Hidden Cottage (27 page)

‘I was in the staff room, of course,’ Mrs Tyler said. She looked cross as she spoke to Mrs Pearson, but when she turned to JC, she smiled, and it wasn’t her usual closed-mouth smile – this was a big smile that showed her large uneven teeth and made lots of wrinkles around her eyes. It also made the mole on her chin look even bigger. ‘Sorry about the mix-up there,’ she said in a voice very different from her usual bossy one. It was like she was trying to be extra specially nice to JC. ‘But happily you’re here now,’ she added. ‘See you tomorrow, Madison.’

‘I think she fancies you, doesn’t she?’ Madison said when they turned out of the school gate.

JC laughed. ‘It’s my curse in life for all women to fancy me; it’s my devilish charm and good looks.’

Madison laughed. She liked it when JC talked like that. Mum called it his Oscar Wilde voice. She slipped her hand into his and tried to match his long strides. Today he was wearing a faded black Converse trainer on one foot and a dark green one on the other. He had a different combination for every day of the week and he never broke from the pattern. Mum said he was like her and the coloured pens she used to write her diary. Kindred spirits, she called them. Which was a fancy way of saying they liked the same things.

‘Sorry again that I was late,’ he said. ‘My mother phoned with some bad news and then a very annoying client called and wanted me to fix a problem right away.’

‘Why’s he so annoying?’

‘First, because he’s rude and arrogant, and second, he made me late for you. And that’s unforgivable.’

After a boy on a bicycle had swerved past them on the pavement to avoid a bus that had stopped to let off some passengers, Madison said, ‘What’s the bad news from your mother? It’s nothing to do with our cottage, is it?’

‘No, don’t worry about that. I spoke to the agent this morning and everything’s just fine. And here’s the deal: any worrying to be done, you leave it to me, OK? You stay right out of it.’

She smiled. ‘OK. So tell me about Mia. What’s happened? She’s all right, isn’t she?’

‘What did I just say about worrying?’

‘But I’m allowed to care, aren’t I?’

‘Right, I see you’re in one of your smart moods.’

‘I’m always in a smart mood. It’s what makes me so unique and special.’

He smiled. ‘No argument there. Well, it’s a bit complicated, but my mother wanted to tell me that my sister Eliza is upset about something.’

‘What kind of something?’

‘Her boyfriend turned out not to be a very nice man at all. He’d been lying to her about who he was.’

‘Why did he do that?’

‘Some men are like that. They like to lead a secret life.’

Not really sure what JC meant, she said, ‘Did Eliza love him?’

‘I think she did.’

‘That’s sad then.’

‘You’re right, it is. And it’s wrong. People shouldn’t tell lies.’

They passed the corner shop and were crossing the busy road – the road junction where Madison had pictured JC being knocked over by a car – when she thought of something important. ‘We don’t need to mention you being late for me to Mum, do we? It wouldn’t be a bad lie to forget about that, would it?’

He stepped over a humungous pile of revolting dog mess. ‘No,’ he said, ‘I’ll tell her.’

‘But she’ll be cross with you and I don’t want you to get into trouble. And it wasn’t really your fault, was it?’

He squeezed her hand. ‘She has every right to be cross with me. No secrets, Madison. That’s the rule I have with your mother.’

‘Do you have the same rule with me?’

‘Sure I do.’

‘Good. So tell me why you and your dad don’t like each other.’

‘
Whoa!
Where did that come from?’

‘I watched the two of you at the weekend and you hardly spoke and when you did, you had a look in your eyes.’

‘What kind of look was that, Sherlock?’

‘Like you were cross with him and wished he wasn’t there.’

‘My, you were being observant. What about my father? Did you notice anything particular about him?’

She gave this some thought. ‘He seemed annoyed most of the time, and then there were times when he didn’t seem to fit in. Or as if he didn’t want to join in.’

‘How very perceptive of you.’

‘Do you think he didn’t really want us there?’

‘Anything my father says or does, you mustn’t ever take seriously. That’s another rule. OK?’

Aware that JC hadn’t answered her question properly, she said, ‘So why don’t you like each other?’

He shrugged. ‘It’s more a matter of not really getting on that well. That’s the way it is in some families.’

