Chapter Ten
Jo stood in the kitchen of the creative writing studio and watched James pour freshly brewed coffee.
It was early and his class wasn’t due to arrive until the clock in the courtyard struck ten.
She wanted to have a word, for James looked tired when he’d arrived that morning and Jo wondered if all was well.
‘Let’s sit by the fire for a moment or two,’ Jo said and led James to a sofa. She opened the stove and threw a log onto the embers.
As they sat back and sipped their drinks Jo thought about Helen, James’ ex-wife.
Jo had known her for years and remembered her flamboyance.
She was a colourful sight when they came into the restaurant at Kirkton House for family celebrations, always dressed in elaborate creations, inspired by her art, with her adoring husband in tow alongside their sons, who hung off their mother’s every word.
‘Is everything all right?’ Jo tentatively asked. ‘You seemed distant today when you passed me in reception.’
‘Sorry, Jo,’ James said, ‘I had a very late night.’
Jo wondered if Helen was creating problems again and remembered how James had been devastated when she left. It had been the talk of Marland for many months as James was seen to bury his pain and forge a new life as a single parent.
‘How are the boys?’
‘Tom is working in London and Jack beginning his final year at university in Leeds.’
‘Do they still visit Helen in France?’
‘Yes, when they can,’ James said and stared at the fire, lost in his own thoughts.
Each year the boys had spent part of their summer holidays with Helen and her new partner in France.
But despite the countryside, glorious weather and the relaxed attitude to alcohol, James knew that Helen drank to excess and would cause scenes, and her sons were always keen to return to the safe and happy environment that he’d created.
‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Jo sat forward.
James was very subdued and she was concerned.
A biting wind rattled the windows and leaves swirled along the cobbles as heavy rain began to fall.
She looked out at the herb garden, which was taking a battering as the deluge pounded delicate fronds of dill and coriander and water puddled on the rich dark soil.
James sank back into the sofa, grateful for the comfort of the log burner, where flames glowed beyond the smoky glass. He turned to Jo and sighed. ‘It’s Jack. He turned up last night.’ He began to explain his concern.
Having suddenly announced that he was in a committed relationship with a girl he’d met at university, Jack had told his father that he wanted to get engaged and married as soon as his exams were over. James had been staggered as their discussion deepened.
‘We drank far too many beers.’ James rubbed his eyes and thought about the empty case by the bin his kitchen.
‘I wouldn’t worry about that,’ Jo said. ‘Drink numbs the senses and Jack probably needed courage to share his news, while you required patience to accept it.’
She listened as James went on to explain that he thought it crazy for two young people to make such a commitment.
With careers to consider and life to be lived, surely they could wait?
He explained that this wasn’t what he’d expected of Jack at all and he stared into the fire, as if searching for answers.
‘Her name is Desiree. I didn’t even know that he had a girlfriend. ’
‘Well, at least he had the decency to come home and tell you and not announce it by text.’ Jo thought of the electronic missiles she’d received from her own sons over the years.
‘Helen will hit the roof when she hears news of the engagement and Jack is frightened of his mother.’
Jo knew that Helen had a temper and remembered scenes in the restaurant when, after several glasses of wine, she would flare up if anyone voiced an opinion that didn’t match her own.
Helen would most likely blame James for a lack of parental responsibility and be apoplectic at the thought of her baby tying the knot at such a young age, all memory of abandoning her sons completely erased.
Jo heard James sigh.
‘I think the sooner I get it over with and tell Helen, the better,’ he said. ‘Sorry to have off-loaded.’
‘Don’t apologise, I wish I could be of some help.’
‘You have been.’ James smiled. ‘Just by listening.’ He stood and picked up their mugs. ‘But I mustn’t take any more of your time.’
‘Good luck with Helen. She may have mellowed.’ Jo gave him a peck on the cheek, but in her heart, knew that it was unlikely and James would have many more battles ahead. ‘Give me a shout if there is anything that I can do.’ With a sympathetic smile, Jo left James to prepare for his class.
* * *
Kate turned into the courtyard to see Jo bracing herself against the wind as she stepped out of the writing studio to run across the cobbles and disappear into the kitchen.
