Chapter Twenty-Two
Jen avoided the school run for the next few days, not wanting to bump into Ted.
She focused instead on helping Julia out as she recovered, making her signature butter chicken curry, done in the slow cooker so that it melted in the mouth.
She cleaned the house, bathed the children and played with them.
Dan was back, and he was definitely friendlier to Jen than he had been.
‘Thanks for all your help round here,’ he said as he wiped a wriggling George. ‘Julia said you’ve been great.’
He smiled. Actually smiled. At Jen.
She shrugged. ‘No problem, I like helping with the children. And it’s the least I can do; you are putting me up.’ She held her breath; perhaps this was what Dan had been annoyed about, and he’d turn cold again. ‘I mean, I know you’ve never exactly hit it off with me, so . . .’
He frowned. She’d blown it.
‘It’s not that, I think you’re – fine.’
Not exactly a ringing endorsement, but better than she’d feared.
Dan looked at the grime on the flannel when it came away from George’s face and frowned.
His voice was softer when he spoke. ‘No, it’s not – not that I don’t like you as a person, Jen, it’s just that I love my wife.
’ He shrugged. ‘And this – this thing between you, it’s hurt her more than anything.
For years, almost all the time we’ve been together. ’
He finally let George go. ‘But she said that you’re being – that things are friendlier. Between the two of you.’ He gave her a steady look. ‘That’s good. She’s been hurt, you know, all those times she tried to apologise and you knocked her back.’
Jen flushed. It had never occurred to her that she might appear as the bad guy in this situation. But she supposed, from Dan’s point of view, she might have seemed unreasonable.
‘It was hard to watch,’ he said softly. ‘But she seems happier now.’
‘Good.’
‘Yes. It is good.’ He smiled again, and patted her arm before sauntering away. And Jen had the sense that she was being given a second chance. Even the cat was beginning to get used to her; it still ran away when she tried to stroke it, but it had stopped hissing, at least.
The more time she spent in Babblebrook with her niece and nephew, the less she could bear the thought of leaving them.
She buried her head in busyness, dressing the children in snowsuits and taking them out to build a very shaky igloo in the garden, helping them to make Christmas biscuits (George sneezed into the mixture but she assumed the germs would be killed off in the oven), and getting in a mess making handprint paint Christmas-tree pictures.
If she was honest, she found herself in no hurry to leave.
But she knew her real life was waiting for her, and she would have to think about it at some point.
She wasn’t spending much, staying with Julia and Dan, but that couldn’t go on for ever. Her rent and share of the bills on her flat still needed to be paid, and her savings were rapidly dwindling.
She needed to work. She needed to go back home. But the idea filled her now with a cold sense of dread; the freedom that she’d always cherished had begun to feel empty in comparison to the cosy chaos of family life.
Her activities in the children’s area of the café were proving popular, and provided a great distraction from money worries.
She was going to be icing biscuits with the children, and she and Marnie were setting up the area before the after-school rush.
The café smelled of coffee and gingerbread, and every corner twinkled with lights from the garlands that hung along the walls.
‘We’ve had lots of takers, I think it’s going to be nice and busy,’ Marnie said as she placed a pile of biscuits shaped as Christmas trees, Santas, snowmen, stockings and reindeer onto trays.
‘And those Christmas cards you prepared have been super popular, thank you so much! They’ve loved them, and this is the kind of thing I always had in mind. ’
Jen placed bowls of coloured icing and little sugar decorations on the tables as she hummed along to Wham!’s ‘Last Christmas’ as it played in the background. ‘I was thinking about maybe doing some snowmen with cardboard tubes and cotton wool next. Maybe I’m getting carried away, but—’
Marnie’s smile was warm as she shook her head. ‘Not at all! That sounds great.’ She laughed. ‘I’d have you here on a permanent basis if I had my way, there’s no such thing as carried away.’
Jen smiled. She already had a number of ideas for activities, so this was good news. Just as she opened her mouth to reply, the bell on the door tinkled, and a crowd of parents and small children poured through.
‘Train Lady!’ a voice squealed, and Lottie ran up to Jen, throwing her arms around her waist and squeezing with all her tiny might.
Michelle laughed as she unbuttoned her coat and took a seat at a nearby table. ‘I’m redundant now she’s seen you, that’s good.’ She glanced at baby Max, happily sleeping in his buggy. ‘I can have a cup of tea in peace.’ There was a note of wonder in her voice.
