Page 24 of Forever, Maybe

Chapter eighteen

“Dinnae blame me! I’ve nae idea where he is!”

The voice startled Nell, who had been flicking through a paperback in WHSmith at Central Station. The book, The (Not-so) Subtle Art of Not Giving a F**k , promised its readers that by embracing their limitations, they’d find true happiness. An intriguing premise, for sure.

“Fine, fine. If he turns up, I’ll send him straight back wi’ his tail between his legs,” the voice continued.

Nell turned her head, curiosity flaring into recognition. The speaker was a man—red hair, bulging blue eyes, phone jammed to his ear as he deliberated over chocolate bars, picking them up and putting them down.

Tadgh. That was his name. Heat rushed to Nell’s cheeks as the memory of their encounter at Lock Down last weekend crashed over her. Not that he’d seemed to mind. There had been a mild flirtation, which she’d secretly enjoyed. It was nice to feel attractive, especially on a day when she hadn’t.

Tadgh chose a king-size Twix, oblivious to the fact he was paying double what it cost at the Co-op less than a hundred yards away. At the till, he slapped down a tenner, pocketing the pitiful change as his phone rang again.

“Ryan, you wee shite bag!” he exclaimed, his voice cutting through the shop.

Nell’s ears pricked up. Ryan. The name of his nephew, the photo of whom she’d drunkenly mistaken for that of a teenaged Danny.

Keeping a cautious distance, she followed Tadgh as he weaved toward the station concourse, curiosity outweighing her reluctance. She couldn’t make out Ryan’s side of the call, but Tadgh’s response was immediate.

“Alright, alright! For one night only, then you’re off home again wi’ a big sorry for your mum, you hear me?”

He stopped abruptly, shoving the phone into his pocket. Nell skidded to a halt just in time to avoid colliding with him. Heart pounding, she spun on her heel and darted toward the departure boards, feigning nonchalance.

The Edinburgh train, which had been due in half-an-hour ago at twenty-one minutes past two, was, in true-to-form Scotrail fashion, running half an hour late.

She returned to WHSmith and contributed to their profits by buying The (Not-so) Subtle Art .

If she had so many limitations, she might as well learn to embrace them.

Book in hand, she found a seat on the concourse and settled in to wait for the train.

Her mind wandered back to Ryan. He must have fallen out with his mother.

Over what, though? Could be anything. Maybe she’d banned him from endless hours on the PlayStation, or maybe it was the state of his bedroom—a bombsite of discarded clothes, unwashed mugs and dishes and the inevitable stuck-together-with-unspeakable-substances tissues.

She grimaced. Perhaps, worst of all, she’d walked in on him mid… activity.

Who’d want to be the mother of a teenage boy?

“Not me,” she muttered under her breath, grateful no one was close enough to hear. “Not ever.”

The arrivals board pinged with an update.

For once, the gods of public transport seemed merciful, as the train she awaited was now due in five minutes.

She shot up from her seat and hurried to the barriers, eager to ensure hers was among the first faces her parents saw as they came down the platform.

It took a while. The steady stream of passengers drifted past until, finally, she spotted two familiar figures approaching the barriers.

When she’d phoned on Monday afternoon with the invitation to come up early, Cate had leapt at the idea. “Oh, yes, love! Wouldn’t that be wonderful!” she’d said enthusiastically, before Bobby gently took the phone from her.

“Nell, that’s a kind thought,” he said, measured as always, “but Lee’s oldest has their graduation on Wednesday, and we promised to be there. You remember, don’t you, Cate?”

Cate’s failure to recall her grandson’s big day had stuck with Nell, as though proving Artie’s point.

Her older half-brother Lee had dismissed her concerns when she’d called to ask if he’d noticed anything.

“Mum’s fine,” he’d insisted breezily. “Bobby’s right.

All older people get a bit forgetful. It just stands out with her because she used to have a mind like a steel trap—remembering the names of folk, jobs, even their kids, years later. ”

Now, the two figures toddling toward her, dressed for the occasion—Cate in a belted coat and dress, Bobby in a shirt, jacket and tie, as if train travel were an event—didn’t notice her frantic waving and shouts of “Yoo-hoo, hello!” until they were nearly at the barrier.

“Hello, my darling!” Cate exclaimed, her face lighting up as Bobby fished around in his jacket pocket for their tickets, holding up the queue behind him.

