The Marriage K.L. Slater (classic romance novels TXT) 📖

to walk home with him, and yet you know how bitter Ellis feels about him.’

‘It’s not your decision to make. Ellis is old enough to—’

‘It is my decision, though. I’m his mother.’

‘I’ll take you to court. I’ll get a court order stating I can see him, I’ll—’

‘Don’t try to scare me with that empty threat, you have no legal right to see him, you know that. It’s my decision and that’s what’s happening.’ She turned and walked to the door, and I found myself wondering where all this new-found confidence had suddenly appeared from. ‘I’m sorry, Bridget, but you decided to marry Tom without a thought for Ellis’s feelings, and now you’ve forced me to protect him.’

Before I could respond, she’d left the house. The worst thing was, I knew she’d spoken the truth. As a grandparent, I had no real rights in the eyes of the law. As Ellis’s mother, Coral was legally responsible for him.

I burned with fury. I should have let her slide after Jesse’s death. When she was unable to cope, I could have applied for custody of Ellis. I’d made a terrible mistake in neglecting to safeguard my connection to my grandson.

Coral had the upper hand and she knew it. Unless I did something radical, I’d be left with the possibility of losing Ellis altogether.

I wouldn’t let that happen. I’d do anything it took to ensure she didn’t restrict me seeing him.

In the meantime, it was someone else’s turn to suffer. I had a secret to reveal.

Thirty-Two Jill

After seeing the photo shrine to Jesse in Bridget’s house and now the publicity-grabbing interview in the newspaper, I found myself battling a growing sense of unease.

I knew I had to find something to distract me, to stop me going crazy.

Tom was a grown man, but he was naïve when it came to women, particularly someone as manipulative and determined as Bridget.

Nobody else seemed the least bit concerned about this, including Tom himself. I needed something solid to convince him Bridget wasn’t genuine.

On Saturday afternoon, I’d made a couple of appointments in the interests of looking after myself again. I’d also arranged for the local handyman, Joel, who’d freshened up the hallway to come over and fit me some shelving. When he arrived on Monday morning, portly and jolly in his tan canvas dungarees and hobnail boots, I explained to Joel what I wanted and left him to it. He’d done work for us over the years and I trusted him implicitly.

‘Lock up when you’ve finished and pop this back through the letterbox,’ I told him, handing him a spare door key. Robert had student appointments all day until late so I knew Joel would be left to work undisturbed.

When I got out to the car, movement behind the trellis fence caught my eye. ‘Hello, Jill, everything alright?’ It was Nazreen. ‘It’s just … we saw Tom in the paper.’

She raised her eyebrows and waited. If she was hoping I’d spill the beans on Tom and Bridget’s relationship then she would be sorely disappointed.

‘Yes. Hope you’re OK, Naz. I’m so sorry but I have an appointment in town. Catch up soon!’ As I reversed off the drive I caught the annoyance on her face. Since Tom’s release, I’d noticed more neighbours than ever before walking slowly by our house and looking in, as though I might rush out and spill all the juicy gossip.

I visited a new hairdresser in the middle of town. Swanky and twice as expensive as Fiona, the mobile hairdresser who’d popped over to the house every few months to give me a cut and colour for the last ten years. I was lucky enough to get a cancellation. A slim young man with a ring in his bottom lip introduced himself as Andre and asked me what I’d like him to do.

‘I haven’t a clue,’ I said. ‘Surprise me.’

We had a ‘consultation’, which sounded fancy but was actually a quick chat. ‘I would suggest a cropped bob with some discreet caramel highlights pulled through to soften the face,’ Andre said, talking with his hands. ‘How does that sound?’

‘That sounds perfect,’ I said, more confidently than I felt. ‘Let’s do it.’

I watched my transformation in the mirror, and at the end of it I was very, very happy. I not only looked pleasantly different but, I thought, younger and trendier. Next, I called into Boots and stopped by a few make-up counters. I emerged an hour later with a bag full of brand-new cosmetics that I’d been shown exactly how to use by the beauty counter staff.

As I came out of the shop, I bumped, quite literally, into Tom’s old primary school teacher, Mavis Threadgold, and her little dog.

‘I’m so sorry, dear,’ she said, stepping back and pulling on the lead. ‘I saw you in the hairdresser and walked back with Harry here to catch you when you left … then you disappeared into the chemist.’

‘Oh! Well, here I am,’ I said. It seemed a little odd that she’d been skulking around, watching where I went. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m fine. I wondered if you had time for a quick chat.’ She nodded over the road to a small, grassed area with a wooden bench.

She was obviously a bit lonely, and I was in no rush. It might actually be nice to reminisce about when Tom was younger.

‘Very nice, by the way,’ she said.

‘Sorry?’

‘Your hair. Very modern.’

‘Oh yes, thanks. I wanted something neat and easy to maintain.’ I patted my hair self-consciously, hoping I hadn’t gone too far with the caramel highlights. It was quite dramatic compared to my usual flat brown. I felt nervous about what Robert might say, and then a twinge of annoyance at myself for feeling nervous. I’d done it for me, not for Robert.

We crossed the high street and headed for the bench, where Harry sniffed around our feet. The grass was well maintained, with a footpath meandering through it and small circular flower beds dotted here and