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- Herausgeber: Allison & Busby
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Serie: Peppercorn
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2015
Now that Nell's three sons are in work, she's ready to build a new life for herself. She's been left a house in England by an elderly aunt and decides to leave Australia for a while. But her house on Peppercorn Street isn't fit to live in and Nell is happy to sell it and allow a builder to create Cinnamon Gardens. Her elderly neighbour Winifred however wants to stay in the only home she's ever known. Violence escalates as someone tries to frighten the old lady into selling, and to make matters worse, her young friend Janey is being stalked. Can Nell build a new life with a new love? Will she find out why her parents quarrelled with their relatives? And, more importantly, what can she and her new friends do to help each other stay safe?
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Cinnamon Gardens
ANNA JACOBS
Contents
Chapter One
Australia
Nell Chaytor waited until they were all sitting at the kitchen table. She smiled at her three sons, fine lads but a little lazy. She’d spoilt them because she loved them so much – and she hadn’t loved herself enough. She understood that now.
She’d been seeing a counsellor for a few months because she’d felt lost, needing a better purpose in life. They’d discussed the family dynamics, especially her worries that her two youngest sons didn’t seem to be making any attempt to become independent of her now they’d finished their education and got decent jobs.
She’d read about grown-up children who stayed at home well into their forties. That didn’t seem right somehow. And it definitely wasn’t enough for her to act as their unpaid housekeeper. They’d even objected to the amount of food money she’d asked for.
Where had she gone wrong with them?
And even though her oldest, Robbie, was married, he was only just starting to pull his weight in that relationship now that they were expecting a baby. Her daughter-in-law had told her so bluntly a couple of months ago.
‘Your son’s a kind guy and I love him to pieces,’ Linda had said, ‘but you’ve spoilt him rotten and he expects me to do the same. We’ve been having a few battles over him doing his share of the housework and I blame you for that. Well, he’s not getting away with ducking out of chores, even if we have to quarrel about it from dawn to dusk.’
That had hurt Nell. It had been a struggle at times, but she’d brought her boys up with very little help from their father, who had left her for another woman when they were small. Except for the financial contributions. She would grant Craig that much. He might forget to attend a school cricket match or a parents’ evening, and he hardly ever took the boys out, but he’d always paid the maintenance and his share of the mortgage on time.
As if that was the only thing that mattered in bringing up kids!
Well, things were about to change with the two youngest, which was why she’d called a family meeting. She hoped her eldest son would take note of what she was doing, though.
‘Well, Ma?’ Robbie asked impatiently. ‘What’s the big fuss? Why didn’t you want Linda to come with me tonight?’
Nell’s stomach felt shuddery with nerves now that the moment had come to speak out. ‘I have something to tell you, and it’s very important to me.’ But the next words didn’t come easily, because she knew she was going to upset them.
‘You’re not ill, are you?’ Steve asked quickly.
Trust Steve to worry about that. He’d lost a friend to cancer last year and it seemed to have turned him into a worrier … when he wasn’t partying as if there were no tomorrow.
‘No. I’m not ill. It’s just … I’m going back to England.’
‘If anyone deserves a holiday, you do,’ Nick said quietly. Her middle son had always been quieter than the others, even as a child.
‘It’s not exactly a holiday. You know I’ve always said one day I’d go back to the town where I grew up. Well, now I’m going to live there for a while – a year or two, at least. I have to sell this house anyway, now that Steve’s finished studying and got a job, so it’s a good time to go.’
‘Why do you have to sell it?’ Nick asked.
‘I think your father’s waited long enough for his share of the money, don’t you?’
He frowned. ‘But Dad said he’d let you buy the other half of the house on easy terms. He and Jenny aren’t short of money, you know.’
‘I don’t want to buy this house and I definitely don’t want the burden of a mortgage at my age. So I’m selling. And your father’s signed the contract to sell with the estate agent, so he’d better not change his mind now.’
They exchanged puzzled glances so she tried to explain in a way they’d understand. ‘Look, I stayed here mainly because you boys needed a home big enough for each of you to have your own bedroom. Robbie moved out a while ago and you two keep telling me you’re grown up, so I thought you could get a flat together. You’re both earning enough to pay your way. You can have some of the furniture to help you get started and—’
They all tried to speak at once and she stopped trying to make herself heard.
After a minute or two Robbie yelled at them to be quiet, as she’d known he would.
‘What will you do in England, Ma?’ he asked. ‘No, shut up, Steve, and let Ma speak for herself.’
‘I don’t know exactly. I just … need to get in touch with my roots, so I’m going back to Wiltshire. I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now, actually. I’m going to be fifty next year and I reckon it’s time to do a few things for myself.’
Robbie frowned. ‘How will you manage if you leave your job? And where will you live? You aren’t going to spend the money you get from this house, surely?’
‘That’s the beauty of it. My Great-Aunt Fliss left me her house in Wiltshire a few months ago.’
Three voices shouted almost as one, ‘You never told us!’
She shrugged. Fliss had left her some money too. She doubted anyone in the family had realised how much her aunt had put by for a rainy day because Fliss had lived quietly once her husband died, not making a fuss about being on her own. She’d always managed without anyone’s help, rather like Nell herself.
Indeed, one of Fliss’s favourite sayings had been: I can manage, thank you.
