The Sweetest Thing (39 page)

Silly? She went berserk. I couldn’t hold her. Luckily, the gate to the paddock was shut so she made a beeline for the lawn instead. It took me an hour to catch her, tempting her with a bowl of pony nuts, and then when I returned her to the stable, she trod on my toe, which was particularly painful as the farrier had been up to put special shoes on her: one hundred pounds’ worth.

I told Georgia, ‘
I
don’t pay that for shoes any more.’

‘It is for two pairs, Mum,’ she said, trying to justify the cost. ‘She needs them if Maria’s going to start training her. Alex says we should be able to start riding her again, and if she stays sound I’ll be able to take her to Pony Club.’ Georgia’s eyes gleamed with anticipation.

I hope she isn’t going to be disappointed because if the custody goes David’s way, I’ve made up my mind not to stay here, and I can’t take a pony back to London with me.

I gradually find myself looking forward to doing my bit towards looking after Bracken though. It’s like an oasis in my day, tying up her haynet in the stable when Georgia’s at school, giving her a rub or a brush. I even find myself talking to her, sharing my innermost thoughts about ex-husbands and family law, and how long it’s fair to make Guy wait, just as I do with Lucky.

I make a second appointment to see the solicitor in Talyton for the following Friday. In the meantime, the kids have an inset or teacher-training day which means the Thursday off school, so I’m standing at the paddock gate, my heart in my mouth, watching Maria giving Georgia a leg up on to the pony. It’s the first time Georgia’s ridden her since Bracken threw her off. Maria’s ridden her twice and she hasn’t done anything naughty – yet.

Maria steps away, holding on to the lunge line that’s attached to Bracken’s head collar.

‘Walk on,’ she says, flicking the end of a long whip towards the pony’s heels. ‘This is when she’s most likely to throw a buck, Georgia, so remember to breathe. You can sing, if that helps you to relax.’ Bracken walks a full circle. ‘Whoaaa!’ Bracken stops. Georgia’s face lights up.

‘Good girl,’ she says, stroking the pony’s neck.

‘I can’t believe it,’ I call out.

‘It’s early days, but we’re getting there.’ Maria turns to me, smiling. ‘We’ll get her on the other rein and then we’ll ask her for a trot.’ She looks past me. ‘Hello, Guy.’

‘Hi, Maria.’ Guy walks up beside me and leans on the gate. He’s wearing his waxed coat with the collar turned up. It has an odd scent to it that reminds me of
the mothballs my grandmother used to use. ‘Are you okay?’ he asks me.

‘I’m bearing up.’

‘I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve had a word with Fifi about wassailing the trees in your orchard. She says she’ll be in touch about the arrangements.’ Guy grins as he takes in my look of total bemusement. ‘You haven’t a clue what I’m going on about, have you, Jennie?’

‘Indeed, I haven’t.’

‘Wassailing is one of Talyton St George’s many traditions.’

‘Yet another excuse for a party and a few beers,’ I cut in, with a half smile. ‘Guy, I’m not sure I’m really in the mood for a party.’

‘I’m sorry. I thought you might like to have something to keep you occupied while the children are at their father’s at the weekend … I’ll tell Fifi you’re indisposed.’

‘And then she’ll want to know why,’ I say wryly. ‘All right then, what’s it all about?’

‘It’s done to increase the yield of the apple trees next year.’ Guy’s teasing me, I can tell. ‘Fifi reinstated the tradition about fifteen years ago, for a bit of fun and to “promote community cohesiveness” as she calls it. The first time, we had the poorest harvest ever. Everyone said it was because it was the wrong time of year – Fifi chose a date in November rather than January so our wassail didn’t clash with anyone else’s. As a VIP, she gets invited to them all.’

‘Do I have to do anything?’ I ask, assuming it’s best to find out what I’m letting myself in for.

‘I said I’d bring some cider and you’d bake a few of your cakes in return.’

‘That was rather presumptuous of you,’ I point out lightly. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I love baking, but occasionally I’d like to do something different in my spare time.’

‘I can ask the WI,’ he says anxiously.

‘Don’t be silly. Of course I’ll do it.’

