A Man in the House
Jane ambled slowly along the village lane, not caring that the blustery wind had left her scarflight pink and sheer as a wisp of dawndancing high among the garden sycamores before disappearing over the rooftops. Who bothered if her sandals now brimmed with grit and sharp pebbles, or if the insistent horseflies seemed bent on nibbling every tanned, sturdy inch of her arms?
Jane was oblivious to the nods of the neighbours and their cheery offers of fresh goats milk from over the hedge.
Her world, if you could call it that, had simply ceased to exist, vanishing the very day Paul left. He wasnt coming back. And ahead was nothing but a kind of thick, soul-sapping emptiness. How was one supposed to live through this? What next?
Things had started splitting at the seams some time ago, of course, but admitting defeat to herself was almost unbearable
Jane unclasped the gate latch and pushed it open. The gate gave a half-hearted lurch, squawked in a way that suggested it, too, was grievingjust another of lifes minor betrayals.
Paul promised hed oil that hinge thought Jane, biting her lip. No matter, well manage. Tom will grow up, and hell fix it.
Their old sheepdog, Bramble, came shuffling up, nose cool against her ankles, and grumbled. Jane reeked of heartbreaka tang Bramble disliked far more than bath days or the vet. She used to smell of laughter, roast chicken, bundled mint, and the scrambling joy of Janes little boy, Tommy.
Where is he? Hes not back yet? asked Bramble with a soulful whine, lifting his shaggy head and giving Jane the hot-eyed, sweltering stare of a creature expecting answers. Whereve you tucked him?
Jane only shook her head. Bramble sighed, flopped at her feet. What more could he do?
Well, did you have your peace talks? called a voice from the greenhouse. Ella, Janes mother, barrelled out in her infamous red floral frock, bucket of cucumbers bumping against her hip; a dress so loathed by the local bull it was practically legend. So, is he staying, then? Where are his things? Should I be laying out the table for a proper welcome? Ive tidied your room, Jane, dont mutter at me, switched the bed linen, found space for Pauls jackets and shirts. Will you at least put your feet up a few more days before you all scamper back to London? Ohpop round to the Joneses, would you, love, fetch a tipple? Theres nothing in for a decent toast. Move along, now, girl, chop-chopwe wont keep up at this rate! Just look at these cucumbers! Smell that, would you? Im pickling a whole batch tonightthe jars are waiting on the windowsill. Grab that barrel from the cellar for the gherkins, my legs wont have it. Not to worrywith Paul around youll have a man in the house. Proper strength. Your father always said a home needs a mans solid hand. And” Ella kept up her monologue, fussing over her garden as she spoke, reining in currant branches heavy with glossy berries.
But Jane wasnt listening. Who cared about a trip to the Joneses, a pickling barrel, or laying the table? She and Tom could eat just fine, no posh tablecloth needed.
Well manage, Mum! Jane called, head high, her tight chestnut braid like a coronet around her head. A stray stalk clung to the plait, a ladybird perched on her shoulder, fiddling with its wings.
But Jane wasnt having any of itsoftness, fussempty gestures, really, good for little but bruising the heart.
Jane, you wont last alone. A house needs a mans say-so, a fist on the till! You should curb that temper of yours, mind.”
Wheres Tommy? Jane shot back, expertly sliding mothers advice off her ear.
Hes napping, bless him. Spent all morning painting his aeroplaneran out of paint, so I dashed to see old Mr Gordon for some more, what with those silly little tubes, and the plane, well, it’s quite something, Ella chuckled, recalling how Janes little boy had sanded and glued every inch of his prized balsa wood aircraft with a diligence that wouldve impressed an actual pilot. The special glue, a gift from Grandpa Arnold, sat on the shelf in a large white pot.
Then, as Tim started painting on the kitchen table, disaster struck.
Gran! Gran! The paints are bone dry! Cant finish the star, cant do anything! And Dads comingI have to show him! wailed Tommy.
Ella simply waved him over. No blubbing! Come along to Mr Gordons, hell have pots of paint, hes up to his ears in the stuff!
I dont want to, Gran, he shooed us boys out of his garden, and its hardly even his Tommy sulked.
