Summer Season (14 page)

‘So, you’re going to trust me with the girls again?’ Troy asked Lauren the next time he came round to see the twins.

‘I expect so,’ Lauren had to reluctantly concede. She had been pleasantly surprised at the lack of chaos when she’d got home two nights previously. The girls were asleep, and later reported that they’d had ‘lots of fun with Daddy’, the house was tidy and Troy was sitting watching TV, looking completely relaxed. It seemed, despite her fears, he
could
be trusted to look after the girls.

‘Oh come on, Lauren, that’s a bit hard,’ said Troy. ‘I think I did a bit better than OK.’

Laughing despite herself – annoying how he could still make her do that – Lauren was forced to agree that Troy had passed his first babysitting stint with flying colours.

‘So I really think it’s time you let me have them for the day,’ said Troy. ‘I could take them out on Saturday. Give you a break.’

‘I’m not sure,’ began Lauren, when the girls came running in from the other room. ‘Daddy said he’s taking us out to the cinema on Saturday, please can we go, please!’

‘You sneaky sod!’ whispered Lauren. He’d already asked the girls, knowing she wouldn’t be able to refuse them.

‘I didn’t want you to say no,’ said Troy, ‘please let me have them.’

‘Please, Mummy,’ said Izzie.

‘We’ll be good,’ said Immie.

‘It’s not you I’m worried about,’ muttered Lauren to herself. She looked at the pair of them, so eager and excited. It was the first time they’d asked to do anything with their dad, she couldn’t say no.

‘OK,’ she agreed.

‘Thanks,’ said Troy, giving her an unexpected hug, which she resisted stiffly, trying not to inhale his intoxicating scent of tobacco and aftershave. ‘You won’t regret it.’

But come Saturday, of course, she did regret it. Troy arrived bright and early to take the girls away, promising to be back around five, and suddenly she was left with a long lonely day and nothing to do. She spent the first couple of hours scrubbing the house from top to bottom. Though she worked very hard at trying to keep the house clean and tidy, with two four-year-olds the reality was that there were usually toys in the wrong places, dirty clothes on the bedroom floor, towels put back crookedly, toothpaste smeared all over the sink and any number of gunky deposits on the kitchen floor. It satisfied her inner housewife to get the place up to scratch, and smelling all lemony and fresh.

Once that was done, and trying not to clock watch, Lauren did a serious amount of baking, always her refuge in moments of stress. By the time another couple of hours had passed she’d made muffins, cupcakes, scones and shortbread and her cake tins were bursting full. Really, she should start a business doing this, Lauren thought. It was satisfying, enjoyable, and something she appeared to be really really good at. Having used up nearly all her baking ingredients and it still only being lunchtime, Lauren decided to see if Kezzie was in, as she fancied lunch in Keef’s Café. But Kezzie was out, and much as she loved the eccentricity of the place, Lauren couldn’t face lunchtime there on her own. She settled
instead for homemade soup, a muffin, and a catch-up with a book her mum had given her for Christmas.

The afternoon passed in a desultory fashion, and by four thirty Lauren was restless, and anxiously waiting for Troy to ring her. She tried calling him, but he’d turned his phone off. The minutes ticked away, and as dusk started to fall, she realized to her horror that he was late. Half an hour more went past, and still Troy wasn’t back. Lauren was teetering between frantic worry, and telling herself off for being so stupid. Where was he? He’d been gone for hours. Was he about to do another bunk? Had he just wormed his way into her affections, only to take off again? And this time with the children? After all that guff about how much he’d changed. Lauren couldn’t bear to think about it. She tried to phone his mobile again, but still there was no reply. She’d been an idiot to trust him, an absolute idiot.

Lauren was pacing the floor, on the verge of ringing the police, when Troy calmly strolled up the front path with two overexcited children.

‘Where the hell have you been?’ she yelled, as she opened the door, anxiety manifesting itself as anger. ‘I was worried sick.’

‘I didn’t know you cared,’ said Troy with a grin.

‘I wasn’t worried about you,’ snapped Lauren. ‘I was worried about the girls.’

‘Why?’ said Troy. ‘They’re fine.’

‘You’re late, and your phone was switched off,’ said Lauren.

‘Ah, sorry, we stopped off for a McDonald’s, and I forgot to charge my phone,’ said Troy. ‘We’re only just over half an hour late. What on earth did you think had happened?’