And then they were through. Cate threw her arms wide, and Nell rushed into them, a child again. Her heart raced in nervous anticipation, uncertain what version of her mother she might encounter today.

She hugged her mother, a flicker of dismay tightening her chest. Both her parents seemed shrunken, diminished since she’d last seen them.

Perhaps it was the unfamiliar context. On every previous visit, they’d driven up from Norfolk—an arduous but manageable trip that avoided the hassle of four train changes to reach Glasgow.

Her mother’s once-thick, luxuriant hair was thinning, pink patches of scalp peeking through the silver strands.

She stooped slightly, her shoulders rounding in a way that seemed irreversible.

The blue Paisley-print dress she wore, though carefully chosen, only added to the poignancy.

Nell was struck by how much her mother resembled a photograph of her grandmother, the very woman Cate had now become.

Bobby’s hand rested on the handle of a small, hard-shell suitcase.

Cate had married him after her first husband’s death, so by the time Nell was born, they’d both already been older parents.

Bobby had always been a solid, substantial man, but now the weight he’d lost gave him an unfamiliar frailty.

It didn’t suit him. The loose folds of skin around his jaw sagged as though his body hadn’t quite caught up with its own changes.

“How was the journey?” Nell asked, stepping back from her mother to embrace her father. His weight loss was more obvious up close. Her hands met easily around his back in a way they never had before.

“Long,” Bobby said with a weary smile. “Funny how train journeys can leave you knackered when all you’re doing is sitting.

Still, I managed to read every bit of the paper.

Even the business pages! Thought I’d arm myself with some conversation for your husband.

Although I hope he doesn’t start talking about the FTSE index.

To this day, I’ve no idea what it’s about. ”

Nell took the suitcase from him. “Don’t worry, Danny doesn’t either. And anyway, he’s banned from talking about business or work when he’s at home. He spends enough time at work as it is. What about you, Mum? Did you read a book?”

The question slipped out naturally, conjuring the vivid image of her mother, forever reading. A book in hand while stirring pots and pans, propped up against pillows, lounging in the garden deck chair or lying on a towel by the beach.

Cate hesitated, a subtle pause. Nell caught the glance her parents exchanged—first Bobby and Cate, as if silently conferring, then Bobby lifting his brows at Nell, trying to signal something.

“No, no, the windows! The views,” Cate said suddenly, her voice bright but forced. “So much to see!”

They made their way to Gordon Street and the taxi rank, Nell working hard to mask her dismay—her mother not reading, not reading!

She filled the silence with questions about Bobby’s various hobby clubs, Artie’s boys (still living at home, thanks to the extortionate rents in the southeast), and what the two of them were currently enjoying on television.

Most of the answers came from Bobby.

By three o’clock, they were at the house. Bobby waved off her protests to pay for the taxi, remarking that Glasgow’s black cabs were a “much cheaper than London’s,” though he couldn’t recall the last time he’d taken one there.

In the driveway, Sandra Greenberg, Nell and Danny’s next-door neighbour, was weeding her pristine flowerbeds.

A linen-lined basket sat beside her as she looked up and nodded a greeting.

Nell steered her parents towards the gate, already rehearsing polite conversation to cover the undercurrent of unease swirling in her chest.

“Cate, how are you? Long time no see!” Sandra called, rising slightly. She and Cate were of a similar age and had often chatted over the hedge on previous visits, bonding over a shared love of gardening.

Her mother's smile was wavering and uncertain. There was hesitation in her eyes, something fragile beneath the surface. “Yes, yes, lovely to see you… Marlene.”

Nell’s heart lurched. “Mum, that’s not Marlene.”

Marlene. Their next-door neighbour in Norwich. The wrong name, the wrong life. Sandra, to her credit, merely shrugged, seemingly unoffended.

“Ah, no, of course it isn’t!” Cate said with forced brightness, pausing at the door.

“It’s Sandra,” Nell interjected gently, sensing the struggle and failure in her mother’s attempt to recall the name. “Sandra Greenberg.”

Cate nodded quickly. “Yes, I know. Lovely day, isn’t it? So warm for… for…”

“April,” Bobby cut in sharply.

Cate’s blank-eyed nod in response made Nell’s fingers twitch, as if she were stopping herself from prodding her mother’s arm. The moment stretched uncomfortably, Cate seeming, just for an instant, to have no idea who Bobby was either.