A Summer of Secrets (20 page)

‘Great,’ said Len. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’

Back at the cottage, Jenny’s nerves kicked in again. What on earth could she wear this evening? She’d worn her new linen trousers twice now. She couldn’t possibly wear them again. It would have to be her old M&S ones, which were now very tight. But maybe they wouldn’t look too bad if she teamed them with a loose-fitting top. Oh, God. This whole dating thing was exhausting, and so stressful she felt slightly sick.

Mumbling something to Phyllis about going out, Jenny bundled a less than enthusiastic Harriet into the car and set off for the village.

‘We’re going in the car because we don’t want to tire you out before you meet Uncle Len,’ she informed the dog. ‘And I’m sure you’ll like him. He’s very dapper,’ she continued, grimacing at her black trousers, already covered in white dog hair. ‘And he’s been everywhere. All over the world. Isn’t that exciting?’

From her position in the passenger seat, Harriet’s sideways glance told Jenny that it would take more than a trendy middle-aged jet-setter to set her tail wagging.

‘Here she is,’ announced Jenny proudly, as she and Harriet approached Len, waiting for them on a bench in the high street. ‘Harriet, this is Len. Len, this is Harriet.’

From the look the two exchanged, Jenny suspected it may not be love at first sight.

‘It looks like it needs a good brush,’ remarked Len.

Jenny sucked in a deep breath. The dog did look like she needed a good brush, but she’d had two good brushes every day since being in Jenny’s care, and none of them had made the slightest difference. ‘She always looks like that,’ she informed him brightly. ‘We’re cultivating the rugged look.’

‘Hmm,’ mused Len. ‘Well, anyway, should we go? I thought we might try a different route this time and end up at the pub again.’

Jenny nodded. ‘Okay. But we’ll have to sit outside. I don’t think Harriet would like it if it’s as packed as last time.’

The expression on Len’s face intimated that he couldn’t care less whether Harriet liked it or not. But he moved swiftly on. ‘Right,’ he said, jumping to his feet. ‘Let’s go, then.’

He began striding down the street. Jenny made to join him. Then stopped as the lead in her hand jarred, jolting her back. She turned around to find Harriet sitting on the pavement.

‘Come on, sweetheart. We’re going for a nice walk with Uncle Len,’ she coaxed, in the same tone she used at school when trying to persuade the children to wash their hands before lunch. ‘It’s a lovely evening. And there’ll be lots of things to sniff.’

Harriet turned away.

‘And then we’ll go to the pub,’ Jenny continued, taking the few steps necessary to approach the animal and ruffle her head. ‘They have doggie treats on the bar there.’

Harriet lay down, resting her head on her front paws.

‘What’s going on?’ demanded Len, having obviously realised he lacked two walking companions. ‘What’s the matter with it?’

‘
It
is a
she
,’ Jenny informed him. ‘And I don’t know what the matter is. Maybe she’s tired or something.’

‘You need to show it who’s boss,’ Len insisted. ‘You can’t have it dictating to you like this.’

‘She’s not
dictating
,’ Jenny countered. ‘She’s obviously unhappy about something.’

‘Well, I don’t know what it’s got to be unhappy about,’ Len continued, his tone dripping with impatience. ‘A couple of days ago it was stuck in the kennels. You’d think it would be grateful to be out.’

‘I’m sure she is.’ Jenny knelt down to Harriet and looked her directly in the eye. ‘What’s wrong, darling? Do you want to go back home?’

‘Hello, Jenny.’

Jenny jerked up her head to find Annie O’Donnell smiling down at her, Portia Pinkington-Smythe at her side.

She rose to her feet. ‘Hello, Annie. And how nice to see you, Portia. I’d heard you were back in the village. How are you? I was so sorry to hear about your dad.’

Portia smiled gratefully. ‘Thanks, Jenny. And I’m okay, I suppose. Still trying to sort everything out. You know how it is.’

Despite not having the faintest idea how it was being the new owner of a fabulous stately home, Jenny affected a sympathetic expression. ‘I can imagine it’ll take a while.’

Portia nodded. ‘Believe me, you have no idea. Anyway, how are you? You’re looking very well. Is this your dog?’

‘It is. I just got her the other day from the kennels. But she’s a bit –’

‘Ah hem.’

Len’s clearing of his throat reminded Jenny of his presence. A fact she’d almost forgotten, being so concerned with Harriet.

‘Oh, how rude of me,’ she exclaimed. ‘Let me introduce you all. Annie, Portia, this is my, um, friend, Len Ratner. Len, this is Annie O’Donnell, owner of the amazing Crumbs cake shop. And Portia Pinkington-Smythe.’

