Like Mother, Like Daughter

WHAT do you do when your daughter seems to be obsessed with a college teacher? Juliet was thinking this as she heard Tara being abrupt, if not rude, on her mobile to Robbie, who lived along the other end of their road, and with whom she had been friends since they started school at five.

“Trouble?” she ventured as Tara came into the kitchen looking stormy.

“Robbie is being clingy,” Tara grumbled. “What business is it of his what I’m doing this weekend? Or next, for that matter?”

“Well . . .” Juliet began mildly.

“You’d think we were an item, the way he goes on.”

“Well,” Juliet repeated cautiously, “you have been good friends up to now.”

“Yes, when we were young, but there’s more to life than being friends.”

Juliet watched as Tara raided the cake tin for a flapjack and flounced out of the kitchen. She sighed.

She had been a bit obtuse over the last few months, not registering how frequently the name Darren Trafford came into Tara’s conversation. Nor had alarm bells rung when she’d often stayed late because she “had to help him with something”.

But when she mentioned seeing him in town, Juliet suddenly became alert. Had that been accidental or prearranged? Tara was only seventeen, whereas her teacher must be in his late twenties at least.

Or older, Juliet thought, now really worried.

That was the trouble with being a single parent. Small problems could become large ones with nobody to help analyse them.

Mountains or molehills? Juliet smiled wryly as she sat down at the kitchen table with her coffee, resting her feet on the edge of Cocoa’s basket.

“See you.” Tara appeared in the doorway. “I may meet Shona after my shift.”

Juliet managed a bright smile even as doubt flashed across her mind. Would it really be Shona, or was it this man, Darren?

“All right, love. See you.” It was useful that Tara had got this Saturday job at the diner in town, but it did mean that she was often out for hours. Juliet had no way of knowing whether she was really working odd shifts or whether she had other assignations.

How awful to doubt one’s own daughter. Juliet felt guilty as she sipped her hot drink. She should forget these suspicions, and trust her judgement.

Trouble was, as Juliet knew, it was easy to be young and confident and hoodwink one’s parents.

She knew this because it was what she had done, and almost ruined her life.

“Not ruined!” she exclaimed aloud.

How could it be ruined when she had ended up with Tara? Little Tara, who had been such a beautiful baby. She couldn’t imagine life without her.

But those first few years had been very hard. She had had to accept that Connor, the love of her life but also her college tutor, was never going to marry her. In fact, was not in a position to marry her.

“A wife and two children,” Juliet whispered in horror.

Under the table Cocoa’s ears twitched, but he didn’t bother to open his eyes.

It had been hard enough to learn Connor had a wife, but when she found that there were two children involved, that had been the end. Her love had disappeared in a flash.

“There one minute, gone the next.” Juliet snapped her fingers.

This time Cocoa raised his head enquiringly. Was a response needed?

Juliet nudged him gently with her foot.

“Just thinking aloud,” she told him.

She hadn’t thought about Connor for a long time, even though she’d never found anyone else to take his place. Once bitten, twice shy, she had told herself over the years.

Tara resembled herself, with the same red hair, same freckles. There was

Juliet knew, more than most, how dangerous a crush on an older man could be . . .

nothing to remind her of him. It was as if he had never been.

Except, of course, he had existed. She’d been infatuated, never heeding what the consequence might be, which turned out to being, at the age of eighteen, a single mum.

No more college – instead a series of jobs just to get her by, because although her parents were – eventually – emotionally supportive, they were not in a position to provide much financial help.

But we managed, she thought thankfully.

“And we’re still managing. We can even afford to keep you, you greedy old thing.” Juliet prodded the chocolate-brown bundle at her feet again.

Cocoa looked up, his eyes shining eagerly through his shaggy hair. Was it going to be walkies?

“Soon,” Juliet promised. “I’ll put the washing on and then we’ll go.”

It was while she was wandering along the path by the canal, Cocoa running ahead on the extended lead, that she came to a decision. If she could find out a bit more about this Darren Trafford, she might discover that there was nothing to worry about.

Questioning Tara outright would immediately put her on the defensive. Instead, Juliet would look on the college website.

Even if there were no photos of lecturers, there might be some details from which she could pick up some clues, like dates of qualifications and so on.

Much cheered, she hurried Cocoa home . . .

The information she dug out wasn’t cheering. The dates when Darren Trafford finished his degree and then the teaching diploma pointed to his being in his late thirties.

“Too young to have a fatherly interest in a teenager,” Juliet mused. But the right age to be flattered by a young girl’s attention. As any young girl would be flattered by his attention. Like Tara.

Juliet sighed. She could foresee problems.