Then suit yourselfno paint for you! Ella retorted, arms folded. Funny how nicking apples is never a problem for you lot! Yours taste sharp, is that it? she chided.
They dont! Theyre not sour, Gran! Tim hated grown-up rows; instantly uneasy, hed try to play peacekeeper.
Alright, come onlock the door behind you or those wretched chickensll be in! Ella relented, heading out the gate. So much business with you boys, but when your dad comes, itll all be sorteda man in the house, worth his weight in gold, Tim, Im telling you. You wont understand til youre older
Are you waiting for Dad? she added, as Tommy bounded ahead.
I am, Gran! Cant waitmust get everything done! He dashed off.
Mr Gordons studio was muggy, redolent of linseed oil, with canvases propped everywhere and a shaft of sunlight striking an easel. The artist gnawed the end of his brush, lost to his own silent conversation.
Sorry to barge in, Mr Gordon! Ella called, climbing the steps. Hows tricks? Hows your health?
Whatoh! Fine, I suppose He blinked and tried to rally a smile.
Good to hear. Now, whooh, whats that draped on there?! Ella pointed at a painting before Gordon swiftly threw a cloth over it.
Not quite done yet, Mrs Watts. Perhaps Ill show you when its finished. What can I do for you? And you, young manwerent you one of the apple bandits? He gave Tommy a stern look. Tommy shrank.
Oh, for goodness sake, let it go! Ill make you spiced buns, youll be licking your lips for weeks! Ella bargained. Just a spot of paint, if youd be so kindhes building a plane for his dad, see, only now he cant finish it. Help us out?
Despite herself, Ella saw the glimmer of admiration in her neighbours eye. She knew men, did Ellacould moan or flutter her eyelashes as needed. Youd be a star on the stage, Mrs Watts, the old English teacher used to say, having heard her wrangle with the builders who ran electricity to the village. You could tread the boards!
Oh, get on! No such thing! shed blush, hands aflutter.
Gordon could never resist. Fine! Take this paint, Tim. Just ask next time if you want an appleit’s not as if I cant spare one, but I hate a thief. Back in town, our old flat was burgled, not a penny left, mum never got over it. Stealings not for me He bundled up some tubes. Dip the brush in oil and wipe if needed. Dont overdo it. When youre done Ill lacquer it for youshould be shinier than the real thing! Ever sat in a cockpit, mate?
Up close? Only seen them high upcrop dusters, the military Tim shrugged.
Well have to fix that, Gordon grinned. Dad an engineer?
Ella shrugged. Some sort of chemist, but I wouldnt know. Right, were off, thanks, Gordon. And I wont forget the bunsTimll pop round.
As they trudged home, Ella fretted, As long as it all works out If only Paul would just take them back to London! Or let them stay here, if he likes. A man in the house
Jane had met Paul at an exhibition at Earls Court. Shed gone with friends, cackling and licking ice creams, while Paul had been there on businesshed just been handed his own project, no less, head of the team and everything. He was deep in thought when Jane had backed into him, dropping ice cream.
Sorry! Are you hurt? She blushed, mortifiedshed heel-stomped a suited adult! Surely hed ring her university, have her thrown out.
Me? Ohno, not hurt at all youve a dab of ice creamright there, Paul said, dabbing her cheek with a handkerchief.
Thank yousorry again, Jane muttered, and that was it. Or so Jane thoughtthe start of love at first blush. Paul would shrug off the tale today. Just chemistry, Jane. All reactions expire.
Oh, dont talk nonsense! his mother, Mrs Robinson, would fume. Thats a child, a marriage, not a chemical experiment!
They married within a year. Jane was still at university; Paul had just finished. Ella came to their London wedding, grumbling it wouldve been better celebrated up North, but London it was. The restaurant, Pauls friends, his parentseverything bowled Ella over; she talked about it for months. All so refined! No one spits on the grass, everyone talks proper! shed tell her friends, holding court at the kitchen table as the kettle boiled.
Has Jane gone all posh then? Will we even get a word in when she visits next? one neighbour teased.
She was radiant. But honestly, theyre no different from us, aside from not blowing noses in their sleeves. Pauls mum is lovelygrew up milking cows in the country, could turn her hand to anythingin fact, not much different from us country folk. Its just, not everyone can live in London, its not elastic!
