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With a brighter than bright smile I waved to April. We left the pool. Headed home. No, wait, not home. I couldn’t use that word any more.
I dropped April off for the traditional roast and because Zak had agreed to help her with maths homework. Then I drove into Laventon. It was April’s health-mad teacher’s birthday tomorrow and apparently The Coffee Club’s pecan brownies were her one and only vice, so April wanted to take some in. Buying gifts had been a given in my luxurious past. Perhaps now I’d have to turn into one of those mums who … I don’t know … thriftily handcrafted gifts out of food packaging or old clothes. My stomach twisted. Would I be up to the challenge?
I parked up my Mini in the village’s council car park and checked my reflection in the rear-view mirror. My hair hung in wild chlorine curls and the sunlight caught my foundation-free freckles. Would anyone else notice my swollen eyelids? After a deep breath, I got out of the car and grabbed my mock snakeskin handbag that looked out of place with my faded jeans. Not faded through wear, of course. It was a designer fashion thing. I’d never so much as darned a sock or resewn a button, in the last ten years. Nor struggled to get stains out of clothes. Anything less than perfect had just gone straight in the bin.
Wishing I’d worn a cool skirt instead, I headed down the cobbled street and veered to the right to avoid an over-friendly terrier that belonged to the tailor who altered Zak’s Italian suits. I pushed open the glass door of The Coffee Club and saw Noah behind the counter, in front of a wall filled with jars and jars of beans of all different varieties. The pale turquoise walls emanated a sense of calm, punctuated with minimalist paintings of cups with saucers. Modern white tables complemented a big silver coffee machine behind the shiny glass counter. Yet a homely feel came from random shelves filled with novels for customers to borrow, plus cheerful vases of flowers.
I fiddled with my watchstrap as I headed over. It had been challenging chatting with people all week and pretending everything was fine. Noah looked up. He gave one of his cheerful smiles and yawned. My eyes scanned his torso and the bare forearms made visible by rolled up shirtsleeves. He wasn’t as tall as Zak, but he was more muscly.
I approached and focused on the smooth skin and smattering of blonde hairs. Arms strong enough to build an ark? I had seen him go into the local church last Monday evening, when I’d been out for a mind-clearing walk. Perhaps his biblical name wasn’t random but chosen especially by religious parents.
I breathed in the aroma of caffeine. It felt comforting. I forced a cheery hello, despite thinking I didn’t belong on any ark as I was no longer part of a pair. Again Noah yawned.
‘Busy morning?’ I said and cleared my throat.
Noah ran a hand through his fudge-coloured, choppy hair. ‘You can say that again. The weekend morning crowd have ordered countless toasted teacakes and big lattes. We really need to get in some help. I’m catching up with some cleaning now it’s the post-lunch lull.’ He jerked his head towards the window. ‘Lovely again today. Looks like early summer is here.’ He paused. ‘They suit you.’
‘Huh?’ I said distractedly and turned back around.
‘Those curls. Very Madame Bovary.’
I eyed him curiously. A literary reference? Zak always said my curls were very ‘Carrie’ out of Sex and the City – a programme he’d been force-fed by a previous girlfriend.
‘Hmm,’ I replied. ‘Now that’s quite a tale about marriage.’
‘Noah’s right. They look great,’ cut in a female voice, somewhat deeper than mine. Elle appeared. She was a tall woman with a handsome face and strong features. She had a thin, black ponytail and wore a denim skirt with a baggy white blouse. I’d always thought that her feminine, fashionable name didn’t quite match her unfussy appearance. I’d asked her once if her family came from France but Noah had interrupted by teasing Elle about the idea that she came from swanky Paris.
In fact, I knew practically zero about either Elle or Noah. Nothing unusual in that, but this was Laventon, where every villager knew that Postie was currently seeking a divorce and dipping his toe into online dating, and that Mrs Carlton from the corner shop was about to adopt a rescue cat and had finally been given effective medicine for her arthritis.
‘I’d kill for a few waves but my hair is naturally straighter than the crease in Martini’s slacks,’ said Elle.
