Chapter 5 #2
The woman smiled and gestured to Jules.
‘Shall we? Are you on pick-up duty or going to the tearoom?’
Jules felt trapped. She turned to lock the car, even though the other woman didn’t bother to do the same, and reluctantly fell into step beside her.
‘I’m collecting for a friend.’
They walked through to an area bordered on three sides with low buildings; converted stables or cow sheds, Jules guessed. The windows were all flung open and inside the far building Jules could see young heads bobbing about.
‘I bet they’re running late. Lance has no concept of time. Just gets carried away with what he’s doing.’
She wandered over and stuck her head through a window and following a brief chat with a man with curly brown hair and an intense, worried looking face, she returned.
‘They’ll be a while yet. Time for a cup of tea,’ she said to Jules. ‘My treat. What do you fancy?’
She had an overwhelming desire to run away. This wasn’t meant to happen. She was meant to come, collect Tasha and go, drop her at home and retreat to the safety of the cottage.
‘Oh, I’m not sure… perhaps I’ll wait in the car.’
‘It’s a bit hot for that, isn’t it?’
‘Well, yes, I suppose so.’
‘We can get a table in the shade over there under the sweet chestnut. Such an interesting tree. It’s often mentioned in folk tales concerned with sustenance and survival.’
She twirled around and held out her arms, her hair rippling, her hands presented as if in the process of accepting something.
‘The creative vibes here are just amazing,’ she said, coming to a stop and smiling beatifically. ‘You don’t have to sit with me if you’d rather be on your own, I won’t be offended, but please let me buy you a welcome drink. They do great smoothies here if you’re not a fan of tea.’
Jules didn’t mean to frown, to give an impression of unfriendliness, and she didn’t want to give away the fact that she’d normally run a mile from someone who reminded her so much of her mother.
‘I’m sorry if I appear rude. I’m not great at conversation at the moment.’
You’re good with people, Jules, she said to herself.
You work as part of a team, deal with parents and grandparents, doctors, hospital porters, all sorts of different people, every day.
This social phobia is getting out of hand.
You don’t want to go back to the time after Dad died when you totally withdrew into yourself. You’ve worked hard to overcome that.
‘Then let’s just sit together,’ the woman said. ‘Talking can be very over-rated at times and not everyone wants an over-enthusiastic welcome to a new place.’
She smiled in such an understanding way that Jules felt flooded with guilt.
‘I’m Jo, by the way.’
‘Jules, and…’
Jo’s eyes flickered briefly as if she knew something that Jules didn’t, which was completely ridiculous.
‘…I’d love to have a cup of tea with you, Jo. Just normal tea. Thank you.’
Jules took a seat at one of the outside tables and listened to the happy chatter of the other people waiting to pick up their sons or daughters or grandchildren.
There were little jam jars of flowers in the centre of each table and a bee landed on a pale pink dahlia.
Jules sat back and watched as it gathered pollen.
‘Here we are,’ Jo said, placing a tray on the table.
‘I picked up some cake as well. It’s a sin to have tea at this time of day without a slice of something sweet.
Raspberry Bakewell and a pistachio slice.
Take your pick or I can cut them in half and we can both have a bit of each.
If you don’t want any, I can take it back for my son, Dan. He never says no to any sort of food.’
‘They do look good,’ Jules said. ‘I’ll try a tiny piece of the Bakewell tart, please.’
Jo passed her a vintage flowered plate and cut up the cakes before pouring the tea. Jules waved away the offer of milk.
‘I really don’t know why you don’t drink it black,’ Gavin used to say as he measured a teaspoon full of milk into her drinks. Any more and she’d have to risk upsetting him and chuck the tea away.
Her worrying about upsetting him. That was rich! She nibbled at the shortcrust pastry and settled back in her chair. Through the window she could hear children’s laughter and a man’s rich voice telling them all how well they had done. She glanced at Jo, who had her head thrown back and eyes closed.
‘Are you Isle of Wight born and bred?’ Jules asked.
‘Goodness, no,’ Jo said, placing her cup back in its saucer and breaking off a small piece of pistachio cake. ‘We’ve only been here a few years.’
Suddenly Jules sensed that she was more guarded. Her body language had changed. Only slightly, but Jules was used to noticing things like that.
‘It feels like a good place to move to. My friend settled here in the spring. I’m visiting her, sort of.’
‘That’s nice. Good friends are very important.’
‘Carrie’s the best.’
Jo nodded slowly.
‘You know her? Does everyone know everyone else on this island?’
‘It feels like that sometimes,’ Jo said, half laughing, but her green eyes were wary, and she looked vaguely familiar.
‘I’m staying at Hideaway Cottage. Do we, I mean, this sounds ridiculous,’ Jules stuttered, ‘but do we know each other? You seem familiar. You didn’t have your son at the maternity unit in Manchester, did you?
I remember a lot of my mums, but sometimes I bump into someone, and they tell me I looked after them when they had their baby. ’
The woman hesitated. Her eyes studied Jules very carefully.
‘I’m from somewhere near London so no is the answer to your last question.’
She leaned closer and wrapped her hands completely around her teacup, holding it steady in the saucer.
‘We’ve met before though, but not for a very long time. I think you were about eight. I’m a friend of your mother’s. She still refers to me as Claudia from time to time, although I wish she wouldn’t. My name is Jo now.’
Jules gasped.