‘I – oh – it’s stupid but I thought you’d taken them,’ muttered Lauren when the girls were out of earshot.

‘I can’t believe you would think such a thing of me!’ It
was Troy’s turn to be furious. ‘Why on earth would I take the girls away from you?’

‘Because you left so early, and you were gone so long. And I didn’t know what to think,’ she finished lamely.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Troy. ‘I thought it would be nice to have a good day out with my daughters. I didn’t realize you’d be clockwatching. Jeez, there’s no pleasing you is there?’

‘Oh,’ said Lauren, feeling foolish. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just on past performance …’

‘How many times do I need to tell you I’ve changed?’ said Troy, with a heavy sigh, and Lauren had the unusual experience of feeling guilty that she’d underestimated him. She changed the subject.

‘How did you get on then?’ she asked, attempting to sound more cheery.

‘We had a great day, didn’t we, girls?’ said Troy. The twins, who’d been anxiously watching their parents during the previous exchange, burst into ready smiles.

‘Daddy took us to McDonald’s,’ said Immie.

‘And we saw
Tangled
,’ said Izzie. ‘It was fun.’

‘That’s lovely, darlings,’ said Lauren, as she hugged both girls really tightly. ‘I was just being silly, I missed you both so much. I’ll just pop a DVD on for you, while Daddy and I talk.’

When Lauren settled the children, she came back into the kitchen and looked at Troy directly and said, ‘Troy, what is it you really want? Why are you here?’

‘I know you might find this hard to accept, but I do want to get to know my girls,’ said Troy.

‘But why after all this time?’ persisted Lauren.

‘You know all that stuff I told you about my dad?’ said Troy.

‘What about it?’ said Lauren.

‘It’s made me realize I don’t want to be the kind of dad he was,’ said Troy. ‘I want to be there for the girls, I really do.
And to prove it to you, I’ve found somewhere to live in Heartsease, and I’ve got a job working in the pub. It’s only a stopgap, till I get something better, and can afford to pay you some maintenance.’

‘Oh,’ said Lauren, not sure quite how she felt about that.

‘Please, Lauren, give me a chance,’ said Troy. ‘I know I can’t do much about the past, but I can change the future, if you’ll let me.’

‘Well, that’s good then,’ said Lauren, patting his arm awkwardly, before withdrawing her hand. ‘And it
is
what I’ve always wanted for the girls. Our new family life starts from here.’

Kezzie spent the weekend immersed in garden plans, and by Monday morning she was raring to go. She’d been so excited since she and Joel had found Edward’s original designs, she’d barely been away from the computer, trying to work out how she could incorporate the old with the new. She’d also wangled a grant from a small horticultural charity, which meant both she and Joel could really afford to go ahead with the project without worrying about the financial implications.

They had managed to rotivate the majority of the garden just before Christmas, before the ground had got too hard, so now Kezzie was able to start planning out. She was hoping to get the plants in by the early part of the spring, weather permitting. It felt good to be back in Heartsease organizing things, after spending Christmas with Flick, followed by a trip to visit her parents in Spain. As usual she had got a lot of flak about not being like her little sister, who was married and settled in a nice home with her 2.4 children, so it was a relief to get back to her real life. Although it had been nice to have a holiday, Kezzie couldn’t help feeling it was more restful here.

Some of Edward’s choices of plants for the borders felt overfussy for today’s garden; she wasn’t sure she wanted them to be such a hotchpotch of perennials for example, but she’d got the list of plants he’d placed in the gaps intended for his children. In each of the four corners, he’d planted agapanthus (representing immortality) in memory of the babies who had died in childbirth (the name of one poignantly written in the margin), but gone on to plant snowdrops (symbolizing hope) for his daughter Connie, white carnations (good luck) to mark the birth of Harry, and finally peonies (for healing and a happy life) for his youngest daughter, Tilly.

Harry, it appeared from Lily’s diaries, was very much the favoured son. Connie barely got a mention, but Tilly, as the youngest, was clearly doted on. Kezzie sniffed disparagingly. Having always suspected her parents liked her younger sister more, Kezzie felt an instinctive fellow feeling for Connie. Although it also seemed, from Edward’s numerous and affectionate letters to his eldest daughter, that he had compensated somewhat for her mother’s lack of interest. Kezzie hoped so. She was getting so immersed in the stories of these long-dead people, they were becoming more real to her than people she knew in real life.

