‘But they’re not even built yet! I’ve been past there in the car – they’ve only got two finished.’
‘I know. She’s down for the next house but two – it should be ready to move into by spring, they reckon. In time for the wedding.’
And if I don’t get Chris out of Kian’s party-time clutches, there might not even be a wedding, she thought, dropping her eyes in case her dad’s x-ray vision spotted something was up. Now they weren’t living together, every conversation had to be ‘about’ something; they never seemed to chill out, just talking about nothing any more. More worryingly, he often seemed miles away when she got talking about the wedding, and he’d started on about going back to college to do some management course – and not necessarily in Longhampton, either. It wasn’t that she didn’t
want
him to make plans, but there wasn’t much ‘us’ in them.
If they could move in together, she thought, it would start their life properly. They could start making plans for the future,
together
.
Lauren’s eyes had dropped again and Frank peered underneath them. ‘So . . . ?’
‘We’d need to pay the fee this week to keep her place on the list,’ she blurted out. ‘Then we’d need to have the mortgage all ready to go. We’ve only got eighteen hundred pounds saved up! Chris reckons Irene will loan us the whole deposit, but I don’t want her to pay for it all. She’s talked about getting a mortgage herself, and renting the place out to us, but I don’t really want to do that.’
‘Absolutely not,’ agreed Frank, horrified. Much as he thought Irene was a decent sort, he could hear her tea-party voice in his head, complaining to Lauren about keeping the place clean, interfering with their furniture . . . ‘No, you don’t want to start off with your mother-in-law as your landlord. That’s a terrible idea.’
‘Well, yeah. I want me and Chris to get our own mortgage, you know, and equally.’ Her lip set firm. ‘Right from the start.’
‘How much is this deposit?’ said Frank, but he already knew however much it was, he was going to get Lauren that money.
She looked up and his protective-father instinct kicked in even harder at Lauren’s furrowed brow. ‘About fifteen thousand pounds. I’ve been on the internet all day, working out what we could afford a month, and I think we could just about make it, if I get some overtime, Chris meets his bonuses and we cut back on treats.’
Frank whistled through his teeth. ‘You know how much our house cost?’
‘Eight pounds and a shilling?’
‘Something like that.’
Frank tried to keep his face serious, but inside, he was marvelling at how things turned out. Only that morning, he’d been in the bank, paying in the jar of loose change they kept by the front door, and the cashier had asked him if they had any plans for this savings account they’d have withdrawal access to this week. Eight thousand pounds it came to. Did he want to talk about it with someone?
Now he was retired, Frank’s mornings seemed to comprise a long list of errands, nothing very pressing, so even though Bridget was the one who dealt with the family finances, he’d happily chatted for forty minutes with the new young customer advisor about tax allowances and so on, and left with a print-out of their bank accounts.
Bridget hadn’t mentioned this account before, but Frank reckoned it had to be some ancient policy they’d taken out that had come to fruition on his retirement. He knew she’d set up a separate savings account for Lauren’s wedding; that was the one with a couple of thousand in, and if she knew about this other money, doubtless she’d have pooled it with the wedding budget. But surely this was more important, Lauren set up in her own little house?
They’d miss having her around, he thought, guiding Lauren past Trina and Chloe, arguing as usual about who was going backwards. Lauren made Bridget laugh and seeing her sprawled out in front of the telly, skinny legs ending in thick socks, made them both feel young again, as if they’d slipped back to when Lauren was a teenager. But deep down, Frank had got used to having his Bridget back to himself, and his house quiet of an evening, and the fridge full, and the phone bill under fifty quid a month. The way property was going up and up in Longhampton, Chris might end up moving into Lauren’s old room too, after the wedding. You read all those horror stories in the Sunday papers about children moving back in and staying until they were thirty . . .
Life begins at sixty, wasn’t that what all those magazines said these days? Bridget would be retired next year too, and it would be nice to have some time on their own, enjoying themselves – before Lauren had them babysitting.
