Hidden Cottage (18 page)

‘Ah, hello there! Yes, I wondered what had happened to you. Thought perhaps you’d chickened out and stayed away.’

‘No fear! I was helping Mia on the bookstall for most of the afternoon.’

‘That sly old Mia, she gets all the best help!’ Looking at the bottle of wine in his hand, she raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that for me?’

‘Sorry, ’fraid not. I’ve been invited for a Chinese takeaway at Medlar House.’

‘Lucky old you. And if Mr Wu is on the menu, you’re in for a treat. He’s the best thing about Saturday nights round here.’

‘Why’s that?’

She wagged a finger at him. ‘You obviously didn’t read the parish magazine very closely; Mr Wu is a travelling Chinese takeaway and Saturday night is when he rolls into Little Pelham. He parks his van near the green and while people wait for their orders to be cooked, they either stand around chatting or go into the pub for a drink and come out when their food is ready. It’s all marvellously convivial.’

‘Sounds like a perfect arrangement. Well, I’d better push on; I mustn’t be late. I just stopped off to see if the allotments still existed.’

‘Not so fast! Seeing as you’re here, there’s someone who’d like to meet you, someone who remembers you from when you were a boy.’

‘Really?’

‘Come with me and I’ll introduce you.’

She led him to the other side of the allotments, to a plot that had a small greenhouse attached to it. A man dressed in work boots, knee-length shorts and a ripped sleeveless vest was digging industriously; his head was shaved and the biceps of his tanned arms were pronounced and extensively tattooed.

‘Joe,’ Muriel said, ‘this is Owen. Owen Fletcher.’

She turned back to Owen. ‘This is Joe Coffey.’

The other man stopped digging, straightened up and, leaning on his spade, he looked at Owen hard. Owen stared back at him. ‘Joe Coffey, as in Joe Coffin?’ he said uncertainly, conjuring up the name from the past but not the face.

The other man suddenly grinned. ‘Bloody hell, mate, it really is you, isn’t it?’

‘You mean you actually recognize me?’

‘Yeah, something in the eyes there and the mouth. Anything recognizable about me?’

Owen struggled to think of something. But drew a blank. It was a bit like when he’d stood outside his old house in Cloverdale Lane – the exterior hadn’t really meant much to him; it was what was inside his head that counted. ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘obviously my memory isn’t as good as yours.’

Joe laughed. ‘No worries, I suppose being practically bald doesn’t help, does it?’

Owen laughed as well. ‘Not much.’

‘Bit unfair, though – you look much younger than me. How d’yer manage that?’

‘You’ve caught me on a good day.’

‘I seem to recall you always were a polite sod. Unlike me. I was always getting into trouble, shooting my big mouth off. I’ve just heard from Muriel here that you’ve bought The Hidden Cottage and moved in last weekend.’

‘That’s right.’ Smiling at Muriel, Owen added, ‘I’m surprised you’ve only just heard.’

‘Joe’s been away,’ Muriel informed him, ‘otherwise he’d have known before now, make no mistake about that.’

‘I’ve been working for a cousin of mine up in Yorkshire for the last eight days,’ Joe explained. ‘Only got back late this afternoon.’

‘Right then, boys,’ Muriel said, ‘seeing as you two are getting along so famously, I’ll leave you to it.’

When she’d gone, Joe shook his head. ‘It’s so weird seeing you again. I haven’t thought of you in years.’ Then, just as Muriel had, he spied the bottle of wine in Owen’s hand. ‘So where are you off to?’

‘I’ve been invited to supper at Medlar House.’

‘Have you now?’ Leaning in, his voice lower, Joe said, ‘Take it from me, that Mia’s a bit of all right. Can’t say as I like that husband of hers much, but there’s no accounting for taste. And there I go again, shooting my mouth off. You married?’

‘I was.’

‘Same here. She left me for a tree surgeon last year. Again, no accounting for taste. Children?’

Owen shook his head. ‘No.’

‘I’ve got two teenage lads; they live with their mother just down the road in Yardley Hastings, so at least I get to see them regularly. Look, why don’t we meet for a drink and have a proper chat and catch up? And if there’s any work you need doing on the house, look no further; I’m your man. You can find me here most evenings. Failing that, I’ll call on you. If that’s OK?’

