Chapter 4
Beth spent the afternoon indulging in a series of what-if scenarios featuring the stranger from the road. All of which led to a happily ever after in one form or another. It was a brilliant distraction from the alarming fact that she was standing on the roof of her house.
‘I do wish you hadn’t followed me up here, Mrs Hope,’ said Owen, the roofing contractor. ‘It’s not safe.’
The look of horror on his face would have been comical if the circumstances hadn’t been so serious. George Botley in the village hardware shop had recommended him as cheap and reliable, but Beth had not expected him to be quite so elderly. If one of us is a liability up a ladder, it isn’t me.
She shuffled away from the edge. ‘I need to see how all that rain is getting into my kitchen without coming through upstairs first. It makes no sense.’
Owen pointed a shaky finger. ‘There. That’s how. Rain goes in through there, drops down the wall cavity between the old bit of the house and the new, until it hits the lintel above the kitchen door. It pools there and soaks through the plaster. Simple.’
Beth stared at where the thatched roof of the original eighteenth-century farmhouse met the slate section over the extension at the back. A wide strip of lead covered the deep gully between the two pitches. It was in a shocking state. ‘That’s pretty bad, isn’t it?’
He pulled a face. ‘I’ve seen worse.’
‘Really?’
‘Well… no. Not really. Not on a house someone’s still living in.’ There was a pregnant pause. ‘You do realise that’s a supporting wall down there, don’t you?’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning you need to dry it out. And quick. The only way to do that is to fix this roof, otherwise…’
Beth didn’t want to hear what the otherwise option was. ‘How much to fix it?’
He sucked his teeth. ‘Don’t reckon you’ll get much change from ten grand, depending on what else crops up. Never can tell for sure with these old buildings.’
‘Ten thousand?’
‘I can do you a temporary patch for a couple of hundred. A bit of felt and some strong sealant. It might hold for a few months, if you’re lucky.’
‘I’m never lucky,’ muttered Beth, unable to tear her eyes away from the cracks in her home as she mentally rummaged through her finances. Since Paul had left, with Grace being so young, she’d been unable to work and look after the family at the same time, other than picking up the odd freelance online admin job. To make ends meet, she’d been selling off small parcels of the Merrill shares she’d inherited from her grandfather. Gramps had been so fond of that big old department store, but he’d never have dreamed what a lifeline his investment would be for her. The only problem was the shares weren’t going to last forever and she was running out of money. But Grace was at preschool now. I could look for a proper job locally to make up the shortfall.
‘Ten thousand max, you say?’
He shrugged. ‘If we get onto it soon, yes. But if you wait… well…’
She turned and headed back down the ladder. ‘I’ll see what I can sort out and get back to you.’
*
That evening, after school pick-up, half of Beth’s mind wondered if her Wolverine had made it to Brockenhurst. The other half locked the car door, grabbed Grace’s little hand in hers and hurried after Jack and Daisy as they stomped across the gravel towards the house.
‘Don’t walk away from me, Jack,’ she said. ‘I’ve just gone three rounds with the head to stop her expelling you. What were you thinking?’
Jack pulled his hoodie up over short, spiky blond hair, stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared at the ground in sullen silence. Beth unlocked the front door and stood back to allow the children to go ahead. Her gaze fell on the bare wisteria branches clinging to the red-brick exterior wall. During the summer months, a pretty waterfall of purple and white flowers hid the poor state of the pointing.
‘Why punch Aled? I thought he was your friend.’
Excited barking announced the arrival of Paddy, racing from his bed in the kitchen faster than should have been possible on arthritic canine hips. The terrier skipped around Jack’s feet as if the boy had been gone for a month.
‘You must have had a reason. Did he say something?’
Jack made a fuss of the dog. ‘Drop it, will you?’
‘No. Tell me.’
‘Alright.’ Jack shoved his hood back and rounded on her. ‘He called Dad a loser. I said he wasn’t. Then he said the forest was a big place to hide a body and that maybe Dad isn’t coming back because he can’t.’
Beth went cold. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Don’t be thick. He’s saying you’ve done him in. So, I thumped him. Happy now?’
‘You defended me?’
‘In your dreams. I was defending Dad.’
‘Of course,’ Beth whispered.
‘Whatever.’ Jack kicked his shoes off, dumped his school bag on the floor and clomped through to the kitchen.
Beth picked the post up from the mat. A seed catalogue, bills, a bank statement and a postcard, the back covered in familiar, spiky, capital-lettered, black ink. Oh great! She’d forgotten about that.
‘Is that from Dad?’ Daisy reached over and snatched the postcard from Beth’s hand and waved it at Grace in triumph. The two girls scampered ahead of Beth into the kitchen, narrowly avoiding tipping over the bucket of water beneath the leak from the night before. ‘Maybe this’ll tell us when he’s coming home, Grace. It’s been ages since the last one came.’ Pulling out one of the mismatched collection of chairs that huddled around the central table, Daisy sat and lifted Grace onto her lap. ‘Let’s see what he says.’
Beth yawned, pushed the kettle onto the Aga hotplate, grabbed a mug from the cupboard and dug right to the back of the shelf to find a battered box of decaf teabags.