Kezzie finished the design on her computer with a feeling of satisfaction. She’d looked up the entry requirements for Hampton Court, and she wouldn’t have time to apply this year, but she could probably apply for Chelsea in the autumn, if she got her website up and running in time. She laughed to herself, thinking of the time she, Flick and Gavin had entered the Alternative Chelsea Flower Show and won with an eco-friendly garden designed for the twenty-first century. Richard had fallen about when she’d described how she’d snuck up and taken discarded stems that no one else had used. He’d been semi horrified of course, till she’d
pointed out the waste. ‘It’s like those people who forage for food in bins,’ she’d explained, ‘only with flowers instead.’

Richard.
A stab of longing for him came over her. What was he doing? How was he coping without her? She had a sudden desire to hear his voice, stupid as she knew it was. She’d left London months ago, and he’d made no effort to contact her, even at Christmas. Not that she had made it easy for him. She’d changed her mobile, moved house, and the only people who knew where she was were her parents and Flick. Richard had never met Jo, and associated Kezzie with town – she’d always proudly proclaimed her urban heritage – he would never look for her here. Always supposing he was looking.

Kezzie picked up her phone and played with it a while. Richard’s number wasn’t on it. She’d deliberately left it off, just as she’d deleted his email address from the computer to reduce the risk of repeating those awful, embarrassing, late night drunken texts and emails in the aftermath of their break-up. But she knew the number by heart.

She was stronger now though. Perhaps she could stand to listen to his voice. Tentatively, her fingers shaking, Kezzie rang his mobile number. Her heart was in her mouth, what did she think she was doing? What if he answered it? What if he didn’t? It rang several times. Good. He wasn’t answering. Any minute it would go to voicemail –

‘Richard’s phone.’

A woman? A woman had answered Richard’s phone and it definitely wasn’t Emily. Kezzie nearly screamed with shock.

‘Who is this please?’

Kezzie turned off her phone. She was shaking like a leaf, and felt vaguely sick.

What on earth did she think she was doing? She should leave Richard in the past where he belonged. Unsettled by
what had happened, and feeling unable to stay in the house a moment longer, Kezzie decided to pop out for some fresh air. Without really thinking where she was going, she wandered into Heartsease and was meandering aimlessly past the shops, when she bumped into Lauren and Sam.

‘Hey, Lauren, what are you up to?’ said Kezzie, loath to go back home, and hoping she was free.

‘Not a lot,’ said Lauren. ‘Going home and putting my shopping away, mainly. I lead an exciting life.’

‘Do you fancy a coffee then?’ said Kezzie, who was unwilling to go back home.

‘Coffee sounds great,’ said Lauren, and the pair of them ambled towards Keef’s. ‘What will it be, lovely ladies?’ Keith asked, his eyes twinkling. ‘I’ve got a new lemon-flavoured frappucino that is to die for.’

One of Keith’s many eccentricities was introducing weird and wonderful flavours into the coffee. Kezzie had made the mistake of trying out his cherry-flavoured frappucino once, so hastily asked for a latte, while Lauren settled for a hot chocolate.

‘I’m glad we bumped into one another,’ said Kezzie. ‘I’ve been meaning to pick your brains about the playground. I know it’s really shabby but it’s going to cost a bit to do it up …’

‘First off, the kids need space,’ said Lauren, counting on her fingers, ‘that play area is ridiculously cramped. Second, they need new, clean, safe equipment with spongy surfaces so the kids don’t hurt themselves when they fall.’

‘Plain old concrete not good enough any more?’ said Kezzie, jokingly, remembering scratched knees and elbows received from jumping off swings and roundabouts that were going too fast.

‘Not in this day and age, no. It needs to be bright, friendly,
have some areas of shade, benches for the mums to sit on, and stuff for kids to crawl, climb and swing on.’

‘Anything else?’

‘You should look at turning that derelict patch at the back into an area for teens. Give them a baseball court and skateboard park so they’ve got something to do. It might stop them taking over the baby playground.’

‘Blimey, that’s a list and a half,’ said Kezzie. ‘The fete’s going to need to raise a whole load of dosh to do all that.’

‘I think we should encourage Eileen in her aim of making it more of an event,’ said Lauren. ‘It’s always very low key, the summer fete. I think they could make an awful lot more of it than they do.’