Page 34 of Secrets at the Little Music Shop

She had got it bad. ‘Do you want me to take Harry today?’ I’d had him every day for the last week and today was supposed to be Rosie’s bonding day with him. She’d started off so well, playing with him in his doorway-hung swing, but it looked as though things had gone downhill. ‘I don’t mind.’

‘I already asked Jason if he’d have him,’ Rosie snottily admitted. ‘But he’s too busy as well. He’s off to London in the morning to see some consortium or other. I don’t want to ask you again, Jem, you have him so much—’

‘I don’t mind,’ I said. It was a bit of a lie. I’d been hoping to take Harry to the workshop where Jason would amuse him by letting him watch as he prepared his raw materials. I was beginning to worry that Harry was going to grow up a trainspotter. ‘I’ll take him out.’

‘Oh, if you’re going out we need some more nappies. And some sterilising tablets.’

‘OK, I’ll shove him in his buggy and we’ll walk up to the shop. He likes stopping off to see the cows in the top field on the way.’

Wrong thing to say, Jemima. Rosie’s eyes clouded with tears again. ‘You see! You see! I’m his mum and I don’t even know that. I never get to see him liking cows . . .’ And she set off crying again, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

‘Things will get better. Now, parcel him up and I’ll strap him in.’

Rosie pulled Harry’s jacket on him. ‘It looks like rain. And the wind is chilly. If it gets too cold you will bring him back, won’t you?’

‘It’s the middle of summer and he’s got a rain cover for the buggy.’

‘You think I fuss too much, don’t you? Oh God, I’m turning into one of those horrible mothers who won’t let the kids out on their own until they’re forty and brush their adult son’s hair for them and choose their clothes and—’

‘Bye, Rosie.’ I determinedly set off down the path with Harry cooing and gurgling his appreciation.

We stopped, as promised, to watch the huge Friesians mooching around their field. One of them came and blew gentle breaths over the gate at Harry and, when I lifted him from his seat, ran a rough tongue over the top of his head, making him chuckle. I couldn’t help but smile myself, it was one of those moments when I could think of my own mother without tears. Although I allowed nothing to come through but the memory of a sweetness in the air synaesthetically linked to a stroked cheek, I knew she’d loved us. I just knew it. It was something I’d held like a security blanket when everything had gone so wrong, the knowledge that we’d been loved. I gave Harry a little hug around his bulky middle as the cow puffed milk-scented air down at us, feeling a wave of something that must approach maternal love for the little boy, and wondered again how she’d felt in those last few moments. Had she worried about me and the boys as much as Rosie worried about Harry? Was she worried then? Did she know what was happening, or did it all come so quickly she didn’t even have time to think of us?

I strapped Harry back in and pushed the buggy down to the crossroads and into the main village street. Little Gillmoor only had one shop, a grocers-cum-newsagent, where I bought the nappies and steriliser tablets as requested and partook in a minor discussion about the weather. It looked dodgy so I put the cover over the buggy. Good move. Just as we’d started our walk home the rain came.

Typical summer rain. It didn’t float in like a mist, it dumped like an excavator. A tonne of water hit me on the head and went straight through to my bones. Harry, snug under his waterproof coating, giggled. I shivered and thought about heading back into the shop when a car pulled up behind me.

‘You’re wet.’

‘No, no, I’m fine. I like dripping.’

It was Ben and I wouldn’t turn round.

‘Would you like to get in?’ He cranked something up inside and the car made a purring sound. ‘I’ve got heating.’

I stomped back to the Audi, pushing Harry in front of me like a Roman shield. ‘What are you doing round here?’ I asked as Ben opened the passenger door to let me in. ‘Trying to pick up schoolgirls?’

Ben looked a little less rough today. He’d only got a couple of days’ worth of stubble on his face and his hair looked clean. ‘I came to see you. To apologise. Things have been a bit shitty lately and I haven’t been coping very well. I’ve taken it out on you.’

‘Huh.’ I wasn’t feeling very polite. Outside in his buggy Harry began to grumble about the conditions.

‘Do you want to bring him in here? I could drive you both home.’

‘No car seat. Rosie would dismember me.’

There was a difficult silence. Ben stared out of the windscreen and drummed his fingers on the wheel, while I kept one eye on Harry and merely squinted at Ben. He definitely looked better. Less strung-out.

‘I’ve thought a lot about what you said at Rosie’s dinner party.’ He didn’t take his eyes off the rain rolling down the glass.

‘Oh? Anything in particular or are all my words etched on your brain?’ Okay, so it was unnecessarily sarcastic, but I had wet pants and all this moody staring and silence was beginning to get on my nerves.

‘About getting on with my life.’

I stared at him. ‘What’s this, the Prozac kicking in?’

‘Just common sense. Yours, before you make some cynical remark. I’m thirty years old, Jemima, and I’m living like some kind of medieval monk! Going with you to Saskia’s, it made me realise what I’m missing out on.’

‘Oh,’ I said. Wasn’t sure what he meant, was this some kind of step-down from his untouchable position? Was that a step I wanted him to take?

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