After the Honeymoon (39 page)

Even better, it wouldn’t be long until he was here. ‘We’re coming to the UK to see my grandad!’ the boy had emailed last week. There had been a big exclamation mark after ‘grandad’ plus a smiley face, indicating the boy’s enthusiasm. ‘Shall I text when we’re there?’

‘Of course,’ he had replied instantly. ‘We’ll go to this smart pizza place in town and you can give me your verdict.’

His mind had been reeling ever since. So Rosie was paying her father a visit, was she? He only hoped the old man had mellowed a bit. It made his blood boil to think of how he’d treated her all those years ago. Or was that because he felt guilty himself, at not being there? Maybe a bit of both.

Suddenly, Winston became aware of a sea of women, ranging from teenagers to grannies, all looking at him expectantly. He’d been so busy going over the last few weeks in his mind that he’d almost forgotten why he was here. That wouldn’t do. He needed this job, even though his earnings were peanuts compared with his previous salary. If nothing else, it was better than sitting in Melissa’s house, making desperate phone calls to old contacts who didn’t want any more to do with him.

Besides, he loved his work. It was great to see the change it made in people’s bodies, and their outlook too. There was a great deal to be said for the happy hormones that came from exercise.

‘Right, everyone,’ he grinned, rubbing his hands together and flexing his abs. ‘Let’s get going with a warm-up, shall we?’

‘That was great,’ said a really skinny woman after class. She was wearing a tee-shirt emblazoned with PAULA AND JILLY’S AU PAIR AGENCY. ‘I can’t believe that I’ve actually been to a class run by
the
Winston King.’ Then she turned to her friend. ‘Can you, Jilly?’

The hall treasurer – who was also in the group – seemed pleased, too. ‘Great attendance figures. You’ve got most of the women in Corrywood turning up to see what you look like. Mind you, the test will come in the following weeks when the celebrity novelty wears off.’

So now he had to prove himself. And why not, thought Winston as he walked back through town with a spring in his step. He’d done that before and he’d do it again. In a way, it was a relief that everyone knew about Nick. It didn’t take away the pain of his guilt and loss, but at least he didn’t have to worry about any more secrets coming out.

‘How the mighty have fallen!’

Winston stepped sideways as the passenger door of a metallic-grey Jaguar opened, almost knocking right into him. Marvyn’s smug face grinned up at him. There was, he noticed, a cheap-looking blonde in the driving seat, whom he recognised from class. ‘Dawn here says you were quite good. But it can’t be the same as telly, can it?’

The cheap blonde gave him an apologetic smile.

‘It’s a job,’ said Winston defensively, ‘and I enjoy it.’

Marvyn’s smugness turned into a leer. ‘It’s not going to keep Melissa in the life she’s been accustomed to, is it? As for my kids, just make sure you remember whose they are, will you? Hear you’ve been playing football with Freddie. It’s
me
he plays with. Not you.’

Then he slammed the door shut and the car drove off, leaving Winston to stare after him. ‘
It’s me he plays with. Not you
.’ For the first time since he’d met Marvyn, Winston began to feel a sneaking sympathy. Of course the man had been the architect of his own misfortune (better not tell Melissa that her successor was in his class), but it couldn’t be easy knowing that another man was living with your kids.

After all, he felt a similar antipathy to Greco, who had known his son since childhood – something that he, Winston, could never reclaim. All his good humour from the class began to melt away as he made his way up the hill to Melissa’s house. His mobile bleeped to announce a text, but in his present state of mind, he couldn’t be bothered to check it. As he reached his front door his phone beeped again. This time he looked at it.

ON MY WAY TO CORRYWOOD. JACK
, it said in capital letters.

That was it. No time or meeting place.
Great
, Winston texted back, his heart pounding.
When?

But there was no reply. How would Jack know where to go? Then he realised. Of course, Alice would have given him the address. Maybe he was more interested in seeing her than him. Even so, he felt a flutter of anticipation. His son was coming to see him. His son!

‘What time is he coming?’ demanded Melissa when she got home. Her career as a make-up artist was really taking off, just as his was failing. How ironic that it had been her experience on his show that had helped resurrect her career.

‘I don’t know,’ he said, opening the oven door to check on supper. When his wife was working a full day, it was his turn to cook the evening meal. He’d suggested that one, and Melissa had seemed pleasantly surprised. Obviously this wasn’t something Marvyn had done. One up on him, then.