Which was what Mum had said last night when Madison had asked her the same question.

They were home now and as JC put the key in the lock and opened the door, Madison decided not to ask any more questions. When they were living in Little Pelham, she’d soon find out exactly what was going on. It was all going to be so brilliant when they moved there.

Chapter Thirty-Two

The following day, finishing work early so he could avoid the worst of the traffic, Jensen was on his way to Little Pelham. Tattie had encouraged him to make the trip; she seemed to think he might cheer his sister up. He wasn’t totally convinced, but he was willing to give it a shot. In fact before Tattie had said anything he had already decided – after Eliza hadn’t returned any of his calls or messages – to see her. His sister’s unprecedented silence told him all he needed to know: she was in a bad way.

For all Eliza’s smartness, she wasn’t that worldly, not when it came to relationships at any rate. No way would he have said anything before but from what she’d told him about this Greg character, Jensen had had his doubts. It had been all those last-minute cancellations that had done it.

If there was one thing he hated, it was dishonesty. Those who lied and cheated were pretty low down the food chain in his book. Which was why he’d told Madison that there could be no secrets from Tattie when they’d been walking home from school yesterday. It was partly this principle of his that made the sparks fly when he was around his father. He hated having to bite his tongue when he was in his presence. He wanted to be honest. He wanted to confront his father and tell him exactly what he thought of him, that he was an egotistical idiot who expected the world to revolve around him.

In common with most egotistical men, Jeff Channing had a profoundly polarizing personality and over the years it had brought out the absolute worst in Jensen, made him instinctively want to challenge and defy his father at every turn.

It hadn’t always been like that, though. Jensen could actually remember a time when Dad had been fun and impulsive, springing amazing surprises on them. One school holiday he’d stopped off at the travel agent on the way home after work and announced that they were off to Disney World in the morning. Another time, he’d announced they were going on holiday to Mauritius the following day. The downside was that Mum would be in a flat spin trying to get the packing done while the rest of them crowded excitedly round Dad trying to get a look at the travel brochure and the hotel they’d be staying in.

Dad had always had what you’d call a ‘big personality’ and when you’re a young child that can work, but as you get older you begin to feel the rub of it and it becomes an embarrassment. Most fathers know to back off, but Dad hadn’t. He’d flexed his ‘big personality’ even more to assert his central role, but not in a good way. He became borderline tyrannical and would lose his rag far more than he used to, especially if Daisy was involved and claimed that she had been treated unfairly by Jensen and Eliza. Whenever Jensen pointed out that Daisy was lying, Dad would fly off the handle and say that there was only one liar in the family and it wasn’t Daisy.

It got to be a regular claim from Dad that he was treated with more respect at work than at home. ‘Then why don’t you stay there?’ Jensen had muttered one day. For which he’d received a stinging clip around the ear. Mum, who’d never once smacked them, had been furious and later Jensen had overheard her asking Dad to apologize to him, but Dad had said hell would freeze over before he’d do that. Things went from bad to worse after that, with Jensen never missing the chance to tell his father that a man who could leave his nineteen-year-old girlfriend when she was pregnant didn’t deserve his respect.

Yet for all the ill-feeling Jensen felt towards his father, Madison’s questions yesterday had brought him up short: his behaviour was no example for a child to witness. Tattie had hinted as much for a while now, but he had shrugged the hints off, believing he could maintain a certain level of pretence whenever Madison was within hearing of him trying to be civil to his father.

Clearly he’d failed. And that bothered him. As Tattie had said in bed last night, if they were to live in the same village, the rancour had to be curtailed. ‘I don’t want Madison drawn into your history,’ she’d said. ‘I know exactly why you do it and what makes you do it, but if the move is going to work for us, you have to work on polishing your social skills with your father.’

Jensen smiled at her choice of words. Social skills. Good one, Tattie. But then she could always do that. She could always make him smile. And laugh. ‘I’m not asking you to be best buddies all of a sudden,’ she’d said, ‘but you could try to be the better man. Because, beneath it all, JC, you
are
the better man.’

He wanted to believe her. But he wasn’t sure it was true. That’s what he hated most about being back at Medlar House when his father was there – he became as bad a person as Jeff Channing and that really wound him up, provoked him to go on the attack.

