Secrets (42 page)

Joe, though, didn't want to know.

Joe had heard quite enough.

Tess is awaiting Joe's return like a child who has broken something precious but feels compelled to remain next to the mess. He's been gone a good hour. How she hopes it has indeed been
good
. She hears the crunch of footsteps on gravel. She's round the back, with Em and Wolf. The dog knows it's Joe and gives a joyful bark but his attention remains on Tess and the pegs, one of which she throws into the bushes for him to find. She's lost a lot of pegs that way – today, over the months – but it's been worth it for the comedy Wolf has provided. She manages to laugh at Wolf while to herself she's murmuring, shit shit shit, what's he going to say, what should I do, shall I just act dumb, shall I witter on fifteen to the dozen and talk about a picnic in the woods or a walk to the river?

‘Joe! You're back! Hi! Nice – time? I was thinking about a picnic to the woods or a walk in the river?’

Joe walks over to her but stops abruptly just beyond reach.

‘When people hide stuff from the people they say they love – you have to ask yourself, why would they do that, why would they have secrets? What kind of person does that make them?’

Tess's eyes scour Joe's face as if it's a map she cannot read because she's lost and in a panic. ‘Joe – I—’

He's looking over the top of her head. ‘When someone you love does something you've asked them not to do, you have to ask yourself, do they actually love you?’

She raises her face. ‘Joe – I just—’

‘Then you ask yourself, do I actually love them?’

‘No! Don't say that! I just—’

‘Couldn't you
just
respect my feelings – my past – that some things are
just
none of your bloody business?’

‘But – I—’

‘You're like a squatter, Tess. An emotional squatter. Wheedling your way in.’

He's about to turn on his heels, he's planned to strop off into the house and pack and be gone, travel off into the old life he knows and trusts. Tess, however, has different ideas. He's watched her, standing silent and mortified. He's seen her bite on her lips as if doing so might close her tear ducts, he's seen her bite even harder when it's obvious that doesn't work. He's watched a fat, oily tear snake a slow passage down the side of her nose to the corner of her mouth.

But it is Joe who is left standing there, because suddenly Tess has gone. Without a word, she has walked off. Through the gate. He doesn't know in which direction. But she's run away. She's gone.

Chapter Thirty-seven

For the first time in his life, Joe had sole charge of an infant. Well, there had been times, just once or twice, when he'd amused Emmeline – or she'd amused him – while Tess had been busy running the bath or making supper or clearing up some mess or other. But that had only ever been for a matter of minutes.

He peered at Wolf and he peered at Emmeline as if to assess whether they'd been party to the words that had passed between him and Tess before her sudden exit. But, out in the garden, it seemed they were both still captivated by the pegs. There was washing yet to hang out and though it struck Joe as wholly bizarre, he found himself pegging it out. Then Emmeline inadvertently twanged herself with a twig and Joe found that she was in his arms and he was hushing her not quite knowing if he was doing it right, or what he was meant to do next, or when the crying would stop.

‘Mummy?’

‘Back soon,’ Joe told her.

‘Iggle Piggle?’

Joe looked at her. She knew what she was talking about but he hadn't a clue. ‘Iggle Piggle to you too.’

‘Iggle Piggle?’

‘I don't –’

Emmeline was pointing to the house.

‘Is Iggle Piggle in there, Emmeline?’

She nodded vigorously. He gave her his finger, which she grabbed in her fist, and he let himself be led to the house. He looked through a small pile of books on the kitchen table and asked her if Iggle Piggle was in one of those. Apparently not. He was set to follow her upstairs when she stopped at the sitting room. He cast a cursory look around, peered under the coffee table and looked behind a cushion or two. There were no toys or books that he could see. ‘No Iggle Piggle in here either,’ he said. She started to cry. ‘We could read a different story? Does Emmeline have another book she likes?’

‘Iggle Piggle,’ the child sobbed.