But happiness is a shy creature, easily spooked. Janes pregnancy was hard; Tommy arrived frail and Jane barely coped. Paul, by now, found the nights growing longerToms colic, laundry, Janes absence from their bedit was all becoming too much.
Is this genetic or something you did wrong in the pregnancy? Paul badgered the doctor, irked by the constant squalling and nappies. Are we sure its not Janes fault?
The doctor, floored, had never heard a father so fixated on blame rather than help. And what then? she wondered inwardly.
For Paul, everything was Janes faultespecially her reluctance to mix childcare, study, and work.
Switch to distance learningget a grip! My colleagues wives manage! Why cant you? he snapped. Jane gazed at him, just wanting sleepjust a single day of being, not rocking the baby, not feeding or running laundryjust for one day to blink out of existence
Pauls parents helped, to a point, but Jane did everything herselfdoctors appointments, medicines, walks, feeds, endless washing. The monotony and dread wore her down.
Jane once tried to explain, but Paul only grumbled. He had headaches, lab demands, an adulterous flirtation with his assistant Toni, and Jane, with baby in tow, distant as the moon. So many burdens! Mountains!
Ill go back to Mums, Jane announced one morning. Doctor says Tom needs fresh airsunshine. Therell be homemade food, you wont be disturbed.
And your degree? Youll finish, wont you? And youre taking Tom awayfine. His only real concern was that no one would think hed kicked his wife out. Lets not have any gossip, right?
And so Jane was back at her creaky childhood home.
Open up! Here! the front door seemed to sing as Ella huffed up the steps.
Is that youuuu? the door squeaked.
Huuuum went the wind in the chimney.
Shuff-chop, shuff-chop! sang the handsaw as Jane and Ella took down a huge log for kindling.
Those familiar grumbles soothed Jane somewhat. At least Tommys cheeks were filling out; Paul rarely visited, dropped off money, then hurried home.
Heart trouble, Mum, hed explain. She worries unless Im close by.
Jane and Ella understood, or pretended to. Pauls real destination wasnt Mum, of course, but Toni, always dolled up and welcoming, unlike his own wife.
Maybe the country air, maybe Ellas pampering, maybe both, but Tom thrivedlearning words before he could run.
One day hell read the news! the neighbours laughed. Youll see, Janea great man in the making!
Paul started noticing thenTom, a novelty act for him to show off at parties.
But he wasnt eager to bring them back to London.
Too soon. Let him get stronger, hed say, shaking his head at Janes suggestions.
But hes strong now! London has museums, parks, fun! And I miss you, Paul Even Jane struggled to believe herself nowits true, chemistry does have an expiration.
What about your degree? Paul would snap. Youve got three years left.
Ill finish it. Ill go back this autumn. Enrol on the Open University. Tom can go to nursery and
No! Paul barked. Jane flinched. Nurseries are hotbeds for disease.
What about your mum? Can she?
She cant. Bad heart, remember? Why not stay here? Study from homefind a job. Mum can watch Tom. You finish your degree, Ill fetch you later
Such a tidy plan! Jane blinked, speechless.
Paul had been allocated a council flat finallyhed pulled strings for the family unitbut that, of course, could wait a while. Enough room to play house with Toni before Jane got any ideas. Pauls mother seldom visited London now, leaving the situation conveniently muddled. Toni couldnt cook, but ready meals from Little Waitrose were nice enough. Life, as they say, was sorted. Tom was better off in the village
Paul felt a strange relief on the train homeJane and Toni, their names so similar, the ideal mix-up!
Jane swallowed her resentment. Perhaps he was right. She could stay here, finish her degree, let Tom grow in peace.
Or what if she insisted? Packed up and moved to London regardless. Noshe could sense now that he really didnt need her. Tommy, maybe, would be a sweet little garnish.
Soon after, Paul rang to say he was off on a work trip. Not to worry.
Jane didnt. She was far too busy.
The days were brimmed with chores: Tom, the garden, her books. Not a corner left for Paul.
It was while Paul was away that Jane had an unexpected visit from her father-in-law, Andrew. She spotted him, barefoot along the lane, clutching an old holdall.
Hello! Whatever brings you here? Jane ushered him in.