Nell didn’t intend to tell her sons about the money or they’d pester her to use it to buy the other half of this house and might even expect her to share the windfall with them. If she did that, the money would vanish like snow in summer. It meant security for her old age, that money did.
None of her sons seemed prepared to wait for anything. They wanted it all, even if they had to get into debt to buy the latest electronic gadget or whatever.
As for her ex, Craig was a cunning devil where money was concerned. If he knew about her windfall, he too would try to persuade her to buy her share of the house from him – which would be much easier for him than selling it.
Well, too bad. She wasn’t going to let any of them near her money.
Her sons were still looking at her, so she said casually, ‘I’ll probably find myself a part-time job. I’m still a British citizen, after all. If I don’t have to pay rent, or buy food for your bottomless stomachs, I won’t need to earn a lot. I can do some sightseeing, enjoy myself.’
There was dead silence but all three were frowning. Were they concerned about her or about themselves? she wondered. Both, probably. They did love her, she knew, in their own selfish, immature way. Yes, immature. None of them had yet taken full responsibility for their own lives, even Robbie, who left management of his finances to his wife.
It was hard, but she had to do this. Tough love, people called it.
Steve broke the silence. ‘Where is it, this house of yours?’
‘In Sexton Bassett, a small town south-west of Swindon. I used to stay there with my great-aunt when I was a child. I stayed for the whole summer holidays most years because my parents couldn’t afford to go away. I loved being there and I loved Fliss.’
She fell silent for a moment or two and they waited. ‘I got in touch with her again as soon as I left home. You remember how my dad refused to contact his family after he emigrated. No, perhaps you don’t. You weren’t all that old when he died. Anyway, Fliss was in her seventies by the time I got married, but she’d already learnt how to use a computer. I found out her email address by writing to an old friend of hers.’
Steve’s face brightened suddenly and from what he said, he’d only been half-listening to her. ‘Hey, we could come and stay with you there. Have a family holiday together. See a bit of the world.’
‘You’ve just started a new job. You won’t have any holidays owing and you don’t have any money saved. I’m not subsidising you for an expensive holiday.’
He shrugged. ‘Call it a loan, then. I can always get another job when I come back and repay you. I rather fancy living in England for a few months. What’s your house like? Is it big enough to fit us all in?’
‘I doubt it. I’ve never seen it, but when she turned eighty-five Fliss wrote that she was going to sell the house because it was too big for her to manage. She was moving into a small cottage instead.’
‘Didn’t her lawyers send you photos of the house when you inherited it, or give you details? Didn’t you even try to find out, Ma?’
‘I was a bit busy at the time. It was when Steve broke his arm and I was typing his final assignments for him, if you remember.’ He’d always needed more help than the others with his studies. He was better at working with his hands, but Craig had insisted he get a qualification, so he’d gone to the TAFE institute to do a more practical course in IT. He hadn’t enjoyed the theory, though he’d enjoyed working with computers.
She’d stayed up till all hours after work to do them from his recorded dictation while he went to bed or watched TV. Oh, she’d been such a fool over the years – a loving, kind, stupid fool.
‘Were you Fliss’s only remaining relative? Is that why she left it to you?’
‘I don’t think so. There ought to be several cousins still living in the area. My father might have fallen out with his family, but I’m going to get in touch with them.’
‘You will be coming back to Australia to live eventually, though, won’t you?’ Nick asked.
She shrugged. ‘I’m assuming so, but I can’t seem to plan that far ahead at the moment. I have to sort things out this end before I can leave.’
And then it burst out, the excitement, the freedom, the sheer joy of it, and she beamed at them. ‘I feel so gloriously free. I’m going to recharge my batteries first – it’s been a hard year at work. And then I’ll do some genealogical research, and I’ll drive around, get to know England again. After all, I was born there, even though we came to Australia when I was a child.’
She smiled. ‘I’ve not been back since before Robbie was born, and even then, it was only a few days as part of a whistle-stop tour your father and I made around Europe.’ Actually, Robbie had probably been conceived in England during that tour.
She and Craig had had a lot of fun together until the boys were born. He hadn’t enjoyed being the father of small children, and the fun had gradually stopped. ‘Over twenty-seven years since I’ve been back. It’s been too long. It’s part of my heritage, you know. And I still have dual nationality.’
There was dead silence again. Steve opened his mouth to speak and Nick dug him in the side, so he shut it again.
She stood up, ‘I’ll make us another cup of tea, shall I?’
Robbie looked at his watch. ‘Er, no. I have to go.’
‘Oh, stay and have a cuppa,’ Nick said. ‘It’s not often all three of us get together.’
She knew that while she was in the kitchen they’d be discussing what to do to stop her taking such a drastic step. Let them talk and manoeuvre as much as they wanted. They wouldn’t change her mind.
The first step had been hard, but she’d done it, told them what she was going to do.
When she went back with the tray, they were waiting for her. Nick took it out of her hands, Steve pushed her gently into a chair and Robbie leant back, as if dissociating himself from what they were going to say.
‘We’ve worked out what to do,’ Steve said. ‘It’s obvious, really. You can take Dad up on the mortgage, then Nick and I can rent this place from you and maybe rent out another room to a friend. That way you’ll have somewhere to come back to and the mortgage will be paid while you’re away.’
‘And once you move out, in a year or two? Who will pay the mortgage, then?’
