Mum in the Middle: Feel good, funny and unforgettable. Jane Wenham-Jones

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      He marched on through the outer office. ‘I’m going to Rosie’s’ he bellowed to the room in general.

      The girl nearest us rolled her eyes. ‘He goes there every day and has done for about twenty years. It would only be worth shouting about if he wasn’t going to Rosie’s.’

      She pushed her keyboard away from her and opened a drawer, pulling out a foil package. ‘It’s your turn to make coffee, Gabe,’ she said, unwrapping sandwiches.

      Gabriel, who was still standing in the doorway shell-shocked, looked at me. ‘Would you like a coffee, Tess?’ he asked politely. ‘I’ve got those things for you.’

      He led me to a desk in the corner of the room and offered me the chair. ‘Thanks for what you said.’ He gave a small smile as he handed me a mug and fetched a second chair to sit next to me on. ‘Sorry about the mess.’ He pushed a pile of paper aside so I could put my coffee down.

      I smiled back. ‘No worries. It was a good article.’

      Gabriel went slightly pink – looking touchingly pleased and grateful. Then he pulled a face. ‘Not according to the big boss. I was only trying to help …’

      It seemed Gabriel had offered this bloke he knew, Sean, who had a replacement windows and conservatories company, a good mention in the paper if he replaced Jinni’s broken glass and sorted out another rotten frame or two for her, to cheer her up after what had happened.

      But Gabriel had taken Sean’s word for it that Sean was the longest-established windows firm in Northstone, and one of Malcolm’s friends had phoned him up this morning to complain, that in fact HE owned the oldest glazing company in the area and so Malcolm was furious because this friend was the chairman of the Rotary Club Malcolm belonged to, none too pleased at one of his competitors getting all those column inches.

      ‘He says I should have checked,’ Gabriel said ruefully.

      ‘Well, has he?’ I asked indignantly. ‘He’s taking the word of this Rotary Club chap, isn’t he?’

      Gabriel looked at me in admiration. ‘I didn’t think of that.’

      As I got up to leave, I recognised Emily, the pretty young blonde girl who’d been at the quiz, coming towards us with a carrier bag. She stopped at Gabriel’s desk and pulled out a baguette and a diet coke. ‘I got you these,’ she said, looking even more adoring than she had in the pub.

      Gabriel smiled at her. ‘That is really kind of you,’ he said.

      Emily flushed and looked at her nails, clearly not sure whether to stay or leave us. I helped her out.

      ‘I’m off, then,’ I said, putting my handbag over my shoulder and picking up the flyer for Ben and a booklet of Things-to-do-in-Northstone, which Gabriel very sweetly thought would help me make friends.

      He kissed me on the cheek and I saw Emily look longingly at him. ‘Thank you,’ he said, with feeling – his slightly lost and emotionally battered look bringing out in me a surge of motherly concern.

      It must have been the thought of how I’d feel if it was one of my boys being so unfairly judged because I am not usually given to bursts of assertiveness – not unless really roused – but the sight of Malcolm through the window of Rosie’s Bistro opposite, tucking in without a care in the world, filled me with a flush of outrage on poor Gabriel’s behalf.

      The young man had helped Jinni out and brightened her up again and so what if he’d given a bit of a plug to the chap who’d done the work for free. It was a simple bartering system and what was wrong with that? It was really quite inventive and creative of Gabriel and weren’t we, as a society, always complaining that the youth of today weren’t sufficiently resourceful or self-motivated? The reporter’s heart had been In the Right Place and it was completely unreasonable of Malcolm to shout like that. Where the whole office could hear too!

      Malcolm looked up and saw me looking at him through the glass and waved. I might have left it if he’d seemed embarrassed at his earlier bad temper but he appeared quite pleased with himself. Before I knew it, I had pushed open the door and was standing in front of him, trembling with indignation, but preparing to make a calm, carefully thought-out speech about working practices, ethics and man management.

      ‘I think you are bang out of order!’ I said.

      Malcolm finished the last mouthful of whatever it had been – clearly something with gravy – and put his knife and fork together. Then carefully dabbed at the corners of his mouth with his napkin.

      ‘Excellent,’ he said. ‘Would you like a pudding?’

      ‘The boy’s an idiot,’ Malcolm handed me a menu. ‘The treacle tart is rather good or are you one of those annoying females who fusses about her food?’

      ‘No, I’m not,’ I said primly, wanting to refuse him but suddenly realising I was absolutely starving.

      ‘Or the blackberry and apple crumble,’ Malcolm added. ‘I’m not supposed to, but I do.’ He looked up as the waitress appeared. ‘I’ll have that. With custard.’

      ‘It’s not a case of “one of my friends”,’ said Malcolm when the waitress had gone again. ‘He’s one of our biggest advertisers. Whether I like him or not is irrelevant. I don’t let friendships affect my newspaper. This other Johnnie-come-lately has apparently only been trading half the time Roger has, and as for being “award-winning”, that’s absolute balls. Never won a thing. He’s a known bodger and Roger says half his business is putting right what this other cowboys got wrong. Of course, he’s disgruntled to see him getting free coverage in an article full of inaccuracies.’

      ‘How do you know that’s all true, though?’ I asked feebly, already knowing the answer.

      Malcolm looked scathing.

      ‘Because I Googled Companies House, read reviews online and asked Grace on reception what the general opinion was. She knows everything about everyone.’ He leant back and scrutinised me. ‘Why do you care?’

      ‘I felt sorry for Gabriel – I’d hate it if someone shouted at one of my kids like that. He was only trying to use his initiative. And it was kind of him to help Jinni.’

      ‘Kind?’ Malcolm’s tone was pitying. ‘He’s a journalist – it’s not his job to be kind. He was just trying to pad the story out because he didn’t really have one.’ Malcolm sat up straighter as the waitress reappeared bearing two bowls. ‘But he’s not as clever as he thinks he is.’

      He dipped a spoon into the steaming fruit and custard that had been placed in front of him, put it his mouth and sighed with satisfaction.

      ‘I’m trying to educate him,’ he said when he’d swallowed. ‘My trainees do things properly and go on to better things. I’m not going to let some silly American boy be any different.’ He plunged his spoon in again.

      As I took my first bite of strawberry cheesecake, I remembered what Gabriel had told me about Malcolm being very well thought of in the industry and how his last intern had landed a job on the sports desk of the Daily Mail, and decided Malcolm probably took a fatherly interest in Gabriel and was simply trying to teach him the ropes.

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