Just fancied seeing my grandson. Brought some treatscars, bits for tea Andrew shifted awkwardly.
Ella met him with polite coolnessthere was always something: baking, the chickens going off, some meeting to attend. Theyd both seemed to silently agree that everything was still all wrong.
Come, Tom, see what Granddad has for you! Andrew called, unpacking toy cars.
Tom shrank away.
Ah. Never mind. Forgotten Granddad, have you? Andrew sighed.
Shall we have some lunch? Ella broke in, laying out a spread and pouring three sherries.
And me? demanded Tommy.
When youre a man, well pour you rum, too. For nowcompote. Sit, love! Ella grinned, ruffling his hair.
Andrew wanted to do the same, but Tommy sidestepped.
Conversation fizzled. Jane wondered again, Whats the old man doing here?
He never said; just ate, smoked his pipe on the doorstep, watched Tommy push his cars through the grass, and left after a while.
No, youre not stopping? Ella asked without complaint. Weathers grand, stay the night!
Andrew, truth be told, didnt care about the weather, only that hed meant to talk about Toni, about fighting for her husbandbut, Ah, its not my place, he told himself. Let them sort it out.
Why did he come? Ella asked once hed gone.
No idea. Doesnt matter, Jane shrugged. Ive got exams next week. Youll watch Tom?
I will, love. Where are you staying, though?
Ive arrangementsone day with tutors, back on the evening train.
But youve got your flat. Go to your husband! Ella gasped.
No flat. Paul said theyre refurbishing, changed the locks. He took my keys. Thats it, Mum. Done! Jane scowled. She wouldnt cry, not now.
Oh, Lord! Jane, are you getting divorced then? Is it is Paul having an affair? Is that why hes not taken you back? Ella rocketed into a panic. Fight for him! A house needs a man, Jane!
Jane had already dashed outside, grabbed a scooting Tommy, and hugged him fiercely.
Heres my man, Mum. No need for any others. Enough.
Jane stood at the bus stop, idly watching city folk scuttling about. Her exams went fine, even got praisedone professor offered her a post at his institute.
But I have a son were living at my mothers for now, Jane protested.
And what of it? Is he a boy? Well, there you are! Well sort you a room and, soon enough, a flat! Youre so young, Jane, and yet you look so sad. Thats a sin, you know! The professor patted her shoulder.
That really was what hed said: looking sad is a sin. Perhaps he was right.
Jane was about to turn away, but then she spotted Paul in the crowd. And there beside him, the work tripa young woman, giggling and sidling up to him.
Jane flushed, turned away, and collided with a passer-by.
Careful, miss! You alright? someone called.
No, Jane very much wasnt. Sometimes life only makes sense through pain, as Grandpa Arnold liked to say, Pain’s a strict tutorshows you how to go on.
Now, Jane finally understood.
Ella could only guess at the true scale of her daughters heartbreak; but guessing was enough for her to start plotting action. She called Pauls parents repeatedly, tried to wheedle out the truth, begged, threatened scandal.
Jane, on finding out, told her mother off in no uncertain terms.
Stop it, Mum! Im not clinging to scraps. If a cask leaks, you toss it. If a jar smashes, you bin it. Im tossing whats broken. Please stop crying! Well be fine. Ill raise Tomour own man in the house.
After that, Ella gave her daughter a little space but couldnt resist one last phone call to Pauls work. A proper row eruptedrumours of Pauls affair shot through the corridors, and he was threatened with the sack. Ella considered it well-deserved.
Jane wouldnt have known Paul was coming back to the village except Ella wore a certain smile. Tommy, too, was beside himself, telling everyone his father the pilot!would be arriving soon.
Hes not a pilot, darling. Hes a chemist, a scientist! Jane tried to correct him.
No, pilot! And I made him an aeroplane! Whens Dad coming, Mum?
Next week, Ella nodded, setting the date.
Ill be ready, Tommy replied, off to the shed for more balsa wood.
Your doing? Jane arched an eyebrow once he was out of earshot.
My doingso what? Men stray. Youre making a fuss about nothing! Ella waved her off, feigning busy-ness. A house needs a manI know full well myself!