Nick leant forward. ‘That’s the beauty of it. When you come back, you can sell the English house and pay off the mortgage here. Voilà! Problem solved.’
‘I’m afraid not, boys.’ She used the excuse her counsellor had helped her prepare and rehearse. ‘I don’t want a mortgage hanging round my neck ever again. You know how I feel about getting into debt. And I won’t want a house this big when I’m on my own. Too much maintenance.’
They all started protesting at once.
She held one hand up in a stop-the-traffic signal they’d all recognise from when they were children. ‘There’s something else. You might not realise it, because you were very young when your father and I split up, but this house has some bad memories for me.’
It was Robbie who muttered, ‘I remember you and Dad quarrelling a lot.’
She’d never told them all the details but it was time for the truth. ‘He slapped me around towards the end, you know.’
The two younger boys exchanged horrified glances.
‘He didn’t!’ Nick protested.
Robbie surprised her by stepping in to support her. ‘He did. I heard him thump her a few times. I heard her crying sometimes, too.’
Steve scowled at him. ‘Well, I never heard anything. Dad was probably just angry. He does have a bit of a temper. He didn’t mean to hurt you, Ma.’
Robbie came over to put his arm round her shoulders and give her a quick hug, then turned to his brothers. ‘You were too young to realise what was going on, but Dad did it too often for it to be an accident.’
Nick stared at her in horror. ‘Why didn’t you say?’
Nell spoke up again. ‘It was between your father and me. I couldn’t do much to stop him, he was so much bigger than me. I was glad when he met Jenny and left me.’
‘But you’re still angry at him,’ Nick said. ‘Why? Isn’t that old history now? He’s changed. Time to let it drop.’
‘He’s changed because he got counselling about his violence after he married Jenny. She threatened to leave him if he didn’t. He refused to see a counsellor when I asked him, several times he refused, and when I threatened to leave, he told me to go. Only I couldn’t. I had you three to look after.’
‘That’s the real reason why you don’t like to see him, then, even now,’ Steve said slowly.
‘Exactly. Even if I were staying in Australia, I’d sell this place. I don’t want to be in debt to your dad. I don’t want to be in contact with him in any way once I leave. I intend to be done with him completely and finally. I’m not going to come between you and him. That’s a different relationship. But I want out, completely out.’
Craig was still a control freak and even now, after they’d been divorced for fifteen years, he sometimes acted as though he had a right to tell her what to do.
The boys stopped trying to persuade her to keep the house, ate most of the cake she’d baked for them, then Robbie went home and the others vanished into their bedrooms, as usual.
But she knew it wasn’t over. They wouldn’t give in so easily.
Over the next few days Nell’s two younger sons tried several times to persuade her not to sell the house. She could get a mortgage from the bank, no need to be in debt to their father.
Craig came round and cornered her in the garden one day after work. ‘We need to talk.’
‘So talk.’
‘It’d be better to do this inside.’
‘You’re not coming in.’
He leant against the wall of the house and folded his arms. ‘You are such a bitch about it. It is half my house, you know.’
She shrugged. ‘And you know how well I’ve looked after it. Now, hurry up and say what you have to. I’ve got things to do.’
‘The boys are worried about you, Nell.’
‘They’re more worried about living on their own, having to do their own washing and cleaning.’
‘They’re worried about you. And so am I. You’ve always been an impractical fool. For heaven’s sake, stop this stupidity. Go over to England for a little holiday, by all means, but don’t burn your bridges here. You’ll soon want to come back once the English summer’s over and the cold weather sets in. What will you do if you don’t have a home here any longer?’
‘I can always rent somewhere till I decide. I’ve got a house of my own in the UK now. It may be small but it doesn’t have a mortgage on it. I’ll probably stay for a year or two.’
‘So the boys said. What sort of a house is it exactly? A terrace? A bungalow? I can look it up on Google Earth if you give me the address.’
She stiffened. What did he know about English houses? He’d only once visited the country. She’d met him when she was backpacking round Australia. He’d been tall, lithe and suntanned, fun to be with. She’d been dazzled by him, and he was still good-looking, the rat. ‘What has my English house got to do with you?’
He shrugged. ‘Just thought you might need some financial advice.’
‘I don’t. And if I did, I’d not ask you for it.’ She looked at her watch. ‘I have to go out soon, so get on with it. I can’t stand here chatting all day.’
‘Let’s go inside and talk properly.’
‘You’re not due an inspection, so you’re not coming inside.’
He breathed deeply and scowled at her. ‘I’m not letting this drop. You’re making a big mistake and for the sake of our sons, I think you should—’
She went quickly into the house and banged the door in his face before he could push in after her. She leant against it and took several deep, slow breaths. She didn’t let him ride roughshod over her any more but even so, it was always an effort to stand firm against him as he loomed over her. She wished she’d been born tall and strong.
It had been a big effort to be so tough with the boys, too.
She wondered if she’d ever do that sort of thing easily.
The dreams started that night. She was walking round a garden, a beautiful place. It had a sundial in a walled square that was like a garden room, and a shabby summer house to one side. It was a very English garden, with masses of soft flowers, like living rainbows. She loved gardens like that.
Beyond the summer house were some tall old trees because the garden seemed to back on to a park.