Kate glanced up at the courtyard clock. She was early for her class and as she opened the door and stepped into the cosy warmth of the room, she saw James sitting by the fire.
‘Gosh, it’s wild out there,’ Kate said and shook off her wet jacket to place it on the back of a chair. ‘Mind if I join you?’
James moved along the sofa and Kate sat down. He looked tired but smiled, clearly pleased to see her.
‘Are those biscuits?’ Kate asked and pointed to a tin on the table.
‘Help yourself.’ James leaned forward and opened the tin and watched as Kate took a shortbread. Her neat white teeth sparkled as her tongue licked traces of sugar from her moist pink lips.
James stared with fascination as she bit into the biscuit.
Drops of rain glistened on Kate’s hair and he was shocked to find that he longed to reach out and stroke the soft locks.
He wondered if she’d spent the night in the arms of Andy Mack.
The glow in her eyes, as she stared at the fire, answered his question and anger welled in the pit of his stomach.
He was jealous! The bitter feeling was akin to the pain he’d felt after Helen walked out, for she too had glowed at the thought of a lover.
James hardly knew Kate, but as he felt her presence, so close to his own, he wanted to reach out and pull her into his arms.
‘You’re miles away, penny for your thoughts?’ Kate said.
James sat up. ‘Sorry, I’ve a lot on my mind.’ He silently scolded himself. This was crazy. He was getting carried away with illicit thoughts about a student, something he’d never allowed himself to do.
‘I hope I can contribute today.’ Kate felt anxious as she thought about her participation in yesterday’s class.
‘Your contribution is completely worthy and the most important thing is that you feel worthy of yourself.’
As lovely as Kate was, James knew that he must be professional and focus on her writing path; after all, he may uncover a talent, and wasn’t the ethos of Boomerville to encourage new learning to enrich the later years?
‘I’ve always wanted to write, but never thought I was good enough,’ Kate said. ‘I’m scared that people will laugh at me.’
‘The only way to find out is to commit and the only way to do that is to sit down and begin.’
‘Point taken.’ Kate grinned. ‘I intend to, hence my early start, but what about you? Couldn’t you sleep?’
James looked into Kate’s eyes and, in moments, words were tumbling over themselves.
He picked up where he’d left off with Jo and told Kate that he was worried about his youngest son and Kate learnt about the pain James and the boys had suffered when Helen abandoned them.
He explained that she’d been a beautiful young woman when he’d met her, with vitality and charisma that charmed anyone.
James had been staggered when Helen agreed to marry him.
‘You must have been very young.’ Kate was fascinated.
‘We were. Students who knew very little of life, we both left university with first class degrees, mine in English and Helen’s in art. We couldn’t wait to set up home together.’
‘Did you find jobs?’
‘I got work teaching at a sixth-form college and Helen continued to paint.’
‘Was she talented?’
‘Yes, very. She worked on commissions, mostly for friends, which supplemented our income but she didn’t know what to charge and never made a great deal.’
Kate listened as James explained that they were delighted when Tom, their first-born arrived followed by Jack two years later. But the responsibility of a family fell heavily on shoulders that had led a bohemian life and Helen stopped painting.
‘I knew that Helen had begun to drink. She wasn’t cut out to be a mother and seemed to resent the children, as though they were the reason she couldn’t paint.
I didn’t know how to handle it.’ James sighed.
‘When an opportunity to holiday in France with girlfriends from university came along, she seized the chance. I was fearful of her going but thought that the break would do her good and she’d come back to us a better mother, having had some time to herself. ’
‘So, what happened?’ Kate asked.
‘I watched her pack her easel and oils and a suitcase of clothes as the boys asked where Mummy was going. She never looked at us as we stood on the doorstep and waved her off. She climbed into her friend’s car and disappeared.’
Kate held her breath. She knew what was coming.
‘She never came back,’ James said.
Two weeks later James learnt that Helen had fallen in love with a much younger man.
Life on a vineyard, in the heart of the Charente, surrounded by fields of swaying sunflowers and heady lavender, with an ardent lover by her side, had far more appeal to the thwarted artist than semi-suburbia, on a housing estate in Marland, with a middle-income husband and two demanding children.
James looked up. He seemed astonished that he’d told Kate, a complete stranger, about his problems. ‘I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I’m burdening you.’