The day before Pauls supposed arrival, Tommy could barely sit still, anxious for his fathers approvalhis pilot-father! Then everyone would see: he had a dad, and Mum would finally laugh like Mrs Harris from three doors down.
Armed with his new paints, Tommy set to work on the model, shooing Ella from the shed: Dont peek! Mr Gordon would never show it before its done! he cried.
Early next morning, Jane dressed for the station, despite Ellas anxious pleas. Do at least wear something nice, Janeput on those lovely beads! And forgive him, move on, live together! Ella begged.
Jane hesitated but then, oddly, agreed. Youre right. Ill dress my best.
She chose her exam dress and the beads.
Much better! Ella declared. Bring him home, well see how it goes!
She spotted Paul at oncescowling, nose aloft as if offended by the fresh village air. Sweat stained his shirt, contempt on his face.
So, you got what you wanted? Roped in Mum? You womennever let go! Sucking every last drop, right? Youd be nowhere without us! Parasites! he snapped, looming over Jane. We do the work, you lot just complain. My work found outdo you know what youve done?! Id have forgiven youmaybe! But now youll be back in London with me, but dont think therell be anything else. And when this all blows over, youre out. Dont even think of making a scene. Understood?
Jane burst out laughingproper, free, childhood laughter.
Have you gone mad? Paul faltered.
You, forgive me? For whatleaving us for her? Just go, Paul. Never come back. We didnt want you here. The chemistrys gone? Good! Youre free.
She turned and walked away. Hed have to wait hours for the next trainwell, let him lie, blame her for everything.
Back home, Ella met her at the door.
Tom got tired waitingI put him down for a nap. Is Paul are you going?
He came. Called us snakes. I sent him packing. For good. Going to see Tom.
What will you tell him?
I dont know
Jane crept quietly to the little room where Tom slept, cheeks rosy, mouth ajar, one bare leg poking out from the duvether little man, no matter what.
The next morning, Tom leapt up, model plane still sticky with paint on the floor.
Did he come? Mum, did Dad see my plane? Tommy yelled, darting round the house.
Sit down, have your milk. Hes not coming, love. Jane set out a slice of currant bun.
Not coming? But my planeI made it for him! Did you send him away? Why, Mum? I wanted a dadI wanted a man in the house, like Gran says!
Jane sighed, knelt and hugged him tight until his fury softened into snuffles.
Youre our man, Tommy. You. Im sorry, but Dad isnt coming back.
They sat together a long while, listening to Ella humming morosely in the back garden. Later, Tommy helped his mother haul water, pick carrots, beat the matsJane opened every window, letting summer winds chase dust bunnies from room to room. Tommy swept, then sat with his comics. Her mansmall, but strong.
That evening, Ella baked soft cheese buns for Mr Gordon.
Tommy! Here, love! She beckoned. He shuffled over.
Take these to Mr Gordon, as promised. Remember?
Tommy did. He also remembered that the paints for his proud plane had come from Mr Gordonfor Dad. But Dad hadnt come, and Mum was sad.
I wont go. You go, Mum.
Tommy, itll be too heavy for Mum, go onstrong as an ox, you are! Look at those arms! Take the parcel, off you go! Ella pressed the baked goods into his hands, then called Jane.
Jane! Take these to the artist! Let the poor man have some tea!
Fine. Tommy, lets go. She changed her shoes, and they left.
Mr Gordon sat on his veranda, watching sunlight glint through the hedge, pretending to fish for gold. Whos there? Tommy? Jane? Evening! For me, is it?
He stood, receiving the bundlebut noticed the storm clouds on Tommys face.
Thank youso generous! Why dont you join me for tea? Come on! he offered brightly.
No, we should gohonestly Jane shook her head.
Nows exactly the time to stay. Ive a favour to ask Tommyif its alright by you, Jane. The local airfields just down the lane. Hardly Heathrow, but theyve got planesand I know the lot. Painted half their clubroom. Id like to show Tommy roundif thats alright? Not fishing for friends, just no kids of my own, and itd be a treat
Later, wide-eyed, Tommy gazed at the real planesneat on the grass, glinting in the light, just as hed imagined. He clung to Janes hand, scarcely breathing.
Is this our new pilot? asked a sunburnt man in checked shirt and breezy trousers as he appeared.
