If Only I Could Tell You



Jess snapped the sun visor shut, got out of the car and ran into the building, following black-and-white signs up the stairs to a large square room that might have seemed welcoming were it not for the metal bars across the windows. Inside, her mum stood by a piano next to a tall, curly-haired man about the same age as Jess in the otherwise empty room.

‘I’m sorry I’m so late, Mum. The shoot ran on for ever and when we finally wrapped, the owner of the house accused us of scratching the floorboards in the hallway, which I knew for a fact we hadn’t, but it took ages to find the photographs I’d taken on the recce to prove him wrong. I’m really sorry.’ Her voice was breathless and she could hear herself rambling.

‘Don’t worry, darling. You should have let me get a cab. Anyway, Ben’s been keeping me entertained with stories of his various travels. Ben, this is my younger daughter, Jess. Jess, this is Ben, who’s running the choir.’

Jess shook Ben’s outstretched hand, only half reciprocating his broad smile.

‘Hey, Jess. It’s good to meet you.’

‘Yep, you too. So did it all go OK, Mum? Do you want to tell me about it in the car? I don’t want to hurry you but I’m in a residents’ parking bay and I don’t want to get a ticket.’

Her mum hesitated, and Jess glanced down at her watch, wondering whether Mia had eaten dinner already, wishing she’d had time to phone her before she’d left work.

‘Yes, of course. But Ben was just telling me about his travels in South America. He’s been to so many interesting places – Argentina, Chile, Bolivia, Brazil. You’ve always wanted to go to Patagonia, haven’t you?’

Jess swivelled her key ring around her finger, felt it dig into her flesh. ‘Yes, but I don’t think that’s very likely in the near future. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude but I’ve still got a mountain of work to do for tomorrow’s shoot and I do need to get back to the car. Do you think we could get going?’

‘You know, Audrey, I could always run you home from rehearsals, if that’s helpful? You’re Shepherd’s Bush, right? I’m Chiswick. It seems silly to drag your daughter here when I could easily drop you back.’

‘Oh, I couldn’t possibly impose on you like that. It’s really very kind, but I can easily get a cab.’

‘Honestly, it’s no trouble at all. Saturdays would be tricky as I have private piano students straight after but Wednesday nights really aren’t a problem. Seriously, it’s crazy you paying for a cab or getting your family to collect you when I’m practically driving past your door.’

‘Mum, just say yes, for goodness’ sake. He’s obviously very happy to do it.’

An echo of impatience lingered in the air. Jess noticed a tinge of pink heat her mum’s cheeks, saw Ben look down at the piano keys as though he might have left something on top of them. She watched as her mum pulled a tissue from her handbag, coughed into it and rolled it into a ball before slipping it back inside.

‘Well, if you’re sure, Ben, that really is very kind of you. Jess, I’m sorry to be a pain but I just need to use the bathroom quickly. You go ahead and I’ll see you at the car.’

Standing next to Jess’s car, looking at her registration plate and tapping digits into a handheld device, was a short, stout middle-aged man in a notorious bottle-green uniform.

‘You’ve got to be kidding me. I’ve only been gone a couple of minutes.’

The traffic warden glanced at Jess and then back at his machine, continuing to fill in the details of her parking ticket even as he replied. ‘You saw the sign? Then you shouldn’t be surprised you got a ticket.’

‘I only left the car for a moment while I ran inside to collect my mum. Isn’t there some rule about five minutes’ grace?’

The warden pulled a small digital camera from his pocket, turned it on and revealed a photograph of Jess’s car. ‘See the time there, in the bottom left-hand corner? What does that say? Twenty-one thirteen. And what time is it now? Twenty-one nineteen. By my calculation that’s six minutes.’

He jabbed a finger one last time at his machine and it whirred into life, a ticket rolling out of the top. He held it towards Jess, eyebrows raised as if daring her to challenge him.

‘Really? You really want to give me a ticket? For God’s sake, you people. How do you sleep at night?’ She snatched the piece of paper from his hand and got into the car, slamming the door behind her before he had a chance to respond. She watched as he sauntered off down the street, glancing at each windscreen he passed.

Her eyes skimmed over the ticket to assess the damage. Forty pounds. Or double that if she failed to pay within fourteen days.

Jess did a quick mental calculation. Her tax was due but she had the money set aside for that. Mia needed fifty pounds for a school theatre trip to Stratford-upon-Avon, and the shower in the bathroom still needed fixing three months after it had been reduced to a light drizzle. And she was still paying off her credit card for the laptop she’d bought Mia for her birthday in January. Where another forty pounds would come from she had no idea.

Folding the ticket in two, she shoved it into the bottom of her bag. She couldn’t face the awkward tussle that would ensue if her mum saw it: her mum would insist on paying it and Jess would refuse, both knowing that Jess couldn’t afford it but that she would rather forgo breakfast and lunch for a month than accept charity. There’d been enough contention about money when her mum had agreed to move in. She’d wanted to contribute towards food, bills and even the mortgage but Jess had refused. She’d told her then what she’d said repeatedly over the years: she had no intention of accepting handouts. Ever since Iain had walked out, just before Mia’s first birthday, offering only minimal contributions since, Jess had supported herself and Mia. She hadn’t been prepared to forgo her independence just because her mum was moving in with them.

Her phone bleeped and she retrieved it from her bag to find a message from Mia.

Are you nearly home? I was about to make some hot chocolate and I’ll do some for you and Granny if you’ll be back soon?

Jess checked the time. It was almost nine thirty. She’d left the house before it was light and hadn’t seen Mia for almost twenty-four hours. She dialled Mia’s number, picking at the skin around her thumbnail as she waited for an answer.

‘Hi, Mum. Where are you?’

‘Just collecting Granny from her choir audition. Is everything OK?’

‘Yes. I just wondered when you were going to be home.’

‘We should be back in fifteen minutes. Why don’t I pop to the Co-op and get some of that tortellini you like and we can have a late dinner together?’

‘Thanks, but I’ve already eaten.’

‘What did you have?’

‘Cheese on toast.’

‘That’s not a proper dinner. Let me make you something when I get home. There might be some soup in the freezer – we could defrost it in the microwave.’

‘There’s not. I already checked. There’s nothing in the freezer except a bag of crumpets and some pastry.’

Jess glanced out of the car window and back down the street, wondering what was taking her mum so long. ‘Well, I could still pick something up. You need to eat – cheese on toast isn’t enough. Anyway, have you finished all your homework? Isn’t your essay on The Taming of the Shrew due in on Friday?’

‘I’m halfway through it. I’ll finish it tomorrow night.’

Jess thought about her work schedule for the next day. It was unlikely she’d be at home in time for dinner with Mia tomorrow either. ‘Wouldn’t it be better to finish it tonight and then you can read it through fresh tomorrow?’

There was a moment’s hesitation and Jess thought she could hear in the silence the cogs whirring in Mia’s head.

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