CHAPTER 37
‘But I thought we were pulling her leg about an OAP romance. Not wild, no-strings-attached … um …’ Even Kath was having trouble getting to grips with the concept.
Rob, looking down at the lawn, mumbled something about: ‘Isn’t it dangerous for older people to carry on like that?’
‘It is,’ Kath said. ‘Heard about it on the radio. They’re more likely to get STDs, apparently. They don’t have to worry about pregnancies, see. No condoms.’
‘Kaaath!’ Rob whined and pulled the collar of his rugby shirt up round his ears.
The three of them sat, each in their own way trying not to think about that, as small plastic figures rained down into the flowerbed next to them. Hattie, in paper hat, was making them walk the plank up in her tree house.
‘Would you like a drink?’ Kath suddenly asked Rob. ‘I’ll drive.’
‘Do I look like I need one?’
‘You do.’
‘Come on,’ Tom said, getting up, ‘it feels like a whisky moment. Fetch you anything, Kath?’
‘Just a mind-wipe,’ she said, watching a miniature Dr Who come to rest in the lobelia.
In the kitchen, Tom poured them two large measures. Rob had drunk his down before Tom had even lifted the glass to his lips. He didn’t know if it was the strength of the whisky that was making Rob screw up his face or the thought of Joan and the rev.
‘You should be pleased about Mum,’ he said, unable to resist making a point, ‘you’re always trying to pair people up.’
‘Yeah, very funny.’ Rob held his glass out for a top-up. ‘You not having another?’
‘No … I was trying to lose some weight.’
Rob looked down at his own large stomach. ‘Aye, heard Hattie say she’d been helping you do some sit-ups.’
Tom laughed. ‘She just perches on my feet.’
‘And you’ve been going jogging? You thinking of re-starting your rugby career?’
No, I was thinking that a leaner, fitter version of me would make a difference to a twenty-four-year old. Sad old sap
.
Rob’s whisky glass was drained again and Tom said, blandly, ‘Just feel I’m getting a bit stodgy round the middle.
And I need to keep my fitness levels up, Hats runs rings round me some days.’
‘Do I?’ she said behind him, making them both jump. ‘And can I have some of that drink?’
‘Yes to the first question and no to the second.’ Tom put the bottle back in the only cupboard left that had a fully working child-safety catch. The way his brother watched him do it, he feared it should have a Rob-proof catch too.
‘I’m bored with the plank game,’ Hattie said, adjusting her hat. ‘Could we do a sea battle? You be the Spanish Fleet, me the English?’
Kath sat it out as Queen Elizabeth I, and by the time Hattie was climbing back down the ladder to her to be knighted, he and Rob were knackered and ‘imprisoned’ in the tree house.
They were planning their escape when there was the noise of a car pulling into the drive. Tom guessed it would be their mother; she obviously had superhuman powers. How else had she spotted him in the hotel when she had her back to him? Now her mega-sensitive hearing must have tuned into him passing on her sex confession.
But it was Fran he heard talking. He was out of the tree house and down several rungs of the ladder before he remembered he was meant to be acting cool.
He climbed back up the ladder.
‘Thought I’d better get down there quickly, Kath and Fran haven’t met before.’
‘Good idea,’ Rob said, ‘just in case she’s being extra weird.’
Fran looked happier than the last time he had seen her, although when she wasn’t talking, the grave expression dominated her features.
He didn’t care. He loved that grave expression.
‘Ah, I see you’re being knighted, Hattie,’ she was saying as Tom arrived beside her. ‘Was it for particularly brave fighting on the high seas?’ She held out a hand to Kath. ‘Hello, I’m Fran. You must be Kath.’
Kath gave Hattie a quick tap on first one shoulder and then the other before extending her free hand to Fran. ‘I am,’ she said. ‘So, you’re the woman who made Tom stab himself.’
Fran’s smile died. ‘It sounds awful when you say it like that …’
‘No. Tom’s always been ham-fisted. It was only a matter of time.’
Rob arrived breathless, as if he’d sprinted down the ladder.
‘Hello again,’ Fran said to him.
Kath frowned. ‘You two met before? You didn’t mention it, Rob.’
Tom knew enough about his brother to see he had no idea what he was going to say next. Tom was having trouble thinking of anything himself that didn’t involve the words ‘cemetery’ and ‘meltdown’.