No, someone even younger. This is Tim, the new ace, Mr Gordon joked.
Well, lets get a look at these beautiesif Mum doesnt mind? the pilot smiled at Jane.
She shrugged. Why not.
Mind you, girl pilots fly too, Tommy! Come onlets look at the planes!
As they wandered among the aircraft, Jane and Mr Gordon lingered on the grass.
Everything passes, Jane. Everything. And the new that comesmight just be wonderful. Trust me?
She nodded.
Whats up with your radio this morning, Ma? a deep voice bellowed from the kitchen. Tomnow all height and sharp elbowsbarely fit through the door.
Radios on the blinkand what time did you come home, young man? Jane teased, smiling at her boy-turned-man. He could look so fierce after a nap.
Well, you see, it was Oh, Mum! Youve unplugged it againhows it going to work? Tom grumbled, fixing it in a flash. The crooners voice sprang to life: Down by the old, willow tree
Lovely voice! Thanks, Tim! Ive made cheese fritters. Want sour cream?
Ta, Mum. Whyre you looking at me like that? Tom yawned, scraping up cream. By the way, Ill put that shelf up later if you get me some screws. Make a list or Ill forget. Alsonearly slipped my mindDenis rang again, looking for you. Ma, just be straight with meare you and him?
Dont be cheeky! What is it with you? Jane shot back, but grinned. We do see each other, she admitted, but not as you mean.
I can tell he makes you happy. Is he your dream man? Tom grinned, planting a cream moustache on her cheek.
My dream man? You, obviously! Jane chuckled. Look at younow I need a wash!
Just admit you like him. Good. I remember himthe pilot bloke, showed me round the airfield. I was tiny. Dont blush, Ma! You two are hopeless! Anyway, let Denis put the shelf up, Im swampedfinals, meeting Sophie lateroh crikey, shell throw a wobbly! Loves a pain, Mawhys it so tricky?
All the best things are complicated, Tim. It means you treasure them, Jane called after him. Her main man had grown up.
The shelfwell, Denis could put that up. Tim barely had time between Sophie and exams. What can you do? Sons raised with care simply drift oninto other homes, carving their own path as housemen, loving partners. Thats the secret, perhaps, of raising the best sons.
And Paul? Paul carried on with Toni. She got pregnant, so Paul quickly sorted a divorce and remarried. Toni, a simple sort, was daughter to the indomitable Mrs Spelman, who managed the family purse with military precision. Furs and new boots aboundedlife, you might say, was entirely under new management.
The main thing, Toni, is to have a man with money in the house, Mrs Spelman crowed. Well decide everything else ourselves.
Couldnt have put it better, Mum! chirped Toni, slamming the kitchen door behind Paul. Eat later. Dont whinge, Petey! Thats that.But Janes house, sun-warmed and alive with Sunday chaos, thrummed with a steadier music. Laughter rolled in under the door, from Ella gossiping with the postman over ripe cucumbers, and Janes new shelfa little lopsided, a little perfectwaited for fresh library books and a stray robins feather.
With a quick glance toward the window, Jane caught her reflectionolder, braver, smiling at the morning. Tim had gone, the kitchen was quiet as a held breath, and somewhere, beyond hedges and memories, the planes droned softly over green fields.
She picked up the striped mug Denis had left, thumb resting where his hand had warmed the china. Not everything came easy, nor as expected. Sometimes the best hands to steady a home were the ones you raised yourselfor those offered gently, unexpectedly, on long afternoons when the heart was ready again.
As twilight deepened, Jane hauled open the gate and whistled for Bramblea little stiffer now, but game as ever. Come, old boy. Lets walk, she called, and he sprang to her side, tail held high.
The lane glimmered, fireflies winking between cow parsley and sorrel. Overhead, a single silver plane crossed the sky, red light winking in the velvet dusk. Jane closed her eyes for a heartbeat, breathed the scent of sweet grass and coming rain, and turned back toward the lamp-lit housea place pieced together by love, stubbornness, and laughter.
Inside, Ella was humming about men and houses, baking and belonging. But Jane just grinned, knowing the strongest walls were built not by fists or money, but by living, learningchoosing, every morning, to open the door.
And so the house carried on, full and bright, needing only the people who chose to stay.
