Chapter 24
‘I heard that you had fun and games last night.’
Bill’s voice made Molly jump and she whirled around to find him standing a few feet away, staring into the calm waters of the pond.
‘I thought you didn’t come here?’ she replied.
‘I don’t usually, but I wanted to see where your man nearly drowned.’
‘He’s not my man.’
Bill peered at her with rheumy eyes. ‘You would like him to be.’
Molly sniffed and turned her attention back to the pond. She was trying to spot the death-trap of a trolley, but the water was holding onto its secrets.
Bill delved into his pocket and brought out a foil-wrapped parcel. ‘That’s for Jet. It’s a marrow bone. He’s earned it.’
Molly took it. ‘Er, thanks, but why don’t you give it to him yourself?’
Jet was snuffling around in the bushes, Patch by his side.
‘Patch will be jealous,’ Bill told her solemnly.
‘I see. In that case…’ She slipped it into the pocket of her fleece. ‘What are you doing out so early?’ she asked. It was barely six a.m. Her excuse was that she had been unable to sleep, the events of last night flashing across her mind whenever she’d closed her eyes, so eventually she had got up and had taken Jet out for a walk, unlocking the gates as she did so to save Jack having to do it: he needed all the sleep he could get, after last night. But before she’d left, she had eased his bedroom door open to check that he was still breathing.
Seeing him soundly asleep, she had studied him for a moment, her gaze travelling over his peaceful face, then she’d crept into the dawn, her feet taking her through the field and onto the meadow.
‘I couldn’t sleep,’ Bill said. ‘It’s my own fault. I dropped off in the chair last night, then when I went to bed I was wide awake. I’ll finish my walk and have some breakfast, then go back to bed. Old age don’t come by itself, you know – it buggers up your circadian rhythm.’
Molly suppressed a smile – circadian rhythm, indeed!
‘It looks pretty innocuous, doesn’t it?’ she said as they continued to stare at the water.
Bill was silent for a while, then he said. ‘It’s all over town.’
‘What is?’
‘That your Jack saved a boy from drowning and nearly died himself.’
‘How do you know?’ Surely no one else was around this early in the day?
‘Social media. Sweet Meadow has a group.’
‘What does it say?’ Dread washed over her. ‘Is the boy OK?’
‘Oh, aye, he’s fine. In hot water ’cause he should have been in bed, but other than that he’s as right as rain. There’s a bit of a to-do about the gates being locked, though. People are saying that it would never have happened if they’d been left open. They’re on about complaining to the council. The father of one of the youffs says he’s going to sue.’
Molly was flabbergasted and her heart sank. ‘Oh, no!’
Bill grunted. ‘It would be a crying shame if that happens. It’s about time the council did something about the park and the yobs who hang around here. When I saw your Jack locking up after those little wotsits had made a mess of your flower beds, I felt like cheering.’ Bill tutted. ‘Damned kids. After this, I expect those liver-lily council officials will bend over backwards to keep them open now. Mark my words, the park will soon go to rack and ruin again – and just when you were starting to make a bit of progress, too. It’s criminal, that’s what it is.’
‘I hope Jack won’t get into trouble. I’d better warn him,’ she said. ‘Thanks, Bill.’
Jack was up and dressed when she hurried into the cottage. He was in the kitchen, cradling a cup of tea, and leaning against the worktop, his expression thoughtful.
Jet trotted over to him, and Jack bent to stroke the dog’s ears.
‘How did you sleep?’ she asked.
‘Fine, thanks.’
‘No after-effects?’
‘None whatsoever,’ he assured her. ‘I hope the lad is OK.’
‘He is,’ Molly assured him. ‘I know that Connor said he didn’t want me to phone for an ambulance last night because he was scared of getting into trouble, but it’s all over social media that you saved him from drowning and almost drowned yourself. Sometimes I really dislike people.’
‘Why?’
‘Because they’re saying it would never have happened if the gates had been left open.’
‘The ungrateful little…’ Jack ground to a halt and shook his head.
She could tell he was hurt, and she didn’t blame him. He had risked his life to free that kid, and this was the thanks he got.
‘Exactly! You wait until I see those pair again. I’m going to give them a piece of my mind. And their parents, too,’ she said.
‘It won’t do any good,’ Jack told her. ‘And it might make things worse.’
‘You do realise that the gates will have to be kept open from now on? We can’t risk anything like this happening again.’
‘I know.’
‘Jack…?’ Molly hesitated. ‘Bill seems to think you might get into trouble. He says that the father of one of the boys is talking about suing the council.’
Jack set his mug down slowly. ‘He can’t do that. It’s nothing to do with the council; the gates being locked is down to me.’
