Megan 3 (10 page)

But then, I thought, what if they said that I should be the one to go? What if Mum told me I had to get a single-mum bedsitter or something because she wanted to be with George? It did happen. I knew that now.

All this was going through my head as I let myself into the flat. Unusually, they were both home before me, sitting together on the sofa all cosy. I said hello, looked at them both coldly and went into the kitchen to make Jack’s tea.

George came in after me.

‘Sorry about this morning,’ he said. ‘I was feeling a bit stressed out. I’m going through a funny old time at the moment.’

‘That’s OK,’ I muttered, not meaning it.

‘Your mum and I have got something exciting to
tell you,’ he went on, and then Mum came through waving some sheets of paper.

‘Guess what?’

I shrugged, pretending disinterest. They weren’t going to win me over that easily.

She took Jack from me and gave me the papers. ‘Look at these, Megan. See what you think.’

I looked. It was estate agent’s details of a house on the other side of town. ‘What’s this for?’

‘Well, we’ve been to look at that house today,’ George began.

‘It’s lovely and we’re having it!’ Mum said.

‘What?!’

‘George and I are buying a house together! You read the details, Megan. It’s got four bedrooms – that’s one each for you and Ellie and a bedroom of his own for Jack.’ She swung Jack round in her arms. ‘Your own bedroom, Jack! And a garden with a swing in it. What d’you think about that?’

I looked. It seemed OK – better than OK. And I thought maybe I wouldn’t say anything to rock the boat.

‘Hey! You avoiding me or something?’ Jon said as I stepped out of Poppies on Wednesday.

For a tiny moment I went all fluttery – and then, as I remembered what Michelle had said, the flutteriness disappeared. I put my face into polite-but-disinterested. ‘No,’ I shrugged.

He grinned at me. His hair was growing now, so his head was softly furry all over, like velvet. ‘Only I came up here early two days ago, specially early to see you, but I reckon you saw me coming and went indoors again.’

I shrugged. ‘I don’t remember.’ I shifted Jack from one arm to the other – I couldn’t put him down on the grass because it had been raining and everything was soaking wet.

Jack waved a chubby arm towards Jon. ‘Man!’ he said, giving one of his big, beautiful smiles.

‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘Man.’

Jon grinned at him. ‘He’s dead cute, isn’t he?’

‘Absolutely the cutest,’ I said. I looked down the road for my taxi. Why did it never come when I wanted it?

‘So, Gorgeous, are we going to have this date, then?’

The slight flutteriness came back again and I quickly squashed it. ‘I didn’t know we were having one.’

‘We chatted about it a week or so back. You told me where you lived and I said I’d find out about trains.’

‘Did you?’

He looked at me, head on one side, brown eyes narrowed. ‘Are you going chilly on me?’

I gave him a vague, bewildered look. ‘I didn’t know I was hot. I don’t really know you, do I?’ And then added, before I could stop myself, ‘Although Michelle speaks very highly of you.’

‘Ah,’ he said, grinning. ‘That’s it, is it? You’ve been chatting about me. Come out of it well, did I?’

I could have kicked myself.
Now
he’d think that he was the number one topic of conversation. To save myself from having to reply, I got a tissue out of my pocket and started to wipe fussily around Jack’s mouth. Jack spluttered and squawked and wriggled, while I pretended to be intent on my task.

Jon went on, ‘Anyway, what I wanted to say was – I’m taking my driving test at the weekend and if I pass my mum says she’ll lend me her car. I could drive over and see you if you like. Take you out somewhere.’

Michelle’s words drifted off into the ether and the flutteriness came back full on.
A date
! Going out with
someone again! So what if he tried it on? I was old enough to look after myself. Old enough to say no. In my head I saw myself in a car with Jon, sitting beside him and going somewhere nice – to a restaurant, a film, a club, a party. Or McDonalds, come to that. Anywhere.

‘OK,’ I heard myself saying.

‘Tell me where you live, give me your phone number and if I don’t see you round here before the weekend, I’ll ring you.’

I told him. I tried to be cool but it was hard, because I hadn’t been out with anyone in
years
and it was the most exciting thing that had happened for ages. Jon, still smiling in a sort of ironic I-know-you’ve-been-talking-about-me way, wrote down my details on a piece of paper, gave me a wink, stroked Jack’s head and went off.

‘Good luck with the test!’ I shouted after him, and he raised one arm in the air in a victory salute.