Len’s eyebrows shot up his face. ‘Pinkington-Smythe as in Buttersley Manor?’ he asked, exchanging handshakes with the two women.

‘The very same,’ confirmed Portia. ‘For what it’s worth.’

‘Oh?’

Although Jenny hadn’t thought it possible, she watched in awe as one of Len’s brows crept a little higher.

Portia shook her head dismissively. ‘Oh, just ignore me. I’m still coming to terms with being the house’s new owner, I guess. Well, jointly with my brother, of course.’

‘Of course,’ said Len, now furrowing his forehead concernedly. ‘I suppose it’s a huge responsibility.’

Portia gave a hollow laugh. ‘Something like that.’

‘So …,’ he pressed, a little diffidently, Jenny thought. ‘I suppose, if you’ve moved back here, that means you intend keeping the house.’

Portia shrugged. ‘Possibly. We haven’t made any firm decisions yet.’

‘Well, where are you two off to?’ Jenny chipped in, a little embarrassed by Len’s intense questioning.

‘To the pub for a couple of hours,’ Annie replied. ‘We’re trying to make it a weekly thing. It’s a real treat for me to escape the house on a school night.’

‘I bet it is,’ Jenny chuckled. ‘Although with two such gorgeous children as yours, I think I’d find it hard to tear myself away.’

‘Oh, believe me, you wouldn’t if you had them every day,’ Annie laughed.

‘I’m sure you’re right,’ replied Jenny. ‘Anyway, we’re going for a walk. Or at least we were, before Harriet stuck her heels in. We might see you in the pub later.’

‘Great,’ said Annie. ‘Well, do come and join us, if we’re still there.’

‘We will,’ said Jenny, having no intention of interrupting the two friends’ evening. ‘You enjoy yourselves.’

‘Well, well, well. You didn’t tell me you knew Portia Pinkington-Smythe,’ Len exclaimed, as the two women took their leave of them.

‘You didn’t ask,’ Jenny retorted.

‘Look, why don’t I just pick her up and carry her back to the car,’ Len huffed, twenty minutes later, when, despite Jenny’s best coaxing efforts, Harriet remained sprawled on the pavement, making it perfectly clear she had no intention of going anywhere.

Jenny gazed down at the dog, hands on her hips. She didn’t have a clue what to do with her. At least Len’s solution would bring an end to the fiasco. ‘Okay,’ she conceded.

Len approached the dog.

Harriet lifted her head and uttered a low growl.

‘Bloody hell,’ he exclaimed, jumping back. ‘It’s vicious. I’m not going anywhere near it.’

‘Of course she isn’t vicious,’ retorted Jenny. ‘She’s just frightened. Look, I’ll carry her back to the car and take her home. I’m really sorry about this. Maybe we could go for a walk another evening. Without Harriet.’

Len looked horrified. ‘You mean you’re not coming back?’

Jenny shook her head. ‘I can’t leave her with my mother. The poor thing is obviously upset about something. And whatever it is, my mother will make it ten times worse.’

Len looked like he’d just discovered an entire flock of seagulls had pooped all over his lovely, shiny, powder-blue Jag. ‘But why don’t you come straight back and we can go for a drink? Join your friends, Annie and Portia?’

Jenny shook her head. ‘Heavens, no. I wouldn’t dream of imposing on them.’

‘But they invited us.’

‘Only out of politeness. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to take Harriet home. I’ll catch you later.’

And with that, Jenny bundled up the dog and began staggering back to her car.

***

‘What are we going to do about Bernice?’

In the Bubbles showroom, Rich almost choked on his cup of tea. Things had been going brilliantly with Candi. They’d taken her bowling a couple of nights ago and had a great time. And Bethany, delighted with her new half-sister, scarcely stopped jabbering about her. So, ever so slightly chuffed with how well things were progressing, Rich had shoved the issue of Bernice to the back of his mind, locked it in a bomb-proof cupboard, and had been on the verge of throwing away the virtual key, when Alison unceremoniously dragged the whole lot out again.

‘I have no idea what to do about her,’ he confessed. ‘But I’m certainly not going to cough up the fifty thousand she’s asking for, even if I do feel guilty about not contributing a penny to Candi’s upbringing.’

‘You’ve nothing to feel guilty about,’ Alison countered. ‘How could you contribute, when you didn’t know she existed? No, Bernice made her decision not to include you in Candi’s life, so she’ll have to live with it. She’d have a hard job squeezing fifty pence out of us, never mind fifty grand. And when she turns up, I’ll tell her exactly that.’