There was a house, too, but it was only a shadowy outline, and however hard she tried, she couldn’t see it clearly.
She could hear voices, women chatting. They were too far away for her to make out what they were saying but the sound was soothing.
For the next two nights she had the same dream, each time seeing another part of the garden: a huge vegetable patch, a few old fruit trees, a rather neglected rose garden in full bloom. She still couldn’t see the house the garden belonged to or the women, but she kept hearing them chatting, laughing, clinking their teacups.
‘Who are you?’ she called out to them on the third night.
There was soft, musical laughter and a voice said, ‘We wondered if you could see us yet. I’m the original lady of this house. You’ll visit it when you come here. Hurry up. You’re needed.’
‘I can’t come to England till I’ve sold my house in Australia.’
More gentle laughter. ‘In two days it’ll be Lady Day. You’ll sell your house then. Very appropriate, don’t you think, Nell, for a nice lady like you?’
The dream began to fade, and she woke, feeling comforted by the thought of selling this house quickly and by their compliment. She snuggled down and fell asleep almost immediately.
All day she kept remembering the garden. It had been so beautiful, she wished she could go and walk round it. Why hadn’t she been able to see the house, though? One day she would, she felt quite sure of that.
How stupid! She was acting as if that garden and those people in it were real. Who believed in dreams? Not her. She was a modern woman, more used to computers than spooky stuff.
Out of sheer curiosity – she didn’t believe you could foretell the future, no way! – she checked Lady Day on her favourite search engine: Lady Day, March 25th, tied in to the Equinox. It was the end of the financial quarter and had been the traditional time for signing annual contracts between landowners and tenant farmers in England.
And it was the day when her house would be open for the first time, for inspection by potential buyers. That must be what had sparked the dream.
She hoped the house wouldn’t take too long to sell. She was eager to start her new life.
Angus Denning sighed in annoyance at himself when he realised he’d been speeding and the police were signalling him to pull over. He was only five miles above the speed limit, but it was enough to earn him a fine. He groaned when he saw who was getting out of the police car: Edwina Richards.
He’d played cricket with her father, Eddie Richards, on a small local team for years. They’d never got on, though, and had quarrelled frequently about politics, the latest news, other sports; you name it, they could quarrel about it.
Eddie was a redder-than-red socialist and hated anyone with a title on principle. Not that Angus had a title, exactly. He was just an Honourable, and most of the time he forgot about it. He’d put Eddie out of his mind, too, when his old antagonist had transferred to Bournemouth prior to retiring there.
The trouble was, Eddie’s daughter Edwina had carried on the family tradition and joined the police force, and she’d been posted to the district once her father left. She seemed to be carrying on the other Richards’ tradition, too, of making life difficult for the owner of Dennings. The old house had been in his family for generations and Richards had seemed to resent the mere idea of that.
Angus pulled over and opened the car door, surprised when she reached in to pull out his keys. What did she think she was doing – apprehending a criminal who might try to start a car chase?
‘Well, if it isn’t the Honourable Angus Denning,’ she mocked.
He ignored the sarcasm, had given up telling the Richards family that the term ‘Honourable’ was never used in speech. He was the youngest son of an earl, so he had no chance of succeeding to the title, and thank goodness for that. But tradition had lumbered him with the prefix ‘the Honourable’, whether he liked it or not.
‘Can I help you, Officer?’ he prompted when Edwina continued to gaze scornfully at him.
‘You were speeding, sir.’
‘Was I? Sorry.’
‘We’ll have to give you a—’
The other officer nudged her. ‘It was only five miles over the limit, Edwina. We can let him off with a caution this time.’ He turned to Angus. ‘Have you had anything to drink, sir?’
‘No. I don’t drink and drive. Ever. But go ahead and breathalyse me, if you have to.’
She had the gadget out already.
He blew into it, not surprised by the zero reading. He resisted saying ‘Told you so!’ in case it further upset her.
Edwina scowled at the gadget, then shrugged and turned back to Angus. ‘Please be careful how you go from now on, sir, whether you’re nearly home or not. Speeding can kill … not just yourself but other people. And make sure you keep this car roadworthy. It’s rather old and battered. In fact …’ she studied the vehicle.
Damn the bitch! That was a below-the-belt blow. She knew perfectly well his wife had been killed in a car accident by a drunken lout three years ago. He summoned up his most upper-class accent, the one he used when telling jokes against the aristocracy, knowing it would gall her. ‘Yes. I certainly will be careful, Officer.’
He looked at the male officer and spoke more normally, ‘Warning duly noted.’
‘I believe in letting people off with a warning once,’ the man said. ‘Not twice, though.’
‘I’ll remember that.’
‘And you should keep an eye on those tyres, sir. They’re getting near the end of their useful life.’
‘Yes. I will.’
Angus watched them drive off down the country lane. Not until they were out of sight did he get back into the car and continue in the same direction, heading towards Sexton Bassett. He wove his way through the streets on the outskirts of the small town, then turned left, approaching his house via the rear entrance, which had been used by tradesmen in the old days.
He was still simmering with anger. That officious bitch had mentioned drink-driving on purpose to hurt him, he was sure. And had succeeded. He and Joanna had had a great marriage and he still missed her.
He drove even more slowly along the dirt track that formed the rear entrance to his two acres of land. He knew how to avoid the worst potholes and rode out the bumps by going slowly, feeling as if he were on a ship.