The decision made itself, really.
‘We’ll lend you the money, love,’ he said. ‘You can pay us back when the house is worth half a million.’
Lauren’s face lit up with relief and happiness. ‘Dad? Really? Oh, that would so cool of you! Thank you! You’re the best dad in the world!’
Frank felt his heart swell with love, as it always did when Lauren looked at him like that. It was reassuring, still, to feel he could do something for his little girl. Maybe the last thing he could do for her, before she was all grown-up and married to Chris. And if he was honest, it was nice to think he wasn’t completely useless, now he was an OAP. Senior citizen. What have you.
To celebrate, they finished off with a set of reverse turns right down the centre of the room, so neat and smart that when they finished, Angelica applauded.
On the other side of Longhampton, Katie put the phone down in Jo’s hall and clicked her Biro shut.
‘Right, the locksmith should be round in an hour to do the locks. They’re all twenty-four-hour these days – makes you wonder what kind of town we’re living in, eh?’
Jo managed a smile.
‘Now, can I make you another pot of tea?’ Katie bustled through into the kitchen and started opening and shutting cupboards.
‘Um, yes, please. Listen, Katie, shouldn’t you be getting back to Ross?’
Katie paused, tea bags in her hand. ‘I think I’m more help to you here. In case Greg comes back?’
‘You have to talk to him,’ said Jo, firmly.
‘Jo, I told you, he doesn’t
want
to.’
The phone rang and they stared at each other.
Jo broke the stare first, and picked it up. ‘Hello?’
‘If it’s Greg, give the phone to me – I’ll give him a piece of my mind,’ hissed Katie.
But from the relief that broke through the tension lines on Jo’s face, it obviously wasn’t Greg. ‘Oh, hello!’ she said, happily, then her eyes darted towards Katie, and turned more watchful. ‘How are you?’ she began, awkwardly, then, before the person on the other end had time to respond, she added, ‘She’s here, yes, do you want a word?’
Katie stepped forward to take the call. It was Ross.
But Jo lifted a hand to stop her coming over, and shook her head. ‘Oh, OK. No, good idea – that’s sensible. I’ll tell her.’ She paused, and her round eyes went bright with tears. ‘That’s kind of you. Thanks. Yes. Right, fine. Fifteen minutes. See you then.’ And she hung up, blinking hard.
‘Ross?’
‘Yes. He’s bringing Molly and Rowan back – finally got them worn out, thank God. We’ve got an early start in the morning, to miss the worst of the traffic, so he suggested your two sleep over here, since we’re taking the people carrier.’ Jo hesitated, as if she wasn’t sure she should say more. ‘And he thought it might help if someone were here – in case Greg came back.’
‘But
I’d
be happy to stay!’ protested Katie. ‘You know that!’ She felt hurt that Jo would prefer Ross’s company over hers, until a new, horrible thought occurred to her. ‘In case Greg came back’ – what did that mean? ‘Jo – Ross didn’t mean that Greg might do . . . he wouldn’t try to hurt you, would he?’
Was this a secret only Ross knew about? If Greg had been violent why hadn’t Jo
told
her? She felt a flicker of anger: it was one thing Ross taking over as Jo’s school-gate sidekick, but this was something she needed to know!
Jo shook her head, bouncing her wild curls. ‘No! No, I don’t think so! Nothing like that, honestly! It’s just . . .’
‘Just what?’
Her lips curled into a half-smile, half-grimace, and she rubbed her forehead wearily with the back of one hand. ‘Look, I know you like Greg. I know Ross
doesn’t
. If Greg comes back tonight, for whatever reason, I just . . . I just want him to
go
. I don’t want him to start negotiating till I’ve got my head round this. I’ve been trying to keep myself together, for the girls, but it’s so much to come to terms with, overnight. I know what he’s like. If you were here, he’d try to persuade you to get involved, and . . . Well. You know.’
Katie pressed her lips together. ‘Jo, I’m on your side. I’m . . .’
