Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
Jules was showered and in her dressing gown and watching the end of a film when she thought she could hear crying.
She turned the television down and sat for a moment wondering if she was imagining it, if it was one of those noises that Carrie attributed to ghosts, but for which she would be able to find a rational explanation.
But no. There were definitely soft, muffled sobs coming from somewhere.
She followed the sound towards the front door.
Huddled in the porch, knees drawn up to her chin, hair falling forwards across her face, was Tasha. In her hands she cradled something.
‘Tasha, what on earth has happened?’ Jules bent down so that she was almost on a level. ‘Are you ill or injured?’
A shake of the head.
‘Then you can get up. Come on. You can’t sit there. It’s chilly for the time of year and the wind is blowing straight into the porch. That step must be freezing.’
She touched the girl’s bare arm.
‘Goodness, you’re cold. And you’re only in pyjama shorts and a strappy top. Let’s get you inside.’
She helped Tasha to her feet and guided her to the sitting room, lowering her onto the sofa and wrapping one mohair throw around her shoulders and another over her legs. Instinctively she dropped a kiss on to the top of her head.
‘I’m going to get you a warm drink.’
She passed her the television controls.
‘I won’t be a minute. Change channels if you want to.’
Deciding that hot chocolate was a better option than tea, Jules kept a close eye on Tasha through the doorway as she waited for the milk to come to the boil. She picked out a small floral tray, put a couple of biscuits on a plate, whisked the hot chocolate to a froth and headed back through.
‘Here you are. Hold the mug for a while and it will warm you through.’
Slowly Tasha opened her cupped palms to reveal several pieces of broken pottery.
‘Oh dear,’ Jules said. ‘What happened?’
‘It was for you,’ she said, the tears starting to flow again. ‘I made it for Granny, but she’s got loads of my jugs so I thought you might like it.’
‘I do,’ Jules said, as Tasha emptied the pieces into her hands. She turned the pieces of broken pottery over. ‘Why don’t we glue this? It will still be beautiful.’
‘It will still be broken though.’
‘In some cultures, they deliberately put flaws in things to remind us that life isn’t perfect.’
‘I know that, but this isn’t deliberately done by me – it was ruined by her. She ruins everything.’
‘Your mum?’
Jules put the pieces on the table and sat next to her.
She felt a tightness in her chest. All those rows with her own mother came flooding back.
Even now she thought it should hurt less each time they disagreed, but it never did.
Every cross word from her mother felt like a betrayal. She turned her attention back to Tasha.
‘Perhaps it was an accident.’
Tasha stopped crying and twisted to look at Jules, her eyes wide in disbelief.
‘She took it from me and threw it on the flagstone floor because it was for you. She’s jealous.’
‘Of me? She doesn’t even know me.’
‘You’re a rival.’
‘For what?’
‘Lance’s affections.’
‘That’s ridiculous.’
‘She saw you in the front of the car when he dropped me off. She was furious.’
‘Well, she has no need to be and if you like I’ll tell her that. Lance is a nice man, but my heart has been broken. I’m not about to dive into another relationship now or… well, not for a long time.’
‘The thing is, Mum doesn’t like not getting her own way. Any attractive female of the right age who enters Lance’s orbit is a threat.’
‘This is totally irrational. I most definitely am not – a threat, I mean – and to be honest I don’t feel that attractive at the moment either. Being dumped does that to you.’
Tasha sniffed loudly and took a sip of the hot chocolate.
‘Don’t suppose you have any marshmallows, do you?’
‘No, sorry.’
‘I wouldn’t know about being dumped and Granny is always saying that no one is that happy with their looks at fourteen and I shouldn’t compare myself to celebs who’ve had the use of professional make-up artists and hairdressers and false eyelashes…’
‘…and stylists and been airbrushed in photos,’ Jules continued.
Tasha glanced up at Jules.
‘Have you ever worn false eyelashes?’
‘No.’
‘You’ve got nice eyes, sort of grey green.’
‘Thank you.’
‘My eyes are too small and too close together and my nose looks too big in selfies.’
‘Most people’s noses look big in selfies. What do you like about yourself?’
Tasha went quiet and tucked her legs up underneath her.
‘Nothing,’ she whispered so quietly that if Jules hadn’t been watching her lips she might have missed it.
She looked up at Jules with eyes which were neither too small nor too close-set and blinked, tears clinging to her eyelashes.
‘Maybe,’ she said with a fragile smile, ‘it’s because my mother’s never really liked me.’
