The Saturday Scribblers

Tina felt certain there was more to Neil than met the eye . . .

TINA switched off her phone without responding to her dad. She’d reply later without giving away her resentment that Pauline was gate-crashing.

“Everything all right?” Madeleine asked as they returned to Jess’s front room.

Tina thrust her phone in her pocket.

“Yes, thanks.” She smiled. She’d just had a thought that she could call an annoying character in her novel Pauline.

She would be based on a person Tina had encountered when a ski gondola in Aspen had come to a halt halfway across a snowy valley.

“Pomegranate,” Clarissa said.

Tina realised that Jess had begun another exercise while she had been revisiting that exhilarating experience.

“Sorry, Jess. Could you repeat that?” she asked.

“I asked you each to call out the first word that comes into your head,” Jess explained. “Clarissa has said ‘pomegranate’.”

“Snow,” Tina said immediately.

Then came the task to use those two words – along with Neil’s “trees” and Madeleine’s “child” – in a piece of writing.

At first Tina couldn’t see how the words could tie together, but the hour she’d spent in the gondola came into her mind again.

She gave the annoying woman, now called Pauline, a pomegranate-coloured ski suit, invented a child trying to climb out, and added a background of distant trees.

After 10 minutes she paused to think.

Apart from a few tweaks, she’d written the event as she remembered it.

She hadn’t known anyone in the gondola when she got on – she’d gone skiing by herself – but by the time they were rescued everyone except “Pauline” was doing their bit to keep cheerful and entertain their companions.

It was a lovely memory, but how could it fit into a plot? Did she have a plot?

Clarissa’s word had probably been inspired by the picture that hung above the sideboard, a still life with a bowl of fruit.

Tina looked at the other pictures in heavy frames and wondered if Jess lived here with her parents.

Jess appeared to be in her early thirties, but this big house, with its traditional furnishings, didn’t match her lively personality.

She caught Jess’s eye without meaning to.

“Er, Jess.” Tina thought quickly. “I was wondering if one week you could give us tips on plotting a novel?”

“Of course.” Jess made a note.

“I’d like that, too,” Neil put in. “It seems easy to do when you read a book, but it’s impossible when you come to try yourself.”

“Clarissa, Madeleine, are you happy with that?” Jess asked.

Clarissa’s expression was hard to read. She nodded.

“That sounds interesting,” Madeleine said. “Not that I could write a novel, but . . .” Her voice trailed away. “Good.” Jess nodded. “I’ll e-mail you a link to a helpful website so you’re familiar with the terminology and we’ll discuss the topic in a couple of weeks.”

****

“You going for the thirty-nine bus?” Tina asked, as she and Neil headed towards the same bus stop.

Neil nodded.

As he reached to take out his bus fare, Tina noticed that he held his left arm rather awkwardly, as if it wouldn’t quite straighten.

“Thanks for suggesting that about plotting,” he said.

“I’ve started and abandoned four novels as they weren’t going anywhere.”

“So far mine is a series of events rather than a story,” Tina admitted. “You could say I’ve lost the plot – except I never had one!”

“Hopefully Jess’ll sort us out.” Neil smiled. “Here’s the bus.”

“So what do you do when you’re not starting novels?” Tina asked when they sat down. “Unless that’s a full-time job?”

Neil grinned.

“I’m with the council parks department,” he replied. “What about you?”

“Health visitor,” she said. “Are you ex-army, then? Since you’re writing about a soldier?”

Neil looked out of the window.

“No,” he said. “It just interests me.”

Tina thought of telling him about how her dad had been involved in the Falklands War and other conflicts, but there was a closed look on Neil’s face that changed her mind.

“Got anything lined up for the rest of the weekend?” he asked, clearly keen to change the subject.

Tina shook her head. Her spoiled plans were too complicated to go into.

“Not much,” she said. “My dad says his cat has a better social life than I do.” Neil laughed.

“I know what you mean.” He stood up. “I’m getting off here, Tina. I’ll see you next week.”

“Bye, Neil.”

As the bus shuddered to a stop, she watched him hook his left arm round a pole to keep steady.

He waved to her from the pavement as the bus took off again, a smile lighting up his face.

Nice guy, Tina thought. The expression “still waters run deep” came to her.

Her mood took a downward turn as she got off at the stop by her dad’s house.