‘Oh, it was just a quick hello, goodbye in the market square, when I was talking to Tom,’ Fran said cheerily, ‘and I’m instantly forgettable. I’m not surprised Rob didn’t mention it.’ Fran gave Rob a big smile and turned her attention to Kath.
Well, look at that – tact and diplomacy
.
Tom wished he could reach out and pull her in to him. And then he remembered someone else had that privilege.
‘It’s really lovely to meet you at last, Kath,’ Fran said. ‘Hattie was telling me so much about you when I put her to bed.’
‘
You
were putting her to bed?’ Rob’s gaze went from Fran to Tom and settled on Kath.
‘Oh yes. I kept Natalie company, didn’t I, Hattie? It was Natalie’s idea – I was getting a bit stir-crazy at home, what with my car being out of action. But I suspect Tom told you all about that.’
‘He hasn’t told us a thing.’ Kath’s delivery was slow as if she was considering something.
‘No? Well, Tom came to the rescue. The second time he’s helped me out really. The first time was with Greg Vasey
… Although, strictly speaking, I’d already rescued myself with the Striking Cobra with Half Twist. Oh—’ Fran stopped abruptly.
Tom could see Fran wanted to apologise for mentioning Vasey, but if she did, that would have revealed that she knew more about Rob than she could possibly have found out during a quick hello and goodbye in the market place.
Hattie, unwittingly, dug her out of the hole by pulling on Fran’s sleeve. ‘Did I tell you that I defeated a whole Spanish fleet?’ she said. ‘I put everyone to the sword. Except for two Spaniards who I spared because they fought really well.’
‘And because one of them gives you your pocket money,’ Tom added.
Fran’s laugh felt like a hand trailing over his skin. He was beginning not to care that his soppy smile in response to it would be picked up by Kath.
‘Oh! I’ve left them in the car,’ Fran suddenly said and went out at the side gate.
Her departure allowed Rob to say, ‘What in hell’s name is a Striking Cobra with Half Twist?’
‘No idea, but it laid Vasey on his back on her carpet. He’s the estate agent letting out Fran’s cottage.’
He waited. Kath was looking at the side gate. ‘And she works for you, doesn’t she?’
‘Kind of,’ he said, not wishing to go into the Mawson situation.
‘Hmmm,’ Kath replied and then said nothing more. Her silence was worrying.
Fran came back, carrying a plate of scones covered in cling film. They actually looked like scones.
‘I brought you these as a “thank you”. Such a kind thing to do, Tom. And … I think we’ve cracked scones.’ She tilted the plate. ‘See, they even have a seam.’
‘We?’ Rob asked.
Tom knew he was rumbled.
‘Tom’s mother and I,’ Fran explained. ‘Well, she’s your mother too, of course. Tom asked her if she could find time to help me get to grips with some recipes. She came round this afternoon.’
‘I’ll bet she did,’ Rob said.
Kath was all wide-eyed innocence. ‘That
was
kind of you, Tom. Very neighbourly.’
He tried to ignore them both and watched Hattie. She was touching the cling film with a finger. ‘They look nicer than last time. Do they taste better as well?’
Tom tried to apologise, but Fran simply laughed. ‘Who am I to take offence at someone saying just what they think?’ She handed over the plate. ‘Do with them what you will, Hattie.’
‘I thought I’d eat some of them.’
Another laugh from Fran. ‘So literal. Marvellous.’
Kath put her hand on Hattie’s back and started to steer her in the direction of the house. ‘Come on,’ she called back to Rob, ‘let’s see if we can find some jam.’
If Rob’s head had been facing in the right direction, he would have seen the meaningful look he was getting from his wife.
‘Rob!’ Kath repeated, sharply. It was as if she’d shouted, ‘Heel!’ Soon Hattie was being bundled into the house.
‘You’re very lucky,’ Fran said. ‘A family.’
She didn’t put an adjective in there – no ‘lovely’ or ‘friendly’ – and at some level he filed that away.
He agreed that he was lucky.
They could be a lot more bloody subtle, though
.
She looked apologetic. ‘I’m really sorry about mentioning Vasey.’
‘I think you got away with it. Besides, you didn’t mention the cemetery, that’s the main thing.’
She beamed at that and he decided he wasn’t really bothered about talking any more, he would have been happy just standing with her in his garden on a summer’s evening. Happier lying naked with her, obviously, but if this was all he could have, it felt great. A kind of bitter-sweet great, with the knowledge that Jamie was waiting in the wings.