‘But I don't know where it is.’ Joe looked at Wolf who was doing his Charlie Chaplin thing with his eyebrows. ‘Let's find another book.’ He scooped up the baby who arched her back and kept pointing a flung-out arm back to the sitting room. He took her up to her room and she stood on the rug, runny nosed and tearful, while Joe went through all the books murmuring, Iggle Piggle Iggle Piggle. Nothing. He held up each of her toys in turn and asked her if they were this Iggle Piggle. Categorically not. Still she cried and still he tried. Is it a song? He attempted to put the words Iggle Piggle to a tune. This made her throw herself to the floor in sorrow. He slumped down next to her.

‘I'm sorry, Miss Emmeline,’ he said. ‘I'm not a mummy or a daddy and I don't know who or where or what Iggle Piggle is.’

‘Mummy?’

‘Back soon.’

‘Mummy?’

‘Back soon.’

‘Mummy.’ She'd sat up hopeful – now she was distraught. Joe pulled her onto his lap, rocked her, placed thoughtful kisses onto the top of her head. ‘Mummy back soon,’ he said, ‘I hope. Mummy make it better. Mummy make everything better.’

He thought about this.

Hadn't Tess already made a lot significantly better? Was it really her, making everything worse? He wondered, was it really Tess's remit to make everything better? Wasn't it his?

‘Let's go and see what's on television, shall we?’ Joe said to Emmeline. ‘Then I suppose I have to think about your lunch. And mine.’

He carried her downstairs saying a theatrical yuk! when she wiped her snotty nose against his shoulder which made her do it again and again each time he said it. He put on the television and went to the Kids home page and told himself off for sounding like an old fuck for querying the number of channels available to the children of today.

‘Is CBeebies good?’ he asked, not expecting a reply. ‘I've heard of CBeebies. Look here we go, something called
In the Night Garden
. Does Emmeline like
In the Night Garden
? Oh look – there's a channel further down with
Tom and Jerry
. Joe likes
Tom and Jerry
. Who is
Ben10
? What'll it be, Emmeline?’

He looked at her; she appeared to be as squashy as the cushions against which she was sitting. Teary and expectant, she was evidently looking at him to save the day.

‘Mummy back soon, Emmeline,’ he murmured, selecting a channel. ‘Do you watch by yourself or do you have a grownup with you?’ He regarded her, so tiny. ‘I think I'd better stay.’

He sat beside her and put the volume up. And Emmeline screamed out, Iggle Piggle – but she was no longer crying, she was ecstatic.

Joe looked at the screen.

‘Is
that
Iggle Piggle? That
thing
is Iggle Piggle?’

Good God, he thought, bring back
Listen With Mother
, all is forgiven. But then he thought, I never got to listen with Mother. And then he thought how nothing had been forgiven. And then he gave himself a shake to bring him back to the present and he lifted Emmeline onto his lap to watch
In the Night Garden
. And he felt very proud of himself. They'd got there, he and Emmeline. And he thought, come back, Tess, please come back.

If finding Iggle Piggle had flooded him with a sense of relief, then knowing he was going to have to change Emmeline's nappy consumed him with a sense of terror. Halfway through
In the Night Garden
, he thought to himself, what's that smell? By the end of the programme, he knew exactly what it was and what he was going to have to do about it.

‘You're going to have to help me with this one, Emmeline,’ said Joe. And they muddled through, the two of them. Joe only came across the baby wipes after he'd been through half a roll of toilet paper and two flannels. And he'd learned that if there was to be a next time, he'd be rolling up and bagging the soiled nappy immediately, or else Emmeline would slap a limb down straight into it – which is precisely what she'd done. And he had no idea that baby lotion was so runny. Nor that it probably wasn't for bare bottoms when he discovered, later on, a tube helpfully called Happy Bum Nappy Cream. But however unconventional his changing technique, Emmeline was clean and dry and Joe felt rather pleased with himself as he escorted her downstairs for lunch.

‘Baked beans? Will that do? What do you have it with? Toast? I've seen Mummy make you toasty soldiers – will that be OK, for lunch?’

She ate everything and Joe found this so satisfying that he had beans on toast for his lunch too.

‘Now I know you have a snooze after lunch,’ Joe said, clearing up yoghurt and wondering to himself how a child could derive so much pleasure from such dreadful stickiness. It was as if Emmeline had taste buds on her cheeks, on the bridge of her nose; it was as if her hair acted as straws through which she could suck up the stuff.

‘Yuk, don't put those fingers near me, young lady.’