Rich shuddered. Alison, when she made up her mind about something, was so determined, it unnerved him. And recalling just how spectacularly Bernice could kick off was no less terrifying. If it came to blows between the two women, he’d much prefer to be somewhere else – like Papua New Guinea. He dragged the matter back to his reinforced cupboard and slammed the door shut.

***

You coming out to play today?

The text was from Felicity.

Joe deleted it.

His appetite for his “additional services” had dwindled to zero. And he knew exactly why: he no longer needed to exact revenge for what had happened between him and Gina; no longer needed to hit back at the rich bloke she’d run off with by bedding other rich blokes’ wives. With Gina and Charlie back in his life, reflecting on what he’d done made him cringe with shame. It all seemed so sordid, sad, tacky; something he never would’ve dreamed of engaging in before the split with Gina; and something he couldn’t ever imagine reverting back to now. He couldn’t even stand the thought of his “earnings” being in the flat. He’d shoved it all in a big jiffy bag and handed it over to the rescue kennels. And, to completely close that lewd chapter of his life, he would let Felicity know his services were no longer available. She would spread the word around the others. In the meantime, Joe had much pleasanter things to think about: he’d asked Gina if she and Charlie would like to go to an outdoor performance of
The Gruffalo
in Harrogate. And, to his delight, she’d agreed. The tickets had cost him a small fortune – because of the short notice, he’d had to pay a massive premium – but he didn’t care. Just imagining the three of them together, scoffing the picnic he’d prepared, laughing at the comical characters, being a proper family doing family stuff, surrounded by other proper families doing family stuff, made him all warm and fuzzy.

Given the obvious difficulty of squeezing him and Gina and Charlie’s car seat into the van, Gina had offered to drive. She’d arranged to pick him up at four, so Joe finished work early, showered, shaved and spent a ridiculous amount of time deliberating over what to wear. In the end he opted for khaki cargo shorts and a white T-shirt.

Much to his amusement, when Gina’s Fiesta bowled up, he discovered Charlie wearing a not dissimilar outfit, with the exception of the “Cool Dude” slogan emblazoned across his T-shirt. Joe’s bore no such declaration, but all the same, he hoped Gina thought it a suitable accolade for him, too. She, meanwhile, looked adorable in cut-off jeans and a yellow, gypsy-style top, her hair clipped up, revealing her slender neck. The neck Joe knew so intimately, he could pinpoint the exact spot to nibble which would drive her wild.

‘I can’t believe you managed to get tickets,’ she gushed, as he slipped into the passenger seat. ‘Not that I could’ve afforded them anyway.’

Joe banished all thoughts of neck nibbling. It was far too early in their renewed acquaintance to be thinking of such things.

‘Contacts,’ he replied with a cheeky wink, tapping the side of his nose and deciding it wisest to leave out the bit about how the exercise had cost him three hours on the phone and more than a week’s earnings.

Gina giggled, before releasing the handbrake and setting off down the road. ‘Look, I’m really sorry about the other night at Mum’s,’ she began. ‘I honestly had no idea I’d been on the phone for so long. Nat really is having a crisis with this new fella of hers.’

Recalling all the raucous laughter Joe had overheard that evening, he couldn’t imagine Nat’s crisis being too severe, but he didn’t say so. The main thing was that Gina had apologised.

‘It’s okay,’ he replied, optimism surging through him. Today, he had a strong presentiment, would be a turning point. He might have almost suffered a nervous breakdown and run up a phone bill as long as the Mississippi in his quest to get these tickets, but he suspected it might just have been one of the best things he’d ever done. Because, after today, everything would be all right. ‘You can’t be expected to drop your mates just because I’m round for tea,’ he continued. ‘And talking of tea, after our picnic, I thought we could try that new ice-cream parlour everyone’s talking about. They do a mean banana split, apparently, and I know how much Charlie likes his bananas.’

‘Sounds great.’ Gina flashed him a dazzling smile, and Joe’s happiness level soared off the scale and orbited the planet.

Once at the venue, things continued in a positive vein: Gina found a parking spot immediately, their seats were perfect, and the picnic Joe had lovingly prepared met with both her and Charlie’s gushing approval. And, just to top off what was turning out to be one of the best days of Joe’s life, the performance, too, was brilliant. Charlie – despite Joe being convinced he would’ve found most of the animals terrifying when he was three years old – found it hilarious, dissolving into fits of laughter every couple of minutes. Just watching his son brought Joe far more pleasure than any part of the outstanding play.