‘I’ve made soya shepherd’s pie,’ he announced, adding a little more cheese so it bubbled nicely on top.

Alice, just back from holiday club at school, groaned. ‘Not another veggie dish. Can’t we have proper food?’

Vegetarian
is
proper food, Winston was about to say but then stopped himself. She might have a point; at least where his son was concerned. ‘I wonder what Jack likes to eat?’ he asked, wondering at the same time how many fathers would ask that question.

‘Does it matter?’ remarked Melissa, a touch sharply. ‘When you turn up without much notice, you eat what you get.’

Just what he, Winston, had always said about Alice and Freddie. They should finish what was on the plate in front of them. Yet somehow it was now important that Jack should enjoy his meal.

‘I just want him to feel welcome,’ he said, putting on the kettle.

‘It seems to me that you’re making rather a lot of fuss,’ retorted Melissa sharply. ‘No tea for me, thanks. I had a latte at the station.’

By the time it got to eight o’clock and there was still no sign of Jack (he’d been right – Alice confirmed she’d given him the address), Winston began to get worried. If only he knew which train he was coming in on, he could have met him.

But when he tried to ring Jack’s mobile, it went through to answerphone. By nine, he was pacing up and down with anxiety. ‘Now you know how I feel when Alice is late home from her friends,’ remarked Melissa, feet up on the sofa as she watched television.

‘He’s never been in the UK before,’ retorted Winston, perhaps a touch too defensively. ‘What if he’s got lost?’

Melissa flicked channels. ‘All he has to do is ask.’

He moved closer to her. ‘Are you OK about him coming? I mean, I know it’s been a lot to get used to, with him and Rosie, but I thought you’d understand, being a mother yourself.’

His voice tailed off as she gave him a withering look. ‘The difference is, Winston, that you knew I had children before you married me. I certainly didn’t know about Jack. In fact, it turns out, as Marvyn says, that there’s quite a lot I don’t know about you …’

‘Hang on.’ Winston sat bolt upright on the sofa. ‘What did you say?’

Melissa sighed. ‘Well, it’s true, isn’t it? I don’t know much about you …’

‘Not that bit. The Marvyn bit.’ Winston felt himself going cold. ‘Have you been discussing me with
him
?’

Melissa coloured. ‘I do need to talk to the father of my children, you know. When you have kids, you can’t just cut off all contact. That would be irresponsible.’

‘I can see that.’ Winston struggled to be reasonable. ‘But I don’t like the idea of you discussing me behind my back.’

Melissa stood up and moved to the chair next to the sofa. It was a pretty chair, covered in a Cath Kidston fabric, which Marvyn had apparently given her a few years ago as a birthday present. ‘I don’t do anything behind your back, Winston.’ The emphasis on the ‘I’ suggested that he did. ‘In fact, I was waiting for the right opportunity to tell you something else.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s not great timing but I might as well come out with it. My boss has asked me to do Billy.’

Winston let out a low groan. She was going to do the make-up for Billy the Kid – the skinny youth who had taken over his slot? Poppy’s boyfriend.

‘I know it’s hard.’ Melissa looked more sympathetic. ‘But I can’t afford to turn work down now that you’re …’

She stopped. ‘Now that I’m not earning what I was,’ said Winston, completing the sentence for her.

There was a reluctant nod. ‘I won’t do it if you don’t want, but …’

Again, she broke off her sentence just as Winston’s phone rang. ‘Jack!’ He felt relief flooding through him. ‘Where are you? The station? Hang on. I’ll be down in a minute.’

Leaping up, he grabbed his car keys from the table. ‘I want to come too,’ called out Alice, who must have been eavesdropping.

‘You’ve got holiday homework to finish,’ said Melissa firmly. ‘You’ll see Jack soon enough.’ She glared at her watch pointedly.

The traffic lights were red, and just as they changed to orange, a far-too-thin woman in joggers nipped across, waving merrily. From the writing on her sweatshirt, it was Paula of Paula and Jilly’s Au Pair Agency, who had signed up for every one of his classes.

Nodding back tersely, he drove on through town and down to the station, heart in his mouth. Was this silly? A few months ago, he hadn’t even known he had a son, but now Jack’s existence gave a completely different meaning to his life. Of course, he couldn’t expect to pick up the pieces just like that and be a full-on dad. But he could at least be there for him when he wanted him to be. Like now.

