Thursdays in the Park (12 page)

As they reached the gates of Priory Park, her mobile beeped. Ray.
Are you coming? Got strawberries
.

Birthday strawberries. Resolutely she put her phone back in the pocket of her cotton trousers.

‘Gin look . . . look, Gin.’ Jeanie followed the direction of her granddaughter’s finger.

‘Sandpit . . . do you want to go in the sandpit?’

Ellie nodded. ‘Buck . . .’ She pointed at a discarded bucket. ‘Owinge buck . . . sand fall down . . .’ She began to busy herself picking up handfuls of sand and throwing it in the bucket, then tipping it out again. This occupied her for a while, until a small boy came over and snatched the bucket. ‘Mine,’ he declared, but Ellie wouldn’t let go of the blue handle. ‘Gin . . . nooooooo . . . not boy’s buck . . . moine, moine.’ Her screams crescendoed as the boy successfully wrestled his orange bucket back. It took hours to calm Ellie down, by which time the little girl was red-faced and sweating, her fair curls plastered to her head, sand scrunching between her fingers and toes and coating her bare legs.

‘Ice cream,’ Jeanie announced cheerfully, but her heart wasn’t in it. She kept looking around in the ridiculous hope that she would see Ray coming across the grass towards her.

‘A’boy’s horbor,’ Ellie kept saying plaintively, her brown eyes still full of outrage. ‘He did take my buck.’

‘It was
his
bucket,’ Jeanie repeated. ‘We’ll bring yours next time,’ knowing this made no sense to a two-year-old.

They sat on a bench while Ellie picked delicately with a plastic spoon at a single scoop of chocolate ice cream in a waxed-paper cup, making it last for hours. By the end her small face was covered in a beard of chocolate.

‘Anna-one?’ she said hopefully, holding out the cup to Jeanie.

Jeanie laughed. ‘No, darling, one’s enough.’

‘Where Din?’ the child asked, then started hiccupping. ‘I got neck-ups,’ she announced, grinning.

‘He couldn’t come today.’

‘OK . . . Din have play with me,’ she said, and when Jeanie didn’t answer she said again, ‘Gin . . . Gin . . . Din play with me. An’ my leg ouchy ouchy when a’ball hit me.’

‘Yes, darling, but your leg’s all right now, isn’t it?’

Ellie looked doubtful and pulled up the hem of her skirt to point to an invisible wound.

‘Ouchy leg like Daddy when he was a likul girl.’

‘Little boy,’ Jeanie corrected, smiling to herself.

She took her granddaughter on her knee and wiped the ice cream gently from her face with a wet-wipe. Ellie struggled and shrieked, but she persevered. Then she just held the hot little thing in her arms, stroking the damp hair back from her forehead. The thought that anyone could hurt her made Jeanie almost sick. What Alex had done was evil. Or had he really thought his daughter was being abused?

‘I love you,’ she whispered into Ellie’s hair.

‘I’ve found a house.’ George was jubilant, jumping up from his seat on the terrace when he heard Jeanie and running into the kitchen, all gangly arms and legs, waving a sheet of particulars in her face.

Jeanie took out her reading glasses. The house was beautiful, an old rectory on the edge of the Blackdown Hills, it said: five bedrooms, morning room, etc. etc.

‘It’s so perfect, ticks all the boxes, and it’s on the market for one point five.’

‘Great.’ At that moment, Jeanie didn’t care if she lived in
the Outer Hebrides. At least a move would take her as far away from Ray as possible. He’d sent two more texts, neither of which she’d replied to:
What’s up? Xxx
and
Say something! X
.

‘Think how wonderful it’ll be to be in the country when it’s hot like this,’ George was saying, flapping a wad of printouts in front of his face like a fan.

‘It’s only this hot so early in May two days every decade. Hardly worth moving to Dorset for.’

‘Somerset . . . this house is on the Somerset/Devon borders. Let me get you a drink, you look done in.’ He scrutinized her till she had to look away. ‘I’ve made some iced tea.’

Jeanie nodded.

‘Go and sit down on the terrace, old girl, and I’ll bring it out.’

His solicitousness was painful to Jeanie. She knew where it was coming from. Since the night of the party he’d treated her as if she were made of spun glass.

‘I put mint in it. So how was Ellie?’

‘Fine . . . adorable as ever.’ She told him about the boy and the ‘buck’ and they both laughed.

This is how it will always be, she thought as she sipped her tea, just this, just us.

