Chapter 24
‘Lola!’ I made my way upstairs and into Lola’s bedroom, pulling back the curtains and opening the window wide on the most beautiful April morning I reckoned I’d ever seen.
Both my own and Mum’s gardens were alive, vibrant with a spectacular array of blossom in pinks and whites that seemed to have appeared overnight.
Mum, had she been at home, would already have been down there, pulling at a recalcitrant weed, tying back drooping daffs or simply sitting on her garden swing under the magnolia with her first cup of Earl Grey while breathing in the chilly but fragrant air and listening to birdsong.
I looked at my watch: she and Kamran would be already well on their way home having successfully dropped Sorrel off at the Susan Yates School in Camden, late the previous afternoon.
‘Lola,’ I said once more. ‘Come on, sweetie, time to get up.’
‘It’s the holidays.’
‘It’s nine o’clock.’
‘Middle of the night,’ Lola muttered, pulling the duvet over her head. ‘Ruby never gets up before…’
But I wasn’t listening, my attention caught by a movement down below in Mum’s garden.
Joel was on the swing, a pile of books as well as Arthur at his feet, a leaflet of some sort in his hand.
He stood suddenly, unaware that he was being watched, bending first to talk to and stroke the dog before beginning to stretch and move.
He shifted tentatively at first, and then with more confidence, stepping and dancing around the swing, now onto the lawn to which Mum had given a final mowing before she left for good.
The grass was obviously very wet with dew, and I watched as Joel appeared to tut crossly, shaking his trainered feet in annoyance.
Then he simply bent, removed both trainers and socks and went for it, barefoot, singing from the sheet in his hand as he danced while Arthur settled protectively on the trainers.
Joel stopped more than he moved, cross with himself, swearing as he shimmied, jived and boogied across the wet grass, tapping at his phone and earbuds to stop, start and replay over and over again.
‘Wow!’ I opened the window further, eager to capture Joel’s every move as he high-kicked out of sight, reappearing into view by way of a quite mind-boggling jeté across a flower bed, startling Arthur, who gave a short, surprised bark before moving a couple of feet away from the action.
Robyn had always said how brilliant the kid was, but I’d never imagined anything quite like this. ‘Come and look, Lola! Come on!’
‘I’m still asleep. Close the window, it’s cold.’
‘Lola,’ I said, my attention now on my daughter rather than my lodger, ‘I need you up and running. I’ve to be up at The White House in a couple of hours.
You’ve a choice: I can drop you down with Dad at the garage or you come with me and Arthur when I drop him off at Hudson House.
The oldies would love to see you: you could chat to them and play draughts and—’
‘You are joking,’ Lola muttered, her black tousled head rising slightly from the pillow. ‘It’s my holiday. I’m not spending it with a load of wittering old biddies who just want to tell me what they did in the war…’
‘The war? Get your history right, Lola. OK, I’ll drop you off with Dad then. If you ask nicely, he might take you out for pizza once he’s finished.’
‘We’d have to come back here first because he’ll be all smelly and oily. Ruby’s dad wears a suit for work. And what am I supposed to do until this evening if I go down to the garage? What do I do down there all day?’
‘It will be just the afternoon. You can sit in the office at the back of the garage…’
‘Delulu!’
‘Sorry…?’ I stared.
‘Delusional, Mum.’ Lola was obviously proud of her new word.
‘Right.’ Jesus, I hadn’t got Sorrel back on the straight and narrow to have to start again with Lola. At the age of eleven, for heaven’s sake. ‘You’ll be able to do some of your SATS work. You’ve not even looked at those revision books I bought you.’
‘As I said, delulu.’ Lola’s head now appeared fully from the depths of the duvet. ‘I could go to Ruby’s.’
‘No, you couldn’t. I’m not prepared to palm you off on other people. Especially people I don’t know. Using them as free childminding.’
‘You do know them! And I’m not a child.’
I actually laughed out loud at that. ‘What are you then?’
‘A tween actually,’ Lola said. ‘Ruby says—’
‘Right, I’m going to make breakfast for Joel. Poached eggs? D’you want some? And then a shower to make myself look the part for this professional opening company.’
Even a couple of weeks ago, Lola would have been interested in what I was up to, would have helped me decide what to wear, helped me to put the finishing touches to my showcasing puds; helped me into Vera with them. Surely eleven years old was too young for this moodiness?