‘Oh, Tasha,’ Jules gasped, longing to wrap her arms around the girl, but knowing that if she did, they might both break down.
‘What none of us realise at the time is that at fourteen we’re all beautiful.
All of those pouty people on social media are not real and most of them are not happy.
Imagine the pressure to look like that all the time. ’
‘I sort of know that in my heart, but my head overrules it.’
‘I do understand that, which is why I try to limit my social media to feeds that make me feel happy and inspired rather than dissatisfied or inadequate.’
‘Mum’s always on social media, but I don’t think it makes her happy. She always wants what she can’t have. That’s why she’s attracted to Lance, because he’s unattainable.’ She cast Jules a sly glance. ‘You’re way more his type.’
Jules felt a bit sorry for Lance although she was sure he could stand up for himself.
‘Erin would really like him to meet someone. She’s worried about him being on his own when she and Fitz leave home.’
‘That’s a way off. Anyway, maybe he’s happy as he is. It’s better to be on your own than with the wrong person.’
‘But you don’t feel better on your own, do you?’
Jules picked up a cushion and hugged it to her.
‘It’s early days and you know what, I think I’m getting there.’
‘Most people want to be with someone else though, don’t they? I want to meet someone when I’m older.’
‘And hopefully you will.’
Tasha licked her lips.
‘Is this full fat milk?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you know how many calories are in full fat as opposed to semi-skimmed?’
‘No. I just know that full fat tastes nicer and it’s meant to be better for you.’
‘Granny says that, too. I think you’re both right. I won’t have a biscuit though.’
‘I’m really not sure how we got on to talking about me when it’s you I’m worried about.’
‘Oh, I’m okay now,’ Tasha said. ‘I’m used to bouncing back. Granny says that’s the only way to be and she’s right.’
Jules glanced at the clock.
‘Does anyone know you’re here?’
Tasha shook her head.
‘We should let them know.’
She moved to the phone and Tasha flew up from the sofa, spilling some of the hot chocolate down the front of her lemon shorts.
‘Please don’t. Not just yet. They won’t miss me. They’ll think I’m in my room sulking. Just a few more minutes. I haven’t finished my drink yet and your film’s still going. We could sit and watch it together.’
‘And then I’ll walk you back.’
Tasha sat back down.
‘You’re like my guardian angel.’
‘That’s a lovely thing to say, thank you, but I don’t want you to be in trouble.’
‘I know, but when I’ve been here in this house and garden, and now with you, I feel that I can cope with anything. It gives me strength.’
Jules glanced around the room.
‘It’s strange how it does that to you,’ she said quietly. ‘I think it’s beginning to give me strength, too.’
Rita picked up a torch from the windowsill next to the back door and shrugged on an old coat.
It wasn’t particularly cold, but she felt chilled to the bone, probably not helped by worry.
She hadn’t been able to eat a thing at supper, even though she’d cooked a nice chicken casserole with peppers and sun-dried tomatoes.
It had been one of George’s favourites and she could portion it up for the freezer, so she’d always got something for herself or a good warming meal when the children came back from school in the autumn.
Instead, just as she’d been about to sit down, she’d heard all of that shouting coming from the yard.
‘I shouldn’t interfere,’ she’d said to Hercules whose ears were pricked, a low growl coming from deep in his throat.
Then she’d heard Tasha screaming at the top of her voice and the cows had started to low in alarm.
‘I wish you’d go away and never come back,’ she’d shouted at Christabel.
By now Rita had moved to the window and was standing half hidden by the velvet curtain so she could see them standing in the doorway to the bungalow.
Christabel had something in her hand and from what Rita could see she just opened her fingers and dropped it to the ground. Tasha stood stock still for a moment.
‘I hate you,’ she shouted at her mother. ‘If you won’t go away, I will.’
At that Christabel had turned and headed back into the house as Tasha stooped to scrabble on the ground to pick up what had been broken.
Rita put a hand to her chest. She should go and find out what was going on, try to calm everything down, but there had been so much stress recently.
She sat down on the arm of the nearest chair and stroked the top of Hercules’s head.
‘It will blow over,’ she said to the dog. ‘It has before. It will now. She doesn’t mean it. She’ll go for a walk and then she’ll be back.’
But Tasha hadn’t come back. It was ten thirty now and Alastair was heading out in the car with Will.
He said they’d searched the farmyard and for Rita to stay where she was. But Rita had never been good at sitting still. She was pretty sure that Will knew where his sister hid when life got too much.