Chapter Nineteen
He didn’t message.
He had said he’d message, and when he didn’t, Jen had texted him.
Lovely night. Looking forward to doing it again x
Bold, for her, and she spent the next two days looking at it, checking it had sent, wondering why he hadn’t responded, and typing then deleting more messages.
Helping Ted with the Christmas fair turned out to be a welcome distraction.
Not that she told him that. She met him at the end of the school day – Amy had been invited to Lottie’s for dinner and George was sleeping.
Julia’s cold had turned out to be a nasty one, so she’d been laid up in bed and Jen had been on childcare duties pretty much full-time.
It wasn’t a chore to look after her niece and nephew, but she’d been busy, so she was grateful for this small window of time.
‘Right,’ she said, sitting on one of the little chairs in his classroom and sipping the coffee he’d made. ‘What do you need? I’m a busy woman.’ She glanced at her phone. Nothing from Anthony.
Ted raised his eyebrows, but being too smart to contradict his new recruit, didn’t argue. ‘Well, I’ve got quite a bit of it sorted now, the local farm park have said they’ll bring reindeer and Andrew is going to be Santa, obviously, so—’
‘Why is that obvious?’
He looked at her as though she was speaking a foreign language. ‘Well, he’s always Santa. I wasn’t even here last Christmas and I knew that.’
He grinned and shook his head.
She rolled her eyes. ‘Fine. So what still needs doing?’
‘The band – I heard about one that do kids’ parties but I can’t find them and now everything’s booked up that close to Christmas, and I need to get decorations organised, and catering, and activities, and I wanted a tableau of the nativity, you know, with a donkey and sheep and people dressed up as—’
‘Hey.’ Jen frowned, placing her hand on his arm. ‘It’s OK. Take a breath.’
‘I – sorry.’ He sighed and leaned his elbows on the table, resting his head in his hands.
‘I just – it’s got to be good. I want to do the kids proud, and apparently last year Wood End had fireworks and one of the parents has some connection so they had this famous actor come to open it and everyone’s still talking about it, but we don’t really have the budget to compete with all—’
‘Ted,’ she said gently, leaning so that her face was close to his.
He peered at her through his fingers. ‘It’s OK.
I’m sure whatever you do will be great. And I’m here to help you now.
’ She smiled as confidently as she could.
She still thought that the children would be perfectly happy with a few balloons and a cake stall, but this didn’t feel like the right time to say so.
He sighed and nodded, lifting his head from his hands. Jen stroked his back as he hunched over the table, remembering all the times at college when the stress of deadlines or exams or teaching observations had sent him spiralling. She was always the one who could talk him down.
‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘Thank you for helping me.’
‘Of course. That’s what friends are for.’ She smiled. ‘You leave the children’s party or disco or whatever to me, I’ll get that—’
‘Band,’ he said. ‘It’s a band, they do . . .’
She shook her head, laughing. ‘Yeah, band, whatever. Wow.’ She took his face in her hands, staring at him solemnly. ‘I really think you need to knock the afternoon coffee on the head. You are overcaffeinated, this is—’
‘Oh, is this—Am I interrupting?’
The voice came from the door, and Jen turned to see a blonde woman standing there. Sarah. There was a look of uncertainty in her eyes as she stared at them.
Jen dropped her hands from Ted’s face as though it was burning her.
He leapt to his feet. ‘Hey! I didn’t know you were coming.’ He strode over to Sarah and pecked her on the cheek.
‘I thought I’d give you a hand, but if you’re busy . . .’ Her gaze turned back to Jen.
‘No, no, I’m leaving now anyway,’ Jen said, scrabbling to get her coat off the back of the chair and untangle the strap of her bag from the table leg. ‘Time I picked up Amy, anyway. I – I’m Jen,’ she said, flustered. ‘You must be Sarah, nice to meet you.’
Sarah smiled as she shook Jen’s outstretched hand. ‘You too,’ she said.
Ted had his arm around her now, and was already talking about the fair. He waved as Jen left, thanking her, and Jen hurried away.
As she walked out she heard Sarah say, ‘So that’s the famous Jen.’
She didn’t wait to hear Ted’s reply.
The next evening they were in the café for the grand gingerbread village revelation. Jen checked her phone for the hundredth time.
Still no message.
‘What’s with this guy?’ Ted asked as they huddled in the crowded café, while Marnie collected the decorated gingerbread houses everyone had brought. ‘Is he playing you, or something?’
Jen shook her head. He looked annoyed, and her instinct was to defend Anthony. ‘I mean, he’s probably just busy, right? It’s only been a few days, so . . .’