Would Pauline still be there, or would she have left after breakfast and not yet returned for the afternoon shopping trip?

Tina hadn’t replied to her dad to tell him if she was OK about Pauline coming to the Legion with them.

She could have sent a cheery, and even added a smiley face, but she just couldn’t do it.

“Tina,” Dad said, opening the door. “I wasn’t expecting you until later. Pauline should be round in a minute.”

Dad smelled of aftershave and he’d put on a tie.

Maybe he did appreciate having Pauline around. Maybe he was happy to have a woman of his own age for company.

“I’m not stopping,” Tina told him. “I just wanted to say that I’m looking forward to seeing you this evening.

“Both of you,” she amended, crossing her fingers behind her back.

Of course! ****

Jess tidied up after her Saturday scribblers left and wondered how to spend the remainder of the day.

Her boyfriend, Grant, had gone to help his sister with her children, as he’d been doing at weekends for almost as long as Jess had known him.

Hazel’s flat was small, Grant said, and he had to sleep on the sofa, so there was no chance of Jess being able to go with him.

It showed what a lovely, caring person he was, but

Jess couldn’t help feeling a little bit fed up about it. They’d never spent a weekend together.

What she should do – the thing she’d been putting off since she’d inherited the house – was decide what she wanted to keep and what she’d sell or give away.

It was all hers to do what she liked with, but even after all this time that was hard to believe – perhaps because Great-aunt Jessamy seemed to be looking straight at her from the top of the piano.

Jess picked up the photo.

Jess couldn’t help feeling a little bit fed up

There was no way that she’d be getting rid of it, but she carried it upstairs to the smallest bedroom and placed it on the chest of drawers.

“Sorry, Auntie,” she said, smiling ruefully.

It did feel like she’d made a start when she got back to the front room.

By all accounts, her namesake Jessamy had been a rebel, only settling into marriage in her fifties.

This house had been her husband’s, and his parents’ before that.

Now Jess came to think about it, her great-aunt had probably inherited all the Victoriana.

Maybe she’d found it as overpowering as her great-niece did now.

She found the number of the local auction house and phoned to arrange for a valuation.

There was nothing more she could do until that happened, except plan how she’d decorate the house. There were just so many rooms.

Oh! There were three spare bedrooms, all furnished, all unoccupied.

Why didn’t she suggest to Grant that his sister’s children came here for their half-term holiday? With Grant, too, of course.

That would give his sister a break and would be fun for his nephews and niece – there must be lots for children to do

in Ashbridge.

Didn’t Madeleine have a little boy? She’d ask her advice next week.

Full of enthusiasm, she texted Grant with the idea and was slightly deflated when he replied saying it would need a lot of thought.

She prowled restlessly around the house before deciding to do something.

Luckily, the first friend she phoned was about to go shopping and would be delighted to have company.

They arranged to meet at the centre 10 minutes’ walk away from Jess.

“Jess!” She was almost there when she heard her name.

Jess turned round and her heart sank. Lily.

The latest recruit to the customer services department. It hadn’t taken long for her to gain a reputation as a mischiefmaker.

It was impossible for Jess to avoid her, given that she was head of the department.

It was too bad that they should run into each other on a weekend.

“You going shopping?” Lily asked.

Jess stuck on a smile. “I’m meeting a friend. She’s going to a wedding and wants a new outfit.”

“What about you?” Lily’s smile was as sweet as sugar. “Are wedding bells in the offing?”

“What are you up to today?” Jess ignored Lily’s intrusive question, but her colleague continued.

“This and that. Is this one of his weekends for – visiting his sister?”

The way Lily said the last three words was as if they had quotation marks round them.

Jess spotted her friend in the doorway of the centre.

“See you Monday, Lily,” she said, hurrying away.

It was too bad that her relationship seemed to be the subject of office gossip.

She’d taken Grant to a work night out once, but now she resolved to keep her private life private.

****

Dylan came out of school skipping alongside another small boy.

He was at a lovely age, Madeleine thought fondly.

Seven-year-olds were so enthusiastic, ready to soak up new experiences and knowledge like sponges, and were still young enough to want to hold your hand in the street and cuddle into you at night.

She waved Dylan over and he came accompanied by his friend, whose mother materialised beside them.

“We hoped Dylan could come for tea,” the boy’s mother said. “We’d bring him back around half past six?