‘It’s more than OK; I look forward to it. For now, I’d better get going, I don’t want to blot my copybook.’

‘See you then.’

Husband
, Owen thought as he walked away.

Mia was
married
.

For some reason he had assumed that she was divorced. She wore no ring and at no stage in any of their conversations had she referred to a Mr Channing. There had certainly been no sign of him at the fete this afternoon.

When he reached the end of the footpath – between St George’s and Medlar House – Owen looked across to the green where a van was parked on the road with the words
Mr Wu
emblazoned on it; there was a small queue of people extending from the open hatch.

He turned sharply left for Medlar House and, ringing the doorbell, he wondered if the husband Joe didn’t think much of would be joining them for dinner. For no rational reason he hoped not.

Chapter Twenty-One

Madison was in bed but she couldn’t sleep; she had too much whirring around inside her head. She’d had the best day ever. And tomorrow was going to be just as good, she just knew it.

While they’d been eating their Chinese takeaway this evening, they’d all been invited to go and see where Owen lived – a house called The Hidden Cottage, and it had a lake with a boat. He’d said it wasn’t a very big lake, that they weren’t to get too excited. He’d also said that she could have a go in the boat with him if she wanted. Beth as well. He’d even said she could have a go on his piano, that he’d had it tuned the other day and needed an expert like her to try it out. She just couldn’t believe how amazing it was being here with JC’s family.

Something else had happened while they’d been eating: Daisy and Scott had told them that they would be getting married.

‘Married?’ Eliza had said. ‘But you’re not . . . I mean . . . I thought you were just friends.’

JC had laughed. ‘I think that was the general idea, Eliza; they were throwing us off the scent. Welcome to the family, Scott. I hope you have a good sense of humour and a tough skin, because man, oh, man, you’re sure gonna need it.’

Madison didn’t know what JC had meant by that, but she’d secretly smiled to herself, because she’d known that Daisy and Scott weren’t just friends.

Everybody was then hugging and kissing Daisy and Scott and Mia asked JC to open a bottle of champagne she had in the fridge. Even Madison and Beth were allowed a few sips and everyone said things like, congratulations, and I hope you’ll be really happy, but then Eliza said, ‘Have you told Dad?’ The laughter instantly stopped and the room went very quiet. It was odd because it felt as if the lights had suddenly been turned off. It was Mum who broke the silence by asking when Daisy and Scott thought they’d get married. They’d said they weren’t in a hurry, but probably sometime next year.

Remembering all the talk of weddings and stuff, and thinking how excited everyone had been, Madison hoped that she might be asked to be a bridesmaid. Lauren had been a bridesmaid last year and she’d said it had been brilliant fun.

Turning onto her side, she realized that this was the first time she had thought of Lauren since getting here. She wondered if Lauren had thought of her today. Would she be jealous of Madison’s new friend, Beth? Perhaps it would be better if Madison didn’t mention anything about it when she was back at school.

When Beth’s father had arrived to take her home after supper, Beth had told him about them being invited to The Hidden Cottage and had asked if Madison could go home to their house for tea afterwards. ‘Please say yes, Dad,’ she’d said, ‘please, please,
please
!’ He’d laughed and said he couldn’t think of a reason why not. He was then introduced to Owen and had ended up staying for a drink and it was really late by the time he and Beth left.

It was like they’d had the most amazing party that had gone on for the whole day. She felt like she’d been here for a week and not just one amazingly fantastic day. She wished they didn’t have to leave on Monday, that they could stay for the whole of half-term.

Dressed in her pyjamas and sitting on the edge of her bed, Eliza had just tried ringing Greg, but he must have switched off his mobile. She had checked her emails but there wasn’t a message from him. Not even a hurried two-line message as he sometimes did.

She had never missed him as much as she did now. She knew why, it was seeing Daisy and Scott and Jensen and Tattie all loved up. Seeing them so happy had the effect of making her feel horribly left out. It would have been lovely if Greg had been here today; it would have been the perfect opportunity for him to meet her family, to be a part of it. And without the pressure of having Dad around.

It was an awful thing to say, but it always felt like they were more of a family when Dad wasn’t with them. His very presence put them on edge. To put it bluntly, he was a disruptive force amongst them. Mum didn’t exactly defend him, but she wouldn’t come right out and condemn his behaviour. She said that all families had to make allowances for each other and Eliza supposed that was what they’d been doing for years.