‘Everyone meets at the tethering stone with torches and lanterns, then Fifi leads the procession from orchard to orchard, where the local folk sing, and pour cider on to the roots of the trees, and set off fireworks. We used to use shotguns, but they’ve been banned.’ Guy grimaces. ‘Health and safety. I’ll see you later.’ He hesitates. ‘Can I hear a phone?’

‘My mobile. I’ve left it in the kitchen.’ Thanking him, I hasten indoors and pick my phone up from the windowsill. It’s David calling me.

‘I can’t have the children this weekend.’ His voice has an odd echo on my mobile.

‘What did you say?’ I tap the handset as if that’s going to improve the signal and alter what he’s said.

‘I can’t have the children.’

My heart sinks, like the cherries in my latest cake to the bottom of the sponge. There was something wrong with the mix.

‘David, you have to have the children. They’ve missed seeing you, it’s your weekend, and you have to explain to them what’s going on.’

‘You’ve changed your tune,’ he says coolly. ‘Only a week ago, you didn’t want me to have anything to do with them.’

‘Oh, do grow up. I’m being serious here.’

‘I thought you’d be pleased. But then some people are never happy, are they?’

I ignore his comment. I’m perfectly happy, or could
be if I weren’t continually worrying about his application for custody.

‘One minute you want them with you full-time, the next you don’t want them at all,’ I say with rancour. ‘I shall be using this in court.’

‘Um … it won’t be coming to court,’ David says. ‘I’ve changed my mind.’

‘You’ve what?’ My heart jumps with hope.

‘I’ve changed my mind about going for custody,’ he repeats, and a wave of relief washes through me.

‘Why … when you couldn’t live without them … when I was supposed to be an unfit mother? You’ve put me through hell over this, and then you turn round and say “I’ve changed my mind”?’

‘Something’s happened,’ he says, in the manner of a condemned man. ‘Alice is pregnant.’

‘Oh?’ I’m not sure how to react to the news. ‘This wasn’t what I was expecting at all.’

‘Neither were we, to be honest,’ David admits, ‘but we’re both very happy.’

He doesn’t sound very happy, I muse. David’s vision of a carefree, post-baby lifestyle has been replaced by the return of sleepless nights and dirty nappies. The only travelling he’ll be doing with his nubile young girlfriend in the near future will be along the Purley Way to Mothercare and back.

‘Congratulations, David. I’m very pleased.’ Pleased that the custody suit is over, that he has to undergo the trials of early fatherhood yet again, and pleased that I can envisage him and Alice with a baby with equanimity.

‘I thought you might be – upset.’

‘After all this time? Of course not.’

‘Well, I can’t expect her to look after our three as well
as one of her own. She’s struggling to cope with the pregnancy as it is.’

‘Oh? And I thought Alice was so capable.’ I can’t help saying it. She’s turning out to be a bit of a drip, reliant on David to look after everything, whereas I – well, I’m Superwoman. All in all, this is the best news I’ve had for ages, and I can’t wait to tell Georgia and Sophie. I’m not sure how Adam will take it though. My first impulse is to share it with Guy, but he’s gone when I get back outside.

‘Your dad called me today,’ I tell the children when we’re having a late lunch at the table in the kitchen. It’s the only room in the house which is really warm. ‘He’s—’ I hesitate. David is the one who should be explaining this, not me. I’m not sure how to put it without making it sound as if he’s just decided that he can’t be bothered and doesn’t want to be a hands-on dad after all. ‘You know that he’s been talking about you going to live with him during the week?’ I begin. ‘He’s suggesting now that we keep things as they are.’

‘Hurray!’ says Georgia, clapping her hands together. ‘I couldn’t have left Bracken behind.’

‘We are still going to see him this weekend?’ says Adam.

‘Um, no. Not this weekend …’

Adam’s face darkens as he shoves his chair back. ‘He promised to take me go-karting. I can’t bear to spend all weekend in this dump!’ He stands up and leans against the back of the chair, knocking the legs repeatedly against the floor.

‘Adam, do you mind?’

‘When are we going to see Dad?’