Which of course she did, much to her amusement.

And Joe thought, I could have backed away just now, I could have taken myself beyond reach quite easily. And, as he took Emmeline from her clip-on high chair, he thought to himself, is that what I've done? Have I backed away and taken myself beyond Tess's reach?

He settled Emmeline for her afternoon nap. He said to her, ‘Mummy home soon, hey, Emmeline, Mummy coming home soon.’

He only appeared to remember one children's song so he sang her ‘When the Boat Comes In’ in a Geordie accent before tweaking her curls and leaving the room as quietly as he could. He hovered in the hallway for a few minutes. Listening for Emmeline. Looking at Tess's door.

With Emmeline asleep, Joe turned his attention to Wolf.

‘What am I doing, old fellow? Me – changing nappies and singing songs?’

His dog had no answer.

‘Let's go and check the washing on the line, shall we – see if my pegging has held.’

He wasn't sure what to do with the remainder of the afternoon, so he told himself to Think Like Tess and he decided on fresh air and ice cream once Emmeline woke up. He changed another nappy, which didn't really need changing but it felt good to do a better job of it second time around. Then, he prepared to go out. It was like the Memory Game – he closed his eyes and envisaged Tess bustling about organizing what she needed and placing items in the base of the buggy. What was usually there? A beaker – definitely a beaker. What was in the beaker? Diluted juice, he seemed to remember. Half and half. Nappies and a nappy sack – look! they're there already. What else? He glanced outside at the weather. It was a beautiful day. He saw sunblock in the pocket of the buggy hood and slathered Emmeline all over before putting the bottle back. Drink. Nappy. Sun protection. Wipes – wipes would be good. And while he was in the kitchen retrieving the packet from the kitchen table, he saw an unopened pack of rice cakes and thought it prudent to take them. He packed it all into the base of the buggy, plonked in the baby – and spent a further five minutes struggling with the straps and clasps. He almost forgot Wolf's lead. He just about remembered his front-door keys.

At first, he thought he might just about manage the distance to the playground and five minutes on the swings. But then he thought, bugger the playground – this child needs sand between her toes. How could she ever have been to the beach if her mother had some ludicrous pathological fear of the place? Saltburn – all this time and never once to the beach? It's mid-May. It's warm. It's a perfect day for the beach.

No voice cautioned him that he was doing to Tess exactly what he'd perceived her to have done to him. Not respecting her wishes, however dark or daft the reasons behind them might be.

I don't do beaches. She'd said it so many times.

I don't do beaches or heights.

‘I really really hope that Mummy is there when we arrive back,’ Joe said as they trudged back up the hill towards home, late in the afternoon. ‘Not because I can't manage,’ he said, tipping up the buggy so he could talk to Emmeline and pull a face at her and make her whoop and flail her sandy hands at him. ‘Not because I haven't had fun.’ He stopped and waited for Wolf to catch up. ‘I just really hope that she's there.’

Tess would have turned up much, much earlier of course but Tamsin said not to. Tamsin said, go around to Lisa's. So Tess went to Lisa's and Lisa wouldn't let her return for a good long while either.

‘It's the longest I've been away from Em,’ Tess said, by mid-afternoon.

‘Bollocks it is,’ Lisa cried. ‘You used to go to work all day – remember?’

Tess was stunned. ‘Bloody hell,’ she said, ‘I'd actually forgotten all about that.’

They'd talked over endless cups of tea in Lisa's back garden – about family, about jobs, about childcare, about Saltburn. And they talked about Joe.

‘You did the right thing, pet,’ Lisa said. ‘If he'd have stormed off first, he'd be halfway back to some bridge somewhere. Just let him cool down. You won't have lost him.’

‘Promise?’

‘As much as I am able.’

‘And then? After I've let him cool down?’

‘And then – let him stew. Silly sod.’

‘And then?’

‘You go back – and wait and see what he has to say. And then you say stuff and he'll say stuff and then there'll be kissing and happy-ever-after.’

‘You make it sound very easy.’

‘I don't mean to. It won't be. But I do think that's the logical outcome – but the timing's crucial.’

‘Can I tell you something else, then – while I'm waiting?’

‘Course you can.’