Unsaid, but there between them, had been the silent criticism that since she had to go out to work to support them it was his responsibility to take charge of the children during the school holidays. Cathy was at an age where she wanted to spend more time with her friends than with her family. Joel frowned, remembering the way Sally had snapped at him when he had commented that he felt that they might be allowing Cathy to grow up too fast.
It had given him a shock to see her by accident in town with her friends, a mini-skirted bunch of alarmingly adult-looking young women, tossing their hair and pouting feigned uninterest in the comments of the boys watching them.
‘She’s fifteen, Sally,’ he had protested, uneasily aware of how very sexual she had looked with her long mane of hair and her make-up.
‘Exactly,’ Sally had retorted. ‘And at fifteen these days girls consider that they are grown-up… perhaps if you’d paid a bit more attention to her recently and a bit less feeling sorry for yourself you might have realised that. She’s not a fool, Joel.’
‘No, but I don’t want…’ He had shaken his head. How could he convey to Sally the way he had felt when he had seen… ?
At first glance, not recognising his own daughter among the crowd of girls, he had done what any other man would have done, and turned his head to give them a second absently-appraising glance, amused by their studied pretence of uninterest in the boys watching them, aware of the burgeoning sexuality evident in their long hair and even longer legs.
Surely when he was fifteen girls of that age had looked like girls, not… ? Did Sally realise how vulnerable Cathy was…? His heart had turned over as he’d watched one of the boys approaching her, all his protective paternal instincts rushing to the fore. He had only just managed to stop himself from going over to her to find out what was going on, who the boy was.
It had, he admitted, shocked and disturbed him to realise that his daughter, his little girl, had somehow suddenly turned into a sexually attractive and vulnerable young woman.
He had wanted to confide his anxiety to Sally, but instead of listening to him Sally had become angry, and she had been angry as well at the way he had reorganised the kitchen cupboards, claiming that it was impossible for her to find anything.
‘Instead of doing that, you could have gone round to Daphne’s and started on her decorating,’ she had complained.
Well, her precious sister’s wallpapering was done now, Joel reflected grimly as he went to find Paul.
They had arranged to meet in the leisure centre’s restaurant. He was with several other boys when Joel walked in. One of them was one of the boys Joel was coaching.
‘Still want to play snooker?’ he asked Paul as he reached them.
‘Yeah, I suppose I might as well,’ Paul agreed carelessly, but there was a slight swagger in his walk as he came over to join him, Joel noticed.
‘Are you going to Aunty Daphne’s this afternoon?’ Paul asked him later.
‘No,’ Joel told him. ‘I finished her wallpapering yesterday.’
His face hardened as he remembered Sally’s sister’s comment when he had told her that the room was finished.
‘Mmm… doesn’t look too bad,’ she had told him critically. ‘Of course it’s a pity there wasn’t time for us to get a proper decorator in, especially since the wallpaper was so expensive. We had to order it specially, of course, and I particularly wanted the room finished this week. We’re having a dinner party; it’s our turn to entertain the headmaster and his wife to dinner… I shan’t embarrass you by offering you money, Joel. I know how touchy you can be. I’ll take Sally out and treat her to a nice lunch instead. She deserves a bit of spoiling, poor girl.’ Her mouth had pursed disapprovingly as she looked at Joel.
‘She’s working far too hard, you know. When I saw her the other day I thought that she looked as though she was the elder of the two of us, she looked so exhausted… but then I don’t suppose she has much option, poor girl, with you and the children to support.’
Joel had managed to wait to vent his temper until he had left the house.
‘What the hell is she trying to make out, Sally?’ he had demanded later. ‘That I like being out of work… being dependent on you…?’
‘Oh, Joel, please… she’s my sister… Naturally she…’
‘Naturally she what? Naturally she thinks I’m a lazy sod who enjoys living off his wife… and is that what you think as well, Sal?’
‘Oh, Joel, please, not another argument,’ Sally had begged wearily.
How could he explain to her, make her understand that he didn’t want to argue… he just wanted to put his side, to hear her say that she understood, that she knew how bad he felt, that she didn’t blame him for what had happened?
Perhaps Neil had a point, he reflected later as he and Paul walked home. Perhaps it might be worth while thinking about taking some kind of course, getting some professional qualification.
He was enjoying the time he spent at the centre; he liked coaching, the work he was doing, enjoyed watching his pupils’ confidence and skills improve. It gave him a real buzz, made him feel good… made him feel that there was some purpose in life. He lengthened his stride, suddenly eager to get home. Neil had given him a number to ring—the professional organisation who would be able to tell him about the options open to him if he took his advice and tried to get some professional qualifications.
* * *
‘Brown bread,’ Paul complained when Joel called both his children down for their tea. ‘I don’t like brown bread. I want white.’
‘What’s this?’ Cathy demanded, poking suspiciously at the lasagne Joel had made. ‘It hasn’t got any meat in it, has it?’