Chapter 4
4
JOE
‘Roger and I are going to need to borrow some money from you, Joe.’
Joe never minded lending people money, but he’d been here far too often in the past with his mother. Her knack of spending was on another scale to anyone else and he suspected it was the reason Roger had run out of funds. But how could he refuse? Despite their differences and her insisting everything was done her way, regardless of Joe’s feelings, she was still his mother and he loved her.
‘Can I ask if it’s to rent a place of your own?’ he asked, hoping Faye was ready to move on.
She laughed. ‘Don’t be silly. Why would we waste money on another property when we’re all perfectly happy here? No, I’ve decided we’re going to help you redecorate our room.’
Their room? Joe took a mouthful of his croissant and chewed before swallowing, determined to remain calm. ‘Why?’
‘Darling, you must admit the decor is terribly old-fashioned. Tired, even. It’s depressing to wake up to the bland walls.’ She turned to Roger. ‘Isn’t it?’
‘It is,’ he agreed.
Joe knew his mother wouldn’t want to spend too much time in the house looking the way it did and had half-hoped it might encourage her to find a job and move on to a modern flat, or somewhere that suited her better. He noticed how awkward Roger seemed about the suggestion and knew his mother had told him how to react.
Joe groaned inwardly. ‘So, you’re planning on staying for a while then?’ He had no idea why he was even asking the question when it was perfectly clear that if his mother was going to the effort of decorating the room, in her mind she had already taken over his home.
She beamed at him, causing Joe to feel guilty. ‘Yes. I thought you’d be happy having me living back on the island again.’
He wasn’t sure why she would think this way. The pair of them had always struggled to live together with him finally leaving France when his ex had been unfaithful to him and his mother had questioned why he couldn’t move past something trivial like Aurélie sleeping with his boss at the station where he then worked.
She hadn’t explained why she and Roger had left France, and Joe wondered if now was a good time to discover more about their reasons for moving back to Jersey after she had seemed so happy living in France all these years.
‘You know I’m happy to see you,’ he assured her. ‘Although I had presumed you might find your own place. In fact, I still don’t know why you’re both here, or why you came with so little stuff.’
She gave him a soulful glare. ‘You’re making me feel very unwelcome, Joe.’
‘Sorry, I don’t mean to,’ he said guiltily. ‘I just don’t understand what’s happened. Something must have done, for you to leave your home, and I can’t help wondering what it could be.’ Joe finished his coffee and sat back in his chair, waiting for Faye to speak.
His mother glanced at Roger then shrugged. ‘It was my fault really,’ she said. ‘I persuaded poor Roger to invest in my business when it began struggling last year.’
‘Your clothes shop,’ Joe recalled, having only visited the place once on his last trip to see her.
‘I loved that place,’ she said miserably, her eyes filling with tears. ‘And it still went under.’ She reached out and took Roger’s hand in hers. ‘He lost his entire life savings,’ she said, pouting at her husband. ‘And mine into the bargain.’
Joe’s heart ached for her. She had always insisted she and his father divorced because he was mean-spirited and selfish. Maybe he was being unfair. She couldn’t help how she was.
Joe stood and walked around the table to give her a hug. ‘I’m so sorry, Mum. I know how much you loved that place.’
He thought back to how he had tried to persuade her that maybe a boutique selling high-end fashion in a small out-of-the-way village probably wasn’t the most ideal business plan, but she had refused to listen, insisting that a firefighter with little fashion sense couldn’t possibly be qualified to give business advice about selling women’s clothes.
‘Thank you, darling. I promise I won’t waste a penny this time.’
Returning to his seat, Joe picked up his plate and cup. ‘Where are the rest of your things then?’
‘They’re in a storage unit at a friend’s farm,’ Roger replied. ‘They said we can leave our furniture and the rest of our clothes with them for as long as we need to.’
That was something, Joe mused. He considered his mother’s request to redecorate the bedroom they were staying in, aware that once she got going she would expect to redecorate the entire house. He hadn’t thought to redecorate yet, wanting to keep anything that kept his grandfather alive for him, but the style was dated. How could he ruin another day for his mother by refusing to let them redecorate? He couldn’t be that mean, although, he thought, he did need to catch up on some sleep.
‘I need to go to bed for a few hours,’ Joe said. ‘Why don’t you both go and buy whatever paint or wallpaper you need while I do that. Then I’ll help you start the prep work on the room. How does that sound?’
It was his mother’s turn to come to him. ‘You are the best son in the world,’ she said, flinging her arms around his back and hugging him. ‘I knew you’d understand.’
Joe kissed the top of her head and left them to eat the remainder of their breakfast. As he showered and dried himself, he decided that he needed to rethink his living arrangements. Clearly his mother and Roger weren’t going anywhere, and as much as Joe loved his mother he knew from experience that the two of them got along better when they weren’t under each other’s feet.
He transferred some money into her account, then yawned and closed his eyes again, relieved to give in to sleep.
* * *
He woke a couple of hours later to the sound of another argument. Groaning, Joe rubbed his eyes and sat up. He leant against the pink headboard and sighed.
‘If you didn’t want to return to live in England again, you should have said so,’ Faye yelled from the room next door. ‘Nobody forced you to come with me.’
‘This isn’t England though, is it?’ Roger retaliated. ‘This is a small island and I don’t know a soul.’
‘You know me. You know Joe, too.’
‘It’s not the same, Faye,’ he shouted, sounding frustrated at her lack of understanding. ‘And you know it.’
‘Not again,’ Joe grumbled, glancing at the clock. He might not need too much sleep but he needed more than three and a half hours if he was to be alert enough for his shift later that night. He realised they had gone quiet and, feeling hopeful that the pair of them were about to make up, slid back down on his bed and closed his eyes.
A door slammed and woke Joe with a start. He peered at the clock, relieved to see he had enjoyed another three hours’ sleep. He closed his eyes and hoped his mother and Roger might have gone out and left him alone in the house.
‘Roger!’ Faye shouted. ‘Why haven’t you brought in both pots of paint from the car?’
They must have gone out to a hardware store while he slept. No wonder he hadn’t been woken earlier. He decided he may as well get up because clearly there would be little reason for him to stay in bed now, not if Roger and his mother were about to start decorating.
He heard them bickering again in the bedroom, this time about her spending most of the money Joe had given them for the decorating on a pair of red leather shoes.
‘Why shouldn’t I treat myself occasionally?’ he heard Faye snap.
Irritated to hear that it had taken no time at all before his mother spent the money he had sent her on something frivolous, Joe listened as their quibbling continued.
‘But you do treat yourself, Faye,’ Roger snapped. ‘And often. It’s why we’re living in this tiny bungalow with your thirty-year-old son as our landlord.’
‘How can he be our landlord when we’re not paying him anything?’
Joe sighed as he got out of bed and wondered as he showered whether his mother had married Roger because she felt guilty about spending his savings, or maybe they did love each other and just didn’t get along all that well. Whichever reason was behind their marriage, it was a tumultuous relationship and not one he could live with for much longer.
He shampooed his hair and tried to figure out what to do about his living arrangements. He was unable to come up with anything useful. Maybe he needed another coffee to help wake him up a bit. The thought of coffee reminded him of bumping into Brodie that morning and then what Brodie had told him. Lettie needed to step back from running the farm.
He could move in and help her out, while resolving his own living situation, at least for the time being.
He picked up his phone and, deciding to meet up with her to discuss the matter further, gave Brodie a call.