Chapter Eleven
It was a five-minute walk from the Airbnb to Railway Cottages, where Julia and her family lived, but Jen was still hot and bothered by the time she arrived. And more than a little cross.
She had the impression that Ted was hoping she’d learn some kind of lesson from all this. But she was perfectly capable of managing her own life, and the last thing she needed was her smug friend interfering. She wasn’t one of his bloody pupils.
Julia’s was the end of the terrace, the furthest from the station.
It was a sweet-looking building with a large, wood-framed window at the front that had a little bench underneath it and a porch at the side.
There was a wreath of holly and ivy on the door and Jen could see a Christmas tree twinkling in the front room.
The children had wriggled between the tree and the window, and before Jen had even reached the door, she saw their faces pressed up against the glass, leaving a wet mist from their breath.
They shrieked when they saw her, little George sliding off the stool he’d climbed onto and Amy waving frantically as she yelled, ‘She’s here, she’s here!’ at the top of her voice. Despite herself, Jen couldn’t help but smile at this reception.
Julia swung the door open, beaming, and a little tabby cat shot out from between her legs, racing through the snow.
‘I’m so glad you decided to come, the children are beside themselves with excitement, but don’t let that put you off, we’re not always this much of a mad house, I promise!
Wait – where are your friends?’ She peered past Jen to the empty road behind her, where the snow showed evidence only of the cat’s and Jen’s footprints, and the tracks made by her bag.
‘Didn’t someone drop you off? That rotten lot! ’
Jen chose not to disillusion her.
‘I’d have come and got you if I’d known,’ Julia said. ‘Anyway, I’m gabbling, come in, come in.’
She leaned forward slightly, an instinct to embrace her sister, but stopped herself and stepped back. Behind her the children were jumping up and down, Amy chanting ‘Auntie Jen, Auntie Jen!’ repeatedly, and George, in a fluffy green onesie, shouting incoherently.
‘I’m not staying,’ Jen said, rather ungraciously, and immediately regretted it as she saw a pinch of pain pass over Julia’s face. Damn it.
She shouldn’t care, she told herself. Julia had hurt her far more badly than this, hadn’t she?
But she did care, and she grudgingly thought that Ted had a point; she and Julia had been so close, as children and through adolescence, and no matter what had happened between them, Jen couldn’t deal with being the person who made her sister’s face look like that.
‘But thank you,’ she muttered. ‘It’s really kind of you to have me.’
Julia smiled, her eyes brightening the way they always did when she was happy, and Jen couldn’t help feeling a surge of affection for her.
She sighed. This was why she didn’t want to come here. She’d have to work really hard to keep her resolve, to remind herself of the hurt Julia had caused her. The sooner she could get back home, the better.
The children, having finished their jumping-chanting dance, launched themselves at her and landed against her legs with a thud of warm, solid flesh.
Julia smiled and ruffled their tousled heads. ‘All right, I know you’re excited, but give Auntie Jen a bit of space, she’s probably tired.’
Jen shook her head. ‘It’s OK, I’m fine.’ She crouched down so that she was level with the children, and George threw his arms around her neck, cooing ‘Aaaahhh,’ while Amy tugged on her hand and demanded that she come and see the room they’d prepared for her.
Jen felt an overwhelming rush of love, and memories of a different pair of chubby arms around her neck resonated through her body, hitting her like a tidal wave.
Unable to speak for a moment, she simply crouched in her sister’s hallway, holding on to her niece and nephew as though she’d never let them go, and tried not to think of all the hugs she’d missed over the years.
‘Come on, come on,’ Amy said, bouncing up and down, pulling on Jen’s hand.
‘Come and see your room, we’ve got it all ready and nice for you and I helped Mummy, but George tried to help, but epcept he was just really making a mess and climbing on the bed and trying to hide in the clean nice covers, weren’t you, Georgie? ’
Amy, who had been pulling Jen up the stairs as she chattered, gave her brother a glare. He, crawling up the stairs behind them, grinned in response.
‘This is your one,’ Amy said. She dragged Jen to a room with a slatted wooden door that had a piece of paper stuck on, which said ‘Arnty Jen’ in wobbly, multicoloured letters. Red and pink hearts surrounded the writing, and the whole thing had been scribbled over in green wax crayon.
‘I love the sign!’ Jen said.
‘George did the green,’ Amy said, giving her brother, who was now wriggling in his mum’s arms, a black look.
‘It’s lovely,’ Jen said. ‘Thank you.’
Julia opened the door, revealing a cosy room with a sloping ceiling, a fireplace and an iron-framed bed. The latticed window showed a view of the railway line and, beyond, snow-covered fields. Tinsel hung from the mirror on the dressing table and an array of soft toys sat on the patchwork bedding.
‘The children went to town a bit,’ Julia said, a note of apology in her voice. ‘They wanted you to feel welcome.’
‘Do you like it?’ Amy asked, beaming with pride.
Jen wasn’t planning to stay. She was very much hoping that she wouldn’t need to use the room at all, that the trains would be running again in an hour or two and she would be safely on her way back to London and her own life, unimpinged by memories of a past she’d rather not think of.
‘I love it,’ she said, picking Amy up and swinging her around so that she squealed and giggled. ‘I’m never going to leave!’ She looked at Julia. ‘This must have taken ages; thank you.’