But she had always met problems head on, so while she ate a tomato sandwich she made a plan of action.

And if it meant she was stalking her own daughter, so be it. It would be with the best of intentions.

Tara was doing a twelve till four stint at the diner and then meeting up with Shona, or so she said.

Juliet planned to be nearby as Tara left the diner, in order to check that it was indeed Shona whom Tara was meeting.

“I’ve got Saturday shopping to do anyway,” she excused herself firmly.

The entrance to the shopping arcade was nearly opposite the diner’s staff entrance, so it was simple to pretend to be looking at a window of handbags while keeping one eye on that door.

She didn’t have long to wait. Just after four, Tara came hurrying out, wavy red hair gleaming in the sunshine. She checked her mobile then set off across the square.

But where was Shona? Juliet found herself following Tara at a discreet distance, even though she kept telling herself it was an underhand thing to do.

However, Tara didn’t go far, because there was her friend, Shona, waiting outside the smoothie bar. They disappeared inside, and Juliet heaved a sigh of relief.

“Never again,” she admonished herself as she retraced her steps towards the supermarket. “Tara did exactly what she told me she was going to do. I must trust her and forget these horrid doubts.”

It was easier said than done. Even as Juliet wandered round the shelves, her mind leaped back through the years to her own actions. To those days when, in case prying eyes had followed her from college, she would go through the front doors of the huge bookshop then slip out of the back door in order to keep her assignation with Connor a few streets further on.

“Stop it,” Juliet told herself impatiently. “Remember, mountains and molehills.”

She managed very well for a couple of weeks. Years ago, when Tara started school, she had trained as a classroom assistant, so her days were always busy and she enjoyed it.

Being with other people’s children eased the fact that Tara was always going to be her only child.

“I’m hanging around after college tonight,” Tara had said casually that morning.

“So don’t cook for me.”

“Doing something nice?” Juliet tried not to sound nosy.

Tara’s reply was open and unhesitating.

“I’ve got to do some research for a project.”

“OK, love, see you when I see you.” Juliet felt rather pleased at how casual she sounded.

Casual and calm, she told herself as she heard her reading groups and sharpened pencils and mixed poster paint.

But doubts were flooding back by the end of the afternoon.

It’s for Tara’s own good, she mused, so it’s not really spying or stalking.

All the same, she felt guilty as she settled in the café by the college gates.

Two cups of tea and a cheese scone later, she spotted Tara, red hair blowing in the breeze, talking animatedly to . . . Shona and a couple of boys.

Relief made Juliet’s legs quite wobbly as she made for the shortcut home. So that was that. She had learned another lesson. No more doubts. No more underhand behaviour.

And Tara must never, ever find out.

So it was a huge shock the following week when, in town on her lunch hour, Juliet saw Tara and an unknown man sitting near the window of the coffee shop in the square.

She froze mid-step. The man was in his late thirties, good-looking, and he and Tara were sharing some sort of joke. They looked happy and relaxed.

Juliet’s stomach churned. This must be Darren Trafford. She had been right all along.

What did the man think he was playing at? He was more than twice Tara’s age!

She should confront them. Or maybe walk in casually and surprise them,

Was she making a mountain out of a molehill?

to judge their reaction.

Even as she was dithering, he got up, touched Tara briefly on the shoulder, pointed to his watch, then hurried out.

Juliet didn’t wait to see what Tara would do next. Instead, she followed this Darren Trafford, who was abusing his position as a teacher to . . . well, she didn’t know what yet.

She followed at a distance, yet near enough to take in what he looked like. Tall and thin, smooth dark hair, with a confident air about him.

“Probably a strong personality,” Juliet muttered breathlessly.

She could understand why any teenager might fall for him.

By the time he disappeared through the college gates, Juliet had achieved her aim.

She now knew what he looked like, but she must make herself scarce because Tara must be following on behind.

Anyway, she was late for school and must now apologise and make up some sort of excuse.

Things were getting complicated. And it wasn’t nice.

She kept focused on her job for the rest of the afternoon, and even managed to be cool and calm when Tara returned from college.

A cheerful Tara, happy to relate a couple of anecdotes from lectures and discuss Shona’s boyfriend troubles.

“Boyfriends are hard work,” she commented. “Best to steer clear.”

Of course, Juliet thought, Tara would think that. Her taste was for mature men, not boys from her peer group.

No wonder she was being so touchy with poor Robbie from along the road.

After a restless night, Juliet managed to work out what she must do. It was no good remonstrating with Tara. That would put her on her guard and drive a wedge between them.