‘Greg’s obviously been thinking about this for weeks,’ said Jo, quietly. ‘It all came out a bit too easily. Like it was some business decision? I think he expected me to roll over and take it.’ She sank her elbows onto the table, and snorted. ‘He said babies made my brain soft. Like childcare’s the
easy
option. He wouldn’t last half a day. If I wanted to leave Greg I wouldn’t get one full minute to think about it, much less plan my announcement.’
This is going to change everything, thought Katie, unhappiness seeping through her whole body. I’m going to lose Jo as a friend now, because she’s going to side with Ross and even though I hate Greg for hurting her, I can totally see how they’ve ended up like that: his frustration, her hoarding of the kids, their lack of conversation about anything other than money or childcare.
‘I’m really sorry,’ she blurted out, and she didn’t need to say what for, because she was just sorry for everything.
Jo let out a long breath through her nose and Katie wondered if she was going to unleash another torrent of relationship therapy.
But she didn’t. ‘Let’s leave it,’ she said. ‘The kids’ll be here soon and I don’t want to be in floods of tears when they arrive. Can we talk about something normal?’
‘Like what?’ asked Katie, miserably. Nothing was normal any more now.
Jo racked her brains. ‘Like . . . you know we should be at ballroom-dancing class tonight?’
She knew as soon as she said it that it was exactly the wrong topic. The artificial glamour, the easy couples’ co-ordination they’d failed to learn, the suspicion that everyone would be discussing their absence . . .
Katie felt as if she’d been slapped in the face, and from Jo’s stricken expression, she clearly felt the same.
‘I’ll make that tea,’ said Katie, instead.
Ross arrived soon after with the children.
‘They’re shattered,’ he said, carrying a grizzly, half-asleep Hannah in over his shoulder, with Rowan asleep in her carry seat. ‘At bloody last.’
Glad of something practical to do, Katie rushed out and unpacked Jack from his car seat while Jo led a grumbling Molly into the house. Jack was snoring breathily, a cotton-soft deadweight in her arms, and she carried him in as if he was the most precious thing in the world. Which he was.
She leaned against the hall wall, while Jo and Ross talked in the kitchen, just pressing her nose against Jack’s silky head, unable to move as waves of love and misery crashed over her at the thought of upsetting her baby’s home, of having to share him over weekends, of having to explain to Hannah what was happening.
It hurt so much that everything went white in front of her eyes and hot tears dropped on to Jack’s hair.
He snuffled in his sleep, aware in some dream of the dampness, and nuzzled further into her neck. Katie’s arms ached with the weight of him, but she welcomed the pain.
What are you doing? What the hell are you doing?
For a second, she wanted to walk into the kitchen and tell Ross she’d made a terrible mistake, that she hadn’t meant what she’d said, but, deep down, she knew it was too late. He’d never be able to forget what she’d said – the pain had been so obvious in his eyes. She’d done it now. She’d set it all in motion and the responsibility of hurting everyone rested on her.
Katie tried to rally. One of us had to make the first move, she told herself. We couldn’t have gone on as we were much longer. And this will pass. Couples separate all the time, and this is the hardest part, but after it’s over, then you’ll know it was the right thing to do. You can’t let the fear of this pain keep you married to a man you don’t love any more. That’s just insane. It’s a waste of both your lives.
In the kitchen, she could hear Ross’s low voice, rising and falling with sympathy, like a woman’s, as Jo’s lighter voice ran on and on, filling him in. He was good at sympathy, at comforting.
But so am I! thought Katie angrily. And I never get the chance to do anything like that any more, because that’s Ross’s thing!
But it was herself she was so furiously disappointed with, and she couldn’t pinpoint why.
Jack wriggled in her arms, balling his tiny fists against some imaginary nightmare, and Katie put one hand over his hot scalp, murmuring soothing noises.
Now you’ve got children, it’s not about you, said a cold, clear voice in her head, and she closed her eyes.
There was a cough.