Miserably, she picked at the edge of a paper tablecloth that had holly and berries printed on it. Ted placed his hand gently over hers, stopping her.
‘Maybe he saw through me at the gallery,’ she said. The café smelled of butter and syrup and spices. And the rich mulled wine that was heating in the back. Jen could do with a glass of that right now. ‘He probably realised I have no idea what I’m talking about and—’
‘Hey, what is this?’ Ted took her by the shoulders, turning her so that she was forced to meet his eye. ‘You have nothing to prove, you’re smart and funny and kind. Any guy who can’t see that without you having to jump through hoops for him isn’t worth your time. Even this Train Guy.’
She smiled and nudged him with her shoulder. ‘Thanks. You have to say that, though, you’re my bestie.’
He shrugged. ‘True. But in this case, I mean it.’
‘I’m probably reading too much into it, anyway. Right?’ She looked at him, desperate for reassurance that there was nothing to worry about.
‘Definitely.’ He nodded, his dark eyes soft. ‘It’s like the kettle, isn’t it, as soon as you stop watching your phone it will boil.’ He glanced down at her amused expression. ‘Or whatever. You know what I mean.’
Jen nodded, and resisted the temptation to get her phone out of her pocket and check for the hundredth time that hour. She had it on vibrate, she’d have known if he messaged.
Amy, standing in front of her and clutching the gingerbread house they’d made as they queued to put theirs in its place in the café window, turned to face her. ‘How much is Father Christmas watching?’
She wore a guilty look and a chocolate stain on her mouth. Glancing at the house, Jen spotted a couple of spaces where chocolate buttons had been. She suppressed a smile.
‘Well, he’s very busy at this time of year, isn’t he? I think he only worries about the really naughty things, like being unkind, not the little things. Like eating sweets.’ She winked at her niece, and the little girl grinned back. ‘And you’re never unkind, are you?’
Amy shook her head, and happily went back to waiting her turn, glancing regularly at the remaining sweets and licking her lips.
‘At least I’ve still got the art class next week,’ Jen said. ‘Maybe that’ll help.’
Ted laughed. ‘I don’t really know what you’re expecting to learn. But if anyone can teach you, Sarah can.’
‘Just – you know, I just want to be able to have a conversation with him about the stuff he’s interested in.’
‘What about the stuff you’re interested in?’
‘Nothing wrong with bettering myself, is there?’
They shuffled forwards as the person at the front placed their house in the window and moved away.
‘Is that what you’re doing? Or are you trying to be someone you’re not because you think that’s what he wants?’
‘Where is Sarah, anyway? Thought she was coming tonight.’ Jen glanced around, feeling a little uneasy. Not that there was a reason to, Sarah seemed like a perfectly nice person. And she must be, if Ted had chosen her.
Ted gave her a level stare. Her clumsy change of subject hadn’t gone unnoticed, but he let it go.
He was annoying her, quite honestly; all she needed from him right now was to tell her that Anthony would definitely message and the only reason he hadn’t was because he was busy or his phone was stolen or he’d been in a dreadful accident.
Something comforting like that, not this interrogation about her wanting to learn a bit more about art and poetry.
‘Yeah, she was going to, but she had some work to catch up on. This isn’t really her kind of thing, to be honest.’
Jen took in the happy hubbub of the café, families and friends squashed into the pretty space, chatting, laughing, eating, drinking.
It was sweet, but a thrilling night out it was not.
She thought Sarah had a point. Ted fidgeted from foot to foot, shifting the gingerbread school he held, and Jen sensed that there was something more to this. Maybe they’d had a row.
‘You OK?’
He nodded. She didn’t press him.
‘Coo-ee, Mr Piper!’ a woman called from the doorway.
He turned to the gaggle of parents and children that had just walked in.
‘Oh great, look, we’re here in time.’ She smiled at Ted as the children all crowded around him, talking to him and their parents, pointing out which parts of the gingerbread school they’d decorated.
‘They were so worried we were going to miss it being put in the window, and we were running a bit late, you know what it’s like, so busy this time of year, and . . .’
The woman pulled off her hat and unwound her scarf. She was a little flustered.
‘Perfect timing,’ Ted said, and she nodded gratefully. ‘The children can all help me find the right place for it. I think there’s mulled wine over there, if you want some while you wait?’
She looked at him as though he was her saviour, and left the children while she went off to find herself a glass.
They reached the front of the queue, and Amy was so excited she was trembling as she held the gingerbread house. ‘Ooh, lovely,’ Marnie said, beaming. ‘Look at that! Beautiful.’