But where was he? Winston scanned the station. There were a couple of teenage girls, speaking urgently into their phones. A mother with six kids, trying to stop the seventh from running off. A bohemian-looking woman with her hair done up in feathers, next to a younger girl with tattoos down her arm. And then he saw him. A tall, slim boy with wavy brown hair and tanned complexion looking anxiously around. Winston pulled up in a parking bay and waved at him. ‘Jack! Over here!’

The boy broke into a run. ‘Hi. Thanks for coming.’ His eyes were bright but he was shivering. Instantly, Winston was jolted back to the time he had run away from school. ‘Does your mum know you’re here?’

There was a shrug. ‘Sort of.’

Sort of? Winston was reminded of the
Unknown Call
that left no message. Had that been Rosie?

‘Hop in.’ He watched Jack take in the Audi convertible with wide eyes. ‘We’ll chat on the way. In fact, we’ll stop off somewhere first so we can have a good talk before getting home.’

Winston couldn’t believe it. He’d come across racism at school, naturally. In his experience all kids got bullied anyway regardless of nationality. A friend of his had been nicknamed Dirty Bacon because he was called Graham (gray ham, as he’d later explained).

Kids could be very cruel. But adults should know better. Especially grandfathers.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he said when Jack told him, in a clipped voice that suggested a great deal of hurt, what Rosie’s father had said. Coffee-coloured bastard? That was unforgivable.

Jack looked away. ‘It’s all right.’

But it wasn’t. It wasn’t all right at all. ‘Have you rung your mother to tell her you’re here?’ he asked.

Jack shook his head.

‘Then we must do so.’

Reluctantly, Jack got out his phone. Winston went to the bar to buy them both another orange juice, to give him some privacy, but when he returned, the boy was still talking in monosyllables. Yes. No. Don’t know. ‘She wants to talk to you,’ he said eventually, passing the handset over.

‘Winston!’ The delight – or rather relief – in Rosie’s voice propelled him back over the years, reminding him of how she had sounded when they had fallen into each other’s arms after a gap of an entire twenty-four hours. ‘Thank goodness you’ve got him! I was so worried.’

‘Don’t be.’ He gave Jack a reassuring smile that he would have given his mother if she’d been sitting next to him. ‘He’s fine.’

‘Has he told you? About my father?’

‘Yes.’ This time, Winston couldn’t keep the anger out of his voice. ‘I feel like coming down there and giving your dad a piece of my mind.’

‘Don’t.’ She sounded scared. ‘It would only make it worse. You don’t know what he’s like. I shouldn’t have bothered coming over to the UK. It’s only that my friend’s mum said he was poorly.’

‘Then at least you’ve tried.’

He could almost see her nodding. ‘Thanks.’

It was so easy to talk to her – much easier than it had been on the island with Melissa around. Now it was like reassuring an old friend. ‘It’s too late for Jack to come back,’ he added. ‘Is it all right if he stays here for a couple of days?’

As he spoke, he watched the boy’s face. To his delight, it lit up. ‘OK.’ Rosie’s voice was hesitant. ‘It will give me time to go down to my father’s house without him. Try once more.’

That was decent of her. Many daughters wouldn’t bother. ‘When are you flying back?’

‘Not for another fortnight. I’ve got permission from Jack’s teachers.’

Winston felt another leap of hope in his chest. ‘Then would it be all right if I took him up to London to see some sights?’

There was a slight pause. Had he pushed it too far? When Rosie’s reply came, it was cool. ‘If Jack wants that.’ Then, after another pause, she added, ‘Provided Melissa doesn’t mind.’

‘Don’t worry,’ he said firmly as if to brush away his own misgivings. ‘She won’t.’

‘There’s just one thing.’ Rosie dropped her voice. ‘Jack can’t hear me, can he?’

Fortunately, Jack was investigating the pool table. ‘No.’

‘Please keep an eye on him and Alice. I don’t want things to go too far.’

He was with her on that one. ‘Absolutely not.’ They might, he thought, as he said goodbye, be a married couple, concerned for their teenager’s wellbeing. It was quite a nice feeling.

‘Shall we go now?’ he said to Jack. ‘You must be starving. I’ve made a shepherd’s pie.’

His son made an apologetic face. ‘I’m really sorry, but I’m vegetarian.’

Yes!
Winston beamed. ‘Me too. It’s soya.’

The two days turned into a week. ‘We need more time,’ Winston had said to both Melissa and Rosie (separately, of course). ‘There’s so much to do!’