‘Michelle, can I pick your brains, just quickly?’ Jen asked, keeping her voice low so she didn’t disturb the sleeping baby. ‘I’m trying to organise a kids’ band or DJ for the Christmas fair and Julia said you might know someone? I’ve hit a dead end so far.’
She nodded as she rocked the buggy gently. ‘Oh yes, no problem, my nephew’s in a band and sometimes they do kids’ parties, they’re pretty good actually, and cheap.’
Jen laughed. ‘Well, that’s the perfect combination!’
‘I’ll send you his number.’
‘Brilliant, thanks.’ Jen turned her attention to Lottie, who was tugging on her jumper. ‘Shall we choose a biscuit?’ she asked, taking her to the children’s area.
The little girl nodded, putting a chubby finger to her lip as she contemplated the choice. ‘I like that one,’ she said, pointing to a stocking.
Jen was soon surrounded by happy, sticky children as they sat in the children’s area of the café, blobbing icing onto biscuits and filling the surface with every sugary decoration they could.
The parents sat at the tables, watching and chatting, making the most of the chance to drink a cuppa and eat a mince pie in peace.
When Amy arrived she ran straight to Jen and immediately chose a reindeer-shaped biscuit. Julia, who hadn’t left the house for a week, was greeted like a celebrity by her friends. Throwing a grateful glance at Jen, she sat with Michelle.
‘Train Lady,’ a little boy called. ‘Can I eat mine now?’
‘She’s not Train Lady, Oscar,’ Amy told him crossly. ‘She’s Auntie Jen.’
Lottie licked the finger she’d dipped in the red icing. ‘Hers my Train Lady,’ she said, slurping.
Amy nodded. ‘But she’s my Auntie Jen.’
Jen looked at the little boy’s biscuit, which had once been in the shape of a snowman but was now just an undiscernible blob under the lake of icing and sugary treats that oozed over the plate.
She looked around to see if his parents were giving permission, and caught the eye of a man who was clearly Oscar’s dad.
He nodded and rolled his eyes, looking a little bemused.
‘Daddy says you can,’ she said.
Oscar was already holding the sugary mess to his face and licking, leaving his nose and mouth coated in icing. His dad sighed and took another sip of his cappuccino; Jen guessed that Oscar was going to be rather lively for a few hours to come.
‘Drink?’ Marnie asked, smiling, as she brought a plate full of gingerbread cupcakes to a table.
Jen looked up from where she sat on the floor, Amy on her lap and Lottie hanging over her shoulders, laying her sticky face on Jen’s hair and murmuring, ‘I love you, Train Lady.’
She grinned at Marnie. ‘What have you got?’
Marnie laughed. ‘Nothing stronger than coffee today, I’m afraid.’
‘Well, a gin would’ve been good, but tea would also be great. Thanks.’
Marnie nodded. ‘Coming up.’
‘You’re pretty,’ Lottie said, picking up clumps of Jen’s hair and squashing them in her icing-smeared hands. ‘You’re my best thing that I’ve found on a train.’
Jen laughed. ‘Thank you. You too.’
‘Marnie, look,’ Amy called, as Marnie brought a pot of tea and a mince pie over for Jen.
‘Look, I’m making two, one for me and one for Georgie.
’ She looked down at the biscuits on her plate, a reindeer that was drowning in a sea of icing, and a Santa that had a thin scraping of icing and one sugar ball on.
She held up the reindeer. ‘This is mine.’
Marnie laughed. ‘They both look lovely.’
By the time the children had finished, chorusing ‘Bye, Train Lady’ or ‘Thank you, Auntie Jen’ as they left, and she’d helped Marnie tidy up, she was tired, sticky and there were definitely a few sugar snowflakes in her hair.
But she was buzzing, her heart bursting with warmth and joy that, for a few hours at least, she’d made these children happy.
It was so long since she’d been able to enjoy the simple pleasure of spending time with children, and somewhere in the back of her mind she felt the painful memories it always brought begin to form.
She swallowed, smiling as Marnie chatted, and forced herself not to think of those times, not to let the crest of panic that began to build submerge her.
She couldn’t allow those feelings to take her over again, especially not now.
Now, she needed to wash the icing out of her hair.
She needed to get ready for her date with Anthony.
The Christmas fair decorations were ready for collection, too, so she needed to remember to pick them up while she was in Waterfield.