Jane Martin, known to all as Martini after her favourite drink, cleaned the cottage attached to the coffee shop, where Noah and Elle lived. I knew her a little from the Elite Eleganz’s charity events I ran locally. Pets. Grandchildren. Knitting. That was her life. I have to admit, like the rest of the village, I’d tried to work out Noah and Elle’s relationship. At the last charity auction, I’d asked Martini if they were an item and she’d pleaded ignorance.
‘Noah, there’s a sandwich waiting for you out the back,’ said Elle. ‘It’s all I could manage to put together. But Martini popped in with a casserole for tonight.’
‘Give that woman a medal. She’s a godsend.’ He smiled at me. ‘Elle bakes the tastiest muffins, but when it comes to cooking savoury meals her best shot is a Pot Noodle.’
Playfully she punched his arm. My eyes tingled. Dot did the cooking in our house. Perhaps if I’d been a better cook or housekeeper, then Zak wouldn’t have …
I sighed, tired of the negative narrative that had occupied my head since I’d found out about my husband’s affair.
‘Ow!’ he said and mock-glared ‘You don’t know your own strength!’
‘What about your culinary skills?’ I said, in as steady a voice as I could muster. Seeing their friendly banter reminded me of the way Zak and I used to be.
‘Even worse.’ Noah pulled a face. ‘Elle and I take it in turns to cook. I like to think I can rustle up a mean toasted panini but there’s a reason I set up a coffee shop and not a restaurant.’
They grinned at each other. ‘I’ll grab my sandwich later. First I want to do a quick stock-take. We had a run on caramel syrup this morning. And those small biscotti are proving a hit on Sundays with the diet-conscious customers saving themselves for their lunch.’ His shoulders bobbed up and down. ‘Are you stopping, Jenny?’
‘What? Oh … um, I just came in to pick up some of your pecan brownies. It’s April’s teacher’s birthday tomorrow. Apparently they are her favourite.’
‘Makes a change from taking an apple, I guess,’ said Elle and grinned.
My eyes pricked. If only she knew. Every year, at Oakwood Towers, teachers were lavished with gift cards and designer accessories for birthdays and Christmas.
I brushed the thought away that this would probably be the last term April would be spending at Oakwood. I didn’t know how I was going to tell her. She loved that school, and all her friends.
‘You okay?’ asked Elle in a gentle voice as she handed me the brownies and stared at my face.
‘Fine, thanks. How much do I owe you?’ I stuttered to Elle who was on the till. My eyes welled with water, like a dam about to burst. It was all too much. I tried to stifle a sob.
Noah got to his feet. He must have been counting stock on the lowest levels of his shelves. In a flash he’d moved around the glass counter. He draped one of those strong arms around my shoulders and he guided me through to the back and into their home. Without protesting, I sat down at the pine kitchen table. He passed me a square of kitchen roll and I blew my nose.
‘If it’s privacy you need, stay here as long as you like. We’re still open for a couple of hours,’ he said firmly. He hesitated, then went to leave.
My chin trembled. ‘Don’t tempt me. I might stay here for ever.’
He raised an eyebrow as a solitary tear trickled down my face. Previously I’d only ever talked to the coffee shop owner about the weather or his work. He was always so cheerful and charming. I’d never heard him utter an irritated word or seen him frown. New to the village about twelve months ago, Noah kept himself to himself, which intrigued the locals. The primary subject of gossip was whether he was dating his co-worker, Elle.
‘Jenny? Everything okay? Any way I can help?’
‘No. I’m fine. It’s just …’ A lump swelled in my throat and – oh no – burst. Sobs racked my body. He wrapped his arm around me again but I shook it off. ‘No. Don’t. Please. Any act of kindness … it might finish me off.’ I buried my face in the kitchen roll until the sobbing eventually subsided and then I blew my nose.
‘Do you want me to ring anyone? Your husband?’
Sobs threatened again so I bit the insides of my cheeks. ‘No thanks. I’ll be okay.’ My eyes tingled. Who could I speak to? In the early years I’d made friends at toddlers group, but most of those women had gone back to work. The others couldn’t afford to send their daughters to all-girls Oakwood Towers school and eventually their children’s friendships with April had faded away.
