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.’
‘Do you fancy going up against Cynthia at the next meeting?’ said Kezzie, and they both giggled at the thought. Kezzie sipped her latte. She was still feeling shaken up about the phone call and felt she had to talk to someone about it.
‘I did something really dumb today,’ she said.
‘Which was?’
‘I rang Richard up. My ex.’
‘And?’ said Lauren.
‘And a woman answered the phone,’ said Kezzie. ‘I felt so stupid. I can’t believe he’s found someone else already.’
‘How do you know it was a girlfriend?’
‘She answered his mobile.’
‘So? She might be someone he works with.’
‘I know everyone he works with,’ said Kezzie, ‘and I didn’t recognize her voice. Besides, I rang him at nine thirty. He’s never in the office that early. He must have been at home.’
‘There might be another explanation,’ said Lauren.
‘I can’t think of one,’ said Kezzie. ‘So, anyway. I’ve decided. It’s high time I moved on. So that’s what I plan to do.’
Joel was sitting at Edward’s writing desk, reading his diary. The study was smaller than the other rooms in the house, and had a nice cosy feel. So of an evening, Joel had taken to sitting in there with his laptop after he had put Sam to bed. Since he’d discovered Edward’s diary, he’d also found himself obsessively reading about his ancestor’s trials and tribulations. It certainly put his own life into perspective. He was glad to read that after the children had been born there was a period of relative calm, when Lily and Edward seemed to have been happy again. He noticed with wry pleasure that the family often went for picnics by the river.
When Claire was alive they had gone on frequent walks on the Downs. There was one walk in particular, that went down into a valley and near a river, where there was the most beautiful willow tree, which had been a particular favourite. Joel found himself often retracing that walk when he wanted to think about Claire, and he liked the fact that it had clearly been a favourite spot of Edward’s too. Sometimes, the river made him feel peaceful. At others, he came home feeling melancholy. The previous day he’d taken Sam out in the backpack, but being a cold and gloomy day, it had had the latter effect. And even Sam’s giggling in the bath hadn’t been enough to cheer him up. His mood hadn’t improved after a hard day’s work, when every decision that had to be made seemed to be a painful one. And when he’d got back with Sam that evening, Kezzie wasn’t there. He’d forgotten that she had told him she was going to be working at home that day. The house felt cold and empty; the prospect of another lonely evening in front of the TV, bleak. He’d got used to Kezzie’s cheerful presence around the place, and found himself missing her joie de vivre.
He poured himself a glass of whisky and stared out at the darkening front garden. He had a sudden longing for Claire. These feelings lurched on him without warning, knocking him for six and making him gasp with the hideousness of the pain. He could remember an evening in early summer, just after they’d moved in, when they’d sat outside on the old wooden bench on the crumbling patio and looked at their overgrown garden. He’d had one arm around her, and one hand on her stomach, feeling the thrill, when Sam – then only known as the Bump – had kicked. He’d do anything to go back to that moment – one of the last moments, he sometimes felt, when they’d been truly happy together.
Joel hadn’t meant to let Claire down, but he knew he had. When Sam was born, Claire had taken to motherhood like a duck to water, breastfeeding through the night with seeming contentment, creating a bond with their son that he simply could not share. Joel had known it was petty and pathetic of him, but he felt pushed out – it was as though Claire didn’t need him any longer. She had her baby, his needs came first, and Joel was superfluous to requirements. He’d tried to explain how he felt, and she’d just snapped at him and told him he was being ridiculous. ‘Sam’s a baby,’ she said. ‘He needs me. It won’t be forever.’
But as the early weeks of parenthood dragged on, and Claire’s obsession with their newborn son had continued to grow, Joel found himself making excuses as to why he was late home, or when he was there, finding projects that needed his urgent attention. There had always been plenty of those.
Looking back, he could see how Claire must have been puzzled and hurt by his distance and behaviour, but at the time he’d justified it by telling her that he was doing all of it for her.
‘Yes, I really want to spend all of Saturday with a baby, while you knock walls down upstairs,’ she’d said. ‘There’s nothing I love more than a house full of dust.’
And then inevitably there’d be a row, with all the usual tears and recriminations. And he’d been so resentful. So angry with her. If only he’d been able to see the future. How differently he would have reacted. He’d have taken her into his arms and kissed her and told her she was right. If only.
This feeling of guilt was something he was going to have to live with for the rest of his life. Joel closed his eyes and took another sip of whisky.
Chapter Fifteen
‘So you think you’ve got New Horizons?’ said Eileen, at the start of the next Summer Fest meeting (now the official name, despite Cynthia’s objections), towards the beginning of March. ‘Excellent.’
‘Well, I hope so,’ said Joel, whose search for suitable celebrities had included the glamorous ex wife of a jaded popstar, a washed-up alcoholic actor, and an ex soapstar, before eventually persuading New Horizons to show up. As the hottest boy band around, who were still new enough to need all the publicity they could get, they would definitely draw a crowd. ‘They seem pretty keen.’
‘Hmph,’
