In his own, twisted, intermittent way, maybe. ‘Of course he does!’ I chimed.
‘So then why did he leave us? Emma told me that he stole all the money that you had earned from your books and put away for our education, and the renovations of the house. And that he even took the rent money you had saved for us to live in a flat so we wouldn’t have to live in a trailer. She told me he left you with nothing, and that the trailer even burned down. Oh, Mum! You must have suffered so much!’
‘Emma told you that?’
Chloe nodded, swiping at a tear. ‘I called her a couple of weeks ago. I had no idea that Dad had done all those bad things to you. He always said he left you because you were boring and you never let him have any fun.’
Oh, he had his fun. ‘It doesn’t matter anymore, Chloe.’
‘Now I understand why you never wanted him back!’
‘Sweetheart, men are not as complicated as we girls tend to think.’
Chloe extracted herself from me and nodded, sniffling. ‘Okay. I’ll read the books. Maybe it’ll help me understand why Simon acts like an arseho— I mean a jerk,’ she corrected herself.
‘Well, if my book doesn’t help, maybe I can?’ I offered.
Chloe looked up at me, the doubts still lingering on her face. ‘Guys aren’t like they used to be, Mum,’ she explained. ‘They’re shallow, mean and inconsiderate…’
‘Not all of them, sweetheart. One day you’ll meet one who will change your mind about the male gender completely.’
Of course I didn’t believe it either, but if you couldn’t have hope for something, what else did we have to live for? Besides, thirteen was way too young to be jaded and disillusioned.
*
A week later, Jack swung by with a huge grin. After we’d chatted for a while, he said, ‘Nina, I have a solution for you.’
‘Please, no charity,’ I begged. ‘No loans, no help.’
‘Agreed. I won’t help you. But you have to help me.’
‘With what?’
‘I am considering a business idea, but I can’t do it alone. I’ll put in the capital, and you help with the legwork. What do you say?’
‘I’m listening.’
‘You know the cider side of the business is doing well.’
‘Yes?’
‘And I’m breaking into the apple crisp market, too, now.’
‘That’s wonderful, Jack! Your parents would be so proud of you.’
He grinned shyly. ‘I’d like to think so. But my real apple passion is about pies.’
‘Pies?’
‘Yeah. Big pies, bite-sized – everything. I’m thinking about getting into the market. I’ve already made a business plan and everything and the numbers are promising. But there’s one not so minor thing.’
‘Being?’
He grinned. ‘I can’t bake to save myself. Would you teach me?’
‘You want to bake the pies yourself?’
‘Initially, yes. My kitchen is massive but I only use it for my apple experiments. If things go well…’
‘Of course I’ll teach you, Jack. It’s the simplest thing in the world.’
‘Thank you. I know it’s a silly request, but I’d like to be able to make my own product, like you do with your arancini.’
‘Shit!’ I swore as I jumped to my feet. I had been enjoying his company so much I had completely and utterly forgotten to prep! I ran to the freezer to peer inside. Luckily I had the ingredients in stock: rice, minced meat, peas, eggs, breadcrumbs and tomato sauce. All I lacked was the willpower.
Jack rolled up his sleeves and washed his hands under the kitchen tap. ‘Come on, Nina. I’ll help you.’
‘But you don’t know how to shape them.’
‘You’re welcome.’
I laughed. ‘You want to help me by squishing raw meat and egg yolk between your fingers?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Okay, then. You start out with a sheet of rice on the palm of your hand, curving it gently inwards so as to make the bottom side of a pear.’
‘I thought they were called arancini because they looked like oranges?’ he asked as he gently patted the rice in his huge hands according to my instructions.
‘Those are the ones with the mozzarella and cheese filling. These ones are peas, eggs and ragù sauce.’
‘Is this the right shape?’ Jack asked after we had worked in silence for a few minutes. ‘It looks a bit wonky…’
‘Your hand pressure is slightly too strong.’ I covered his hands – or tried to; they were like shovels – with mine in order to close the arancino. ‘You have to make sure that you don’t squeeze too much when you shape your rice ball. Apply more pressure at the end, but don’t squeeze the tip too much. You want it to look like a rounded pyramid, see? Plus, you don’t want to flatten the poor thing.’
He grinned. ‘No, we wouldn’t want that. How am I doing now?’
‘Perfect,’ I said.
He looked up and smiled again. ‘Christ, I thought it would be easier.’
‘Jack?’
‘Hm?’
‘Thank you. So so much.’
‘For what?’
‘For being you. You are our knight in shining armour.’
He smiled. A smile that went deeper than teeth and dimples. ‘My pleasure.’
The next day I got a call from the United States – precisely from Dr Ellenberg’s surgery in Los Angeles. I had an appointment for next month. Did I wish to confirm?
To say I had forgotten about it would be untrue. But that had been a long long time ago when I had a perspective on having the means to afford it.
‘Or do you want to cancel?’
If the doctor in Normandy didn’t work out, did I want to completely cancel my son’s dreams of being able to run across the back fields? Never. Even if I didn’t know how the hell I was going to pay for it? The flights, the consultancy, the hotel. But I knew that, one way or another, I’d manage to sort it out. I had to.
And then I started worrying all over again. What if it didn’t work, and I’d brought my boy all the way across the ocean only to disappoint him?
In a parallel universe, it would have been so nice to have Luke meet me at
