Hidden Cottage (4 page)

In contrast Eliza had drive and ambition in spades. Truth to tell, she probably had too much. He’d never told anyone this before but as proud as he was of Eliza, he’d always been a bit unnerved by her. She’d been an extraordinarily bright child, but not an easy one to be around – too distant and self-contained. She still was.

Daisy was, and always had been, a different kettle of fish altogether and was easily his favourite child. With her ivory skin, her dark hair and her startlingly violet-blue eyes – so like Mia’s – she had been such a spirited and beautiful little girl and so very affectionate with him. People had regularly said that they ought to approach a children’s model agency with Daisy and he had been all in favour of it, happy and proud to show her off, but Mia had put her foot down. Seven years old, Daisy had been furious with her mother, having devoted herself to hours of prancing about in front of the mirror practising her poses. To make up for her disappointment, he’d bought her a Swiss chalet-style playhouse for the garden, which immediately led to ructions from Jensen and Eliza about him always spoiling Daisy.

He knew that his partiality bothered Mia, but he reckoned he wasn’t the first parent who had a special bond with a favourite child. It was hardly a crime, was it?

His beer finished, he reluctantly raised himself off the bed. Time to go downstairs and join the party.

Chapter Six

So far so good, Jensen thought as he snatched a look at Tattie. But then this was the easy part of the evening – his father had yet to make his appearance.

He had agreed to this dinner, knowing that Mum wanted to arrange it for all the right reasons. One of them being that she was concerned that he and his sisters didn’t see enough of each other, despite he and Eliza both living in London. By no means was she a meddling or a possessive mother, quite the contrary; she was a great mother, the best in his eyes. She never made demands of anyone and rarely did she lose her temper or behave irrationally. Sometimes he wished that she would, that she would let rip and lose control and go a bit crazy. But when it came down to it, they had all, with the exception of their father, become adept at hiding their feelings. It was a defence mechanism, a way to keep Dad at a manageable distance.

Jensen had regularly spoken to Tattie of his mother and his sisters, but as to his father, he’d kept a lid on that one. She wasn’t stupid, though, the omission inevitably alerted her to something being amiss. ‘You never speak of your dad,’ she’d said. ‘It’s as if he doesn’t exist.’

‘Oh, he exists all right,’ he’d replied. ‘He’s what you call a larger-than-life character.’

He’s certainly that, Jensen thought now as he watched his father throwing the spotlight on himself as he made his entrance into the sitting room where they’d congregated and where Phase I of Operation Scrutinize Tattie was under way by his mother and sisters.

‘Ah, I see everyone’s arrived,’ he said.

Tattie along with Daisy and Eliza and Mum turned round from where they had been standing at the French windows. Tattie had earlier let out a whoop of delight at the sight of a peacock on the lawn. ‘Oh my God, is that thing for real?’ she’d cried, rushing to the window. Her American accent was always more pronounced when she was excited. Or angry. Thankfully the latter didn’t happen too much. Mum had then explained to her that the peacock was called Putin and had free rein of the village, where he roamed at will. When he wasn’t wandering the neighbourhood gardens he was holding court on the village green and waking the inhabitants of Little Pelham obscenely early with his screeching. ‘You’re winding me up,’ Tattie had said. When they’d all confirmed that it was true, she’d shaken her head and puffed out her cheeks. ‘Well, fancy that.’

‘This is Tattie,’ Jensen said now and registered with satisfaction his father’s expression – never would he have expected his loser of a son to attract a girl as spectacular as Tattie. ‘Tattie, this is my dad.’

Tattie offered her hand. ‘Hi, Mr Channing. We were just admiring Putin in the garden. He’s quite something, isn’t he? I thought it was a set-up, you know, put on a show of Englishness to educate the dumb-ass Yank.’ She beamed him one of her dazzling killer smiles. ‘But take it from me, sir, I’m all educated up now.’ Jensen suppressed a smile of his own. When it came to making first impressions, Tattie was in a class of her own.

‘Err . . . yes, well, it’s a pleasure to meet you. And please, call me Jeff. Now then, what can I get you to drink? You look like a glass of champagne kind of girl.’

Tattie laughed. She had the best laugh Jensen had ever heard. Sparky and irrepressible, it was one of the things that had first caught his attention. That and her curly white-blonde hair and her trademark bright red lipstick. ‘Goodness no,’ she said, her voice suddenly serious. ‘I’m a strict teetotaller. It’s against my religion.’ She crossed herself exaggeratedly.

