Chapter 47
As I follow Giuseppe to the cottage, he tells me there’s a last-minute problem with the renovations.
He dismisses his men—including the Syrian plasterer who’s replaced Arjan—with an instruction to take a quick break. He turns their radio off but the silence only adds to my anxiety, as does Giuseppe’s order to wear a hard hat. This must be serious.
He takes me upstairs and indicates a corner of the ceiling that has caved in—at the back of the bedroom—sending a cloud of dust and plaster everywhere.
It’s beneath a section of the roof Giuseppe and his men left, as it seemed OK: in general, they thought the roof of the cottage was in a much better state than that of the main house. But it’s now become clear it isn’t OK.
Giuseppe scratches the back of his head. “Sorry, we judge it bad. Now we look at that part of the roof. We see if we can fix one part or if we need to replace the whole roof of the cottage.”
“The whole roof?” I’m aware that my voice has risen a few octaves. “But that’ll take ages.”
Giuseppe frowns. “Yes. Sorry. I think one extra week, maybe more. We also need to hire scaffolding again. And we need extra money for the scaffolding and labor.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. “How much?” I ask.
Giuseppe tells me.
My throat tightens. Even with what’s left over from the cigarette case, I don’t have enough. “But where am I supposed to find that? And we’re supposed to be throwing a party on Saturday. We’re supposed to be showing everyone the finished house.”
“And I’ve just invited Dad and Debbie,” I want to add—but keep this to myself; it isn’t relevant to Giuseppe.
“Yes, but it is possible the house is not finished,” he reasons. “And it is possible it is not safe for the party.”
“Not safe? What, even if we were to cordon off the cottage?”
Giuseppe looks puzzled. I search around for a way to rephrase my question.
“Actually, scrap that,” I toss in. “Let’s forget about it for now. You investigate, see if you can fix that section of the roof. And when you know, let’s talk.”
Giuseppe strokes his beard and nods, gravely. “OK, Adam. We do our best.”
“Dad,” Mabel says, “you’d better speak to Mum.”
Theo lowers his eyebrows. “What is it?”
The sun has gone down, we’ve just put Archie to bed, and Theo and I are sitting on the patio, drinking a glass of wine as we discuss the potential hitch in the renovations—and how we’ll respond if the worst really does come to the worst. But from the look on Mabel’s face, there’s another problem.
A flash of dread passes through me. Especially as Mabel doesn’t answer Theo’s question—and nor does Callum, who’s standing beside her.
“Mum,” says Mabel, “we’re with Dad and Adam now. Can you tell them?”
She passes the phone to Theo and I see Kate’s on video call.
Theo holds the handset out so the camera captures both of us and I come face-to-face with his ex-wife for the first time in weeks—for the first time since she started attacking me.
She’s wearing a candy-floss pink, lightweight hoodie, and her honey-blond hair is as immaculately styled as the last—and only other—time I saw her, when she dropped the kids off at Theo’s flat. Theo notices something else.
“Kate, you’re at home,” he comments, before any of us can say hello.
She nods, but seems a little unsure of herself. “I was just telling the kids I’ve missed them so much I’ve come back early.”
“I don’t get it,” says Theo. “What’s going on?”
Kate gives a shaky smile. “It didn’t cost me anything to change my flight so I thought I’d come and make things up to the kids—for not seeing them all summer.”
A bolt of panic shoots through me. What’s she building up to?
“OK …” says Theo, sounding equally wary.
“I’ve looked online and there’s a flight I can get to Pisa tomorrow,” Kate continues, tucking the longer side of her bob behind her ear. “I can bring the kids back to Manchester on Friday so we can spend the last weekend of the summer together.”
But I don’t want them to go! I have to stop myself from wailing. What I manage to say is, “But we’ve got things planned this weekend.”
Kate’s mouth tightens and I sense a crackle of irritation. “I’m sorry, Adam, but I do, too—and you’ve had them all summer.”
Whose decision was that? I want to fire back. But I notice Mabel is hiding behind her hair again and Callum is pulling at his fringe. I keep my objection to myself.
“Look, I’m only asking for one weekend,” Kate goes on. “I don’t think that’s unreasonable. Obviously, there’s been some bad feeling and I want to work through it before the kids go back to school.”
I can’t tell if she’s causing trouble again and trying to spoil our party or if she’s genuinely remorseful—but something tells me it’s the latter.
The nasty edge to her voice has disappeared, replaced by sadness.
It reminds me of the sadness on Dad’s face when he commented that I didn’t seem comfortable around him.
I’m surprised to find myself feeling sorry for her.
“What do you think, Cal? Mabel?” she asks.
Theo turns the camera onto them, but not before Mabel can flash him a pleading look and Callum signals his thoughts by shaking his head.
“Wouldn’t that be great?” Kate presses, with a touch of desperation.
“Yeah,” they mumble. Clearly, they don’t want to upset their mum.
“Whatever works best,” says Callum.
“Look, I’m really sorry, Kate,” Theo says, turning the phone back onto us, “but we’re having a party on Saturday and the idea is to celebrate finishing the house and thank everyone who’s helped.
The kids have been working really hard on the preparations.
I’m not sure it would be fair on them to miss it. ”
Kate’s mouth stiffens. “From what I hear, the party’s probably going to be cancelled anyway.”
I can feel myself bristling, but it doesn’t sound like she’s gloating.
“We don’t know that yet,” I say, making sure there’s no trace of animosity in my voice. “We’re still hoping it isn’t.”
Kate pulls on the sleeves of her hoodie. “When will you find out?”
“Tomorrow apparently, late morning,” I reply. “That’s when our head builder says he’ll know if he can patch up the roof or if the whole thing will need replacing.” I realize this is probably the longest exchange I’ve ever had with Kate.
Theo picks up the box of matches I used to light the citronella candles and turns it around and around in his hand. “When’s your flight?” he asks.
“Three-thirty. So I’d need to set off for the airport at about one.”
Theo nods. “Have you booked your ticket?”
“Not yet,” says Kate. “I wanted to speak to you and the kids first. But there’s decent availability—I just had another look.”
Theo puts down the box of matches. “Alright, well, how about we see what the builders say? And if the party’s happening, the kids stay here. If not, you come and take them back with you.”
I feel a tug of sadness as I think about them leaving before the end of our summer. But it’s only fair. And if the kids do resent Kate for lying to them, it’ll be better if they can work through that. What was it I said about rotting fruit?
Theo looks up at Mabel and Callum. “What do you think? Cal? Mabel?”
“Alright,” they both say. But they’ve brightened up considerably. They’re clearly relieved we’ve found a resolution and another argument hasn’t erupted.
I’m also proud that I managed to contain my annoyance. “Brill,” I chirp.
“Great,” says Kate, with a smile that seems authentic.
We say goodbye.
But now I’m even more desperate for the party to happen.