‘Oh, not that long. And you know – we have small children, we’ve been up since five, so . . .’
‘Five?’ Jen was filled with horror. She and Ted had only just called it a night at five that morning, and her sister and the children were all beginning the day? She had no intention of joining anyone in that disgusting habit. She needed to get home to her civilised eight-thirty alarm.
Julia laughed. ‘Oh, you get used to it. But don’t worry, we won’t expect you to get up at that time!’ She smiled, knowing from years of experience that Jen was not a morning person.
Silently, Jen willed her not to tell the story of how her teenage self had told their dad to bugger off when he brought her a cuppa at nine o’clock one Sunday morning.
She braced herself, but Julia said nothing more.
Though there was a glint in her eye which almost certainly meant she was thinking of that exact occasion.
Amy jumped onto the bed and began showing her the toys.
‘Do you like these ones? We choosed all the best and goodest toys so you won’t be lonely.
’ She held out a soft blue rabbit and a teddy wearing a Santa hat and red scarf.
Jen, grateful for the distraction, sat on the bed and listened intently as Amy held out the toys one by one, telling her their names and where they’d come from.
‘Me-me!’ George shouted, tottering over to the bed and trying to clamber up. ‘Me-me!’
Amy sighed and gave Jen a long-suffering look. ‘That’s what he calls me,’ she explained. ‘Because he’s too little to say Amy. Aren’t you, Georgie?’ She lay on her belly and pulled on George’s hands, and with her pulling and his scrambling he soon joined them on the bed.
He crawled over to Jen and settled in her lap, sucking his thumb as they both watched Amy display all the teddies.
And Jen felt the weight of him as he leaned into her, watched the sweet, serious expression on Amy’s face as she explained who all the toys were as though they were people, and her heart swelled with warmth.
She should never have missed a single chance to spend time with her niece and nephew.
Julia watched on, smiling indulgently, and more snow began to fall outside the window. And Jen knew that, right at that moment, there was nowhere in the world she’d rather be.
The front door slammed, and the sound of feet stamping on the mat could be heard.
‘Daddy’s home!’ Amy cried, and she scrambled off the bed, helping George down, before they both raced downstairs.
The commotion of excited children greeting their dad made itself heard through the floorboards, and was soon followed by heavy footsteps up the stairs.
‘Babe, you up here?’ Dan called.
Of course he would call Julia ‘babe’. How utterly cringy.
His heavy footsteps, followed by Amy’s scampering ones, grew closer.
‘Babe? Weather’s terrible, I didn’t know if I was going to make it back from the supermarket, the roads were . . .’
Dan arrived in the room, in a slightly rumpled jumper and stockinged feet, holding George and patting Amy’s head as she danced around him. His eyes fell on Jen, and he stopped mid-sentence.
‘Didn’t you get my message?’ Julia asked.
Dan simply shook his head, still staring at Jen as though she was a mouse the cat had brought in.
They’d never really seen eye-to-eye; Jen had always considered him a dull choice for her bubbly sister and secretly thought that Julia could do better.
But they’d been friendly enough to one another in the beginning, each tolerating the other for Julia’s sake.
It was only since things had turned frosty between the sisters that Jen had sensed this outright hostility from Dan.
Amy stopped her jumping and chatting, frowning in confusion as the adults all stood in awkward silence. George, in his dad’s arms, looked around at them all.
‘Dada,’ he said, pointing to Dan. Just in case anyone was unsure of the situation.
It didn’t take long for Dan to recover his manners.
‘Jen,’ he said, sliding George to the floor and striding towards her with an outstretched hand and almost-convincing smile. ‘Julia mentioned that you were in the village, but I didn’t know whether we’d get to see you.’
‘Well, I was supposed to be going home this morning,’ Jen said, ignoring his hand until he dropped it. ‘But my train got cancelled, so . . .’
‘Ah, of course.’ He rocked back on his heels. ‘The snow.’
‘Exactly.’ Sherlock Holmes he wasn’t.
‘I just thought – with Jen being so close, and then a sort of forced stay . . .’ Julia laughed nervously. ‘It would be a good chance to have a bit of a catch-up.’
Her expression was one of mixed emotions – embarrassment, fear, and that desperate sort of hope that Jen kept seeing in her eyes.
Dan nodded, stepping over to her and kissing her cheek. ‘Of course,’ he said softly. ‘I think that’s a great plan. Don’t you, Jennie?’
Jen saw Julia cringe a little as he used the name she hated.
She was feeling distinctly unhappy about the plan, her brief moment of joy at being with the children snuffed out by the awkwardness of the situation.
She didn’t know how she’d managed to get herself trapped with her sister and brother-in-law, the very last people she wanted to be spending time with, for who knew how long.
The trains had better be running again soon. She would walk back home if she had to.
Julia blinked at her, and picked at her nail; a nervous habit Jen remembered from years ago. Amy regarded her with grave eyes, and George trotted over, holding out a slightly grimy blankie for her inspection.
‘A great plan,’ she said, gritting her teeth and trying to smile, stroking George’s sweet, soft face and admiring his blankie.
Amy beamed. ‘And she’s never going to leave!’ she said.
Dan didn’t quite manage to keep the horror out of his expression.