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He dismissed the thought irritably. No one could ever accuse Sally of not being a good mother—far from it. She doted on Paul and Cathy. Spoiled them, made it obvious that their needs came first in her life—well before his.
He frowned as he caught sight of the note on the kitchen table.
Pick up Cathy. All he wanted to do was to sit down and unwind, to think about what was happening at work.
They had all known that Andrew’s suicide had to be bad news for the company. It had been obvious for months that things weren’t going well. No one seemed to know exactly what was going to happen, but everyone was afraid that it would mean more job losses, more redundancies.
The other men had turned to him, as foreman, for reassurance and explanations, but he hadn’t been able to give them, and on top of his own feelings of anxiety and uncertainty he had felt as though he was somehow failing them, letting them down in not being able to supply the answers to their questions.
He had tried to see the works manager, but the pale, thin girl who was his secretary had simply shaken her head. The last thing he needed was to come home to an empty house and a terse note from Sally complaining because he had forgotten he had promised to take Paul fishing. Didn’t she realise how serious the situation was?
He had tried to ring to explain that he was going to be late, but the phone had been engaged.
He hadn’t eaten anything all day and his stomach felt empty, but the last thing he wanted was food. He looked at the note again and then checked his watch. He might as well go straight round for Cathy.
* * *
Jane’s mother gave him an amused look as she opened the door.
‘I’ve come to collect Cathy,’ he told her.
She was a plump, slightly over-made-up blonde, the smile she gave him just a little bit too suggestive as she told him, ‘Lucky Cathy,’ and added, ‘Look, why don’t you come in and have a drink? And I dare say we could find you something to eat,’ she added as they both heard his empty stomach growl protestingly.
‘Thanks but I’d better not. Sally’s got supper on,’ he lied.
‘Oh… I thought she was working tonight.’ The blonde was pouting slightly now, the pale blue eyes narrowing.
He’d never been a man who enjoyed the dangers of flirting, but her obvious availability and sexuality were making him sharply aware of the contrast between her attitude towards him and Sally’s.
His body hungered for the comfort of sexual contact with Sally, but these days she just didn’t want to know. Sometimes he felt the only reason she stayed with him was out of habit and because he provided a home for her and the children plus a steady income to support them all. It certainly wasn’t because she wanted to be with him.
The children were more important to her than he was. Much more important.
Cathy chattered excitedly all the way home.
‘Lindsay Roberts went to Disneyland for her summer holiday,’ she told him. ‘She was telling everyone about it. When can we go, Dad? Everyone else in my class has been.’
‘Stop exaggerating, Cathy,’ he told her sharply. Too sharply, he realised when she suddenly fell silent and he saw the sullen pout of her mouth an
d the tears shining in her eyes.
‘Why are you so mean?’ she demanded angrily. ‘Mum wants us to go.’
‘I’m not being mean, Cathy… I…’
He stopped. How did you tell a fifteen-year-old that the way things were right now you were lucky to be able to pay the mortgage, never mind pay for expensive American holidays?
‘You’re mean,’ Cathy told him. ‘And you forgot that you promised to take Paul fishing.
‘I wish I lived in a big house like Lindsay’s with a garden all the way round it.’
Joel’s mouth tightened. It wasn’t Cathy’s fault, he told himself. Kids were more materialistic these days; the whole world was more materialistic.
‘Aunt Daphne’s having an extension built on to her house, with a new bathroom. I heard her telling Mum.’
Paul was in the kitchen when they got back. Tiredly, Joel apologised to him and started to explain, but Paul wasn’t listening.
‘It’s OK… I didn’t want to go fishing anyway,’ he told him curtly.