‘You are the person who sent Mum the details about Hideaway Cottage, which became a sanctuary for Carrie and caused her to meet Guy and…’
‘…and now you’re here,’ Jo whispered. ‘I thought I recognised you, but…’
‘…but I look more like my dad so not surprising you didn’t.’
‘You look like both of your parents,’ Jo replied.
Except I want to look more like Dad, Jules thought. I don’t want to look like Mum. She studied the woman opposite. She did remember her vaguely.
‘You look different to how I remember, too.’
‘Well, I am older,’ Jo said, biting into a pistachio.
‘And your hair is different. Nice, but different.’
Jo put a hand to her mahogany-coloured hair.
‘Thank you. I do miss your mum. We were good friends.’
‘I remember now. You left quite suddenly. I can’t believe the coincidence of us meeting up like this.’
‘Some believe there are no such things as coincidences, more inevitabilities. You don’t know why I moved away?’
Jules shook her head.
‘Mum never said.’
‘My husband mistreated me. Badly. I had to get away with Daniel. I left my daughters behind, changed my name, grew my hair and made a new life for myself. I pray every day that he’ll never find us.’
‘I’m so sorry.’
Jo shrugged.
‘Life can test us to our limits, Jules. No one is immune.’
‘No. I suppose not.’
‘What do you think about Hideaway Cottage? Just walking past it gives me goosebumps.’
‘I only arrived yesterday, but it’s very cocooning.’
‘I expect it was difficult to drag yourself away so soon after getting there.’
‘It was a bit spur of the moment,’ Jules mumbled. ‘I’m doing a favour for Rita – collecting Tasha. I don’t even know her. All we’ve done is wave at each other from a distance. She probably won’t want to come with me.’
‘Now’s the time to find out.’
Jules stood up as Tasha paused outside the studio door. A tall man appeared behind her and put his hand on her shoulder, whispering something in her ear. She nodded, glanced around the courtyard and then pointed towards Jules.
‘Hello,’ the man said, approaching with long, loping strides, his hand still firmly attached to Tasha’s shoulder, part propelling her along, part preventing her from running away, Jules suspected. Tasha looked as apprehensive as she felt.
The man held out his free hand, smiling at Jo and leaning across the table towards Jules at the same time. Just as quickly as he extended his hand, he withdrew it and wiped it on his grey jeans, which looked as if they had seen better days.
‘Sorry, still a bit covered in clay,’ he said. ‘As usual. Probably better stick to hello. I’m Lance.’ He smiled, making his eyes crinkle at the corners. ‘I understand you’ve kindly offered to give Tash a ride home.’
‘Yes.’
‘I could have walked,’ Tasha said, seemingly fascinated by the gravel at her feet. ‘I’m not a baby.’
Lance’s cool grey eyes travelled from Jules back towards the girl at his side.
‘No one is suggesting you are,’ he said, ‘but it’s a narrow lane in parts and sometimes cars go along it too fast. Your granny worries about you when you walk. We all worry about you.’
‘I could have stayed with Erin, and you could have run me home later,’ Tasha persisted.
Jules’s heart felt as if it was sinking into her boots. She didn’t blame the girl at all. She didn’t want to spend time with a complete stranger either at the moment.
‘You could, but this lady here…’
His eyes met hers.
‘Jules,’ she whispered.
‘That’s right. Sorry, brain’s a bit frazzled at this time of the day.’
Jules noticed his finger pressure increase very slightly on Tasha’s baby blue sweatshirt.
‘Jules has kindly offered to do your granny a favour because you don’t want to be too late back, do you?’
Tasha’s eyelashes fluttered.
‘Suppose not.’
Lance’s hand moved and he rubbed Tasha’s back briefly.
‘We’ll see you tomorrow,’ said an elfin-faced girl of about the same age who had wandered over to stand next to Tasha. ‘And you can stay for supper another time.’
‘If I’m allowed.’
‘More chance of that if you get home when you’re supposed to,’ Lance persisted.
‘Mum says I’m a nuisance.’
‘You’re not. I promise you,’ Lance reassured her.
‘Here’s a nuisance,’ Jo said, obviously trying to lighten the mood.
A boy with an impish face bounded towards them.
‘Jules, meet Daniel. What have you made today, monkey?’
‘A spaceship sugar bowl,’ Daniel said with a grin.
‘Cool,’ she said. ‘For me to take with me on my journey to another planet.’
‘So you don’t forget me,’ Daniel said as he high-fived his mother.
‘As if!’
‘And what did you make, Tasha?’ Jules asked.
‘A jug.’
‘And very beautiful it is, too,’ Lance said.
‘Come on, Tash,’ Erin said, ‘let’s go and get your bag.’
‘No dawdling,’ Lance said, as both girls disappeared through a clematis-clad gate with a private notice on the front.
‘It’s where we live,’ Lance explained.
Jules glanced over to where Jo had gravitated towards other parents, and wished she’d come back over and keep her company.
‘Handy for work,’ he continued with a smile.
Jules felt ridiculously tongue-tied.
‘Rita said you’re staying at Hideaway Cottage. That’s a lovely spot.’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you here for long?’
‘No.’
‘Shame. There’s a lot to see and do on the island; lovely walks, beautiful beaches, the Roman villa is amazing if that’s your thing. Or maybe you don’t want to do anything,’ he added.
‘Not really.’
Suddenly he frowned and turned on his toes, flattening the grass into a little whirlpool swirl.
‘I’ll go and see where those girls are and send Tasha out to you.’
‘Tell her I’ll wait in the car,’ Jules called after him.