She put her laptop to one side and, knowing that Mum was in the kitchen tidying up, she went downstairs to see if there was anything she could do to help. She had told her mother about the new project she would be working on in Milton Keynes and had broached the subject about staying here during the week. Mum had been all for it.

‘I thought you were in bed already,’ her mother said when she saw Eliza.

‘I was just checking my emails. What can I do to help?’

‘I’m almost finished; just the last few glasses to put in the dishwasher. You can put the kettle on if you like. I’m more than ready for a cup of tea. How about you? Anything more to eat or drink?’

‘A piece of that chocolate cake you bought at the fete would be nice.’

Her mother smiled. ‘I’ll keep you company and have a slice as well.’

When everything was put away and their tea was made and poured out, they sat down. Eliza knew she shouldn’t be eating cake on top of what she’d eaten for supper, that it would go straight to her hips and thighs, as did just about everything else she ever ate, but she wasn’t in the mood to care. She had long since come to terms with the glaringly obvious: that she was never going to have Mum’s elegant slim build, unlike Jensen and Daisy who had both inherited those particular genes. Unfortunately for her, she took after Dad’s side of the family and there wasn’t a damned thing she could do about that.

‘It’s a shame Greg couldn’t have joined us for the weekend,’ Mum said.

Eliza looked up from her plate. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘it is. I wish he’d been here.’

‘You OK? You seem a bit down.’

Eliza took another bite of cake. It wasn’t often that she and Mum had these moments together, moments that, if she were honest, she wasn’t entirely comfortable with. She was no good at girly heart-to-heart sessions; they’d never held any interest for her. But give Mum her due, she never forced her into saying more than she wanted to say. Tonight, though, Eliza felt differently; she had a great urge to talk. She wanted to say out loud what she was thinking, if only to be rid of the worry it was causing her. ‘I wish I was better at relationships, Mum,’ she said. ‘I don’t think I know how to behave in them.’

‘Now what’s put that thought into your head?’

‘It’s the frustration of not seeing Greg.’

‘But last weekend you said his being away so much suited you, that it gave you your space. What’s changed? Is it Greg?’

‘No, it’s not him, it’s me.’

Mia tutted. ‘Why do we women always do that? Why do we always blame ourselves by saying “it’s me”?’

‘But it’s true. I knew when Greg and I started seeing each other what it would be like and I was happy with that. What really gets to me is that I’ve never been a needy person, and suddenly that’s exactly what I’ve become. I hate it. And I hate not hearing from him. I hate the disappointment when he has to cancel flying over.’ She stared across the table at her mother, shocked and relieved that she had poured it all out in one go.

‘Missing the man you love doesn’t make you needy,’ Mum said.

‘It’s how I feel,’ she said, conscious that whereas her mother’s voice was gentle and reassuring, hers sounded pathetically whiny, ‘and I despise myself for it. I should be stronger, I should be able to cope and—’

‘Eliza, there are no
shoulds
in this. It’s the most natural thing in the world to want to be with the person you love. Have you discussed this with Greg?’

‘Absolutely not! If I do that, it’s guaranteed to frighten him off.’

‘Not necessarily. But you know, there’s always the danger that you could be giving him mixed messages.’

‘In what way?’

‘He could interpret your apparent coping with the situation as a sign that you don’t care for him as much as he cares for you, that you’re happy with the status quo. In turn he might be playing things cool so as not to scare you off.’

Eliza sat back in her chair and fiddled with the cuff of her pyjama top. She hadn’t thought of it that way. Could it be possible that she’d been giving out the wrong signals to Greg? ‘You really think I should be completely honest with him?’ she said.

‘Yes I do. So often it’s not what we say but what we
don’t
say that causes all the trouble in a relationship. If you want the relationship to work with Greg, you have to tell him everything you’ve just told me.’

‘But what if it frightens him off?’

‘Then he isn’t right for you.’

‘You make it sound so simple.’

‘Oh, Eliza, it’s anything but simple, but sometimes we make things needlessly hard for ourselves.’

They drank their tea and when Eliza had finished her slice of cake and resisted the temptation to help herself to more, she said, ‘When are you going to tell Dad about Daisy and Scott? I presume she’s asked you to break the news to him, rather than do it herself.’