owners had taken pride in their own homes.
Jackson had felt utter despair the day his mother told him what she had done. She had been conned. Taken into a show home and given a glass of cheap fizzy wine and bamboozled by a spotty youth in a cheap suit and white socks, who had convinced her this was the best place for her to invest her savings. She’d had a fair old nest egg, Cilla, because she’d always been a saver. And Jackson was shocked by her naiveté. Couldn’t she see the park homes would lose value the minute the ink was dry on the contract? Couldn’t she see the management fee was laughably high? Couldn’t she see that the park owners had absolutely no incentive to keep their promises once all the homes were leased? As a scam it was genius. But it made him sick to his stomach that his mother was now going to be forced to live out her days here. No one wanted to buy on Paradise Pines. Word was that you went there to die. It was one step away from the graveyard.
And now here he was, living with her in the place he had come to hate. It had only been supposed to be temporary. When Mia had first thrown him out, two years ago, when Finn was three, he had thought it wouldn’t be long before she allowed him back. He knew now he’d been useless, but he just hadn’t been ready to be a dad. It had been a shock, the realisation that a baby was there round the clock. It had been too easy for him to slide out of his share of the childcare, coming home late from work, stopping off at the pub on the way, having a few too many beers.
And to be fair to him, Mia had changed. Motherhood had made her overanxious, sharp. She fussed over Finn too much, and Jackson told her repeatedly to stop worrying. It had caused a lot of friction between them. He spent more and more time out of the house, not wanting to come back to arguments and disapproval and crying (usually Finn’s, sometimes Mia’s). He tried to do his best but somehow he always managed to end up displeasing her. So it seemed easier to stay out of her way.
Then she’d booted him out, the night he’d come back half cut at one in the morning, when she’d been dealing with a puking Finn for four hours and had to change the sheets twice when she’d taken him into bed with her, desperate for a moment’s respite. Jackson had protested – how was he to know the baby had a tummy bug? But he knew he was in the wrong and had got everything he deserved.
He thought it was only going to be temporary, that Mia was just giving him a short sharp shock. But she didn’t want him back.
‘It’s easier without you,’ she said. ‘It’s easier to do everything all on my own, without being disappointed or let down. I’m sorry, Jackson.’
He didn’t bother knocking on the flimsy white door, just pushed it open. There was his mum, in the gloom of the caravan. Wolfie lay at her feet but jumped up as soon as Jackson came in. At least someone was glad to see him. He’d got Wolfie once it was clear Mia wasn’t going to have him back. He’d gone to the dog rescue place and looked at everything they had: Jack Russells and collies and mastiffs. At the far end was a Bedlington lurcher, far too big to be practical and ridiculously scruffy. But he’d reminded Jackson of himself. He was a good dog, deep down, but sometimes he couldn’t help himself … How could he resist?
His mum was as delighted to see him as Wolfie was. Her face lit up, her eyes shone. He still couldn’t get over how frail she looked. He didn’t want to admit to himself that his mum wasn’t getting any younger. He was going to cook her a decent dinner. He was no chef, but he’d bought some chicken pieces and some vegetables with the cash he’d been given.
She’d always taken pride in cooking them proper meals when they were young but somewhere, between husbands three and four, she’d lost interest in food.
He didn’t want to look at his once beautiful mother, sitting in her chair, bird-like and frail.
Jackson had felt utter despair the day his mother told him what she had done. She had been conned. Taken into a show home and given a glass of cheap fizzy wine and bamboozled by a spotty youth in a cheap suit and white socks, who had convinced her this was the best place for her to invest her savings. She’d had a fair old nest egg, Cilla, because she’d always been a saver. And Jackson was shocked by her naiveté. Couldn’t she see the park homes would lose value the minute the ink was dry on the contract? Couldn’t she see the management fee was laughably high? Couldn’t she see that the park owners had absolutely no incentive to keep their promises once all the homes were leased? As a scam it was genius. But it made him sick to his stomach that his mother was now going to be forced to live out her days here. No one wanted to buy on Paradise Pines. Word was that you went there to die. It was one step away from the graveyard.
And now here he was, living with her in the place he had come to hate. It had only been supposed to be temporary. When Mia had first thrown him out, two years ago, when Finn was three, he had thought it wouldn’t be long before she allowed him back. He knew now he’d been useless, but he just hadn’t been ready to be a dad. It had been a shock, the realisation that a baby was there round the clock. It had been too easy for him to slide out of his share of the childcare, coming home late from work, stopping off at the pub on the way, having a few too many beers.
And to be fair to him, Mia had changed. Motherhood had made her overanxious, sharp. She fussed over Finn too much, and Jackson told her repeatedly to stop worrying. It had caused a lot of friction between them. He spent more and more time out of the house, not wanting to come back to arguments and disapproval and crying (usually Finn’s, sometimes Mia’s). He tried to do his best but somehow he always managed to end up displeasing her. So it seemed easier to stay out of her way.
Then she’d booted him out, the night he’d come back half cut at one in the morning, when she’d been dealing with a puking Finn for four hours and had to change the sheets twice when she’d taken him into bed with her, desperate for a moment’s respite. Jackson had protested – how was he to know the baby had a tummy bug? But he knew he was in the wrong and had got everything he deserved.
He thought it was only going to be temporary, that Mia was just giving him a short sharp shock. But she didn’t want him back.
‘It’s easier without you,’ she said. ‘It’s easier to do everything all on my own, without being disappointed or let down. I’m sorry, Jackson.’
He didn’t bother knocking on the flimsy white door, just pushed it open. There was his mum, in the gloom of the caravan. Wolfie lay at her feet but jumped up as soon as Jackson came in. At least someone was glad to see him. He’d got Wolfie once it was clear Mia wasn’t going to have him back. He’d gone to the dog rescue place and looked at everything they had: Jack Russells and collies and mastiffs. At the far end was a Bedlington lurcher, far too big to be practical and ridiculously scruffy. But he’d reminded Jackson of himself. He was a good dog, deep down, but sometimes he couldn’t help himself … How could he resist?
His mum was as delighted to see him as Wolfie was. Her face lit up, her eyes shone. He still couldn’t get over how frail she looked. He didn’t want to admit to himself that his mum wasn’t getting any younger. He was going to cook her a decent dinner. He was no chef, but he’d bought some chicken pieces and some vegetables with the cash he’d been given.
She’d always taken pride in cooking them proper meals when they were young but somewhere, between husbands three and four, she’d lost interest in food.
He didn’t want to look at his once beautiful mother, sitting in her chair, bird-like and frail.
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