I watched him as he disappeared. A date at last. Not a boyfriend, necessarily – it was too early for all that stuff – but a
date
.

I leaned back in the car, feeling soft leather against my head. This was the life: being driven around in a decent car.

‘So maybe it won’t be too bad having him around,’ Ellie whispered to me.

‘Maybe,’ I said.

‘At least we can go out places now.’

It was Sunday and Ellie and I were in the back of George’s car, with Jack, fast asleep, in a makeshift harness on the seat between us. We were on our way home from what George had called ‘a proper family day out’ – which had turned out to be an afternoon really, as it had taken me so long to get Jack sorted out and ready for such an outing. We’d been heading for the seaside originally, but the weather had turned so we’d just gone into the country and had a picnic.

It was the first time I could ever remember us going on such a thing. I mean, we’d been to the local park with a couple of sausage rolls before, but this was
a few notches up from that. Mum had pulled out all the stops: as well as a proper tablecloth, bottle of wine and a bowl of fruit, there were Cornish pasties and each of us had individual salads in plastic containers. I was impressed by this, but it turned out that she’d only done individual ones because George liked his salads to consist of watercress and beetroot
only
– he hated tomatoes and cucumber. ‘Men!’ she’d said, handing his over and pretending she was exasperated.

I closed my eyes as the car purred along. I liked having a car; we’d never had one before. Mum had always said it wasn’t necessary to have a car if you lived in town, you ought to walk and save the ozone layer, but she’d stopped going on about that now that he’d had his insurance changed so that she could drive the BMW. She went everywhere in the car, even down to the corner shop.

I had, of course, been waiting for Jon to ring me all weekend. All… every single minute… of the weekend. He hadn’t said what would happen if he didn’t pass his test – was he going to contact me anyway? – but I thought that at least he would have phoned and let me know either way. He hadn’t, though, so I was going to cut him dead when I saw him again. Absolutely cut-him-to-slices dead.

‘Do you think Jack enjoyed the picnic?’ Ellie asked.

I yawned, looking down at Jack, grubby, with grass stains on his knees and quite a lot of Cornish pasty round his face. ‘I think so. It’s difficult to tell. I mean, babies aren’t that good at sitting down on a rug and admiring the view, are they?’

Ellie giggled. ‘Or sitting down at all, really.’

All Jack had wanted to do was walk across the tablecloth (he didn’t seem to be able to tell where blanket stopped and table began), fall on to people’s food or make grabs at their drinks. When he wasn’t doing this he was falling into bushes or cowpats or making wild breaks for freedom, thinking it was huge fun to gallop off into the distance and head towards the river.

‘I’m sure he liked it,’ I said to Ellie. ‘And it’s good for him to see different places. I don’t want him to grow up to be one of those kids who’s never seen a cow.’

‘He didn’t see one today,’ she said.

‘You know what I mean.’

George clicked the indicator of his car and it pulled off the road, crunching over a gravel drive into the car park of a hotel. It was an old place, covered with ivy, with big trees surrounding it and a conservatory
crammed with hanging vines. ‘Ooh,’ Mum said, staring around. ‘This looks nice. Why have we come in here?’

‘I thought we might have a drink,’ George said. ‘One for the road.’

Ellie and I exchanged raised-eyebrow glances. This was a new thing for us: a swish hotel, drinks in the conservatory, gracious living. I looked down at what I was wearing: jeans. Was I posh enough? Was Ellie? My glance fell on Jack.

‘What about Jack?’ I asked anxiously. ‘He’s fast asleep.’

George’s eyes looked into mine in the driver’s mirror. ‘I was thinking about a drink for me and your mum,’ he said. ‘Just the two of us.’

‘Can’t we come in as well?’ Ellie pleaded.

The car came to rest under a tree and George’s hand went down over Mum’s. ‘Just a quiet treat for the adults,’ he said to her, and then added in quite a different tone, ‘After the day we’ve had with you lot I think we deserve it.’

I looked at Ellie, open-mouthed and she looked back at me, equally stunned. Gracious living – but not for us.

Mum looked over her shoulder at me and said,
rather quickly, ‘We won’t be long, girls. Just a swift one, eh, George?’

‘Just a swift one or three,’ George said wittily. He got out and rolled down his window, peering in at us. ‘Never let it be said that I leave children or animals in a car with the windows up!’

