Chapter Thirty-Three #2
Jen took a deep breath and walked over.
‘Hi,’ she said, forcing herself to smile brightly at the children. ‘The tree looks lovely! Someone’s done a brilliant job decorating it.’
They all just looked at her.
‘Why didn’t you come?’ Amy asked.
‘Her was tired,’ Lottie said. ‘Your mummy said.’
Amy gazed at Jen with wounded eyes. ‘You actually did promise.’
Jen sighed. She glanced at Ted, hoping to find some sympathy there, but he wore the same expression of disappointment. This was unfair, she felt; he knew what she’d been through the night before.
Crouching down, she took Amy’s mittened hands in her own freezing fingers.
‘I’m really sorry,’ she said. ‘I – I was very tired this morning. I’ll make it up to you.
Shall we go to the café and have a treat?
’ She smiled brightly. Distraction was a great tactic with small children; once they were tucking into one of Marnie’s delicious snowman cupcakes they would have forgotten all about Jen missing the tree decorating.
But Amy just pulled her hands from Jen’s grip. ‘I think I’m going to go home with my mummy and daddy. Actually.’
Jen stood up as they walked over to the tree to admire their handiwork again.
‘Lucky for them they don’t understand about heartbreak yet,’ she muttered to Ted. ‘Or hangovers.’ She winced and rubbed her temple, the ice cold of her hands a comfort against her burning skin.
He said nothing.
‘I think I’m in the dog house,’ she said. She sighed, her eyes stinging with self-pitying tears. ‘Been a rough twenty-four hours.’
‘You did promise them you’d be here.’ He glanced around. ‘Don’t suppose you brought the decorations?’
Jen blinked. The last thing she needed was for Ted to have a go at her; she was feeling guilty enough without the one person she’d always been able to rely on to take her side adding to it.
She shook her head. The decorations were still waiting to be picked up.
‘I’ll bring them later. Look, you know what happened, you’re being unfair,’ she muttered, hugging the coat around her.
The wind was bitter and she felt like it was slicing right through to her skin.
‘Am I?’ Ted asked.
‘What’s the matter with you?’ Jen snapped, hurt by his lack of support.
He laughed, but there was no humour in it. ‘Oh, now you ask.’
‘What?’ She noticed that there were shadows under his eyes and he was pale behind the neat beard, and for the first time it occurred to her that he might be really struggling with something. ‘Wait – what’s going on? Are you OK?’
She stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm. He sighed and gazed down at her.
‘Yeah, I’m just – well, not really. That’s why I messaged you last night, to see if you had time to chat.’
She remembered now, his text after the nativity play. He’d seemed unlike himself then, now she thought about it. But she’d been too busy with Anthony to reply, and then too busy getting drunk to think about Ted. Until she needed him.
‘I’m sorry. It’s been a – it’s been rough.’ Her voice shook and she swallowed.
‘I know,’ he said softly. ‘And I am sorry, you don’t deserve that. At all.’ His gentle gaze lingered on her face. ‘But you’re not the only one with problems.’
‘So what’s going on?’
Behind him she could see Julia, Dan and the children start to walk away. Michelle, Lottie and baby Max were with them. She was itching to join them, to try again to make up for disappointing the children by taking them to the café.
Ted was talking about the school Christmas fair.
‘. . . absolute nightmare, to be honest with you, everything I planned seems to have fallen through. It’s just been one problem after another, everyone seems to have this flu or they’re double-booked and they’re all cancelling, and it’s supposed to be next weekend, and I just don’t know how I’m going to get it sorted.
I really don’t want to let the children down. You know?’
Jen tore her gaze away from the figures of the children as they slowly made their way across the green. She nodded. She did indeed know.
He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, closing his eyes. ‘And that’s not even the worst thing.’
The children were leaving the green now and turning towards home. Her eyes flicked between them and Ted, and back again. The little figures disappeared behind the hedge.
Ted had stopped speaking. He was looking at her, and the disappointed expression was back.
Jen shook her head. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Carry on, the Christmas fair, yes. Sounds like a nightmare.’
She tried to be sympathetic, and she could see he was stressed. But she secretly thought he was putting too much pressure on himself; the fair might not be as impressive as last year’s, but people would understand if bad weather had intervened.
She’d just been betrayed in a devastating way by a man she trusted.
A man she really thought understood her.
Liked her. Wanted to build something with her.
She was still reeling, still feeling broken.
It put the fair issues into perspective, she thought, and she was used to Ted being the one to support her when things got tough.
He was silent, looking at her with pain in his eyes.
‘What?’ she said. It came out tetchier than she meant. She was hurt and hungover and guilty and tired. ‘Are you annoyed with me or something?’
He shook his head, and spread his arms. ‘I know you’re struggling,’ he said. ‘But sometimes other people have problems too, and sometimes they come at the same time as yours.’
She stared at him. ‘What does that even mean?’
‘Just – just go after the kids. I can see you want to.’
She did want to. And she was finding him annoying, truthfully.
‘It’s OK,’ Ted said. ‘They’re important to you, I get it. Honestly. Just go, we can catch up later.’
He smiled. It almost convinced her. It convinced her enough to send her scurrying across the green, calling for Amy.