, his little backpack perched on his back. This was a very good sign, thought Sian. He liked Emily, who had helped tutor him when Sian had taken him out of school, but the last time he’d been around a group of children he’d hated it. But that was at a big ugly institution in London, Sian reminded herself. As he asked her about the other children – he knew Annabelle now, of course – she also realised with a pang of guilt just how much he must have been missing the company of children his age.
They had walked to the nursery the day before so that Rory had an idea where he’d be going and how far it was from the cottage – and his mother. Although the building itself was somewhat utilitarian it was in a lovely setting, a safe distance from the main road and with plenty of space for the children to run around in.
Much to Rory’s pleasure and surprise, there was a young man helping out with the older children. Rory was delighted to see Emily and after saying hello to her and throwing a cursory glance at his mother, he rushed to join the other children. Emily raised an eyebrow at Sian as if to say, ‘What did I tell you, there was nothing to worry about,’ and Sian smiled. This was all a great relief to her. She needed reliable childcare where Rory was really happy so she could work. She would only get paid for the few commissions she had outstanding when she could deliver them. She loved the fact that she had her own business and was making money from doing something she loved, but it could be precarious. When she wasn’t doing the painting, she had to drum up more work. She hoped Fiona’s friend with the shop would turn out to be a good contact. And at least Rory looked as if he was going to be happy. She said goodbye to Emily and waved at Rory, who was by now busily playing trains with another little boy, while Annabelle directed proceedings.
It was a slightly paint-spattered Sian who went to collect Rory some five hours later. She had had a very productive day. She’d even worked through lunch, so absorbed had she been in a particularly intricate design on a child’s bedroom chair.
She was welcomed by Emily who said that most of the children were outside.
‘It’s so lovely doing this where there’s space for them to play outside,’ she said, leading Sian out into the garden. ‘I’m hoping to get some more equipment for them to clamber over but this is good to start with.’ There was a small paddling pool, a sandpit and a climbing frame.
‘It’s the room to run around that’s the most important thing,’ said Sian. ‘And you’ve got plenty of that.’ Much as Rory enjoyed the garden at the cottage, which was more outside space than he’d been used to in London, she knew this would be heaven for him. It would almost certainly tire him out too. She loved it when he was able to run around and burn off some of his boyish energy.
‘True,’ said Emily, ‘and today we’ve had the weather to enjoy it.’
All the children – and there seemed to be plenty of them – were wearing baseball caps with flaps at the back to keep their necks protected from the sun. The boy helper was playing French cricket with the older children. ‘That’s Philip,’ said Emily. ‘He’s a student. The children love him. I’m trying to persuade him to go into teaching.’
Rory spotted his mother and came flying up to give her a hug and then rushed back into the game.
‘No need to ask if he’s been OK then?’ said Sian, resigning herself to watching the children a little longer.
‘No, he’s been amazing. He’s a sweetie. He adores Philip.’
‘He does like boys, as he calls them. He and my dad get on brilliantly, but older men are different.’
Emily laughed. ‘Maybe you should marry my brother then, and give him a permanent “boy” to look up to.’ She laughed. ‘Only joking.’
Sian gave a rueful smile. She knew Emily was only half joking. Emily would like nothing better than for Richard and Sian to get together properly. She really liked Emily but that wasn’t a good enough reason for her to marry her brother. ‘Well, who knows?’
Sian and Rory were just walking up to the cottage when they saw a car parked outside it.
‘I wonder who that can be?’ said Sian, hoping it wasn’t a visitor. She was wearing her painting clothes and Rory was worn out; he was dragging his feet already, and his manners weren’t reliable when he was tired.
As they reached the front door, the owner of the car spotted them. A vision of Boden loveliness wearing a summer dress and designer sunglasses emerged from the neat little soft-top. She looked leisured and relaxed and had perfectly tanned legs and pretty sandals. ‘I’m Melissa Lewis-Jones,’ she said, putting out a hand which Sian duly shook. ‘Fiona Matcham told me someone had moved in. I thought I’d call, be neighbourly.’
Sian hoped her smile didn’t show how unkeen she was for an elegant visitor. She felt grubbier than ever but she didn’t want to alienate a potential new friend. Sian glanced at Rory, who had gone in through the gate and was waiting at the door to be let in, impatient to get back to his own toy trains.