But he was determined to try and change. He’d do it for Tattie and for Madison. Because as much as it surprised him, he felt he was letting them down if he didn’t change. The bottom line was, he wanted to create a better life for the woman he loved and for her daughter.

If anyone had told Jensen that he would return to Little Pelham to live, he would have said they were crazy. No way, he would have said. Under no circumstances would he intentionally put himself within spitting distance of his father on a permanent basis. Absolutely not. But Tattie and Madison had changed all that. Being back in the village with them he had seen the place through different eyes, and caught up in Tattie’s enthusiasm for adopting a vastly different lifestyle, he had seen how perfect it could be for them as a family. Work-wise they would both be able to operate from home just as they already did, and the commute to London would be easy. Of course, it didn’t have to be Little Pelham they moved to – there were any number of options available – but the combination of the good reputation of the school for Madison, the familiarity of the village for him, along with having Mum so close by, all added up to a no-brainer situation.

He had no experience of children, but he knew a great kid when he saw one, and Madison was definitely a great kid. She might not have her real father on hand, or grandparents nearby – although she now had Mia – but she had a mother who adored her and Jensen knew how that felt.

When he and Tattie first got together, Tattie had made her position very clear. ‘Don’t ever think of coming between me and my daughter,’ she’d told him. ‘If you can’t live with the knowledge she’ll always come first, you’d better go now. If bullets are flying, and there’s only one person I can protect, she’s the one I’ll take the bullet for. Got it?’

He’d got it all right. Some might say it was an uncompromisingly harsh thing to say to a new boyfriend, a guaranteed deal-breaker, but he had respected her honesty. Holding his hands up, as though in surrender, he’d said, ‘Believe me, I’d walk away if I imagined you thought differently.’

He’d been shocked yesterday how upset Madison had been when he was late to pick her up from school. Shocked but also touched that she cared about him, and he liked that. What was more, he liked being needed by Tattie and Madison. It was a surprisingly gratifying feeling.

An hour later, he pulled onto the drive of Medlar House and parked alongside his mother’s VW Golf. He switched the engine off. While driving here and reflecting on his father he had also thought of his mother. He and Mum had always been incredibly close. The bond between them was just about as strong as it could be. But that wasn’t surprising, given that for the first few years of his life it had been just the two of them. While there was no way he could remember everything about that time, it had left its mark on him in all sorts of ways, one of which was that he was extremely protective of his mother and hated to see her caught in the crossfire of Dad’s anger and frustration that nobody did things the way he wanted them to be done.

But something else that had left its mark on him was that he knew how it felt suddenly to have to share your mother with a stranger. Which was why he’d been so careful with Madison; he hadn’t wanted her to feel like he was muscling in and pushing her out. When Dad had popped up unexpectedly in their lives – when Jensen had been ill in hospital – his abiding memory was of wondering when this stranger would leave, so it could be just him and Mum again.

He let himself in at the back door and called out to his mother.

‘Up here,’ she answered him.

He dumped his bag in the hall and took the stairs at a run, just as he always had as a teenager and with his father’s admonishing words ringing in his ears. ‘Watch the carpet why don’t you, it cost a ruddy fortune!’

‘Up here’ proved to be his old bedroom. Mum was making up his bed. He went over and kissed her cheek. She was wearing perfume and she smelt summery, of flowers. ‘You don’t have to do that,’ he said, ‘I’ll do it later.’

She smiled and reached for a pillowcase. ‘Almost done,’ she said. ‘I seem to be making and unmaking beds all the time these days. Not that I’m complaining. I’m glad that you’ve come; it will mean a lot to your sister. I haven’t told her you were coming. I thought it would be a nice surprise.’

He thought she looked and sounded tired, a bit strained. Perhaps it was worry for Eliza. He took the pillowcase from her and began stuffing the pillow into it. As he did so he had a sudden vision of age and infirmity creeping up on his mother. Then of her not being around any more. It was an appalling thought, an inconceivable thought, and one that he simply couldn’t deal with. He could not conceive of a world in which his mother no longer existed. A world in which her gentle manner didn’t soothe him into a better mood, or when she could effortlessly rebuke him with one of her quiet grave stares.