‘I don’t know, I’m afraid.’ I think it’s up to David to
tell them of Alice’s pregnancy and the new half-sibling. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Well, I’m glad,’ says Georgia. ‘I expect Maria will come over and help me with Bracken again.’ Maria’s done wonders with the pony in a very short time, getting her walking and trotting over poles in the paddock, and planning an outing to a Pony Club rally very soon.

‘I wanna see my daddy,’ Sophie wails.

‘Oh, please don’t be such a baby,’ I say sharply, at which she throws down her bread and bursts into tears. ‘We’ll all be able to go wassailing instead,’ I say, feeling guilty for upsetting her. I give her a hug.

‘Will we be allowed to stay up late?’ Sophie struggles to control herself.

‘Till midnight?’ Georgia asks.

‘You can stay up all night as far as I’m concerned.’ I’m so relieved the threat of losing my children is over that, right now, I’d let them get away with anything.

I cancel the appointment with the solicitor, and call Summer to give her an update.

‘Summer, David’s laid down his arms – he’s decided not to go for custody.’

‘That’s brilliant news, Jennie.’

‘Alice is pregnant. I’m cool about it. I just find it odd that history is repeating itself.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘She’s gone from this ambitious young career woman to pregnant part-timer, supported by her husband-to-be. I know my career didn’t ever get off the ground, but I ended up in a similar situation with him.’ I pause then ask, ‘How’s school? Are you still enjoying it?’

‘I love it. One of the boys told me all about his mum’s
whiskers.’ Summer changes the subject back to me – and Guy. ‘I guess this means you can start again where you left off?’

‘I hope so.’ I smile to myself. ‘I’ll have to consider Adam, of course. He doesn’t know it yet, but his dad’s just rejected him in favour of his new baby.’

‘I suppose David thought he was doing the right thing, going for full custody,’ Summer points out. ‘He wanted Adam to be happy.’

She’s right, I muse, but I’m not ready to forgive him yet. It’s going to take time.

‘Anyway,’ I say, ‘I’m going to a wassail. It isn’t a date,’ I add hastily, ‘although it could be quite romantic, walking arm-in-arm under the stars.’

‘Yeah, wrapped up in layers of Goretex and fleece. Very flattering.’

‘Apparently it’s a pagan fertility rite.’

‘Be careful then, Jennie. You have three kids already. Do you really need any more?’ Summer teases.

‘It’s for the trees.’

‘It sounds completely bonkers,’ she says, ‘but have fun. I’ll be in touch.’

It feels like a new beginning, for me and Guy, and for my friendship with Summer. She and I might not be able to chat about mutual friends in the same way as we used to, but when it comes to a crisis, we’re still there for each other at the end of the phone.

I sit down with a pen and paper and start listing the ingredients for the cakes I’ve decided to bake for the wassail: Uphill Cider Cake and devil’s food cake for the chocaholics.

‘I can’t understand why everyone is so excited about wandering around the countryside, hitting trees,’
Adam says when we’re getting ready to go out on the Saturday night for the wassail. ‘As if that’s going to make the trees produce more apples. It’s crap. Utter crap.’

‘Adam, mind your language,’ I say lightly. ‘If you want to stay here instead and play on the Wii or something, I don’t mind.’ However, as I suspected, his curiosity gets the better of him and he’s in the utility room the next time I see him, hunting for his wellies.

‘They’re outside the back door,’ I say.

‘What did you put them out there for?’

‘Because they were covered in cow’s muck.’

‘That’s because we live in this shitty place,’ he says.

‘Adam!’

‘Well, it’s true. This place is full of shit and you can’t deny it because you only have to look out of a window to see it.’

‘There’s the pony’s muck heap, that’s all. I thought you didn’t mind.’ My voice trails off. ‘What about the cows? The milking?’

‘Oh, I quite like that bit,’ he admits. ‘It’s the rest of it. School. This poxy house. The fact we’re miles away from civilisation.’ He shudders, bites his lip and turns away, and I realise he’s trying not to cry. Like David, he refuses to show weakness. ‘I wanna go home, Mum. All my friends are in London and I’m stuck here.’ He turns back to me, his eyes flashing. ‘Why did you have to go and drag us here in the first place? And why did Dad go and change his mind about us living with him and Alice?’