In the stunned silence, knowing the punch line, Jensen watched with yet more satisfaction as his father’s face took on a look of startled awkwardness. Gone was Mr Bonhomie and in his place stood Mr Seriously Stuck For Words.

‘Hey, Jeff, I’m just kiddin’ with you. Gets people every time that one. I’ll have whatever everyone else is having.’ She laughed and Jensen laughed too. God, he loved this girl. She was a much-needed breath of fresh air in his life.

‘Mrs Channing, you just have to give me the recipe for this corned beef hash. JC’s been telling me all the way here that no one makes it like you do. Not that I’d ever be able to cook it properly – I’m pretty much hopeless in the kitchen, aren’t I, JC?’

‘Hardly that bad. And anyway, you have plenty of other talents.’

‘Please, Tattie, it’s Mia. You make me sound so ancient calling me Mrs Channing.’

‘You, ancient, with that flawless complexion? No way! You could easily pass for another of JC’s sisters. You must have had him when you were a child.’

Clearing his throat and topping up his glass of wine, Jeff said, ‘So what are your other talents, Tattie? I should imagine a bright girl like you would be good at many things.’

Tattie put down her knife and fork. ‘Well,’ she said, carefully dabbing the corners of her mouth with her napkin, ‘I like to think I’m a good mother. Apart from not being able to cook for my daughter as well as maybe I should. But then she’s gotten real good in the kitchen herself these days. Flips pancakes like a total pro. JC’s taught her how to do that.’

‘
Mother
,’ repeated Daisy and Eliza in unison.

‘You have a daughter?’ asked Mia with a slight lifting of her chin. ‘How old is she?’ Jensen had to hand it to his mother; there wasn’t a hint of shock or surprise in her voice or expression.

Tattie smiled back at her. ‘I have an awesome nine-year-old daughter. Her name’s Madison and she’s just beautiful. And real smart. I couldn’t be prouder of her.’

‘Nine years old,’ echoed Daisy. ‘But you don’t look old enough.’

‘Don’t be fooled, I’m plenty old enough. I had Madison when I was twenty.’

‘And her father?’

‘Mia, let’s just say that he wasn’t cut out for fatherhood and therefore chose not to be involved.’

Jeff gave Jensen a sidelong look, so quick it was barely noticeable, but Jensen saw it and turned away.

‘So what brought you to Britain?’ asked Eliza.

‘Oh, you know,’ Tattie said, ‘the usual thing for us foreigners, your beautiful weather.’

Everyone laughed.

‘Actually, my great-grandmother was British,’ Tattie went on, ‘and she moved with her family to the States when she was a little girl. I’d always wanted to visit and then when a friend of mine moved to London, I visited her with Madison and we loved it so much we decided to make our home here in England. That was more than two years ago.’

‘Wow,’ said Daisy. ‘And your mum and dad back in America didn’t mind you doing that?’

‘Oh, they put up a token show of resistance, but deep down they accept that I have to find my own way.’

Daisy turned to her father. ‘You’d be the same, wouldn’t you, Dad? You wouldn’t ever stop us from doing something we felt we had to do, would you?’

‘I suppose that rather depends on what it was,’ he said.

Something in the way Daisy had put the question to their father made Jensen look at his sister closely. Watching her now chewing on her lower lip and examining one of her fingernails, instinct told him she was up to something, that she had a very real reason for asking Dad what she just had. He wondered if she had a shocker hiding up her sleeve.

In the silence, Mia stood up. ‘If you’re all finished, I’ll get the dessert.’

‘I’ll help you,’ Jensen said, eager to have a few moments alone with his mother.

Out in the kitchen, the door closed to the dining room, Jensen began stacking the dishwasher. ‘Come on, then, Mum, what do you think? Do you like her?’

‘Yes I do. She’s great.’

He smiled. ‘She is. She really is. I think she’s the one I want to be with for the rest of my life.’

‘Even with a nine-year-old daughter?’

He stopped what he was doing. ‘Does that bother you, that she has a child?’

‘No, not at all. I just don’t want . . .’ her voice trailed away.

‘What, Mum? What don’t you want for me? To be happy?’

‘Don’t be silly. Of course I want you to be happy. It’s what I’ve always wanted for you. And if Tattie makes you happy, then that makes me happy. But taking on the responsibility of someone else’s child isn’t something you should do lightly. It’s a big step.’