Although she hadn’t asked (maybe she should have) and Jack hadn’t mentioned it, Molly had a feeling that he hadn’t been acting in any official capacity, and she felt like crying. It was all her fault. If she hadn’t been so mad, Jack probably wouldn’t have thought about locking the gates.
‘I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault,’ she began, but Jack didn’t let her finish.
‘There’s nothing to be sorry for. I knew I might be exceeding my authority in locking the gates, and even if I wasn’t, I didn’t follow the correct process and procedures, so if anyone is to blame, it’s me.’
Molly slapped her hand on the worktop. ‘No, I refuse to believe that. You were only trying to help. It’s the fault of those kids and everyone else who doesn’t give a damn about the park. I give up. I’m not prepared to waste any more time on it. Why should I care when no one else does?’
‘Reuben does.’ Jack’s tone was flat.
It stopped Molly in her tracks, just as she was about to have a really good rant. ‘Yes, he does,’ she said softly. How sad was that? In the whole of Sweet Meadow there were only four people who truly cared about the park – her, Jack, Bill, and Reuben.
‘I’ve got to go,’ Jack said. ‘Meetings.’
Molly gave him a small smile. ‘See you later,’ she called after him, but he didn’t acknowledge her.
She didn’t blame him. Her insistence and bloody-mindedness regarding the park might well have cost him his job.
Sliding to the floor, she wrapped her arms around Jet, who was delighted to find his owner’s face on the same level as his, and sobbed into his fur.
She couldn’t have made any more of a mess of things if she had tried.
***
Great! Not only was he in love with a woman who was hardly aware of his existence in that regard, Jack also needed to find another place to live sharpish if he wanted any chance of trying to mend his shattered heart. Plus, his job was in jeopardy, he had almost drowned, and now he was at risk of being sued by a chap who was such a brilliant father that he had no idea his kid was out in the middle of the night.
Had he missed anything, he mused sullenly, as he stomped across the council offices’ foyer.
Apparently he had, because when he opened his emails he discovered a message from reception saying a caller wanted to complain about people swimming in the pond in Sweet Meadow Park at night and that it should be fenced off. He felt like screaming. He hadn’t heard from his phantom message-leaver for a while, and he had begun to think the anonymous caller’s complaints had been silenced by all the effort he, Molly, and Reuben were putting in.
Yes, Reuben, too, he admitted, because no matter how much Jack disliked him, he had to admit that the guy was doing a great job.
Oh, and here was Chantelle for good measure, Jack saw when he looked up from the screen.
‘I hear you’ve been making a name for yourself,’ she said, coming into his office, her hips wiggling in her tight pencil skirt.
Jack turned his attention back to his emails and ignored her.
‘Jack, are you listening to me?’
‘Huh?’
‘I said, Hayley Crouch wants to meet with you on Monday. Nine a.m. Am I to assume you’re free?’
Free? Of course he would be free! The woman was the HR Manager, and not only did he not want to antagonise her, but he was also keen to know why she wanted to see him.
‘Er, yes, fine,’ he stuttered. ‘Any idea what it’s about?’
‘No, but you can bring a colleague or your union rep with you, if you wish.’
Crap. That didn’t sound good. His heart dropping to his boots faster than a block of concrete down a well, Jack could take an educated guess. And for Chantelle to come to his office and tell him in person, meant that she probably knew the reason but wasn’t saying.
‘I’ll be there,’ he promised, wondering whether he should ask someone to accompany him. ‘What did you mean about me making a name for myself?’
Chantelle raised her eyebrows. ‘Don’t tell me you haven’t seen it?’ Then she gave a tinkling laugh. ‘Silly me! You don’t do social media, do you?’ She laughed again and tossed her head, flicking her hair over her shoulder.
He realised she was enjoying this.
‘You’ve created quite a stir in Sweet Meadow. Some people think you’re a hero, other people are after your blood.’ She paused. ‘Not yours, the council’s. But you are the department head for Parks and Highways, aren’t you, so I suppose it’s the same thing.’ She turned on her heel. ‘Don’t be late for your meeting on Monday,’ she said, as a parting shot, leaving him in no doubt what the meeting was about.
Feeling sick, he waited a sufficient length of time to ensure she had left, then went in search of Pete.
‘I’ve got a meeting with Hayley Crouch on Monday,’ he said, walking into his colleague’s office.
Pete looked up from his mobile. ‘Is it about this?’ He held it up so Jack could see the screen.
Jack dropped into a chair, leant forward and peered at it. ‘Shit.’ There was a whole thread on there about the gates being locked.
‘Shit, indeed. You didn’t do this through the proper channels, did you?’ Pete’s expression was sympathetic.
Jack pulled a face.