I’d been good friends with the mum of April’s best mate, but then that family headed off to Dubai. As for Mum and Dad, they lived in deepest Wales, and I didn’t want to concern them when I was in this state.
I shook myself and forced my lips to upturn in Noah’s direction, ignoring the voice in my head that howled like an injured animal at the thought that the two adults closest to me had carried out the worst act of betrayal. Plus we were skint. That had slowly sunk in this last week – along with all the consequences. I’d have to get a job. Destroy my store cards. Forget my dreams of college. And, worst of all … April. I shook my head. How could she leave Oakwood Towers?
Jeez. I was having a full-blown pity party.
I cleared my throat and tried to think of something positive.
‘Come on. Much as I love coffee, there might be some truth in there being nothing a good cup of tea can’t solve. So that’s a necessity, not an act of kindness.’ He filled the kettle. ‘No arguments. Stay here until you feel better.’
I half-smiled. Here was my positivity. A nice guy making me a cuppa. But then the negative narrative started up once more and my shoulders slumped. ‘Okay. I … I suddenly feel so tired. I’m too done in to argue. You’re very kind.’ I gazed at his broad back. The Coffee Club was one of the few places I’d let April visit on her own, with her friends. From the first moment I’d met Noah there seemed to be something trustworthy about him. Perhaps it was his name – the biblical implication that he was something of a hero and would save the day.
I could to with a cosmic miracle today all right. Blocking out thoughts of Zak for a moment, I watched Noah take out the teabags. I wondered if he was an expert on them as well. His depth of knowledge about coffee beans was outstanding. At the last tasting session he’d introduced a bean from Colombia. It came from the highest elevations of the Andes and apparently produced a dark, slightly sweet coffee with a walnut-like aftertaste in contrast to a favourite bean of his, from Africa, which had a definite smoky flavour.
Chanelle smoked now and again. Outside of the house. Never in front of Skye. I wondered if her kisses tasted of the clandestine drags of tobacco. Maybe Zak liked that. Perhaps my kisses tasted too safe, too vanilla.
My hands trembled and I dabbed my eyes again as Noah set down two cups of tea and sat opposite me.
‘Thanks. What must you think? It’s just that me and Zak … I thought he got me, you know?’ I forced a smile.
Noah stared at me for a moment and then shrugged and his eyes crinkled. ‘As Oscar Wilde said – “Women are made to be loved, not understood.” Perhaps he had a point.’
‘Well, by all accounts Wilde gave up on the fairer sex.’ I gave a wry smile. ‘Great writer though.’
‘Agreed. His collection of short stories is ace.’
‘The Happy Prince and Other Tales?’
Noah nodded and I studied him for a moment. Most people had only heard of The Importance of Being Earnest.
‘Anyway …’ he bowed his head ‘… glad to be of service.’ For a second his eyes lost their humorous twinkle. ‘Things will work out, Jenny,’ he said, softly. ‘Fate’s a funny thing. In weeks to come, you might look back on what’s happened and see it as fortuitous.’
My throat ached. I doubted that very much. However, I appreciated his attempt to make me feel better, with something of a profound statement. Elle entered the room and I gazed at them both.
‘I won’t ever see it as good luck. You see, my … marriage is over.’ Words like a punch to my stomach. For a whole week I’d not uttered them out loud. ‘My home is no longer my home. And we’re in financial trouble.’
Mustn’t cry again. Noah and Elle would think me pathetic. And I’m not – I’m a dynamic, charity-organising, domestic-juggling mother. I gulped. Yeah, right. Now that successful image lay in tatters. I opened my handbag and took out my phone. Say what you like about modern technology, mobiles proved a great distraction if you needed a moment.
I pretended to check my messages then slipped the device back into my bag and sat more upright.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
‘Sorry. Just having a wobbly day. Honestly. Leave me to wallow. You’ll have customers waiting.’ I sniffed. ‘I mean, worse things happen in life, as I know from my charity work. I have my health and a beautiful daughter. I can’t ask for more than that.’ I thought I’d had a perfect life until days ago. Locals must think the same. So it wouldn’t do, to be whimpering in public. Other people had far bigger problems, like … My eyes watered. I’d just lost my life partner. My future. My home.