The main drive, which led in from Peppercorn Street, was gravelled and in better condition but still not good. He wished he could afford to do some work on it before it deteriorated further still. It was only a hundred metres or so long, but it’d cost too much to resurface it while his finances were in their current state.
Inside the house, which was far too big for one person, all the unused rooms were dusty and cobwebs graced the corners. Fortunately the roof was sound. One day he hoped to be able to do something about the general shabbiness, but he didn’t want to spend the money to get proper domestic help to keep such a big place clean, not at the moment.
He’d been over the moon when he was offered voluntary redundancy a couple of years ago, because a small specialist app he’d developed in his spare time had just taken off. It hadn’t made him rich, too specialist for that, but together with the redundancy payment, it’d given him enough money to stay away from paid employment for a few years.
His daughter looked down her nose at the way he was living, but he wasn’t changing his lifestyle to suit her. Ashleigh was into motherhood and social climbing, in that order, with grandson number two expected in a few weeks.
His son was backpacking round the world and was in Australia at the moment. Angus hoped Oliver wouldn’t stay away too long, or decide to settle in one of the faraway countries he’d visited. His cheeky lad had left a big hole in his life.
The house had once been full of laughter and young people. Angus missed that era so much it was like a physical pain. The joyful energy had all seemed to ebb away after Joanna was killed. And after Oliver left home, it was worse.
He didn’t enjoy living on his own, but what alternative was there? The house had been in the Denning family for over two hundred years, was named after them: Dennings. He didn’t want to sell it, he loved it too much. It was … home.
Parking the car near the back door, he lugged in his groceries, and once he’d put them away, he forgot about everything else, setting the timer to remind him to stroll down to the pub later to meet his friends.
He always enjoyed eating there. He wasn’t helpless, knew how to cook a few basic meals, but he was usually in a hurry to get back to his computer, so he made do with whatever was quickest when he cooked for himself.
Thank goodness for his work. He’d be lost without that.
Nell had arranged to take the next day off work to get the house ready for its first viewing on the Saturday. Her estate agent said the house was unlikely to sell quickly, because March was the end of the main buying season, but Nell intended to give it the best chance she could. If she could leave for England soon, she’d have the English summer in which to settle down.
On the Friday she went through each room in turn, making sure they were immaculately clean and looked as good as possible. She’d bought a couple of showy pot plants to prettify the downstairs room.
The only places she didn’t touch were her sons’ bedrooms. If she tidied them today, they’d be in chaos again before tomorrow.
When Nick and Steve came home from work, they whisked in and out of the house at the speed of light, eager to go out for their regular Friday evening on the booze with their mates. As she’d expected, they didn’t seem to notice what she’d done to the house.
When they came to say goodbye, she barred the way out. ‘Listen carefully for a moment, you two. I’ll want you to get up early tomorrow morning, by seven o’clock at the latest.’
Steve stared at her as if she’d lost the plot. ‘What? On a Saturday?’
‘The house is going to be open for viewing. Remember?’
‘Of course I remember. But that’s not till noon. We won’t need to get up till eleven, give or take.’
‘You’re getting up at seven and you’ll be off the premises by nine because I want to clear out your rooms. They’re like pigsties. You’re not to come back till three o’clock at the earliest.’
‘Yeah, yeah.’
Their father said that when he wasn’t really listening or didn’t intend to do as she asked. It annoyed her that they’d picked up the habit recently. She didn’t argue now, though. Just wait till tomorrow, she thought after they’d gone. You two are in for the shock of your lives.
She put her cleaning things away and strolled along the street to her friend’s house for their usual Friday night glass of wine and natter. But she didn’t stay late.
She couldn’t settle to anything. It was so important to sell her house.
Only then would she be truly free.
Chapter Two
The next morning Nell woke her sons at seven o’clock as she’d threatened, dragging the covers off, ignoring the fact that Steve was naked. Well, she’d seen it all before.
When he tried to get the covers back, she raised the spray bottle of iced water she’d brought with her and gave him a good squirt.
His yells echoed down the corridor.
‘I meant what I said, Steve. Get up now!’
Nick must have heard because he was up by the time she went into his bedroom. He was wearing a sagging pair of jocks and looked bog-eyed. He raised his hands in mock surrender. ‘No need to squirt me, Ma. I’m out of bed.’
She brandished the spray bottle. ‘See you stay up, then.’
‘That was cruel of you.’
She grinned. ‘Only way to get Steve going after a booze-up.’
They both came along to the kitchen shortly afterwards, expecting her to make them a cup of coffee before they started getting ready.
She stood guard in front of the kettle, arms folded. ‘You’re not getting anything to eat or drink till you’ve had your showers.’ She didn’t budge, staring them down.
It gradually dawned on them that she was deadly serious, so they fought their way to the bathroom they shared. Nick won by a short head.
When they came back, fresh-faced, with hair still damp, they reminded her for a moment of how they’d looked as little boys after their evening bath and her heart softened slightly. But her determination didn’t.
Steve announced, ‘As it happens, I can’t go out today. I need to do some stuff for work on my computer. They’re paying me overtime. But it’s OK, Ma. I’ll just sit quietly in my room. If anyone comes to look round, they’ll not even notice I’m here.’