‘Jeanie.’ George was looking serious. ‘This move . . . you’re OK with it now, aren’t you?’

Jeanie shrugged.

‘It’s just I thought . . . I thought this could be a chance for us. You know, get away from it all, make a new life.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with this one, George.’

George looked relieved. ‘No . . . well, it’s good you think that. But think how much better it’d be to live here.’ He pointed to the photograph.

‘You haven’t seen it yet: it’s probably on the edge of a cliff.’

‘Well, if not this one, then another one that isn’t.’ George grinned encouragingly and she wanted to be enthusiastic like him, wanted to stop being a killjoy, wanted . . . what?

‘I’m going to see it on Saturday. Will you come?’

‘Saturday’s my busiest day.’

George’s face fell. ‘Well, Sunday. I’ll change it to Sunday.’

‘OK . . . I think I’ll go up and have a cool bath now.’ The sun was going down and the heat was finally beginning to lose its edge. As she turned to go she couldn’t help seeing her husband’s almost pleading glance, but she didn’t feel there was anything, not anything honest, at least, that she could say to help.

The following morning she got to the shop early. She was on her way into town to see Tony, her accountant, and needed to pick up some documents. As she packed the papers into her briefcase she looked up and nearly jumped out of her skin. Ray’s face was pressed to the glass of the shop door.

‘Bloody hell, you gave me a fright,’ she gasped as she opened the door.

Ray laughed. ‘At least you still live,’ he said.

There was a silence between them. ‘Jeanie?’

‘Look I’m late, I have to go.’

Ray looked puzzled. ‘What’s going on? Has something happened?’

‘I can’t see you any more,’ Jeanie gabbled, unable to meet his eye.

‘O
K
. . .’ The syllable was drawn out. ‘Will you tell me why?’

He was standing absolutely still in the centre of the shop, his arms folded, quietly watching her gather the rest of her papers which were strewn across the counter.

‘I told you, I’m late,’ she said. ‘I have to go.’

Ray moved silently towards the door and opened it for her. She felt for her keys, couldn’t find them in her pocket of her suit jacket, scrabbled in her capacious bag, slammed her briefcase on the counter again and dredged the corners. No keys.

‘Christ!’ She began again with her bag. She could see her hands were trembling, but she couldn’t seem to do anything but this manic searching, a searching that felt like an end in itself that would continue for ever and ever, even after the keys were found.

‘Are these them?’ Ray was holding up her keys in his right hand.

Jeanie just looked at him, not trusting herself to speak, her heart thudding uncomfortably at the close proximity.

Ray didn’t move, just held out the keys to her. ‘They were on the shelf,’ he said, his voice soft.

When she didn’t take them, just stood gazing at him, he put them down on the top of her briefcase.

‘I’d better go,’ he said.

Everything seemed to slow to nothing as she watched him turn and walk towards the door. It might have been a hundred years till she heard a small voice say, ‘Ray . . .’ and recognized it as her own.

‘I
do
have to go, I
am
late for the accountants.’

Ray nodded, smiled. ‘I did believe you,’ he said.

‘Will you meet me later? In town? At least not anywhere near here?’

‘Aren’t you angry?’ They were sitting in a Japanese cafe on the corner of Lisle Street sipping miso soup. The restaurant was heaving with the lunchtime rush but they’d found a cramped space in the corner under the coats, which suited them fine. Ray had taken a long time considering what she told him.

‘Do you really think he made it up?’

Jeanie looked at him incredulously. ‘Well, it didn’t happen, so he must have.’

‘It seems such an evil thing to do. I reckon he must have heard Ellie burbling on about something – you know how they do at that age – and got the wrong end of the stick.’

‘Chanty said the same, but I don’t even think that. You didn’t see him. He wouldn’t even meet my eye.’

‘But Jeanie, unless the man’s a moron, accusing you of being the conduit to his daughter’s abuser is daft. Why would he do that?’ Despite his robust tone, she could see he was worried. ‘They aren’t going to take it any further, are they?’

‘They said no . . . I think I convinced Chanty.’ She shook her head in exasperation. ‘I still can’t believe he said it . . . out of the blue like that.’

Ray took a drink from his beer bottle as they both sat in silence.

‘It would ruin my life if there was even a hint,’ he said eventually, passing his hand across his stubbly grey hair in a gesture Jeanie had come to love. ‘Natalie would stop me seeing the boy, the school would be fucked – nobody has to prove anything, a rumour’d be enough to scupper me.’