“Dylan’s told me where you live – you’re just a couple of streets away.”

Madeleine shook her head.

“Sorry, not today.” “Mum, why not?” Dylan stuck out his lower lip.

“Don’t argue, Dylan.” Madeleine smiled at the other mum. “Maybe your little boy could come home with us instead?” “Well, I suppose.”

The woman looked surprised, but the boys were jumping up and down, so she nodded and said her husband would pick Simon up on his way home from work.

“But I wanted to go to Simon’s house,” Dylan grumbled as they walked along. “He’s got a robot that squirts water.”

“We’re Facetiming Daddy,” Madeleine reminded him.

“When it’s four o’clock here it’ll be nine o’clock where he is.”

“Can Simon speak to him, too?” Dylan asked.

“If he wants to,” Madeleine said, amused.

“He can tell Daddy about his robot,” Dylan went on. “And Daddy will say that I can go round to Simon’s to play with it.”

Clearly deviousness should be added to a seven-year-old’s attributes.

Unfortunately it proved impossible to get through to Liam.

Madeleine fumed, glaring at her laptop.

“No luck?” Dee asked sympathetically, putting his head round Madeleine’s bedroom door. “The boys came charging in to tell us.”

“Where are they now?” Madeleine asked, closing the laptop and standing up.

“In the garden,” Dee replied. “I said to Em we should think about getting a climbing frame or a swing. Maybe a trampoline. What do you think?”

“No,” Madeleine replied. “Are you forgetting about Dylan’s accident?”

“No,” Dee said slowly, “but that was two years ago and he’s fine now.

“He has a lot of energy, like his dad at that age. It’s got to go somewhere.”

Madeleine went to the window that overlooked the garden.

Dylan and Simon were racing around and throwing themselves to the ground in a game they seemed to be making up on the spot.

“Look,” she said, turning round. “I think he’s found a use for his energy.”

“Well, the offer stands,” Dee said. “Em’s wondering what they’d like to eat?”

Madeleine was stricken with guilt.

“I’m sorry. I should have given her notice that Dylan was bringing a friend home. It was a spur-of-themoment thing.”

“The store cupboard and the freezer are well stocked,” Dee assured her. “You know Em.”

His tone was light, but once again Madeleine felt she’d said the wrong thing.

“I’ll come down,” she said.

“It’s great having kids about the place again,” Dee said, standing aside to let Madeleine through the door.

“Dylan’s welcome to have his friends here any time.”

“I appreciate that.” Madeleine smiled.

Her response was more heartfelt than Dee could know. Having Dylan where she could keep an eye on him was what she wanted.

Madeleine had been surprised how good it felt when the writing group had reacted so positively to the piece she’d written about meeting Liam, following the prompt to write about striking up a conversation with a stranger.

It was a memory she went over in her mind so frequently and, although it was a personal story, she felt she’d like to share it.

She’d included how she often shuddered to think how it might never have happened – if either of them had sat down earlier or later, or in a different train carriage.

Jess had said that not only was it a good story, but that it had been told well.

Madeleine couldn’t remember the last time she’d been pleased with something she’d done.

She didn’t want to give up going to the group, but there was the problem of what Dylan was to do on Saturday mornings.

She sensed that Dee had been offended that she thought he wouldn’t look after Dylan properly.

Of course she didn’t think that, but . . .

If she’d got through to Liam, she’d have asked him to back her up.

He would understand her being upset about their guddling about in a river the other day, picking up goodness knows what.

Perhaps she could take Dylan with her to Jess’s house – he could sit in a corner and read or draw.

She was thinking how to broach the suggestion at dinnertime when Dylan suddenly announced that he wanted to play football on Saturday mornings.

Boys and girls from his class went along to the park apparently and one of the dads gave them some coaching.

Before she had time to respond, Dee spoke up.

“Brilliant. I’ll take you, shall I?” He turned towards Madeleine. “If that’s all right with your mum?”

“But what about your conservation work?” Madeleine asked.

“It has things going on all the time,” Dee replied. “Folk are helping to build a pathway up Ravens Fell on Saturday afternoons. I’ll go along to that.”

He winked at Dylan. “I used to play a bit of football myself. I’d love to see you play.”

Dylan was bouncing

in his chair with excitement.

“Yes, Grandpa!” “That’s settled, then,” Madeleine said.