Elle sat down next to me. ‘No point in comparing. We all have our own story. And it’s okay. The last two customers just left and I’ve closed up for a moment. The post-lunch lull will probably last another half an hour. Perhaps your friend could offer support? Talk things through. You know, the blonde lady I see you with.’
I controlled an irrational urge to laugh. Instead my voice cracked. ‘Yes. So that she could tell me all about how she’s been shagging my husband for the last six months …’
‘Oh, Jenny, no …’ Elle’s large hand covered mine.
Noah’s face turned red. ‘You had no idea?’
Somehow I managed to shake my head from side to side without releasing more tears.
He pursed his lips and muttered something about people not knowing when they were well off.
‘Is there no going back?’ said Elle, softly.
‘No. I hoped for a few days, but I can see now that his loyalty to her is unwavering. Apparently marrying me was one big mistake – always had been.’ I gave a loud sniff. I had to stay strong for April.
‘What will you do?’ she said.
I bit my thumbnail. ‘At first I didn’t know. The beginning of the week passed in a daze. Zak will hardly discuss the situation.’ I sighed. ‘He was just like this when his mum died last year.’ He’d thrown himself into arranging the funeral and even afterwards hardly spoke about his feelings, bottling it all up. Eventually it came out as anger. He got into a fight in a bar, over a football match, and threw a punch. And the last time I’d visited him at work staff tiptoed around him as if waiting for him to explode.
‘He’s just moved into a guest room,’ I continued. ‘Elite Eleganz has been mad busy with a last-ditch online promotion that ends today. Zak says we’ll discuss things properly tonight, when April is in bed.’ I said the word discuss in a hopeful tone. If the ball of anger spinning faster and faster in my chest with every passing day was anything to go by, it looked like a full-blown shouting match was the more likely outcome.
‘What I do know is that I can never live in that house again. All the memories – they seem fake now.’ I couldn’t believe I was telling them all this but it felt like such a relief to share what had happened and they both had such … such understanding expressions. Perhaps that’s what made a good barista – the ability to make people feel relaxed, and to create an atmosphere that made the coffee shop seem like a refuge from the world’s worries.
I stood up and paced, admiring the cosy aura of the kitchen. I wondered how much of it was down to Martini, with the decorative wall plates and warm peach curtains. And that knitted tea cosy had to be made by her. Although the shelf filled with books was perhaps down to Noah – P. G. Wodehouse, James Patterson, Lee Child, among children’s classics and self-help books. An eclectic choice to say the least. The room was tiny compared to our kitchen at The Willows. My chest tightened with the growing realisation that my day-to-day life would have to change, now that saving money was a priority.
‘How’s April taking it?’ asked Noah. ‘She’s a nice kid. Always says please and thank you.’
‘She doesn’t know yet,’ I replied. That was the worst bit. My heart felt as if it had been broken into a thousand pieces. But April? Hers would be wrung dry and crushed to dust. ‘I’ll never forgive him for doing this to our daughter.’
‘She might be more resilient than you think,’ said Noah and he raised his eyebrows in a hopeful manner.
‘I bet a good number of her friends have divorced parents.’ Elle shrugged. ‘You’d be surprised how many separated parents bring their kids in here for a treat – even olde-worlde Laventon can’t avoid some of the trends of modern life.’
True. Out of April’s friendship group both Chelsea and Megan had step-siblings from recent second marriages. But my throat ached at the thought of April’s increasingly slim limbs. I didn’t want something like this to tip her into a dark emotional state where she did all the wrong kinds of things to cope. So that meant only one thing. I had to put on a bright face and look for the positives.
‘Have you got a paper and pen?’ I asked, eventually.
Noah jumped up and opened a kitchen drawer. He returned with a notebook and biro and placed them in front of me. I wiped my eyes and sat up straight. The cover of the pad was covered in good luck symbols – a wedding horseshoe, a dreamcatcher, a lucky number seven, and a waving Japanese cat.
‘Thanks so much. Now please. Open up the shop again,’ I said to them both. ‘I’ll be fine – if I could just stay here for a little while and formulate a concrete plan, I’d be truly grateful.’
