Secrets (19 page)

‘Kate?’

‘Mary's mixing me up with Kate today.’

‘Don't worry about that, pet – she called me Hilary yesterday, if that helps.’ Only it didn't help Tess who wanted to know about Kate.

‘I'm just the housekeeper. Sitter.’

The women had not looked at each other during this exchange. But they did so now. And Laura gave Tess a canny smile, accompanied by a snort which said, who are you trying to kid, hen? And Tess gave a fleeting widening of her eyes which said, don't! you're making me blush!

‘You can start off as one thing and end as another,’ Laura said, ‘like our Aunt Win.’

Tess wondered what she meant but a slow wink from Laura suggested it was enough.

‘And Kate?’ Tess tried again. It sounded contrived, but at least it was out.

Only Mary had finished her ice cream. ‘That was lovely, thank you, Tess.’

Much as Tess still wanted to hear about Kate, it was nicer to hear Mary using her own name again. Tess decided to leave it. She remembered how her grandmother had warned against prying. It's like sunbathing, she used to say – easy enough not to know when you've had enough and suddenly you're burnt.

So, together with Laura, she linked arms with Mary and, three abreast with the pushchair zigzagging, they monopolized the pavement all the way back to Swallows.

‘Come by soon,’ Laura said.

‘I will,’ said Tess. She turned to Mary. ‘See you soon, Mary.’

‘Not if I see you first, Kate.’

This time, Tess was overtly disappointed that the answering machine remained empty on her return. This time she said out loud, why don't you phone me? Then, finding herself standing stock-still staring at nothing on her way to the kitchen, she told herself to get a bloody grip and just bloody phone him instead. She took the piece of paper off the calendar hook and scrutinized the number she knew by heart.

Phone him to say what?
          When are you coming home?
               Why haven't you called?
                   Who's Kate?

What basis, though, did she have for asking any of those questions? After all, she had nothing to go on, nothing concrete at all. All he'd done was drink wine and break bread with her, leave her a Mars Bar or two. All that had happened was that he'd come in close to tell her something when they were crossing the Tees, which she'd interpreted as feeling like the verge of a kiss. And all he'd actually said was that he'd hold her hand if she didn't like heights. That's what you say to a child, isn't it. Or to anyone who's afraid of something.

She put the piece of paper back. She couldn't phone him. She could only think about him. And she found she could think about only him. She was intending to take a mug from the dresser to make a cup of tea. Instead, the photo of Joe bare-chested, in shorts and his safety hat by the unidentified bridge, caught her eye. She took it and sat down at the table. Maybe it wasn't such a long time ago. Maybe that's how he looks when he has a suntan and a hard hat. She flipped it over. It was dated just over three years previously. Above the date, the initials K.L.

Tess slumped. She felt deflated, deluded and silly – a school-girl crush she'd let run riot. Still, she was defenceless against stampeding thoughts.

K.L.

Bloody fucking
Kay Ell.

Who are you, K.L.? Kate L. Who
are
you? Are you still here? Is he there with you now?

How can I
ever
compete?

How can
I
ever compete?

There's nothing like the unexpected attention of others to provide a timely distraction. Tess soon took herself to task, telling herself she needed a life beyond sprucing up an old house, or taking a mangy old mutt for walks whilst waiting in torment for the master to return. So she went to the toddler group at the library that afternoon and sat herself down by Lisa to sing nursery rhymes, in a circle of friendly women, babes in their laps. A group was meeting at another toddler drop-in tomorrow and Tess said, yes, OK, I'll be there. Good. Then she went to the station and looked into trains to Middlesbrough, calculating the fare against what she estimated petrol would cost. She discovered there were free t'ai chi classes and salsa dancing here in town. T'ai chi sounded good. Very balancing. But what about Em? There was always Em to think about. Tess thought about this familiar stalemate as she pushed her daughter past the bandstand near home. After the company and the decibel level and the newness of the singalong, she was pleased to have the playground to herself but she really was glad about the mums’ group. It would be nice for Em. Not just for Em, for her too. Though she doubted whether her cheery little daughter ever felt remotely socially deprived, Tess had also been in the playground at busy times when she'd envied the other local mums their friendship. A wider circle would be good for them both.

A car horn beeping.

A car door closing.

‘Hey!’

Tess looked to the road. Wolf, nonplussed, remained sprawled across the pavement outside the playground. By his side was Seb, waving. ‘I recognized the dog,’ he called. ‘Haven't seen you in a while.’

‘I've been – busy,’ Tess called.

‘Do I need a child to come in?’ He looked theatrically up and down the street as if hoping to come across one.

Tess laughed. ‘You can share this one?’

And as Seb came through to the play area, all brawny and attractively slouchy with his nonchalant amble, his blond hair licked into flicks and kinks by too much sea water, his constant half-smile, the premature but attractive laughter lines from grinning at the sun too much while surfing; as he came towards her, Tess thought to herself, bugger Joe and his disappearing act and his secret mother and Kate Bloody El. Bugger the lot of them.