No, she must confront Darren Trafford himself. Bring him to his senses. Even if he didn’t have a wife and children as Connor had done, she argued, the gap in their ages was huge, and anyway, he was Tara’s teacher with responsibilities.

Confront him, yes. But exactly how to do it was a puzzle. It needed to be done in a dignified way. No losing her temper, perhaps not even raising her voice.

“Serious and civilised,” she told Cocoa as she rehearsed suitable conversations while she walked him.

It would be much easier if she could be rude and offensive.

Her plan was to waylay him as he came out of college. Even a conversation standing on a busy pavement would do.

She had to get the message through to him that she was there to protect her daughter; that his behaviour could be misconstrued, and that she wouldn’t hesitate to report him if she found that he had anything more to do with Tara out of the confines of college.

As an adult and a teacher, it was his responsibility to take control of the situation, etc.

The trouble was managing to catch him. She hadn’t counted on her plans being thwarted so many times. Sometimes she had to stay behind at school herself; often she spied him leaving with other members of staff.

Once, he swung out of the gates on a bike with a sports bag on his back, and several times she had to go home before he had made any appearance at all.

It was understandable that her proposed conversation with him, which had been so clear and concise at the beginning, should become somewhat confused and muddied as the weeks went by.

During this time Tara had stopped mentioning his name, but, tense as she was, Juliet found that all the more suspicious.

“Mountains,” she told herself. “Definitely mountains. Tara is hiding something.”

Juliet had almost decided to give up on the whole thing and write a letter instead, when suddenly her chance came. At last, there was Darren Trafford, on his own, striding purposefully towards the town centre.

Determinedly, Juliet hurried behind the tall figure, but just as she was plucking up courage to call out, he disappeared inside a shop.

“This may be my only opportunity,” she whispered, setting her lips firmly. “So I’ll wait.”

She squared her shoulders resolutely, as she rehearsed her words. She should know them by heart but somehow her brain wouldn’t focus properly.

“Hey, Tara, what are you up to?”

A cheerful voice made her jump and swing round to find Darren Trafford right behind her, his face beaming and his hazel eyes twinkling at her.

“Oh, I apologise, I mistook you for one of my students.” He raised his hands in a rueful gesture. “Your red hair, from the back – and even your face.” He shook his head in bewilderment. “You have to be some relation. Are you the mother of the delightful Tara Hammond?”

Juliet couldn’t believe her ears. How brazen was that? Frantically she searched her memory for that much practised speech.

“In which case,” he went on mischievously, “you will know that, apart from being delightful, your daughter is also feisty, cheeky and argumentative. Never a dull moment in that class.”

“Yes.” At last Juliet found her voice. “I’m Tara’s mother, but . . .”

“Sorry. My big mouth! Please don’t be offended with that description of your daughter, Mrs Hammond. She’s a great kid, really. Full of ideas.” He glanced round. “How about I offer you a cup of tea and a toasted teacake to make amends? Over there, maybe?”

Juliet sat down feeling dazed. Here she was, sitting in almost the same seat and in the same café where she had supposedly caught this man and Tara having a secret assignation.

“By a strange coincidence,” Darren Trafford was saying, as if he could read her mind. “Your Tara and a friend – Robbie, I think she said – were in here the other week having a snack when they should have been heading back to class.”

He stirred his coffee thoughtfully, then grinned.

“Instead of apologising, she had the nerve to ask me to join them!”

Juliet’s brain clicked into gear at last. She ought to have noticed Robbie had been in the café, too. Tara had clearly only been secretive about things lately because she’d got back together with him and felt slightly embarrassed about it.

Juliet had got the whole thing completely wrong. Molehills into mountains. Vast ranges of them.

Juliet glanced covertly at him as he carefully spread jam. He was very goodlooking and personable. It wouldn’t be surprising if some of his students fancied him, though, seeing him close up, she could see that he was slightly older than she’d guessed.

He looked up and met her eye.

“Well, Mrs Hammond, tell me about yourself. Have you and Mr Hammond got any more little Taras coming along to plague me?”

He was merely trying to break the tension, so Juliet found herself reacting naturally and easily. Smiling, she shook her head.

“No more Taras. Nor was there ever a Mr Hammond,” she added honestly. “Just Tara and me and Cocoa, our rescue dog.”

“Me, neither,” he replied. “I mean no Mrs Trafford, no little Traffords, or even canine Traffords.”

Of course, it was only the hot tea colouring Juliet’s cheeks and producing a warm glow inside her, not Darren Trafford’s engaging smile or sense of humour, but the feeling was very pleasant all the same.

She wondered, fleetingly, if it were permissible for a mother to date her daughter’s teacher.

Maybe she would get the chance to find out. n