‘I know that. I’ve given it a lot of thought.’ He went to his mother and hugged her. ‘Thanks for tonight, for my birthday dinner. I still can’t quite believe I’m thirty now; it feels like a properly grown-up age.’

She hugged him back and laughed. ‘How do you think it makes me feel? There should be a law against such things happening. I’m officially banning you from having any more birthdays!’

He laughed too and, letting go of her, he said, ‘Then I’d better make the most of this one. But seriously, your approval of Tattie is the best birthday present you could give me. I meant it when I said I want to be with her for ever. I’ve never known anyone like her.’

‘And her daughter, you get on with her?’

‘I haven’t pushed it, but yes, Madison’s a great kid. You’ll love her too.’

‘I’m sure I will.’

He watched his mother open the oven and take out his favourite dessert of apple crumble. He only had to smell it and he was transported back to being a very young child. He associated it with rainy Sunday afternoons, the two of them on the sofa, Mum reading to him, the light fading outside. Strange that he could still feel nostalgic for those days.

‘How long have you known each other?’ she asked.

‘We met five months ago at a party given by a client of mine.’

She set the hot dish on a mat on a tray, then slapped him playfully with the oven gloves. ‘Five months and we’re only
now
having this conversation?’

He smiled. ‘I wanted to wait until I was sure how Tattie felt about me. I mean, as Dad would be the first to say, I’m not much of a catch, am I?’

She tutted. ‘Stop putting yourself down, you’re a fine catch.’

‘Yeah, but you’re biased.’

‘And that, darling, is a mother’s prerogative. Now take the jug of cream for me and before you’re gripped with any more self-doubt, listen very carefully. From what I’ve seen so far, I think you and Tattie make a great couple and, what’s more, I think she’ll be good for you. I certainly like her sense of humour. She’s refreshingly open.’

So unlike our family, he thought as he followed his mother out of the kitchen.

Back in the dining room, Eliza was asking Tattie if it was difficult for her to balance work with having a child.

‘I manage pretty well,’ she answered as his mother began spooning the crumble into bowls and Jensen helped by passing the bowls around the table. ‘I actually have two jobs, one of which I run from home. I run my own online business supplying eco-friendly party bags for children’s parties.’

‘Eco-friendly party bags,’ repeated Jeff. ‘That’s a new one on me. Is there much call for such a thing?’

‘Oh yes, and it’s going from strength to strength. I’m twenty per cent up on this time last year.’

‘And your other job?’ asked Daisy.

‘I work as a celebrity lookalike.’

‘No! Really? Who do you do?’ asked Daisy.

‘Guess. And I’m not giving you any clues.’

Everyone stared at her.

‘I think I know,’ Eliza said. ‘Is it Marilyn Monroe?’

Tattie laughed. ‘Clever you, Eliza, you’ve got it right.’

‘Do you remember that schlocky advert on the telly last Christmas,’ Jensen said, sitting down and putting his arm round Tattie, ‘the one with Marilyn Monroe and Elvis opening the door to Father Christmas? That was Tattie.’ He couldn’t keep the pride out of his voice.

‘
No!
’ Daisy said. ‘That advert was so cool. Does that mean you’re an actress as well?’

‘Sort of. But not really.’

Daisy sighed. ‘You have such an amazing life. We all sound very boring compared to you.’

‘Not true. JC’s told me all about Mia’s hat business, which I’d just love to see. I also know about Eliza being such a whizz, and you, Daisy, I hear you’re the queen of furniture design.’

Daisy slumped in her chair and shook her head. ‘I wish. It’s all very dull and mundane what I do. Naff hotel furniture. Not at all what I thought I’d be doing.’

‘And what do you do, Jeff? What’s your thing?’

‘
JC
not told you?’ he responded.

Without missing a beat, Tattie said, ‘I expect he did, but I’ve had a ditzy Marilyn moment and forgotten.’ She leant towards him encouragingly. ‘A captain of industry, that’s what I’ve got you down as. Am I right?’

‘Dad’s in sealing and vibration control,’ Jensen said, not liking his father imitating the way Tattie called him JC. ‘And let’s face it, it doesn’t get any more interesting than that, does it?’

The atmosphere crackled and as spoons scraped against dessert bowls in the sudden silence, and knowing that a family gathering could so easily turn on a moment such as this, a moment for which he was responsible, Jensen tried to salvage things by quickly changing the subject. Turning to his sister, he said, ‘So, Daisy, what’s up with you then?’