Chapter Thirteen
‘Take me with you,’ she hissed, grabbing Ted by the tailored sleeve and dragging him aside.
He shook her off. ‘Hello to you, too.’
‘I’m serious.’
‘I’m working.’ He indicated the crowds of parents and children, a number of whom were blatantly staring and listening.
Jen guessed that there wasn’t much in the way of excitement for the residents of Babblebrook. She ignored them.
‘Please. There’s no trains and you know I can’t stay another night with—’
Ted frowned. ‘Is this why you came? To pester me?’
Stung, Jen let go of his arm and stepped away. She couldn’t believe he’d said that to her. ‘Don’t flatter yourself. I came because I wanted to spend time with Amy.’
Ted looked suitably sheepish. ‘Oh. Sorry. It’s just you’re not usually up this early so . . .’
‘A girl can change, can’t she?’
‘Look . . .’ Ted waved and smiled at a passing dad and his children. ‘Why don’t you go to the café with Julia? She and her friends go most mornings, I think. You never know, you might even enjoy it.’
Jen snorted. ‘I’d rather stick my tongue in a jam jar and kiss a wasp.’
Ted laughed and shook his head. ‘Don’t bee rude.’
She pulled a face. ‘Despite your terrible sense of humour I’d still rather crash with you. Doesn’t that tell you how desperate I am?’
He sighed. ‘Look, I’ll meet you in the café after work, OK? We can talk then.’
He was gone before she had the chance to respond.
Jen walked back, trying not to admire the prettiness of the cottages and the little snowman that now sat on top of the postbox.
She wasn’t happy to be stuck in boring Babblebrook, nor with perfect Julia, who she knew was very far from perfect, despite what everyone else thought.
But she had to admit that she was enjoying seeing her niece and nephew.
No doubt Dan was struggling with having to look after his own child for five minutes; she’d go and relieve him of his parenting duties.
That way she could avoid spending time with Julia and still salve her conscience.
No one locked their door in Babblebrook, and Julia and Dan were no different. She walked in, expecting to hear George wailing and Dan panicking. Instead she found Dan sitting at the kitchen table with his laptop and a cup of coffee, George at his feet, playing happily with a wooden tea set.
Jen stamped the snow off her boots and wriggled out of her coat. ‘Oh. I thought you might need help.’
Dan looked up, smiling, and then pretended to drink out of the cup George held out for him. ‘Delicious!’ he said, and George beamed. Dan turned to Jen. ‘Thanks, but I think we’re OK. Aren’t we, mate?’
George nodded and held out the cup to Jen. She pretended to drink.
‘I think Julia usually goes to the café after the school run,’ Dan said, his tone falsely light. ‘Why don’t you join her? I’ve got this little man covered.’
Jen suppressed a sigh. Why was everyone so keen to force her to spend time with her sister. ‘She’s with her friends, she doesn’t need me there.’
Dan looked at her steadily. ‘I know she’d love to spend time with you.’
Jen shook her head. He didn’t push it. Absently, she called to the cat as it trotted into the kitchen, but it hissed at her and ran away.
She watched George, so sweet and solid in his onesie as he sat on the floor, babbling as he poured from an empty toy teapot.
She wished she’d spent more time with him and Amy.
She wished she was a regular part of their lives.
Dan, who had been watching her expression, shifted in his seat. ‘Well, you know, I actually do have a lot of work today. So if you’re happy to help out with Georgie, that would be . . .’
‘Oh. Well, if it would help.’
Dan smiled. ‘You know, it really would.’
Jen bent down and held her arms out, and George happily toddled into them. ‘Hey Georgie,’ she said, lifting him onto her hip. ‘Shall we go upstairs and play?’
‘He loves that train set you sent him,’ Dan called.
She spent a happy hour or two playing with Georgie, setting up the train set and pushing the little wooden trains around.
He gave a full-throated chuckle when she called ‘choo-choo!’ as she pushed the train through the tunnel, and she found herself laughing with him.
His joy was contagious. It was a long time since she’d let herself remember the pure pleasure of making small children happy, of knowing they felt safe with her.