She’d do anything in the world for Dylan, but if she didn’t have to stand around in the cold with other parents – well, she could enjoy the writing group with a clear conscience.

****

Tina popped some chopped veg in the oven to roast and laid out the salmon she would put on top for the last 10 minutes.

“What are we going to do about Pauline?” she asked the potted plant on the window-sill.

It was the Monday after their outing to the British Legion club.

Tina had made a bit of an effort clothes-wise, putting on her best black trousers with a pretty top.

Perhaps she should have told Pauline that the dress code was smart but casual.

Pauline had worn a cocktail dress, bright blue, close-fitting. The height of her heels necessitated her holding on to Andy’s arm as they walked.

Tina tried to take her round to introduce her to some of the others and give Andy a chance to chat to his old comrades on his own, but Pauline would have none of it.

Poor Andy came in for some ribbing, which Pauline acknowledged with giggles and Andy with a set smile.

“He’s a grown man,” Tina reminded the plant. “He’s seventy-five, but he’s got all his marbles.

“I wish Pauline wasn’t always around, but there’s nothing I can do.

“Unless I can get her to come out with me on our own. I could ask her what her intentions are towards my father.”

Tina couldn’t help laughing, but perhaps it wasn’t a bad idea.

After her meal she got out the notebook she’d bought for jotting down ideas. Its cover bore, appropriately, a map of the world.

After leaving school she’d taken a course to become a nanny and had worked for wealthy families in the States.

Families like that took their nanny on holiday, so she had stayed in some amazing places.

By looking at photographs and reading the diaries she’d kept in the first excitement of being abroad, she picked out some of the most colourful happenings.

She wondered how she could draw them together.

Perhaps her life would be more suited to a tell-all story, but there was no way she could do that.

She’d worked for some very famous people and had signed confidentiality agreements.

Nonetheless, there was still lots she could share about her jet-setting days.

Names and places could be changed and events exaggerated for effect.

But that would still read like a memoir, wouldn’t it?

Tina sighed. Maybe she was being too ambitious.

She turned to the back of the notebook and began to make a list of folk who’d accepted her invitation to her birthday party, and another of what had still to be done.

Ages ago Dad had made her finalise the date and time with the Legion club – they had a large room they hired out – so the venue was sorted, as was a caterer and a cake.

She was looking forward to getting friends and far-flung family together for a good time – even if it did mean broadcasting that she was about to enter her fifties!

Decorations, ice-breaker games, music. By now she should have had that last item organised.

Musicians would be in high demand during wedding season, too.

Tina switched on her laptop to do some research and saw that she had an e-mail from Jess, with a link to a website that described the process of building a plot.

She e-mailed back to say thank you, copying in the rest of the group, and on

impulse added: Save the date! I’m having a birthday party on the evening of July 17. I’d love you all to come, and your plus ones, of course. If anyone knows a DJ or a band for hire, suggestions will be gratefully received.

Almost immediately an e-mail pinged back. I’ve a mate who does some Dj-ing. I can ask, if you like? It was Neil. That would be great , she replied. I’d like background music and a few dance numbers. Local venue – the British Legion club on Ash Lane.

Neil replied quickly: OK, I’ll get back to you.

He doesn’t say he’ll be able to come himself, Tina thought, but then a “save the date” isn’t the same as an actual invitation.

That didn’t stop Jess responding to say she’d rather go to Tina’s party, but it was the same night as a meal out with her work.

She didn’t know anything about Jess, Tina realised – what she did for a living or if she’d had anything published.

Who needed fiction when everyone had their own story to tell?

“Not the best attitude for a would-be novelist to have, is it?” Tina was back talking to the plant again.

Her single status didn’t often give her pause, but it would be nice to have someone to talk with in the evenings.

Not to mention someone who could be her plus one at her own birthday party.

****

Madeleine, encouraged by the reception from the class to her serendipitous meeting with Liam, thought she’d try continuing with a fictional version.

She conjured up Amanda, a woman quite different from herself, who saw a man on the commuter train every day for a week.

Although they exchanged meaningful looks, that was the extent of it.

Amanda had decided that on Monday she would talk to him, but he wasn’t

there, nor the next day or the next.

On the fourth day she opened a newspaper someone had left behind, and found that it had adverts from love-struck people who wished to make contact with someone they’d only seen fleetingly.

