It’s as if he’s never noticed the cuteness of his own son.
“Do you think we should call the place where Mum’s staying?” Imogen says. “To see what time she left? Maybe it was running late.”
“That’s a good idea.” He gets his phone out again. “What’s the name of the place?”
Imogen hesitates. “I don’t remember. Maybe wellness something. Valley Wellness?”
He looks online. “Nope. Nothing coming up for that. Any other ideas?”
She tries to think but it’s useless. She didn’t pay enough attention. She knows Edie left the number at the music camp, but Imogen doesn’t have it, and if she calls to ask for it, no one will pick up the phone at camp now. It’s their final performance this evening. She shakes her head.
“Never mind,” Toby says, though he looks disappointed.
“Why aren’t you on the holiday with the others?” Imogen asks. It occurs to her that he should be.
The weekend away has been the source of a lot of stress in her home. Edie was very upset when it was suggested, and even more upset when they went ahead and planned it. She felt it was an insult. They could have skipped a year, she said. Out of respect for Rob and for me. It’s like they’re moving on without me. Imogen agreed.
“Something came up,” Toby says. “It’s a bit complicated. It’s partly why I’m keen to talk to your mum.”
He looks at her sharply, suddenly, and frowns, as if trying to understand something.
“Why are you home? I thought you were at music camp while Mum was away. Have I remembered that right?”
“I was always coming home tonight,” she says. “But actually, I left yesterday.”
“Why?”
“It wasn’t going so well.” She won’t share more than that with him. It doesn’t feel right.
“Are you okay?” He doesn’t ask as nicely as he would usually. It’s like he’s distracted. Like Edie has been. What’s up with him? Why is everyone distracted these days? It’s like everything has suddenly got so fucked up and nobody is behaving how Imogen expects them to.
“Yeah,” she says.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really.” She wishes she hadn’t mentioned anything now. Usually, the thing she likes most about him is how well he listens and sympathizes, but her gut’s telling her this isn’t the moment to confide.
He narrows his eyes. “So, who collected you if Mum’s away?”
She exhales and looks down, afraid to meet his gaze. It’s going to be hard to get the name out without starting to cry.
“Imogen?” he says.
“It was Mark.”
“Hey,” Mark says. “Long time no see.”
Jayne didn’t expect to feel this relieved at the sight of him, but there it is, a rush of emotion so intense it’s almost overpowering.
It never ceases to amaze her that she feels so strongly about him, that she adores him so much, even after all these years of marriage. Jayne didn’t expect to fall deeply in love. She thought she was the kind of person who wouldn’t get that chance in life. Nothing in her cold upbringing prepared her for it and she didn’t believe she was attractive enough. She’d made her peace with that. Until Mark began to show an interest in her romantically.
She didn’t know what to do with herself at first; when he spoke to her, she felt like looking over her shoulder to see if his real love interest was behind her. And when he persisted, doggedly, and she finally accepted the situation, she gave into it wholly and found herself infatuated with him.
Jayne would never admit that, of course, to anyone apart from him, and their years together have tempered the strength of her infatuation, garnished it with reality, but it’s still there, at the core of her, like an extra heartbeat.
She runs downstairs and throws herself into his arms. It feels like a release from the grip of all the fear and anxiety that’s possessed her for the last twenty-four hours. Her eyes brim with relieved tears, but something doesn’t feel right. There’s a tension about him, beneath the surface, as if he’s holding himself extra still.
Jayne pulls away carefully. “What’s wrong?” she asks. And then, “Why didn’t you come up to the barn this morning? Where were you?”