‘I think you’re a brilliant dad.’ Kate spoke softly. ‘Jack must think the world of you and have confidence that you can handle Helen and make her see that it’s your son’s right to make his own choices.’
‘I hope you’re right,’ James said. He must be supportive to his son who’d simply fallen in love at an early age and wanted approval from a mother who behaved erratically. She was still his mother and Jack craved her love.
‘Are you worried that Helen won’t understand?’
‘She has violent rages, fuelled by her love of booze.’
‘That makes it difficult.’
‘She terrifies the boys when she starts ranting and yelling; it’s as though she blames them for making her leave.’
‘Perhaps Tom and Jack may believe it was their fault that she left; had they not been born she wouldn’t have started to drink.’
‘Oh, goodness, I hope not, they were just little children.’
‘Maybe she’s guilt-ridden because she’s a crap mother. It’s a shame they can’t sit down and talk it out.’
‘I’ve tried to get them together but Helen is difficult.’
‘Perhaps life in the Charente isn’t all she expected it to be?’
‘Quite possibly.’ James sat up. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I shouldn’t be telling you all this, I really mustn’t burden you with my problems.’ He was anxious to change the subject. Kate would think him a hopeless wreck if he continued to pour out his troubles. ‘What did you say your business was?’
‘I didn’t.’ Kate smiled. ‘But I ran a dating agency and it sort of went hand-in-hand with listening to people’s problems and helping make them right.’
‘Have you thought about writing a romance story?’ James reached for a biscuit. ‘You must have a wealth of material.’
‘I was very good at matching others and sorting out their problems but absolutely useless at sorting out my own; all my relationships went wrong.’
Kate felt James study her face. ‘Did your parents have a happy marriage?’
‘When my mum died of cancer, my dad was never the same again. He started drinking and despite the fact that he tried to cover it up, I knew how broken he was inside. He missed her terribly. I tried to be the perfect daughter and he was a great help to me, supporting me when I started my business. When he got dementia, I cared for him until he died, but I could never compare to my mother.’
‘Perhaps you were too like her?’
‘Possibly, I never thought of that.’
‘You can’t be responsible for his actions; after all, he chose to drink, not you.’
‘Likewise with Helen. She chooses to drink and has a difficult relationship with her sons, not you.’
Their eyes locked. It took every ounce of willpower for James not to reach out and take Kate in his arms.
‘Things have a way of sorting themselves out,’ Kate said and stood up. ‘I’m glad we’ve had a chance to chat but if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to spend a little time on my own, working on an idea I have.’
James watched her walk away and hoped that he hadn’t said too much. He’d never confided in a student and knew that it was wrong. He was amazed that she brought out such feelings of need, feelings that he’d suppressed for years and now found difficult to control.
He sat down at a table and pulled his laptop towards him. The screen flickered and James stared blankly. His head was filled with an image of Kate and Andy passionately entwined in her bed.
Things have a way of sorting themselves out . . .
No wonder an idea had miraculously evolved in a head that was blank the previous day! Kate was doubtlessly penning pages of romantic prose in a happy-ever-after. James sighed with frustration and decided to focus on a subject that he could do something about. He logged onto his email.
Hi Helen, he wrote, we need to have a chat about Jack and I’d be grateful if you’d get in touch.
James pressed send. He wondered how long Helen would take to reply and began to rehearse the conversation.
He was thankful that it wouldn’t be a face-to-face meeting as she spent all of her time at the vineyard and rarely returned to the UK.
She was volatile at the best of times but this news would send her temper soaring.
James knew that Helen would be against the relationship.
She’d always insisted that her sons travel and experience life.
Not marry at a young age, like their parents.
Enough, James told himself and pushed the laptop away.
His students were due in class. James glanced at Kate and saw that her head was dipped and her fingers flying, her face a study of concentration as words cascaded onto the page.
Whatever her idea, it had clearly come to life.
He decided to let Kate carry on while the words were flowing and moved silently around the room in preparation for his class.
Kate was oblivious. In the safe and cosy atmosphere of the studio, she seemed to have found her writing muse and as James arranged notes for the students and piled logs onto the fire, he hoped that he’d helped inspire whatever magic was happening.