The Skeleton Tree by Diane Janes (reading women TXT) 📕

similar age to themselves, Jamie wanted to know when they would be coming to stay on a reciprocal visit.

A holiday atmosphere prevailed as Bruce drove towards Darlington. The children began to play a game with the registration numbers of the cars they passed, though Wendy noticed that no one invited her to join in. They arrived on the platform with ten minutes to spare and, having already received his weekend pocket money, Jamie insisted on being taken to the shop to buy some sweets. Tara followed Jamie and Bruce, saying something about getting a magazine to read on the journey, while Katie wandered along the platform to look at a notice board about the old Stockton to Darlington Railway. Wendy was left alone with Tara’s suitcase. Judging from its weight, she assumed that her daughter had packed her entire wardrobe.

Katie returned first. ‘This was the first railway station in the whole world,’ she said.

‘Was it really?’ Wendy’s attention was focussed further up the platform. Catching trains made her nervous. Trains did not wait for people who had dispersed to buy confectionery or visit the loo.

‘When is the train coming?’ Katie asked.

‘In about four minutes. I wish they’d all hurry up.’

‘Shall I go and fetch them?’

‘No, it’s all right. Here they come now.’ She managed to stop herself making hurry-up gestures with her hands. She knew it irritated Bruce. Instead she glanced up at the clock again.

‘Who’s that man?’ Katie said. ‘The one who’s waving at us.’

Wendy swivelled round at the same moment as Tara arrived beside her.

‘Oh, look, it’s John,’ Tara said. ‘Hello …’ she called down the platform to him.

John raised his arm again in greeting, picked up an enormous black barrel bag, which he swung effortlessly over his shoulder, and strolled across to join them. Wendy spared a hasty glance at Bruce.

‘Tara, Mr Thornton, Mrs Thornton.’ He nodded politely at them, his blond hair flopping forward slightly as he spoke. Wendy noticed that he still had his moustache. She wondered if Tara had ever reported back Bruce’s comments about him being just a bricklayer. Tara had not mentioned him for weeks and Wendy had therefore assumed that she was no longer seeing him. Now his presence on the platform conjured up a variety of alternative possibilities.

‘Going on holiday?’ he asked Bruce.

‘We’re here to see Tara on to the train.’

‘I’m going to see my father in Solihull.’ Tara beamed.

‘No? Straight up? You’ll be going all the way to New Street then?’

The train was approaching the platform. The lad’s surprise seemed genuine, but Wendy was not convinced. Were the bricklayer and her daughter playing out an elaborate charade?

‘Are you going to Birmingham too?’ Tara asked.

‘Yup. Going down to Brum to stay with Mum and Dad.’

Neither of them looked displeased by the discovery that they would be travelling on the same train.

‘Well, this is great,’ John said. ‘Now I’ll have someone to talk to. The journey doesn’t half drag otherwise.’

The train doors were being flung open. ‘Plenty of seats,’ he said. ‘Here, I’ll carry it.’ He picked up Tara’s case, making light work of both their bags as he waited politely while she pecked each of the family on the cheek and Jamie demanded that she bring him back a present. As John led the way on to the train, Wendy watched him warily. There was something almost threatening about his masculinity. He seemed different from the John she had seen on an almost daily basis when he was working on the house. She had not properly noticed then how dangerously attractive he was. Tara followed him on to the train and turned to slam the door closed behind them. They momentarily disappeared from view, emerging a moment later in the windows of the carriage. John was looking back at Tara as she followed him down the aisle, laughing at something she said. They got a table to themselves, Tara seating herself beside the window and waving happily as the train began to move, while John finished stowing the luggage. The coaches moved steadily along the platform until Tara was carried beyond their view, just as John took the seat opposite her.

‘Can we stay and see some more trains?’ Jamie was asking.

‘No, we can’t. Come on, don’t you want your supper? It’s Chinese takeaway, remember.’ Bruce seemed relentlessly cheerful. Wendy kept glancing sideways at him in the car, but it didn’t appear to be an act.

They left the children sitting in the car outside when they went in to pick up the takeaway. ‘You’re very quiet,’ Bruce said, after he had placed their order and they had moved across to the waiting area, which was furnished with plastic-covered bench seats and a coffee table with an ancient Woman’s Own and a somewhat distressed copy of the Daily Mirror.

‘That’s because I’m worried sick.’

‘Why? Now what’s the matter?’

Wendy was incredulous. ‘Well, do you really think it was an accident? Them meeting on the station platform like that?’

‘What, you mean Tara and that John?’

‘Of course. Who on earth else would I mean?’

Bruce shrugged. ‘I don’t know. The bloke was going down to see his parents. He probably goes down every other week, gets his washing done and eats them out of house and home. You know what young lads are like.’

‘You know what young lads are like,’ she echoed, incredulous. ‘Well, you certainly thought you knew what they were like when you first kicked off about her seeing him. We should have stopped her going.’

‘Wendy, we’ve been through all this before. She’s entitled to go and meet Robert if she wants to.’

‘This isn’t about Robert, it’s about John.’

‘For heaven’s sake, I can’t keep up with this. She’ll sit with him on the train for a couple of hours, then they’ll both get off at New Street and go their separate ways.’

‘But will they?’ She lowered her voice, conscious that a fat, middle-aged man who had placed his order just before them was becoming increasingly interested in their conversation.

‘What exactly are you trying to say?’