‘Of course,’ said Sian, unlocking the door and letting Rory in first. ‘You must excuse the mess though. I’ve been painting, as you see.’ Sian didn’t spend precious Rory-free time doing housework as she could do that with him there. She couldn’t remember if the remains of breakfast and lunch were still on the table or had graduated to the kitchen drainer. ‘I’m Sian, by the way. Do come in.’
The Boden-vision didn’t hesitate and came through into Sian’s front room. ‘My God! It’s a bit of a cave, isn’t it? And smells frightfully damp! I’ve always wanted to have a look inside. I didn’t realise it was in such a bad state.’
Sian, who had come to love the room despite the gloom, discovered it was fine for Fiona to say that the house was damp but not for Melissa Double-Barrelled. ‘We’re very comfortable here,’ she said defensively.
‘In summer! But what will it be like in winter? A fridge, that’s what. I gather Luella Halpern was just too mean to get anything done about the house. She could have done it up and sold it for a fortune.’
‘Then I’m glad she didn’t,’ said Sian. Realising her visitor was in no hurry to leave, she decided she’d better play the polite hostess. ‘Would you like something to drink? Glass of water? Juice? It’s dreadfully hot. The cool in here is actually very welcome.’
‘I’ll have some sparkling water if you’ve got some.’
Melissa followed her into the kitchen. ‘This could be wonderful if you took that wall out and made it open plan. Properties like this are still selling – so handy for London.’
‘It’s not on the market.’ Sian put the glass of water down on the table and then poured some juice for Rory before running the tap for her own water. ‘Do sit down.’
‘What’s your name?’ asked Melissa, smiling the smile that indicated someone who didn’t really like children.
‘Rory,’ Rory said matter-of-factly.
‘Well, Rory, do you think you might like to go and play in the garden? I want to talk about boring stuff with your mother.’ She looked at Sian. ‘If that’s all right with Mummy, of course.’
Sian instantly wanted to say that Rory had to stay and have a snack but she also wanted to protect him from boredom and this slightly scary woman. ‘Do you want something to eat, darling? You could take it out if you want?’
‘Babybel please,’ said Rory, looking dubiously at their visitor. He obviously hadn’t warmed to Melissa much either. He was a good little judge of character, thought Sian, and then chided herself. She ought to give Melissa a chance.
Sian found two Babybels and handed them to him. ‘And do you need a drink?’
‘No. I had one at play scheme.’ He snatched the cheeses and ran off into the garden, all signs of his earlier tiredness now gone.
‘It’s much easier to chat without little ears wagging.’ Melissa pulled out a chair and smiled at Sian.
‘Have you got children?’ Sian asked, her thirst slaked but her mood not much improved.
‘Good God no! I’m not saying I wouldn’t have them, but not yet. And not without major support. I want to enjoy myself while I’m young and lovely.’ She laughed, as if to indicate irony, but it didn’t quite work.
Fair enough, thought Sian, taking another chair. She is young and lovely. Although Sian was sure they must be the same age, there was something extra youthful about Melissa. Perhaps it was because she didn’t seem to have many responsibilities in life.
‘So what brings you to these parts?’ asked Melissa, breaking into her thoughts.
Sian had already ticked off most of her reasons for moving here with Fiona and she wasn’t going to repeat them again – not to this particular visitor anyway. Something told her she should be slightly on her guard with Melissa. She decided to stick to what was common knowledge. ‘Well, it’s a lovely part of the world and it’s fairly near London.’ She didn’t add the fact that the rent was cheap.
‘So why do you want to be near London? Do you work there?’
Sian sipped her water, preparing for the interrogation she knew was coming. Much as she’d like Melissa to go she knew she couldn’t be rude. The quicker she answered her questions the quicker the visit would be over. ‘No. I work from home, but my parents live there so I didn’t want to move too far away.’
‘And your partner?’
Sian shook her head. ‘Single parent. No ex-partner, either.’
Melissa’s mascara flashed in amazement. ‘So you just wanted to have a baby? How brave! And how on earth did you select the father? Did you choose brains or looks?’