They went off and I turned to Ellie. ‘The cheek!’

‘Fancy leaving us in here!’

Jack opened his eyes and began to whimper. ‘Oh, brilliant,’ I said. ‘He’s woken up in a mood.’

‘I bet he’ll want changing,’ Ellie said, sniffing the air. ‘Where are his things?’

‘All in the boot.’ I tried the doors – they opened. ‘At least he hasn’t left us here with the child locks on,’ I said.

We undid our seat belts and released Jack. ‘He’s treating us like servants,’ I said, looking out resentfully at the glories of the hotel. ‘He doesn’t think we’re good enough to go inside.’

‘Big lump!’ Ellie said. She hesitated. ‘Megan,’ she asked thoughtfully. ‘D’you think George likes us?’

‘Dunno,’ I said as I battled with Jack, who, hot and fretful, was struggling to get down on the floor.

‘I get the idea that he doesn’t.’

‘He probably resents us being around,’ I said. ‘He’d
like to have Mum all to himself.’

‘Oh,
would
he,’ Ellie said. ‘Well, he’s not going to.’

I thought, stupidly, that when we got home there might be a message from Jon. OK, I was absolutely going to cut him dead, but a note pushed through the door, or a small bunch of flowers left on the doorstep, would have been nice. We didn’t have an answer-phone so there was no possibility of a message being left, and one half of me thought what does it matter – sod him – and the other half said consolingly that he’d been trying to ring all afternoon but we’d been out.

When the phone rang about fifteen minutes after we’d got home I was bathing Jack and couldn’t get to it. I listened at the bathroom door, positive it was for me. Ellie shouted it was for George, though, and then I heard him come into the hall and close the sitting room door firmly behind him.

‘Oh, it’s you, is it? How did you find this number?’ I heard him say, and then there was a series of grunts and swear words and he said, ‘Couldn’t care less. You try it and see what happens!’ and slammed the phone down.

I took my ear away from the door and went back to the bath, where Jack was bashing at his yellow duck,
trying to drown it. Who had that been on the phone? George’s ex-wife? Or was she still his wife? One of his children?

The phone rang again before George had even had time to reach the sitting-room door. He snatched it up and said, ‘Look – piss off, right!’ and then, ‘Oh. I see. Sorry, I thought it was someone else.’

The receiver went down on the table and he called, ‘Megan!’

I opened the bathroom door. ‘Who is it?’ I asked. It was Jon, obviously, and I was going to play it cool.

‘Someone called Kirsty,’ George said. He was breathing heavily and looked angry.

‘Oh. Right.’ I shouted for Ellie, asking her to please keep an eye on Jack in the bath, and went to take the call, feeling disappointed and pleased at the same time.

‘Was it all right to ring?’ Kirsty asked.

‘’Course!’

‘Only – that man – is he your stepfather?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘Just Mum’s boyfriend.’

‘He sounded really angry.’

‘Oh, don’t worry about him,’ I said. ‘How are you? What have you been doing?’

‘I’ve left the B and B and moved to this woman’s
house now. Mrs Wilson. She’s a foster mother,’ Kirsty said.

‘Bet it was great to get out of that place, wasn’t it?’

‘Mmm,’ Kirsty said uncertainly.

‘What’s this Mrs Wilson like, then?’

‘All right,’ Kirsty said in a low voice. ‘But she’s not very friendly. She keeps talking about how much it costs to keep me there. She doesn’t like me to eat too much. All I had last night was a plate of chips.’

‘What about Stella?’

‘She’s still in hospital. She’s not having any treatment or anything, though. She’s just being built up a bit.’ Kirsty’s voice lifted. ‘I go every day to see her. She’s looking so lovely. She’s putting on weight all the time.’

‘And she’ll come and live with you at this foster mother’s place, will she?’

‘That’s the idea,’ Kirsty said. ‘And it shouldn’t be too long before we get a place of our own.’

‘That’ll be good,’ I said, though I wasn’t sure if it would be. A girl I knew – Izzy, who’d had two babies – lived in a local authority flat which was the horriblest, grottiest place I’d ever been to. Although, thinking back, that might have been more Izzy and not so much the flat.

‘I’ve just got to prove to them that I can look after her on my own,’ Kirsty went on earnestly. ‘I’ve got to do everything right. If I don’t, I’ve just got an awful feeling that they’ll keep her. Get her adopted by someone. A proper couple.’