I made my way downstairs, calling through the open kitchen door to Joel, who was now seated on the swing, repeating lines over and over again to himself. He made his way inside once he saw me at the door.
‘Breakfast?’
‘Please,’ he said.
‘Joel, you must make yourself at home,’ I said, heading to the fridge for eggs. ‘This is your home for the time being, you know.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Look, I know it’s not easy. I just don’t want you to feel like a guest.’
‘I don’t like to help myself to coffee or make myself some toast. You know…’
‘Well, if you don’t, you’re going to starve.
’ I laughed, patting his arm. ‘I’m more than happy to make breakfast for you if I’m here, and I’ll always make a meal for you every evening to eat with Lola and me.
But honestly, Joel, the fridge and pantry are at your disposal.
This won’t work if you feel awkward. And you’ve your own key – just don’t be coming in after ten at night, playing loud music. ’
‘Thank you.’
‘And stop saying thank you!’ I smiled across at him.
‘Actually, I saw there’s a bike in the carport. Is that your husband’s?’
‘Dean’s? Yes, it is. He bought it a couple of years ago when he was thinking of training for a triathlon.
It’s a good one, I think – knowing Dean, he’d have to be seen out on the best. Now he plays golf instead, it doesn’t quite fit in with the image he’s trying to portray these days.
’ I paused. ‘Don’t suppose it’s easy cycling with golf clubs on your back. ’
We both smiled at the picture.
‘D’you want to use it?’ I asked.
‘Could I?’ Joel’s face lit up. ‘It would save Robyn having to come out here to give me a lift to school every day, or you dropping me off. And I do want to go in, you know – don’t want to be under your feet all day.’
‘Well, check it out – make sure it’s roadworthy – and yes, I don’t see why you can’t use it. Is the helmet with the bike?’
Joel nodded.
‘All yours then. Sorry about the fluorescent DB in luminous yellow Dean thought fit to have monogrammed on the mudguard.’ I laughed. ‘Daft bugger, I always used to reckon it stood for… Anyway, up to you to pump up the tyres, etcetera. OK, eggs? Two slices of toast?’
* * *
By midday, I was ready for the off. Knowing I had to take Lola down to her dad’s garage in Beddingfield village, I called for her once more to get a move on.
Joel had left half an hour earlier on an experimental ride along the country lanes beyond the cottages before returning to say all was well with both bike and rider and, if that was OK with me, he was going to cycle into school to do some revision.
‘You look nice, Jess,’ he’d said as he fastened himself back into Dean’s helmet. ‘I thought for a minute it was Robyn who’d come round. You look different…’ He trailed off.
‘Amazing what a bit of make-up can do,’ I said, slightly embarrassed.
I was looking good, I knew. My hair was newly washed and, for once, doing just what I wanted it to, and I’d shoehorned myself into a pair of white jeans I’d long since relegated to the back of the wardrobe.
Actually, no shoehorning involved: the jeans had slid neatly over my bum without me having to lie on the floor, sucking everything in while I held my breath.
I’d even tucked my best white T-shirt into the jeans’ red belt rather than leaving it to hang outside in my usual attempt to hide what was beneath.
Mum’s lovely scarlet – and much coveted – jacket she’d left on the hook behind the door weeks ago went on at a pinch – Mum really was petite compared to me – and I was good to go.
Nervous as hell of course, but more than ready to hear what the so-called opening company that Kamran had insisted on bringing in were going to be saying.
Lola’s eyes narrowed slightly as she gave Joel a dismissive glance before heading for the van. ‘That’s Granny’s best jacket. It’s far too small for you. And that’s not Dad’s best bike and helmet you’re letting that boy have, is it?’ she asked as she fastened her seatbelt.
‘Absolutely not,’ I lied as I put Vera into gear and set off. ‘Absolutely not.’
* * *
‘You look fabulous, Jess.’ Fabian smiled down at me, leading me to the bank of huge, recently installed fridges where he helped me offload my five ready-to-be-tasted and discussed puddings. ‘My starters are in there too,’ he added nervously.
‘Tell you what,’ I whispered, ‘you say you like mine and I’ll say I like yours.
You know, like you do at infant school when you’re showing your best friend your painting.
’ We smiled conspiratorially at each other before Kamran appeared at the door, beckoning us to join the others already seated in what was now the dining area on the second floor of The White House.