Chapter 11
JESS
If I’d considered myself utterly miserable and indecisive about my life the previous morning, it was nothing compared to how I was feeling the one following both Blane Higson’s terrible accident and the removal of Dean from my bed, my house and my life.
Unfortunately, the throwing out of Dean from the latter three necessarily meant his removal from most of Lola’s life once more.
‘Where’s Dad? Has he gone to work already?’ Lola asked while sending Arthur skittering across the kitchen floor after a rubber ball.
‘He’s not here,’ I ventured.
‘Well, I can see that.’ Lola glanced round, looking for Dean’s things – his golf clubs, his gym bags, his leather jacket, his blue-striped pint mug and his Daily Mail – before turning back to me. ‘Well?’ she asked, her voice accusing. ‘What have you done with him this time?’
‘Excuse me, do you mind not speaking to me in that tone of voice.’ Lola’s anger, directed at me for being the cause of her father’s eviction, on top of everything else, was just too much for me to take.
‘What have you done to make him leave again? He was happy to be back. He even brought us a dog to make up for me never having had a brother or sister. We were going to be a happy family again. Like other people are all part of one big happy family.’ Lola gave me such a look, part of me wanted to laugh.
Only a tiny part of me. The rest of me wanted to howl with the unfairness of it all.
Wanted to tell this daughter of mine the truth behind her father’s philandering, his other women, his selfishness and arrogance.
‘Now, you’re being dramatic, Lola,’ I started to say, but Lola was standing, pushing back her chair.
‘I don’t blame him for going,’ Lola said, brushing angry tears away. ‘You’re always so miserable, always flipping cooking or baking…’
‘What’s wrong with cooking and baking?’ I asked in surprise.
‘…and then eating all those puddings you make. Then complaining when you feel fat. You never want to go out anywhere. When was the last time you bought a new dress?’
‘Dresses are expensive,’ I said, trying to remain calm. I didn’t feel a bit like laughing now.
‘And they’re for mums who come to watch their children’s class assembly when they’ve got the main part in it.’
‘I’ll get dolled up when I come to watch your assembly next week,’ I soothed. ‘Honest.’
‘It was yesterday,’ Lola hissed.
I stared at Lola. ‘Yesterday? But you didn’t remind me, Lola. Yesterday morning, at breakfast time, you didn’t say, “See you later, Mum, at my assembly – don’t forget.”’
‘You didn’t eat breakfast with Dad and me yesterday.
You were in a world of your own, probably thinking how you could get rid of Dad again, and then you disappeared upstairs for a bath, although why anyone has a bath in the morning when there’s a perfectly good shower.
And Dad came with me, walked down the lane with me to school and stayed for class assembly. ’
I’ll bet he did, I thought bitterly. Point scoring after months, years even, of being in the red where familial ticks were concerned.
‘And why should I have to remind you?’ Lola went on. ‘Everybody else’s mums and dads and little brothers and sisters were there to watch.’
‘Come on, Lola, how often have I missed anything at your school?’
‘Loads,’ Lola said tartly. ‘When you’ve been on shifts at Hudson House and sent Granny instead.’
‘Well, at least I sent her,’ I said, going in for a hug.
Lola batted me off.
‘Look, Lola,’ I finally said. ‘Something really awful happened last night.’
‘Worse than throwing Dad out?’ Lola folded her arms.
‘Yes.’
‘I don’t see what can possibly be worse. I’m the offspring of a dysfunctional family.’
Where’d my eleven-year-old picked up that little turn of phrase?
‘Do you remember Blane? Blane Higson?’ I asked gently. ‘He stayed here for a couple of nights when his mum was very poorly and Aunty Robyn found him sleeping in the girls’ toilets at St Mede’s?’
‘Oh, you were always fostering someone. There was always some other strange kid in the spare room.’
I stared. ‘You sound as if you resented it, Lola.’
‘Well, Dad did. He told me so the other day.’
‘Your dad did?’ I snorted unbecomingly. ‘Your dad was hardly ever at home when I was on call to take children in on an emergency basis.’
‘No, I know, I know.’ Lola glared. ‘He’d gone because you were more interested in looking after the kids of drug addicts and broken homes than looking after him. Granny says…’
‘Granny? What does Granny say?’ I felt myself bristle.
‘Granny Pat, not Granny!’ Lola tutted.
It said a lot that my own mother had always been there, helping when she could, and yet Dean’s mum, Pat Butterworth, had rarely been around unless it was to roll up empty handed at Christmas and Easter, sitting with her dog’s bum’s pursed mouth, expecting everyone to attend to her every need.
‘Granny Pat says you’ve never been a proper wife to Dad…’
‘Right, enough. That’s enough! You’re too young to understand.’