She slapped their breakfasts down on the table. Scrambled eggs on toast. ‘You’ll be out of the house by nine at the latest if I have to drag you out by the hair. I want you and your cars gone. You can do the work tomorrow.’
He opened his mouth, caught her eye and gave an aggrieved sigh.
When they’d finished eating, she shooed them along to their rooms. ‘Tidy up now. Any mess you leave goes straight into the bin. Put every single thing away, including your clothes. I mean it.’
They rolled their eyes at each other and she left them to it. She smiled as she went back to the kitchen to clear up their mess. They didn’t think she meant it about the dustbin, but she did. Oh, yes. She was fed up to the teeth of their slobby ways.
When they came back, she thrust the newspaper into Nick’s hands. ‘There. The property pages. You need to start looking for a place to rent. I’ve marked some possibles. What if I sell the house today? I’ll have to be out in a month and I’ll be off to England straight after that. Where will you two live then?’
Steve let out a snort of laughter. ‘Sell it today! You may not realise it, Ma, but there’s been a downturn in the property market for a while and this is an old place. It’ll be months before you sell it and you’ll probably have to drop your price considerably. Minimalist is in fashion now in houses, not tumbledown colonial.’
He might be right. But even so, every time the house was open she intended to make sure it looked as attractive as possible.
When they’d left, she breathed a sigh of relief and went to do their rooms. She found dirty clothes tossed in heaps in the corners of both bedrooms, a worse mess than she’d expected after all her warnings.
She’d kept the lads moderately tidy as youngsters, but how did you force grown men to put things away? Heaven knew, she’d tried hard enough. The effort had driven her to this state of desperation.
Grimly she piled up the clothes and anything else lying around. She hadn’t really been going to toss them into the bin, in spite of her threat, but when she found remains of food going mouldy in takeaway wrappers under the beds, she changed her mind.
She didn’t even separate the clothes, just hurled everything into the big plastic rubbish bags, including the food scraps, then tossed them into the bin.
‘See how you like that!’ she muttered.
She wiped away a tear. They hadn’t even tried. That hurt.
The estate agent, Stacy, didn’t turn up until five minutes before opening time. By then, two cars were parked in the street. Nell kept peeping out of the living room window, checking them. No doubt about it, they were waiting to view her house.
Even as she watched, one couple got out of their car and came to study the front garden, pointing things out to one another.
Stacy came rushing into the house, after dumping a ‘House Open’ sign on the grass verge. ‘Didn’t expect anyone to come looking so early, Nell. That’s a good sign.’
She turned in a circle on the spot, staring. ‘Wow, it looks great in here! You must have worked really hard to declutter. Didn’t you have time to put some coffee on? And what about playing music, as I suggested?’
‘I don’t want to play tricks on people.’
‘It’s not tricking anybody, it just puts clients in a better mood.’
Nell shook her head, still unwilling to do this. She didn’t know why, just that it felt like cheating.
Stacy shrugged. ‘Well, I’ll do my best anyway. The house and garden are looking good, and that’s the main thing.’
Nell stopped at the door. ‘Just one thing. If my ex-husband turns up, don’t let him inside and don’t say anything to him about offers or anything else financial. He may tell you he’s handling the business side for me, but it isn’t true. I wouldn’t trust him to do my grocery shopping.’
‘Yes. You said that already. Several times.’
‘Just reminding you.’
Stacy patted her hand. ‘Calm down. It won’t be the end of the world if we don’t sell today.’
Nell took a deep breath. ‘Sorry.’
Stacy’s voice grew gentler. ‘I’ll do my best. I realise how important it is to you.’
As she went out to her car, Nell passed the couple who’d been studying the garden, so on impulse she stopped for a moment. ‘Lovely day, isn’t it?’
The woman, who was rather pregnant, smiled. ‘Yes. And you’ve got the garden looking beautiful.’
‘It’s a very rewarding hobby. Take a look at the veggie garden at the back while you’re here. I supply a lot of my own food, all organically grown. I had the soil checked.’
The woman’s face brightened. ‘I grow my own food too. You actually had the soil checked?’
‘Yes. My agent has a photocopy of the paperwork.’
Stacy’s voice floated across to them. ‘We’re open for viewing now, folks.’
Nell realised she was stopping them going inside, so smiled again and walked on.
She spent the next hour in a nearby park, sitting peacefully under some trees, not even bothering to read the magazine she’d bought. She’d worked brutally hard yesterday and this morning. Now, she just wanted to rest.
She felt as if time was suspended and she was waiting … hoping … Oh, she was so ready for a change!
When she got back to the house, the car of the couple she’d spoken to was still there, so she didn’t go inside. Surely that was a good sign?
She was so lost in thought, she jumped in shock when someone tapped on her car window.
Sighing, she wound it down fully. ‘What are you doing here, Craig?’
He looked at her scornfully, as if she’d said something stupid. ‘I do have an interest in selling the house, or had you forgotten?’
‘It’s you who’s forgetting something.’
He wrinkled his brow in the exaggerated way he had of showing puzzlement.
‘I meant what I said last time. You aren’t getting involved. I have the legal right to control the selling, as long as I don’t sell the house for a ridiculous price. Your only rights are either to sign the contract or veto the sale on the grounds of price. And, of course, you take fifty per cent of the money after costs.’