‘Your mother has a great deal of patience,’ Fran said.
‘She needed it, with Rob and me as sons.’
‘Oh, I’m sure neither of you was much trouble. I was trouble from the moment I was conceived.’
He felt he’d lost her and he didn’t know what to say, but seconds later, she jollied up again.
‘Nice to see the hat is getting used.’
‘I dread the day when anything happens to it. She’ll be distraught.’
‘No need for that. I’ll simply make another.’
‘So you’re not thinking of leaving?’
The way she glanced at him made him suspect he’d blurted that out, but she went on to say, earnestly, ‘No. I still have a tiny bit of hope left that Mrs Mawson will start to feel less threatened by me.’
‘Threatened?’
‘Yes.’ She looked as if she really wanted him to understand her. ‘She’s lashing out because she’s scared that I might take something from her. But if I don’t make waves, surely it’s only a matter of time before she understands—’
‘I wouldn’t bank on it. They’re hard people, Fran. I didn’t get anywhere with them yesterday. And, I’m sorry to tell you this, but when I mentioned you, the atmosphere, well, it didn’t improve.’
‘You mentioned me?’
‘Of course. I don’t appreciate being kept in the dark about what’s going on. And as you won’t tell me anything …’ He smiled at her so that she would know he wasn’t blaming her. ‘I had to talk to Mrs Mawson.’
Her hand was suddenly on his arm. ‘Tom, don’t get yourself into trouble over this. You have a career and a family to think of.’ She looked towards the back door.
Tom was really, really glad his family was taking so long to find that jam. He wondered which of the windows Rob and Kath were peering out of. Whichever it was, they wouldn’t be able to see how Fran’s hand on his arm was affecting him. He was sinking into the warmth of her, his body trying to reach out for hers even though he was standing still.
‘Please promise me you won’t ask her about me again,’ she said, and her eyes were so imploring that he couldn’t help staring into them. ‘Promise, Tom,’ she insisted.
‘I promise.’ Emboldened by the stillness between them that followed, he wondered whether the world would fall on his head if he just kissed her.
And then the look was broken. She broke it and he remembered the day in the office when she had not looked away at all. It felt as if she was stepping back and made him remember the bitter part of this sweet interlude.
‘Maybe,’ he said, ‘the Mawsons are just afraid that you’ll take Jamie away from them.’
She frowned and her hand went from his arm. ‘There’s no reason I’d do—’
‘I saw you, Fran,’ he said, gently. ‘On the stairs, last Friday. You and Jamie.’ It felt like scratching at an old hurt.
He looked at her lips and wished he knew what they felt like against his. After what he’d just said, he guessed he’d never find out – he’d portrayed himself as peeping Tom, spying on her.
Which is why he didn’t expect the way her hand came back to his arm. ‘Jamie and I have become close, I won’t deny that,’ she said. ‘I won’t deny I rewrote his copy too, although you’ve been too kind to mention that. But Mrs Mawson has nothing to fear from me on the Jamie front. At. All.’ There was the slightest pressure from her hand. ‘In fact, nobody has anything to fear from me regarding Jamie.’
She was back holding his gaze and he wanted to wallow in her eyes and believe what she’d just said. The more he kept looking at her, the more he felt drunk with the intimacy of it. The way she was smiling, the curve of her cheek, the contrast between the colour of her hair and her tanned skin. He couldn’t see the small scars on her hands or that lump on her finger, but he wanted to know what they felt like under his mouth.
Two people standing in a garden with the birds still singing.
He was afraid that if he spoke he was going to break this moment, but it seemed to him that the signs he had been looking for were really there this time. He glanced towards the house.
‘Fran,’ he said, ‘I’m going to take a chance here—’
‘Can I just stop you, Tom?’ she said quickly, letting her hand drop again, and he did stop because he was confused by her being so very upbeat and reasonable. He had no sense that she was going to kick him into the kerb. In fact, she was leaning closer.
‘The thing is, Tom, I’ve found that being successful with something isn’t just a matter of determination. Timing is crucial too. It’s essential not to rush the moment for all kinds of reasons …’ She lifted her arm and swept it through an arc. ‘For example, because very soon scones will appear with jam on them. Or the people standing in a garden listening to the birds have had a very rough week indeed, and it’s still only Tuesday. Or even – and this will sound like complete gibberish to you, Tom, because one of the people standing in the garden is in shadow.’