‘Haven't seen you around,’ Seb said with disconcertingly steady eye contact.

‘I've been around – perhaps you've been out on the waves.’

‘Surf's been awesome. When are you going to let me take you out there?’

‘Between you and me, Seb, you'd have more success asking me to jump out of a plane, than to surf. It's all right for you Aussies – it's in your genes.’

‘What is it with you and the water?’

‘It's not the water – it's the getting there.’

‘The sand?’

‘You could say.’

‘I didn't realize quicksand was an issue in the UK.’

‘Not quicksand!’

‘Rip tide? Sandflies? Broken glass?’ He paused. ‘Jellyfish? Dog shit?’

‘I just don't like beaches.’

‘Piggyback?’ Seb said. ‘From the prom, across the beach, straight out to sea. You're thin. I'm fit.’

‘Couldn't we just go for a coffee?’ Tess said, not quite sure whether that sounded like she was rebuffing his offer or proposing a date.

Seb looked at her. ‘You're on,’ he said. ‘How about now? It's teatime – excellent time for a cup of coffee.’

‘Weren't you on your way somewhere? Your car is pointing up the road.’

‘I was just cruising around, Tess, hoping to find someone to stand me a cup of coffee.’

‘You make yourself sound like a kerb-crawler.’

‘A coffee I'm happy to pay for,’ Seb said, ‘but not a blow-job.’

He said it so quickly it took a moment or two for Tess to register it and then he laughed at the gobsmack paralysing her face.

‘So what do you say, Tess – coffee? Now?’

She looked at him. And she looked at Em who was fidgeting in the swing and starting to gripe. She'd missed her nap in favour of the singsong. Wolf was still playing dead outside the playground. Tess looked down towards the coast, and then up inland. They were equidistant from the coffee shop and her kitchen. She tried to work out if he paid for the coffee would it be a date and would she be beholden to him? Or, if
she
offered to make it, would he read this as a come-on? And then she asked herself, would either be such a bad thing?

‘You could come back to the house?’

Seb's smile broadened until it was decidedly smirkish. ‘I'd love to – thanks.’

‘It'll have to be a quickie – I have loads to do.’

‘A quickie? I told you, I'm happy with a coffee – I'm not expecting sexual favours.’

‘I didn't mean –’

‘You're blushing.’

‘I mean –’

‘I know,’ he said, his smile now straight and kind.

‘I'm just up there – leave your car here, if you like. Wolf!’

The walk home took longer than usual on account of conversation impeding the pace, yet when it came to it, Tess felt uncomfortable unlocking the door and inviting Seb in. She wasn't sure how Seb would look in Joe's space. And what if the answering machine was flashing?

It was predictably empty of messages – but this too caused her momentary regret.

‘Jeez, this is a bit nice,’ Seb said and his awe made him seem young and rather gauche.

‘Glorious,’ Tess said, now wondering whether the café would have been a better option. ‘Go through to the kitchen. Can you give me a minute to settle Em in her cot?’

When she came down again, Seb was sitting at the table, his hands on his lap like a schoolboy. ‘I gave the dog some water.’

‘Thanks.’

‘How long have you lived here?’

‘I work here,’ Tess said before wondering why she'd been so quick to say so. ‘It's Joe Saunders's place.’ Why had she, in a single sentence, changed her home back into his house? Now she was taking the picture from the dresser and passing it to Seb. ‘His girlfriend Kate took it.’

Seb looked at the photo and wasn't sure what to say, really. He asked politely about Joe and was told he was an engineer who often worked abroad.

‘I'm the housekeeper.’

‘What a house to keep,’ Seb said. ‘What a place.’

‘Actually, I'm more of a house-sitter,’ she defined reluctantly.

‘How long are you here for?’

Tess shrugged. ‘I'm not sure, really. He said it's a long-term position. But it'll be for as long as he'll have me, I suppose.’ The notion of her impermanence, within this solid, steady house she'd so quickly called home, confronted her.

‘Show us around, then,’ Seb said.

But Tess realized she really didn't want to do that. Parameters hadn't crossed her mind until just then. A coffee was one thing. As was the gentle flirting. Ditto being on the seafront or in a playground with its public background noise. All of those were fine, manageable. But here in the kitchen, alone with a man, it was so quiet, so still – portentous almost. She could practically hear Seb think. And she thought he was probably thinking, wow, this chick has the whole place to herself.

He wasn't. He was thinking that Tess must be lonely up here on her own, cut off in such a lumbering great place; tied to it, what with the baby and the dog. And he really wanted to kiss her and he was wondering if she'd like that. And when might be a good time to try it. To suck it and see. She made a great cup of coffee and there'd been biscuits on a plate, plain digestives alternating with chocolate ones, displayed like petals.