Because Amanda was much bolder than Madeleine, she placed one. You’re the tall, blue-eyed man who caught the 7.45 from Thames Ditton. Where are you? Could we be more than ships passing in the morning? Fair-haired girl in the pink coat.

She received a series of replies, but none of them from the right man.

Madeleine covered so many sheets of printer paper that she replaced it and bought her own pack.

She found the words flowed easily when she wrote them by hand and typed them up later.

“Doing your homework?” Dee teased, catching sight of her scribbling away.

Madeleine nodded, pulling the paper protectively towards her.

Come Saturday, she hugged her secret to herself.

This time last week she’d never contemplated writing a novel, but since then she’d written over 15,000 words.

This morning she wrote in response to Jess’s prompts, but with her mind on her developing book.

“Next week we’ll look at plotting,” Jess said at noon.

“Madeleine, I believe you’ll find it useful even if novel writing’s not your thing.”

She looked around.

“I was thinking of going to the Grapevine for lunch. Anyone want to join me?” “I’d love to,” Tina replied. Neil and Clarissa said they had plans already.

“I’m helping to build a path up Ravens Fell,” Neil said.

“Oh!” Madeleine looked at him. “My father-in-law’s doing that. Do you know James Sparrow?”

“Small world. We’ve been on a few projects together.” Neil grinned. “Great guy.”

“He is,” Madeleine said.

“He was taking my little boy to football this morning. I need to get back home, Jess. Sorry.”

“That’s a shame,” Jess replied. “There was something I wanted your advice on.”

“Really?” Madeleine picked up her phone and saw a message from Dee asking him to call her.

That horrible panic swept over her. She grabbed her coat and ran outside. “Dee, what’s wrong?” “Nothing, Madeleine.” Dee’s voice was calm. “Dylan’s friend Simon wants him to go to his house this afternoon. Is that OK?”

“Say yes, Mum!” Dylan squeaked in the background.

If she said yes, she wouldn’t have a minute’s peace until she saw Dylan again.

But if she said no, Dee would have to cope with Dylan being upset.

Simon’s mum seemed like a sensible woman.

“All right,” she said, but to take back some control she added, “I’ll pick him up at three.”

She ended the call, smiling as she heard Dylan’s shout of glee.

She saw the Grapevine on the other side of the road. She crossed over and opened the door hesitantly.

Jess and Tina waved and beckoned to her. Feeling warm inside, Madeleine sat down.

She turned to Jess once they’d ordered.

“What was it you wanted to ask me?”

Jess explained that she’d like to ask her boyfriend’s nephews and niece to stay for a few days, but didn’t know where to start with entertaining them.

“I don’t know Ashbridge very well,” Madeleine confessed.

“I’m staying with my in-laws for a year while my husband works abroad. But I could ask around.”

Maybe she’d ask Simon’s mum this afternoon.

“Where do you usually live?” Tina asked, accepting her pie from the waitress.

“Just outside London,” Madeleine said.

“It’ll be nice for Dylan’s grandparents to see more of him,” Tina said.

“Yes.” Madeleine took a breath. “Liam didn’t want me to be on my own for the year. We rented out our house and came up here.” “Good idea.” Madeleine was dreading more questions, but Tina had turned to Jess.

“What do you do, Jess? Do you have a day job?”

“I’m head of customer service for a high street bank.” Jess pulled a face. “I can’t believe I’m still there, to be honest.

“I left uni with an English degree and took a temporary job with them twelve years ago.

“I’d love to get a teaching qualification, but it’s hard to take that leap of faith.”

“You must be good at your job,” Madeleine said. Jess shrugged.

“I distract myself with going to writing classes and workshops. I’ve done so many that I felt qualified to run a group myself.”

“You certainly are!” Tina agreed.

“I’m really enjoying it,” Madeleine said at the same time.

“That’s good to hear.” Jess grinned at them.

“And it’s lovely meeting you two,” Madeleine added shyly, “now that I’m far away from my friends.” Jess looked at the menu. “Shall we have a pud?” she asked. “I fancy tiramisu.”

Some time later, Madeleine was laughing at a funny story Tina was telling when she caught sight of her phone. Three o’clock!

“I have to go.” She threw some notes on the table and hurried out.

Halfway down the street she was assailed by a horrible thought.

She didn’t have Simon’s address. She didn’t know where Dylan was . . .

To be continued.