Julia arrived, pink-cheeked and bright-eyed, her hair a little fluffy now it was released from her woolly hat. She leaned in the doorway, smiling as she watched George and Jen play for a minute.
‘You’re so good with him,’ she said. ‘You always had a gift with children.’
‘Oh, I don’t know about that.’ Jen smiled as George held up a train for her to admire. ‘He is lovely though. Aren’t you, Georgie?’
He nodded as he placed the train on the track, and they laughed.
‘Modest, too,’ Julia said. She came into the room and sat down next to her son. ‘You love the trains that Auntie Jen gave you, don’t you?’ The cat slipped into the room, slinked onto Julia’s lap and curled up there. ‘Hey Tigs,’ she said, stroking it.
Jen stood up. ‘Well, now you’re back I’ll go and . . .’
‘You don’t need to leave.’
She shrugged. ‘I have some things to do, so . . .’
The ‘things’ she was referring to mostly involved messaging Anthony, scrolling through Anthony’s Instagram and deciding what to wear on her first date with Anthony.
She felt a sudden urge to share all this with Julia, to tell her every detail of every encounter she’d had with him, to ask for her help drafting the message, to giggle with her as she tried on outfits. Just as they had once done, years ago.
But that was before everything had been ruined.
She would call Lou instead; she was desperate for a titbit of vicarious excitement, and had already messaged to ask if Jen had heard from her Train Guy.
Jen looked down at Julia, at the expression of resignation on her face as she nodded. A part of her wanted to make that expression go away, wanted to make her laugh and smile as only sisters could. But she resisted.
She holed herself up in the bedroom they’d given her, occasionally looking out at the view of snow-covered fields as she messaged Anthony. He responded straight away, and they were soon chatting over text. She kept Lou updated with every detail.
Jen sometimes looked at dating apps, swiping while she watched Netflix, sometimes messaging, often with the whole enterprise leading to nothing, and she was fine with that.
It was entertainment, meaning little more than scrolling Instagram, staving off boredom.
Mostly the conversations just petered out.
This felt different. She found herself waiting eagerly for Anthony’s next message, watching with a smile of anticipation as the dots that indicated he was typing danced on the screen.
His replies were smart and funny and self-deprecating.
He asked about her and responded to her replies with more questions.
By the time she realised it was time to fetch Amy from school, she felt like she was really getting to know Anthony.
The connection she’d felt with him on the train was growing even stronger; they liked the same books and films, the same music.
They both liked city living and live music and travel.
She knew all this, and she hadn’t so much as glanced at his Instagram yet.
The snow was falling again, thick and fast, layering every path and branch with a coating of crisp white, quietly erasing all the tracks that had been left in it earlier.
Everything was new and fresh, and as the light dwindled, the colourful reflections of Christmas lights twinkled through the falling flakes.
She and Julia wrapped up and walked to the school, hands deep in pockets, chins dipped into scarves.
Amy and Lottie ran out together, holding hands, all previous arguments apparently forgotten.
‘Auntie Jen!’
‘Train Lady!’
They both landed against her in a heap of half-buttoned coats and hats on backwards, giggling as they wrapped their arms around her waist.
‘Hi girls,’ Jen said. ‘How was your day?’
They babbled together about the school play and learning carols for the church nativity service and the Christmas fair that Mr Piper had told them all about.
‘Can Lottie come and play with Auntie Jen?’ Amy asked Julia, opening her big brown eyes as wide as they would go.
Jen shook her head. ‘Sorry. Auntie Jen needs to see Mr Piper now, but maybe another time.’
The girls’ mouths opened into perfect circles. ‘Were you naughty?’ Amy asked in a whisper.
Jen laughed. ‘I certainly hope not! I’ll see you later.’
The girls were soon mollified with promises of hot chocolate, and Jen made her way against the flow of parents and children past the little wall of Cotswolds stone and the sign where the inflatable Santa bobbed, up the path that edged the playground and into the school.
The secretary recognised Jen and buzzed her in.
There was a Christmas tree in the corner of the hallway, sporting coloured lights and bright baubles.
