Chapter 19
I’d spent a restless night going over and over the dreadful words Lola had heard me shouting once I’d finally lost my temper with Pat Butterworth. What sort of mother did that make me in Lola’s eyes? I’d have given anything for my daughter not to have heard the truth.
As well, I’d spent sleepless hours arguing with myself as to whether I’d been bloody stupid allowing Joel to move in with Lola and me.
Dean next door I could cope with. Well, I thought I could.
Surely better to have someone in Mum’s cottage that I knew than someone who had a whole load of kids shouting their heads off in the garden or some single person determined to party every Saturday night?
And if Lola was going to make a habit of flouncing off to be with her dad as she had yesterday after her coming in on the awful showdown with her granny, then better surely to flounce off next door than three miles down the road to Pat’s place.
I’d been up since six, bottoming the kitchen from the party detritus of the day before, sanitising work surfaces ready to start experimenting with more of The White House puddings.
I glanced at Arthur, who was waiting patiently at the kitchen door.
‘Sorry, darling, I promise I’ll take you for a walk this afternoon.
’ I moved to let him out into the garden.
Mum was moving the rest of her things out this morning.
Moving out.
Going.
Leaving us.
I felt as though my security blanket was being yanked away from me after thirty years of my mum always being there. Well, about time I grew up, for heaven’s sake. Telling myself this didn’t make the reality any better, and I felt a solid lump of something cold where my heart usually sat.
I moved to the window, switching on the kettle as I went.
A Frozen van was parked on the drive. A couple of lackeys, more used to delivering frozen foodstuffs to local and national supermarkets, were carrying boxes and other paraphernalia from the cottage.
I leaned my face against the glass, watching as Mum’s dressing table and that lovely little chair she loved so much were swallowed up through the open maw of the van.
But apart from that – oh, there went the hatstand Mum had salvaged from a car boot sale, lovingly stripping and refurbishing the piece and giving it pride of place in her tiny hallway – she appeared to be taking little furniture of her own with her.
Where was Kamran going to put that hatstand then?
Plenty of space up at the manor house, I conceded as I continued to watch some of my past life leach from the next cottage.
But that seemed to be it. Once Mum’s gardening paraphernalia was safely in the van, the two Frozen men leaned against it, reaching for phones and vapes. Mum appeared then, locking her own door and, giving it only a last cursory glance, headed to the van to talk to the men.
No coffee for them? Not like Mum. I was just about to head out to offer refreshments when Mum turned and made her way through the adjoining gate to my own cottage.
‘Right, darling, I’m off,’ she said as she came through the kitchen door.
‘Where’s Sorrel? Is she still in bed?’ I asked.
‘No, no, she came back with me and Kamran last night.’
‘Oh? Just like that? Without saying goodbye? Without saying goodbye to me?’ I felt the pain intensify. No backward glance from Sorrel at her childhood home to which she would quite probably now never return.
‘She said goodbye to you last night.’
‘No, but this is a final goodbye.’
‘No, it’s not.’ Mum’s tone was gentle. ‘We’re going to have a lovely farewell brunch up at Kamran’s place in the morning before we set off for London.’
‘Yesterday was a farewell lunch for Sorrel.’ I felt slightly mutinous that Kamran Sattar appeared to have hijacked not only my mum and little sister, but the final goodbye as well.
‘And really fabulous it was too. And appreciated by everyone.’
‘Not sure about Pat Butterworth.’ I sniffed.
‘The woman is a monster. A hanger-on that you can now discard completely.’
‘Suppose.’
‘So, Dean’s going to move his stuff over in the next couple of days.’
‘I believe so.’ I knew I sounded like a bolshy teen, and I tried to smile.
‘Jess, Jess,’ Mum soothed. ‘You’ve agreed to it. You’re doing me a favour having Dean in my cottage. He’ll look after it for me.’
‘You think you might come back then. One day?’
‘Who knows?’ Mum gave a little smile. ‘I haven’t lived with an unpredictable man for the last thirty-five years to appreciate things can go belly up.’
‘You’re not saying Kamran…?’
‘No, Jess, I’m not saying Kamran is anything like Jayden. But one must learn to stand on one’s own feet. And be prepared for anything.’
‘You mean I should?’
‘I mean everyone should.’
‘Don’t think Robyn needs to be prepared for anything with Fabian,’ I said.
‘No, she’s got a good one there.’ Mum paused. ‘He loves Robyn very much, Jess.’
‘Of course he does.’ I nodded. ‘Obvious to anyone who sees those two together.’
‘There’ll be someone, just around the corner, waiting for you.’ Mum smiled again.