Jeanie nodded. ‘I’m so sorry.’

He gave her a wry smile. ‘Like it’s your fault.’

‘They’re my relatives.’

‘So you don’t think Ellie actually said anything?’

The waitress stood beside the table with their food, and both of them looked at it with the same disregard.

‘She might have mentioned you. She adores you and Dylan, you make her laugh. But her stories involve all the people she knows and make no sense whatsoever. She’s too young to know that sitting on someone’s knee might be a problem. Anyway, that’s irrelevant, she’s never been on your knee.’ Jeanie wrenched her suit jacket off, suddenly boiling hot.

Ray shook his head, clearly bewildered. ‘Do you think someone else, another man, could be involved? It
is
true, but she just got the man muddled up?’

Jeanie hadn’t thought of this, and quickly trawled through the possibilities. ‘She never sees anyone except me and George and Alex . . . not on her own.’

She picked at the rice and chicken with her chopsticks. ‘Of course, they both have her on their knee all the time.’

Ray gave her a quizzical look and she laughed.

‘No, no . . . I really don’t think either my husband or my son-in-law’s a child-molester.’

‘Just a liar.’

‘But the truth isn’t always the point, is it?’

The words hung in the air. They both knew what she meant. The momentary ache of pleasure Jeanie had experienced as she sat down opposite Ray was lost.

‘I’ve never been blackmailed before in my life,’ Ray stated. He looked baffled, out of his depth, his studied calm temporarily deserting him, but she watched as he took a slow breath and seemed to retreat into himself for a moment. ‘In aikido we’re taught to see our attacker as someone who’s lost touch with their own nature, not as evil. It’s not about combat but self-defence; we use the attacker’s body weight to deflect the attack.’

‘Sounds admirable, but I don’t see how it helps if he’s not actually coming at you with a machete.’

Ray shrugged. ‘He’ll show his hand eventually.’

He made to take her hand, but she withdrew it, clasping them beneath the table.

‘You know we can’t meet again.’ She heard the dull clunk of her words.

Ray said nothing, just lowered his head.

‘More tea?’ The waitress hovered with a large earthenware pot. They both nodded, although neither had finished the last cup.

‘This thing with Alex frightened me, Ray. It’s your life, my marriage. God knows how Chanty would react if she found out I was cheating on her father . . . I couldn’t bear to lose Ellie again. It can’t be worth it.’

She looked beseechingly at him, but his grey-green eyes met hers with what seemed like amusement.

‘What are we like, eh? Two old codgers wracked like star-crossed teenage lovers.’

She found herself laughing, and for a moment nothing else mattered.

‘Less of the old codger, please.’

‘Jeanie, it’s our turn, isn’t it? We’ve both done our time with relationships and family, in my case not particularly successfully, maybe. But you’ve done the right thing, been there for them all. Then suddenly there’s this powerful connection neither of us expected.’ His voice dropped. ‘I think about you all the time, Jeanie. It may not be cool to tell you, but hey . . .’

Jeanie found herself blushing.

‘I know we don’t know the first thing about each other, not really. But that doesn’t seem to matter. I’m about to burst into cliché, but you make me feel . . . well . . . new. Like that ad: “You, but on a good day”. Is this love? I’ve no idea, but it doesn’t seem to matter what it is.’

For a moment there was silence. The word ‘love’ lay between them, too delicate to be touched.

When Jeanie didn’t speak, he added, ‘All I’m saying is . . .’ He paused, threw his arms in the air in frustration. ‘It’s simple . . . not seeing you is a very bleak option for me.’

‘What can I do?’ Her voice sounded feeble and small.

Now he took both her hands in his, the food forgotten, the other customers dwindling to background noise.

‘Jeanie, we can’t
do
anything. There’s no plan that will make this all OK. We just have to live with it, deal with things as they come up. If you have to walk away, then so be it, I’ll have to deal with that.’ He paused, squeezed her hands tight. ‘But this seems so precious . . .’

She felt him gently wipe away the single tear that had escaped her control.

‘I’m always bloody crying these days,’ she muttered angrily.

Ray drew back. ‘I’ve said, I’ll never pressure you . . . it wouldn’t be fair. You have a marriage to lose.’

‘We can’t meet with the children any more.’

‘No . . . no, obviously not.’

He seemed to be waiting for her, but she didn’t know what to say.