‘I know that. But—’
‘If there’s any news today, I’ll phone you.’
‘Yeah, yeah. Just tell me why you’re waiting outside. What’s gone wrong?’
That was where Steve got it from, the dismissive phrase that irritated her so much. She jabbed her forefinger towards the parked car. ‘Nothing has gone wrong! That car belongs to a couple who were here at the beginning of the opening and are still here. I’m waiting for them to come out. I don’t want to interrupt them in case they’re negotiating.’
‘Ah. Well, now that I’m here, I might as well stay and see how things go.’
‘Then wait in your own car and leave me in peace.’
‘Aren’t you ever going to call a truce between us?’
‘No. I still remember what it was like.’ She mimed punching something.
He glared at her and strode off down the street to his own vehicle, a brand-new one, all gleaming silver.
It was another ten minutes before her estate agent came out of the house with the young couple, waving them goodbye, then picking up the ‘House Open’ sign and putting it into her car boot.
Nell hurried across to Stacy before Craig could get out of his car again. ‘How did it go?’
‘Really well. These two have been here for the whole hour. Might have an offer for you later. We had a good turnout today, actually, and quite a lot of serious interest.’
There were footsteps behind them. Nell turned to glare at Craig and he stopped a few paces away.
‘Persistent, isn’t he?’ Stacy murmured.
‘Still wants to control my life and finances – especially the finances – even after we’ve been divorced for fifteen years.’
Stacy looked at her watch. ‘Look, I don’t want to be late for my next opening. I’ll phone you after five.’
‘On my mobile.’ If her sons picked up the house phone and found anything out, they’d share it with their father.
‘I’ll come back around five,’ Craig said at once.
‘I won’t be letting you in,’ Nell told him firmly.
‘But you might need my advice and—’
Stacy shot her a look of sympathy, wound up the car window and drove off.
Without saying a word, Nell walked past Craig towards the house. He followed her, of course, still trying to talk persuasively, but she slammed the door in his face. Hurrying to the back of the house, she did the same with the kitchen and laundry doors.
She smiled as she listened to the front doorbell ring … twice. Then he started hammering on the door, shouting, ‘For heaven’s sake, Nell, can’t we even talk?’
Even though it was a pleasantly warm day, she didn’t unlock any of the doors till he’d driven away.
She knew he’d obtained a copy of the new door key from one of her sons, though both denied it. She was also aware that he still came into the house sometimes. Never while she was here, of course.
She’d had a lock fitted to her bedroom door, a lock to which only she had the key so he couldn’t find out anything about her personal affairs.
Craig wasn’t going to get involved in the house sale, whether he enlisted the help of her sons or not. All he had to do was add his signature to the contract when it was all over.
‘Did you see any nice flats?’ she asked when Steve and Nick returned.
‘We saw a few from one agency, Ma. No point in going on looking, though. Have you any idea what rent they’re asking for anywhere half decent?’ Steve looked at her indignantly, as if that were her fault.
‘Of course I have. I’ve been keeping an eye on the rental market for a few months so that I could advise you.’
‘If we get a place as near the city as this, we’ll not have enough money left after living expenses to do anything at the weekend.’
‘You’ll have to get a place further out, then. They’re a lot cheaper.’
He shuddered at the mere thought. ‘I’m not living further out. It’d cost me a fortune in taxi fares.’
‘Or you could stop drinking so much and drive yourself home.’
‘What’s the point in going out if you don’t get smashed rotten?’ He folded his arms. ‘Dad says that we should refuse to move out. He says it’d make an excellent rental property, so why don’t you reconsider and let us rent it from you? Eh, Ma?’
‘If your father buys out my half, he can do what he wants with it, even rent it to you. You can suggest that next time you discuss my affairs with him – something I’ve asked you not to do, as you might remember. But I wouldn’t rent a place to you and I bet he wouldn’t either, for all his big talk.’
‘Why the hell not?’
‘Because if I wasn’t on your case, you’d be living like pigs. You don’t know how to look after a house and you’ve refused to learn. You won’t even let me teach you how to cook a few easy meals. My investment would go downhill quickly if you two were left here alone.’
Nick had the grace to look ashamed.
Steve shrugged it off. ‘We’d change. We’ve got time to learn to cook a few things before you go and you can leave us a freezer full of stuff.’
Nell lost it then, really lost it, as she hadn’t done for years. ‘I have had ee-bloody-nuff of running round after you two. You will move out as soon as I sell this place, even if I have to hire someone to throw you both out into the street physically.’
‘But, Ma—’
‘And don’t think I wouldn’t do it! You can plot with your father all you like but you won’t change my mind about selling the house. He’s only taking your side because he wants to take the easy way out. But I’m selling now. Get used to it.’
They looked surprised by her outburst.
She glanced at her watch. ‘There are still a couple of hours before closing time. I’ll ring Stacy’s property guy and see if there’s anywhere we can view today.’
She ignored their protests and made the call, smiling triumphantly at them as she put down the phone. ‘He has several places to rent in your price range and is happy to work late to show us round.’
‘Work late on a Saturday?’ Steve asked in outrage. ‘He’s a loony.’
Nick said nothing, just turned meekly to follow her out to her car.
Steve grabbed her arm before she got to the door. ‘Mum, I don’t have enough money for the deposit. And I’ve got a few … you know, debts.’