Parcels wrapped in Christmas paper and ribbons sat underneath, and next to it was a postbox made of a cardboard box painted red and with cotton-wool snow glued to it that said ‘Christmas Cards Here’ in round, childlike writing.
Jen grimaced, but grudgingly decided she could just about forgive all this unnecessary festive merriment given that it was aimed at primary school children.
A noticeboard which said ‘Welcome to Babblebrook Primary School’ in bouncy letters, and had pictures of the staff pinned on, sat on the wall. There was Ted, smiling in a smart tie: ‘Mr Piper, Deputy Head Teacher’.
Jen felt a chill come over her, remembering that her picture was once on a board like this, telling the world that she was ‘Miss Ward, Reception Class Teacher’. Not for long. She breathed in the smell of school dinners and clean carpets, and was transported back to the days of her teacher training.
Ted appeared round the corner, carrying a folder and wearing a frown. ‘Jen!’
He sounded surprised. She didn’t know why.
‘Yes, you said you’d meet me after work. Remember?’
‘Well, yes, but – I don’t actually finish at three thirty. There’s loads to do after the children leave. Remember?’
She stared at him. Now he said it, she did recall the hours after the children had left, working in the peace of a quiet classroom, drinking tea and eating biscuits as she put up displays or prepared lessons for the next day. She supposed a deputy head would have even more on his plate.
Embarrassed, she laughed. ‘Of course I know that. I just – I thought I’d help. With all the – you know. Extra jobs.’
His expression brightened. ‘Oh, that’s nice of you! Great, I’ve got so much to do and I still need to prep some stuff for tomorrow, so . . .’
She followed as he led the way to his classroom.
‘Right, I’ve promised them a Christmas craft activity tomorrow afternoon because they’ve done really well with their core subjects this term but, honestly, this fair thing is turning into a nightmare and it’s taken all my spare time, so I haven’t had the chance to prep anything. ’
They arrived at a door with a sign reading ‘Year Five’, and Ted led the way in. The room was bright and tidy, with tables grouped together and colourful boards on the walls displaying the pupils’ artwork and poetry. Tinsel lined the windows and paper chains hung across the ceiling.
‘I could just give them a load of glitter and glue and let them get on with it, but they deserve better and I . . .’ Ted sounded stressed.
‘No worries, I’ll get something ready for them. You do your fair stuff.’
He looked doubtful. ‘You sure?’
‘Of course. Remember I was the crafting queen when we were at college.’
Ted didn’t look any more convinced, but he was clearly distracted by other tasks. Jen’s mind was already whirring; she remembered a fun activity that had involved making gingerbread houses out of lolly sticks. That seemed suitable for Year Five.
Ted disappeared in the direction of his office, already talking anxiously on his mobile as he walked down the corridor, and Jen made herself at home in the craft cupboard.
By the time he returned, still frowning and with his hair sticking up as though he’d run his hands through it multiple times, she had organised all the resources needed for the activity.
She’d arranged lolly sticks, paint, glue, colourful pompoms, beads and the obligatory glitter so that there was a set for each group of children.
‘There you go, Mr Piper,’ she said, beaming and spreading her hands to demonstrate her handiwork. ‘Lolly-stick gingerbread houses. I’ve emailed you the instructions so you can print them off.’
‘Wow,’ he said, staring at the craft supplies as though he couldn’t believe his eyes. ‘I’m shocked.’
‘Hey!’
‘Impressed! I meant impressed. Thank you.’ He held out his arms and she stepped into them, feeling more relaxed in his bear hug of an embrace than she’d felt all day.
She rested her head against his warm chest, breathing in the faint scent of aftershave that clung to him, as he squeezed her.
‘Thank you. You achieved more than I did, that’s for sure. ’
‘My pleasure,’ she said as he released her. ‘You can buy me one of those amazing hot chocolates of Marnie’s to thank me.’
‘Well, you did do a brew-tiful job.’ He grinned.
Jen groaned. ‘Now you owe me two. But while we’re there, I could use your help on a project of my own.’
Ted held the door open for her and pulled a face. ‘Train Guy?’
She nodded. ‘Train Guy.’