Sian thought back briefly to the night that, nine months later, had produced Rory and smiled, her sense of humour emerging from behind her resentment at Melissa’s bluntness. ‘I didn’t get pregnant on purpose, but when I found I was, I was quite happy. Once I’d got over the shock.’
‘That is so brave. No way would I have a baby on my own! Think of the work. Let alone the stigma.’ Melissa could obviously think of nothing worse. Sian knew that not everyone would take Sian’s current situation in their stride but even so Melissa’s reaction seemed a little extreme. Perhaps Fiona had been right, people were much more set in their ways in the country.
‘I lived very near my parents and they were very supportive,’ said Sian quietly but firmly. ‘There wasn’t any stigma.’
‘Oh. I didn’t mean to imply anything.’ Melissa had the decency to blush. ‘It’s just that some people are rather old-fashioned. Round here, I mean.’
Like you, you mean, thought Sian. ‘I’ve found people very friendly,’ she said.
‘Oh, Fiona’s OK. A rather eccentric old stick but kindly.’
‘Yes.’ Sian found herself deeply offended on Fiona’s behalf. Being in your mid-fifties – Sian’s mother’s age –did not qualify you as being an ‘old stick’ in her eyes.
‘Some of the others may be a bit off about it though, you being an unmarried mother. Maybe you’d better pretend to be a widow. What happened to the baby’s father? Did he support you?’
As Sian hadn’t told Rory’s father she was pregnant and she had no idea what had happened to him, she sipped some more water to gain time. ‘He disappeared on a trip. I had no way of getting in touch with him so I didn’t tell him. There didn’t seem any point. We hadn’t known each other long.’
She looked directly at her uninvited guest, daring her to comment on the fact that Sian must have gone to bed with him very early on. She had. At the time she hadn’t been able to help herself, but it had been completely out of character for her. If it hadn’t been for Rory, proof that it had happened, she might have thought she’d dreamt the whole incident. A very good dream though.
‘Well, I think you should make the bastard pay!’ Melissa exclaimed.
Slightly taken aback by Melissa’s vehemence, Sian said, ‘Why? I’m very happy to be a mother. I don’t have any hard feelings towards Rory’s dad.’
Melissa shrugged. ‘Oh well. So do you live off the State then?’
There was bluntness and there was rudeness. This was rude. ‘As I said, I work from home. I have a business, painting furniture.’ She didn’t add that she took anything the State offered in the way of support and was glad to have it. It was none of this woman’s business. ‘So what about you?’ Sian said, feeling it was her turn to play the Spanish Inquisition. ‘What do you do?’
‘Oh, bits and pieces of PR, events management, things like that.’
‘You’re not married?’
‘Not yet.’ Melissa gave a little smile, hinting at secrets.
‘Engaged then? Are you planning a big wedding?’
‘I certainly am! But actually I’m single at the moment. I’ve just finished a long-term relationship. He was lovely but far too controlling.’
‘Right.’ Sian deliberately didn’t say anything, not wanting to prolong the conversation. While this girl was amusing as a stereotype, she wasn’t really likeable. Sian couldn’t see them becoming friends any time soon. She thought of Jody and how different the other young woman was. Perhaps a village was like a city in miniature after all, the same mix of people and opinions, it’s just you noticed those you disagreed with much more obviously and it was harder to avoid them in a smaller space. She’d caught enough snatches of
The Archers
whilst her mother was listening to it to see how like being under a microscope living in a village could be. Fiona was the good side, Melissa the bad.
Melissa sat there for a while, possibly waiting for Sian to get the conversation going again. Eventually she got up. ‘I suppose I’d better go. Nice to meet you.’ She paused. ‘I don’t suppose you’d give me a little tour of the house, would you? I’m thinking of buying locally and this might do me very well.’
‘But it’s rented. I live here.’ Sian’s hackles rose once more.
‘I’m sure Luella would listen to a sensible offer from a cash buyer. After all, she lives in Spain now, doesn’t she?’
‘France, actually. And I’m afraid I can’t give you a tour.’ Sian found herself being unusually firm. ‘I’m not fully unpacked yet. The place isn’t fit for visitors and it’s nearly time to feed Rory – he can be very cranky when he’s hungry.’ Sian felt mean using her son as an excuse, but it was nearly his teatime, and she’d do anything to get Melissa out of her hair.