I’d already been to the local estate agents, to see if I could find an affordable place for me and April. My voice had shaken, just a little, worried that I was going to come across as a complete fool. I’d moved from Mum and Dad’s to student accommodation to Zak’s house and never actually rented a place of my own. How would I manage if the boiler broke or the sink got blocked? Dot’s husband took care of stuff like that at The Willows. And there would be no more food shopping at Marks & Spencer. I’d probably have to start frequenting the pound shop.
With a churning stomach, I reflected on the next challenge – to find a job. ‘I searched online, last night, for employment, but after being a stay-at-home mum for ten years, it seems that I am under-qualified for just about everything.’ My cheeks felt hot. ‘I wouldn’t even have a clue what products to use for a cleaning job.’ Dot cleaned The Willows from top to bottom.
An unease shifted within my chest as I realized how pampered I’d become. Dot even did the ironing. About the only thing I’d accomplished was being a good mum. I’d searched childcare positions but they all required certificates and experience. An image of my fashion sketches popped into my head, but my dream of returning to college was over. I needed to earn money and quick. Even if Elite Eleganz had been doing better than ever, I would never accept a single penny from Zak. Not for myself. Only child maintenance.
Noah and Elle exchanged looks, as if a telepathic conversation were taking place. He was just about to say something when the sound of knocking on glass came from the shop. Elle stood up and squeezed my shoulder firmly before leaving the kitchen. Noah lifted his cup and got to his feet, before pouring his tea down the sink.
‘Not thirsty?’ I asked.
‘Can’t stand the stuff, truth be told,’ he said. ‘I only had it as a mark of solidarity.’
For a split second a wave of emotion washed over his face. I bit my lip. The unexpected camaraderie meant a lot.
‘Thanks,’ I mumbled. ‘For …’ I looked around the kitchen ‘… for this.’
‘Any time. Mi casa es su casa.’ He smiled.
‘Gus says that to Hazel in The Fault in our Stars when he takes her to his basement bedroom,’ I mumbled, having read the book recently.
‘Great story,’ he said, in gentle tones. ’And a great message.’
I stared at Noah. I knew what he was saying. Like the book’s theme of childhood cancer, there were worse problems than mine. Somehow I had to find the inner strength to deal with my situation.
Chapter Four (#ulink_fddeb1ab-698d-52a9-9097-5ced309e4611)
I picked up the biro and stared at the notebook’s cover, in particular the silver horseshoe, and thought about my own wedding day. I’d always believed nothing on this planet looked sexier than Zak in a tux with a cream rose in the buttonhole – although if you believed Dot’s women’s magazines, a husband who put the bins out on time was much more of a turn-on.
Feeling as joyous as a small child skipping, I’d arrived at the church. Twenty-one years old. About five months pregnant. On the cusp of becoming Mrs Zachary Masters. Dad’s eyes had glistened when he saw my white wedding dress, which could have come straight off the pages of Vogue. Stylish. Classy. And nothing like the dress I’d promised myself while still at the fashion college. If I ever got married, I was going to wear a multicoloured backless creation, with a big ruffled collar, and I planned to go barefoot, with wildflowers in my hair.
Where had that rebellious artist gone? Had being under the spell of Zak’s love made her disappear in a puff of smoke, for ever?
My gaze shifted to the illustration of the dreamcatcher. At our wedding one of my aunts had drunk too much bubbly and kept referring to Zak as the ultimate dreamboat. Images filled my mind of Zak’s face, as I’d walked up the aisle. I’d glimpsed a grave expression as our eyes met, and assumed it was the sense of occasion he must have been experiencing. Instead, I now knew it concealed his disenchantment at committing to a future about which he’d been in total denial. I bit my bottom lip. Had the last ten years really been based on a lie?
During the wedding breakfast and evening dance we’d used every opportunity to touch each other. I’d spent most of the day mentally unbuttoning his shirt. When people transferred from the dining room to the dance floor, Zak had grabbed my hand and pulled me into a cloakroom. Within seconds he’d trapped me up against the coats, lips urgently pushing mine apart.