‘Well, when Dad gets another new flat again, I’m going to live with him,’ Lola said.
‘Well.’ I came straight back at her, fed up now. ‘Good luck with that one, Lola.’ I relented, not wanting to send Lola off with a cross word. Without a goodbye kiss. ‘Come on, sweetie, I’ll walk down to school with you.’
‘I’m perfectly able to walk down the lane by myself, thank you very much.’
It was only when Lola had pulled on her coat and banged the door behind her, I realised my daughter had gone off without breakfast – something she’d never done before. And I’d not finished telling her what had happened to Blane Higson.
* * *
I’d assumed I’d need a lift down to the town’s police station to find out what was happening to the van, and was surprised when they rang to say they’d return Vera themselves. She was no longer needed for questioning, but they’d be calling round in the next few days to talk to me. Great stuff!
‘Jess!’ Fabian was exiting his own car at Hudson House as I pulled up in my allotted spot a little later. He came straight over, waiting until I’d cut the engine and moved round to let Arthur out of the van. ‘You OK?’
‘OK?’
‘After last night. What a bloody awful thing to happen to you.’
‘Worse for poor Blane,’ I said.
‘Well, yes.’ Fabian’s tone was doubtful. ‘But, I mean, Robyn told me about Dean as well. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.’
‘It died years ago,’ I said. ‘I let him back for Lola’s sake.’
‘I get that. But you know we’re all here for you. So, glad I’ve caught you. Kamran and I want your opinion on the layout of the new kitchens.’
‘You’re at the interior stage already?’ I stared.
‘We’re well beyond that,’ Fabian said impatiently.
‘I knew you hadn’t been keeping up to date with us.
I did ask Robyn to remind you. Told her to tell you we needed your input.
Mind you, she’s enough on her plate at the moment…
So, the kitchen people are actually starting to fit the units today.
And, another thing, will you get it out of your head that it’s “you…”’
‘Sorry?’ I stared again. ‘What’s me?’
‘It’s “we”, not “you”.’ Fabian smiled now, all impatience gone, reaching to pat my arm. ‘Me, you and Kamran: that’s “we”,’ Fabian said, bending to stroke Arthur. ‘Don’t know what you’re going to do with this dog once we’re running a restaurant.’
Running a restaurant? Panic surged once more. ‘The thing is, Fabian…’
‘The thing is, Jess,’ Fabian interrupted, ‘for some daft reason you’ve lost your nerve.’
‘Don’t think I ever had it to begin with,’ I said, attempting a smile.
‘I know, I know, I’m feeling just as full of trepidation myself.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’ Fabian smiled again but this time it was somewhat rueful. ‘I’ve given up my career, a well-paid job, to jump in with two left feet into something I know little about. Right, we need to crack on. The dog? Where’s he going?’
‘This minute?’
‘Yes! Jess, come on, we’ve a lot to do.’
‘OK, OK, I’m just going to tell Bex she’s in charge all morning and drop Arthur off at his new job.’
‘Jess, you need to let Bex know that she’s been promoted and got your job.’
‘Oh, but…’
‘Cut the cord, Jess. Let it go. Kamran’s interviewed her and she’s more than able to step into your shoes. You just have to take them off and give them to her.’
* * *
I spent what must have been a good three hours up in the newly renovated building with Fabian, Kamran and Tristan, the architect Kamran had drafted in to alter what had been the huge two-storey outbuilding into what was going to be The White House restaurant.
‘So, what d’you think, Jess?’ Kamran followed me out as I started to make my way down the overgrown gardens and back to Hudson House to pick up Arthur. ‘You feeling any better about it all now?’
‘I think so,’ I ventured. ‘I’m just terrified of letting you all down.’
‘You won’t.’ Kamran patted my arm. ‘Look, how about if you’re in charge of desserts to begin with?
I know they’re your thing. And that would probably mean you can work mainly the day shift creating desserts that can be served at lunchtime as well as the evening.
I know you’re concerned about who’s going to be looking after Lola when you’re here until midnight. ’
‘Oh, really? Honestly?’ I suddenly felt a great weight lift from me. I was going to be allowed to see Lola off to school, drop Arthur off at Hudson House and then spend the whole day just baking and creating fabulous puddings. ‘Are you sure? What does Fabian think about that?’
‘Fabian’s idea.’
‘Really?’
‘Jess, he wants you on board. You know that.’
‘Really?’ I said for a third time, feeling a delicious anticipation working its way through every bit of me.
Kamran laughed. ‘Right, how about you come up with ideas for puddings, put them down on paper, give us some idea of costings per unit etc, etc?’