Page 85 of Meet me at the Seaside Cottages

‘It’s okay, it’s my lunch break,’ Janey says. She almost says,you are the only good thing that has happened to me today. But she doesn’t need to add hysterical to the adjectives she gloomily imagines already accompany his opinion of her – comfortable, dependable, all the sexy ones.

She notices she hasn’t had a message from Essie. She is, she realises, still too upset to call her daughter. Because part of her is still angry, and she knows that’s dangerous. She needs to wait for the flame to burn out, in case it flares up again. Her daughter is so hard on her.

‘Oh, then—’

‘No, it’s okay. I’m running early; I have time. Is it the pups?’

‘It’s Verity.’

*

She meets them by the war memorial park. Felicity flops out of the back of the car, obviously happy to have a break from the pups. She’s not quite back to normal; her nipples are hanging down very far, and her belly is covered in loose, floppy skin. It’s the first time Janey has smiled all day. ‘Welcome to your new body, sweets,’ she whispers to the hound as she comes up to lick her.

Lowell is signing for Verity to get out of the car, but nobody is emerging.

‘What’s up?’ murmurs Janey.

‘Her mum wants to take another week on her yoga retreat and for Verity to stay here, through the whole Easter holiday,’ says Lowell. ‘Verity is taking it very personally.’

‘So this wasn’t organised or . . . ’

‘I don’t mind,’ says Lowell immediately.

‘I know you don’t,’ says Janey. ‘I wasn’t implying . . . ’

She steps towards the car. ‘Hi,’ she signs to Verity, who has glanced up from her iPad, and scowls. Then she drops her head into the iPad. She can’t hear if she isn’t looking at you.

‘You’re going to have to wrest that thing off her for starters, I think,’ says Janey.

Lowell looks as if she’d just suggested he wrestle a bear for a jam sandwich. He screws up his face. ‘Do you think?’

‘You’re her dad! How’s it been? I thought it was going better.’

‘So did I,’ says Lowell. ‘Then I tried to get her to eat supper and she found some bacon in the fridge and it kind of unravelled from there. Then she wouldn’t go to bed and sat up till four, so she’s probably not at her best. Neither am I.’

Verity gives them both a side-eye so intense coming out of her little pale face that Janey is quite discomfited. This child is so unhappy.

‘She hates me,’ says Lowell in despair.

‘She doesn’t hate you,’ says Janey patiently. ‘She’s upset with other things in her life and you’re the safest person to take it out on . . . oh.’

‘What?’ says Lowell.

‘Nothing. God. I am the worst person to give parent–daughter advice at the moment.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Essie and I had a big fight. She did one small, totally understandable thing and I blew my stack.’

‘You?’

Janey is slightly comforted by the surprise in his voice. ‘Oh, yeah, she’s just . . . it’s been a tough . . . I thought I’d be so happy when she moved back in. I thought we’d have such a lovely time.’

She realises she is snivelling a little, even as Lowell is nodding his head in agreement.

‘Sorry,’ she says. ‘You don’t need this.’

‘So you’re telling me it might never get any better?’ says Lowell. ‘Jings. This is why people drink at lunchtime.’

---