‘Well, I wish he’d get a damned move on. Whoever he is.’ I laughed out loud at the very idea.
‘OK.’ Mum was now brisk. ‘I’ve left strict instructions for Dean about the central heating, the washing machine etcetera.
The infernal thing only works with one slap and two kicks to rev it into action.
’ She frowned. ‘Oh, and keep an eye on him when he’s in the garden with my lawnmower.
I’ve had to leave it behind so he can mow the lawn.
It needs oiling every now and again and—’
‘Mum, you won’t need it again.’
‘No, but my garden here will.’ She grinned. ‘I actually went out on Kamran’s quad yesterday. It’s a huge area of lawn…’
‘Thought he’d have gardeners up there to see to all that.’
‘Well, yes, he has, but I need a patch to call totally my own.’ Mum waved her car keys in my direction. ‘Right, I’m off. We’ll see you and Lola up at Kamran’s in the morning. About tennish? We’re setting off at lunchtime.’
‘Sorrel OK?’
‘She is now that you’ve agreed to have Joel. Thank you, darling.’
‘Jess the pushover.’
‘Stop it!’ Mum moved in for a hug, but I could tell she was eager to be off. ‘Joel’s a nice kid.’
‘Not what you said back in January, Mum.’
‘We all make mistakes. I truly believe Joel was pulled into something he didn’t know how to deal with. Or how to get out of.’
‘We’ll see. The second I see anyone hiding in my leylandii, waiting for their next fix from Joel, he’s out.
Right, Mum, see you tomorrow.’ I almost pushed her towards the door and immediately headed for the stairs, not wanting to see her actually finally leave.
‘I’ve Joel’s room to sort. It’s full of Lola’s toys at the moment.
I suppose they can all go to the charity shop now that Lola’s suddenly morphed into a teen. ’
* * *
I spent the next hour cleaning the tiny spare room, finding clean sheets and emptying the little bookshelf of Lola’s things.
Joel would need somewhere to study, but there wasn’t room to swing the proverbial cat never mind shoehorn in a desk and chair.
I stood from searching under the bed for wayward pieces of Lego, comics and dolls’ clothes, thinking.
There was no reason why Joel shouldn’t have the box room next door to study in.
If Dean complained, tough. He was in no position to call the shots.
I’d no idea what rent he and Mum had agreed on but, knowing her, it wouldn’t be the going rate.
Hearing a noise downstairs, I made my way back down to find Dean helping himself to coffee and sampling a piece of the first of the five puddings I was intent on getting just right for The White House.
‘Oi, d’you mind?’ I took the still-warm baking tray from him. ‘Where’s Lola?’
‘I’ve dropped her off at Ruby’s…’
‘Ruby’s? Ruby who?’ I stared at Dean.
‘Big eff-off house down Queen’s Gardens.’
‘I don’t know anything about a friend called Ruby. Someone she’s at school with?’
‘Presumably.’ Dean turned back to his plate.
‘Presumably? Dean, she’s eleven years old.’
‘I know, I know, and well within her rights to be dropped off to go and play with a mate from school.’
‘Rights? Eleven-year-olds don’t have rights! Who are these people? What’s the phone number?’
‘No idea.’ For a split second, Dean looked shamefaced but then shook his head, his mouth full of pudding. ‘She’ll be fine. Her dad said he’d bring her back later.’
‘Later? Later when? And who is this dad? Was there a mum there?’ I felt anger mount. What was the matter with the pillock that he couldn’t do a simple thing like know who was looking after his daughter? My daughter!
‘Does it matter?’ Dean said huffily. ‘You mums don’t have priority over us dads, you know.’
‘Oh, I think you’ll find we do when we don’t know who the sodding dad is! He could be some paedophile kid molester.’
‘What, when he lives on Queen’s Gardens, has a Porsche and a Bentley in the drive and a kid of his own?’
‘I don’t think paedophiles have a monopoly on childlessness and driving Fiestas…’
Dean frowned. ‘I don’t think they mentioned playing Monopoly…’
‘What?!’
‘Jess, it’s a decent gaff down there. Not as if I’d dropped her off on the council estate down in Little Micklethwaite.’
I felt my temper rising. ‘What time did he say he was going to bring her back?’
‘Well, he didn’t. The kid came to the door and said something to our Lola and then our Lola shouted back to me that the kid’s dad would drop her off back at home.’
‘Well, this is a great start to shared custody. Don’t you ever dare do this again. When you take Lola anywhere, you know where she is, who she’s with and you have a phone number.’
‘Right, is that the key to your mum’s place? I’ll go and unpack my things. If that’s all right with you? You know, without leaving my phone number?’