Rose appeared in the doorway, hair straighteners in her hand, long dark ringlets swinging around her shoulders. ‘Ethan called. He can’t give me a lift to work tonight, so I need the car, yeah?’ Without waiting for Beth to reply, she left the room.
Daisy gave an outraged yelp. ‘Dad’s had his contract extended again.’ She cast an accusatory glance at Beth. ‘Did you know about this?’
‘How could I?’
Daisy scowled. ‘He’d have been home months ago if certain people weren’t so difficult to live with.’
‘Or maybe,’ muttered Jack, ‘he heard about the mega tantrum you threw when you found out he’d gone. Anyone with a brain can see why he wouldn’t want to come back.’
Daisy’s mouth dropped open for a second before snapping closed. ‘Shut up, Jack.’ She sniffed and returned her attention to the card. ‘Listen, Grace, this bit is for you. He says he hopes you’re enjoying preschool.’ Daisy hugged her sister. ‘You are, aren’t you?’
Grace grinned from ear to ear.
‘And he wants you to make sure Paddy’s behaving.’
Grace giggled.
Beth shuddered at the memory of how distressed Daisy had been when she’d realised Paul was gone. The fridge door slamming behind her brought her back to attention just in time to see that Jack had liberated a plate of cold roast chicken.
‘Not that.’ Beth pulled the plate from his hand. ‘That’s for supper.’
Jack scowled. ‘But I’m hungry.’
‘You’re always hungry. Here, have this.’ Returning the chicken to the fridge, she passed him a bowl of leftover pasta. ‘Grate cheese over the top and micro… oh, okay, you can eat it cold, too. That works.’ Beth frowned, watching Jack shovel huge mouthfuls into his face, barely chewing before swallowing and then ramming in the next forkful. ‘You did eat the packed lunch I made you, didn’t you?’
‘Yup.’ He set the empty bowl aside and started rummaging in cupboards. ‘Ate Benji’s, too.’
‘Did he say you could?’
‘Yup.’
Beth nudged him away from the shelf of cereal boxes. ‘Leave those. You’ll want them for breakfast. Look, sit down and let me make you a sandwich.’
‘Nah. Bread’s fine.’ He grabbed a slice of bread from the breadbin, folded it into four and posted it into his mouth in one go. Then, he pulled out four more slices.
Beth produced a plate.
Jack ignored it.
‘Did you want to see Dad’s card, Jack?’ asked Daisy.
‘Meh.’ Jack swallowed and shook his head. ‘If you ask me, there’s something hinky about those. How come he doesn’t ever call us?’
Beth held her breath.
‘Don’t be horrid, Jack,’ replied Daisy. ‘Where he is… it’s like… I dunno… it’s, like, well remote.’
‘It’s well remote here,’ muttered Jack.
‘No way. It’s way worse there than the New Forest. And there’s the time difference, too.’
He raised a sardonic eyebrow. ‘Is there?’
‘Yes. Abroad is always a different time. What he is doing is like Doctors Without Borders but for lawyers. He’s a hero.’ Daisy looked at Beth demanding confirmation. ‘Tell him, Beth.’
Beth hesitated. Jack pinned her with a steady stare.
‘Dad’s a hero, isn’t he?’ Daisy’s lips pressed into a grim line.
‘Your dad is very special. Now, come on. I need to make supper. And Jack needs to leave me enough food to do it with.’ She waved both hands. ‘Shoo, all of you. Go do homework or something.’
Jack pulled headphones from his pocket, grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and left, Paddy trotting at his heels.
Daisy rolled her eyes. ‘Boys! Come on, Grace, let’s go watch telly.’
‘Yeah. Boys. Boys are yucky.’ Grace tucked a cuddly unicorn under her arm and followed her big sister from the room. ‘Not Daddy, though. Daddy’s not yucky.’
Beth chopped onions, mushrooms and a pepper and added them to a wok on the Aga.
Rose came back, coat and handbag over one arm, and rummaged around on the Welsh dresser. ‘I’m off,’ she said, pouncing on the car keys. ‘Justin’s got me in the main bar tonight. Quiz night at the Crashing Boar – lucky, lucky me. It’s all go in Ambleford.’ She turned to breeze serenely from the room, but tripped over the bucket lurking in the doorway instead. Water slopped everywhere. ‘Oh, for fu—’
Beth snatched a bath towel from the dirty laundry basket dumped by the door and chucked it over the spreading puddle. ‘I’ll do it. Go to work. You’ll be late.’
The front door slammed. The sizzle and smell of sautéing vegetables filled the room as Beth mopped spilt water. Her mind drifted to her Wolverine and, somehow, she felt less alone. Even though she was never going to see him again. Which was a good thing, because that way he could stay perfect. She’d never have to learn that – like all men – he had feet of clay. She examined the damp patch of plaster over the doorway. Dark and menacing, it loomed like a vulture waiting for its next meal to hurry up and die. She hugged the thought of her Wolverine close. What was it he’d said?
Just keep doing what you can and eventually things sort themselves out.
Dashing away an exhausted tear, she grabbed her laptop. She could arrange to sell that last bundle of shares. And first thing tomorrow, she’d look for a job.