Chapter Thirty-Five
‘Guess where I am!’ she said, then answered before he could. ‘In the café with the children. They forgave me!’
‘OK.’
Ted was less enthusiastic than she’d expected. But she was enthusiastic enough for both of them, her excitement about her plans making her steamroller on with the news.
‘And we’re making cardboard craft wreaths and they’re loving it, and I’ve been thinking, what about snow globes? I’m going to do them with Amy and Lottie, and maybe in the café with some more kids, I’ll just need to talk to Marnie, but would your class like it, maybe?’
She waited for just a moment, and when he didn’t respond immediately, began talking again. The ideas were just pouring out of her.
‘And I’ve been thinking about some other stuff too, some literacy activities and things, that – well, they’d be too young for the children you teach, but maybe they could be useful for—’
‘Jen.’ He cut her off. ‘Jen, just – this is great, and I’m glad you’re excited about something new, but I don’t really have time for this.’
‘I – what?’
George wriggled on her knee, and she kissed his fat cheek, grateful for the physical presence of him anchoring her in the here and now. She was taken aback. In all the years she’d known Ted, he’d always made time for her.
‘I’ve got a lot on my plate. Which you’d know, if you ever bothered to ask.’
Jen caught her breath and her cheeks flushed hot. That was unfair.
‘Look,’ he said. ‘I’m glad you’re spending time with Amy and George, I really am. I know your ideas will be great, it’s just, right now . . . I can’t always be the one you call to pick you up when things go wrong, or cheerlead when they go right. There should be more to this. You know?’
‘I—’ The truth was, Jen did not know.
Ted sighed. ‘Look, I’m happy for you, I really am. I just – I can’t do this right now.’
He hung up. Jen stared at her phone, trying to process what had happened.
She hadn’t even had the chance to tell him she’d had a good talk with Julia, and they were building bridges.
Surely he’d have been pleased for her; after all, it was his meddling that had landed her in Babblebrook in the first place, and he’d been badgering her to patch things up with Julia.
‘Train Lady?’ Lottie called. ‘I’m going to give mine to my mummy, do you think her will like it?’
‘I’m sure she’ll love it,’ Jen murmured, on autopilot, adjusting as George squirmed on her knee.
Marnie came over to collect their crockery, making admiring noises as she looked at the girls’ artwork. She stopped to tickle George under the chin, and smiled at Jen.
‘Another successful craft session. I’d love to make it a permanent thing, if you’re up for it,’ she said. She caught sight of the stricken look on Jen’s face and frowned, sitting next to her. ‘You OK? You look a bit pale.’
‘Yeah, I’m just a bit – I had a rough night last night and then I, uh, overindulged a bit, so . . .’ She pulled a face. ‘Feeling a bit fragile.’
‘Ah.’ Marnie nodded. ‘Well, we’ve all been there! Would you like another coffee? On the house, of course.’ Jen hadn’t paid for a single thing at the café since she’d been helping out with the children’s activities.
‘Thanks, but I should probably get these scraps back home.’
‘OK.’ Marnie smiled.
Jen made no move to leave, and Marnie stayed as she was, sitting next to her.
‘I just called Ted,’ Jen said. She didn’t know why she was confiding in Marnie, but there was something about her warm presence that was comforting.
‘Oh yes?’
‘Yeah, and he was – I don’t know. He’s been kind of off with me today, I think I’ve upset him, or . . . I don’t know. He’s never – he’s always been . . . kind.’
Marnie sighed. ‘I’m sure he has. But I suppose even Ted has his limits, and with what’s happened, perhaps he’s finally reached the end of his tether.’
Jen frowned. ‘I mean, I know he’s stressed about the school fair, but . . .’
Marnie nodded, her expression sympathetic. ‘Yes, and everything feels so overwhelming after a break-up, doesn’t it?’
‘A break-up? Wait, he and Sarah split up?’
‘Oh – he didn’t tell you?’ Marnie bit her lip. ‘Me and my big mouth.’
‘No, it’s – I’m glad you said.’ Jen slid George off her knee and began putting him into his snowsuit.
Not an easy task, it was like getting an octopus into a suit and tie.
‘Come on, girls,’ she said. ‘Time to go, let’s put your coats on, please.
’ She glanced up at Marnie, who was clearing the cups. ‘Thank you. Delicious, as always.’
Marnie smiled and nodded, stopping to button Amy and Lottie into their coats and admire their wreaths one last time.
George finally encased in his snowsuit, Jen heaved him onto her hip, took Amy by the hand and instructed her to hold Lottie’s too, as they made their way outside.
She marched them into the crisp air and down the street as fast as two six-year-olds distracted by snow and Christmas lights could reasonably go.
Her mind was spinning. Ted and Sarah had been together for months, they were planning on moving in together. The end of a relationship as serious as that was tough; she couldn’t believe he hadn’t told her. They were supposed to be best friends.
A realisation squirmed inside her. He had tried to tell her.
Was this what he wanted to talk about, when he’d messaged? She’d been distracted, caught up in the romance of Anthony appearing out of the blue, and then in her own heartbreak. But if she’d known, she’d have made time for Ted. Of course she would.
He should have tried harder to tell her.
A thought hit her with such force that she stopped in her tracks, her stomach lurching. Not a pleasant sensation when last night’s overindulgence was still affecting her.
The girls skidded to a wobbly halt and stared at her.
‘I nearly falled over!’ Lottie cried, giggling.
‘I – sorry, girls, sorry. Let’s go.’
Jen was barely aware of the slippery street beneath their feet, or the colourful decorations sparkling in the dark evening. She hardly noticed the warm grip of Amy’s hand, or the wriggling starfish weight of George on her hip.
Because Ted had tried to tell her. That morning, on the green. But she’d been too distracted by her own worries, her own self-pity about Anthony and about the children being upset with her, that she hadn’t listened.
This was just the same as when Julia told her about the redundancy. She’d been so caught up in her own dramas that it hadn’t occurred to her that Julia’s life was anything less than rosy. She’d never bothered to ask.
Now, her best friend had needed her. The one person she could always count on, who’d been there to support her in every crisis – and there had been many – and to support her in every triumph. There had been few.
For the first time, Ted had needed her. And she’d been too caught up in herself and her own issues to notice.
As she marched along the snowy street, surrounded by children who trusted her implicitly, Jen came to a shocking realisation.
She was a terrible person.