Pete said, ‘Maybe you could argue that you locked the gates because the pond isn’t safe. It has already been scheduled to be filled in, so at least the higher-ups will be happy that you are being proactive, rather than reactive. And I’ll guess they’ll shoot it to the top of their to-do list if that father starts making waves.’
‘Hmm, I suppose.’ Jack wasn’t convinced he could get away with using that argument, but he could try.
‘Look on the bright side,’ Pete added. ‘The kid didn’t die.’
‘There is that.’
‘And neither did you, so that’s a bonus.’
‘Is it?’
‘It’ll blow over.’ Pete appeared confident.
‘But will I have a job at the end of it? This might be the excuse HR needs to get rid of me. It might save them having to make somebody redundant if they go ahead with their plans to amalgamate a couple of departments. I’ve played straight into their hands.’ He buried his head in his palms and said, ‘Chantelle couldn’t wait to tell me.’
‘That’s typical of her. Did she say that’s what the meeting is about?’
‘Not in so many words, but she dropped enough hints.’
‘I’m sorry, mate.’
‘Yeah, well. I should have known better.’ Jack lifted his head. ‘I did know better, but I saw red. If I’d have left it until the next day, I would have calmed down and gone about it properly. I’d have cited something along the lines of, “gates locked between the hours of eight a.m. and six p.m. for health and safety reasons”. Hell, I probably wouldn’t have even gone that far. Those damn people don’t deserve to have a park, so if they don’t care about it, why should I?’
‘Because you live smack bang in the middle of it, and you care about Molly.’ When Jack glared at him, Pete held his hands up in mock surrender. ‘Just saying.’
‘Well don’t.’ Jack got to his feet as his mobile rang, and when he saw who was calling him, he thought he might cry. His mum never phoned him in the middle of the day because she knew he would be at work, and fear shot through him.
‘Mum! What’s wrong?’ he could hear the panic in his voice and he took a deep breath to steady himself.
‘You tell me, Jack Henry Feathers,’ she said.
‘Pardon?’
‘You heard. You’re all over the internet.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I’ve been a member of the Sweet Meadow group since it started. Just because I don’t live there anymore, doesn’t mean I don’t keep abreast of what’s going on.’
Jack returned to his office and closed the door, not wanting anyone to realise he was having a telling off from his mother, and he collapsed into his chair and groaned.
‘What did you say?’ His mum might be in full flow, but she had hearing a bat would be proud of.
‘Nothing.’
‘Good, because you listen to me, my lovely boy – I’m so proud of you I could burst. You didn’t have to dive into that ruddy pond to save that boy, but you did. Not everyone would risk their life for someone else. But if I ever hear of you doing anything like that again, you’ll have me to answer to. Are you listening?’
‘Yes, Mum.’
‘Don’t you “yes, Mum” me. You’re not too old that I can’t put you over my knee.’
‘You can’t do that anymore.’
‘Can you not?’ Her voice dropped an octave as she growled, ‘Watch me.’
‘Sorry, Mum.’
‘So you should be. Now, get off my phone, I’ve got a shop to run.’
Jack opened his mouth to say she had phoned him, not the other way around, when the line went dead.
But when it immediately buzzed with an incoming message from her, he had to smile when he read it, and muttered, ‘Love you, too, Mum… love you, too.’
***
Molly spent most of the day worrying, so by the time she arrived home from work she was in a right old stew.
Not normally a fretter, she found that she couldn’t keep her mind on her job. And it didn’t help that Astrid kept giving her updates – even though Molly had actually asked her to.
It seemed there were two camps: those who argued that the parents should have kept a closer eye on their children and were now calling them out on their parenting skills; and those who blamed the council for locking the gates in the first place and forcing kids to climb over the fence. It was a wonder no one had been impaled, someone had commented, blindly ignoring the fact that those teenagers shouldn’t have been climbing over any fences in the first place.
Astrid, bless her, was furious on Molly’s behalf. ‘He’d sing a different tune if one of those little sods had climbed over his fence and was gallivanting about in his garden. Stupid man! He’ll be one of those idiots who is on the side of a burglar when he injures himself breaking into a house and blames the homeowner.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Some people! Huh!’
By the time Friday afternoon drew to a close, Molly was relieved to leave the office and head home. She was desperate to hear what sort of day Jack had had, and prayed he wasn’t in any trouble. But when she entered the park (she had decided to leave her car in the street and not risk opening the gates in case anyone challenged her) she was surprised to find the drive empty, which was unusual because Jack normally finished early on a Friday.
However, there was a woman standing on the step, her hands cupped around her face as she tried to peer in through the coloured glass decorating the front door. A slim woman with longish blond hair, who would no doubt be wearing a face full of immaculate makeup.
Chantelle.
Great – that was all she needed!