‘I’ll lend you the deposit. And unlike your father, I won’t charge interest, but you may need to get a weekend job to pay back the debts. I did warn you about living beyond your means.’
‘Everybody does it.’
‘Well let “everybody” help you pay your debts off, then. If you want my help, you’ll do it my way.’
Steve flung himself into the back seat of her car and took out his mobile phone. Nick got into the front with her.
As they set off, he asked quietly, ‘Why is it so urgent to do this today, Ma? Can’t it wait till you get an offer?’
‘I may have one already. It’s … um, not certain yet, though it’s looking hopeful.’ For some weird reason, she felt quite sure she’d get an offer from that nice couple. Just as the dream had said.
Their faces fell and they exchanged distinctly apprehensive glances.
Her heart went out to them, but she tried to hide that. It was always hard to be pushed out of the nest and be totally responsible for supporting yourself. In the past, men had simply been passed from mother to wife, and had always been looked after physically. Most of her sons’ generation had to fend for themselves and share the marital chores, as Robbie had found out.
She sighed. She was too efficient and could get the housework done more quickly on her own. It would have been better to have given them regular jobs around the place when they were younger and insisted on the jobs being done before she handed out spending money.
But would they have done the jobs even then? They had refused point-blank to learn how to cook, as their father had before them.
No, she had no alternative now but to give them tough love. For their sake as well as her own.
But it was so hard to actually do it.
It only took until six o’clock to find them somewhere to live. It was much further out from the city centre than they wanted and small, but at least it was on the side of the city nearest to where they worked.
When they tried to refuse it, she winked at the salesman. ‘We’ll think about it, Matt, but I can’t see us improving on this flat in their price range. I’ll be in touch on Monday morning. Give me first refusal until then.’
‘It’s yours.’
‘That place was horrible,’ Steve said urgently once they were outside. ‘Tiny and shabby, and it hasn’t got any furniture. It looked out onto a car park, too.’
‘It’s all you can afford and it’s clean. I told you I’d give you some of my furniture. You can have everything from your bedrooms plus the kitchen table and chairs. The flat won’t look as bad when it’s furnished.’
But they had to press for more. ‘What about the lounge suite?’
‘It’s nearly new and I have a buyer lined up.’
Steve scowled at her. ‘You didn’t waste any time, did you, Ma?’
‘Do I ever?’
She tried to drop some gentle advice in their ears. ‘You need to start small, save your money and work your way up to renting something better. That’s a good rule for life, too. You can’t get the best of everything straight away, you know.’
‘Yeah, yeah!’ Steve pulled out his smart phone again and began to text someone.
Nick had already slipped in some earbuds and was nodding in time to the music.
Once they got home, they tried to talk her into refusing the flat, then gave up and went to their rooms. The sulky expressions on their faces meant they hadn’t really taken what she’d said on board. Nick was usually more reasonable than this, but it was what she’d expected of Steve.
There was a yell of outrage from the boys’ end of the house and she braced herself as Steve came thundering down the stairs to confront her.
‘What’ve you done with my clothes and my other stuff, Ma?’
‘Exactly what I said I would do with anything left lying around in your bedrooms: I’ve thrown them into the dustbin. You know I always keep my word.’
He went to find them and came storming back a second time. ‘They’re all crumpled and smelly now, and I was going to wear those jeans tonight to go clubbing.’
‘Unless you want the smell to linger, you’d better wash them before you go out.’
‘Aren’t you doing any washing this weekend?’
‘Nope. I told you that, too. If you leave any dirty clothes lying around from now on, they’ll go straight into the rubbish bin – whether it’s due to be emptied that day or not.’
She wouldn’t actually have let their clothes be carted away, couldn’t have gone so far, but he wasn’t going to be sure about that, not after today.
He took a deep breath, glared at her again and stormed off to his room. Each of them was out of the house within ten minutes, picked up by friends, so Steve must have found something to wear. The stinking clothes were lying on the laundry floor, as if they still expected her to wash them. She took them up to their bedrooms again. Let them enjoy the pungent smell.
Only when the second car had pulled away did she call Stacy back. She’d felt the phone vibrate while the boys were getting ready to go out, but hadn’t answered it then because she didn’t want anyone listening in.
Stacy never wasted her time on polite chit-chat. ‘It’s looking very promising.’
‘What does that mean exactly?’
‘Well, we have two interested parties and a bidding war going on. That’s all I can tell you for the moment. I can’t stay on the phone because I’m expecting one of them to call.’
‘Have they actually made an offer?’
‘They’ve both made offers, and we’re now into counter-offers, so I haven’t nailed down a winner yet. Bye.’
Nell fumbled her way to the bed and sank down on it, her heart pounding. It was happening. It really was.
At nine o’clock that evening her mobile rang. She looked at the display. Stacy again. Taking a deep breath, she answered the call. ‘Yes?’
‘Took a while because both buyers were keen. It surprised me how keen.’ Stacy chuckled. ‘I got you $10,000 more than your asking price.’
‘What? But that sort of thing doesn’t happen with houses round here.’
‘It’s just happened for the first time, then. You do have a larger-than-average block of land, you know. One couple wanted to knock the house down and build a bigger one, while the others wanted to redo your place in full period style and enjoy a large organic garden. They won.’
‘Are they the ones who were leaving just as I got back?’
