Page 3 of Oz (Finding Home #1)

She looks me up and down. “You okay?” she asks immediately.

“Bloody stairs,” I gasp.

She huffs. “I know. I’ve been up and down them three times today already. Bloody council.”

“ Three times . Why aren’t you dead?” I gasp and she smacks my arm.

“Because I’m fit, Oz, unlike you who does nothing apart from wait for fat to find you.”

“I exercise,” I say indignantly but she shakes her head.

“Your jaw, mostly.”

I pause. “Okay, that’s probably true.”

“Come in.” She smiles and drags me in. She’s freakishly strong for someone who is five foot four and eight stone.

I smile affectionately at her as she pushes me down the hall chattering happily.

I love her so much. She and I have always been everything to each other.

My dad, who was a foreign student, cleared off pretty quickly once he’d managed the arduous task of impregnating her.

Her parents were staunch Catholics so they quickly threw her out.

Alone, she could have caved, but instead she stood as strong as an oak tree and promptly moved in with her sister and brother-in-law while she qualified as a nurse.

When they came to London, she got on a ferry and followed them.

We’d lived with them for another year until she got this flat which has been her home ever since.

We’ve always been a team of two and she’s stuck up for me through everything.

The word blindly loyal could have been coined for my mother because I was a right little shit growing up.

It’s only her and Shaun who kept me on a straightish path, a fact not lost on my mum who adores Shaun and won’t hear a word said against him.

Even when I told her I was gay she never flinched. Instead she grabbed me by my face, kissed me and thanked me for telling her. She stared into my eyes and told me that she’d had the luxury of choosing an idiot for her partner and so why shouldn’t I?

When the priest at her church gave a sermon about the horror of being gay she had stood up in the middle of it and called him a bloody old windbag. She’d then searched for a church where the priest would fall in line with her. She’d found one, and according to my auntie she now practically runs it.

I follow her into the small kitchen with its jaw-dropping view of the London skyline.

People would pay a fortune for this view.

I smirk. But only if they’re prepared for the fact that they’d probably have a heart attack getting up here, not to mention the fact that one of her neighbours grows pot and the other has a fondness for loud rows and even louder make-up sex.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, the Irish brogue heavy in her voice.

“Oh, lovely,” I huff. “Can’t a son visit his mother?”

She pats my cheek. “He can and does. He’s a good boy.”

“Are you talking about Shaun?” I ask, and she laughs.

“Of course.” She looks at me. “How’s that James?”

That James, I mouth. She’s referred to him as this after the one memorable time they’d met when he’d tried so hard to prove that he wasn’t a snob by grafting an incredibly bad East End accent onto his rich educated drawl.

We’d sat staring at him in wonder for far longer than we should have.

It was like watching Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins , only far worse.

She shakes her head. “Arsehole,” she mutters and goes to switch the kettle on. “What’s he done this time?” she asks over her shoulder.

I slide into a chair at the table and look at the surface which is strewn with shiny travel brochures.

“What’s all this? You won the lottery?” I ask, prodding a cruise brochure.

I pause. “Tell me you’re not doing papier maché again, because Simon at the travel agency is only just talking to you again after you got his hopes up by asking for all those luxury destination brochures. ”

“I haven’t won the lottery,” she scoffs. “But you’ll never guess who has.”

“Father O’Reilly,” I say faintly.

She shakes her head impatiently. “Auntie Vera.”

“Your sister has won the lottery?”

She smiles. “Not the full thing. She won fifty grand.”

“Jesus. We’re going to have to watch out for the men crawling out of the woodwork willing to do things I don’t want to think about for a slice of that.” My auntie has become man mad since her divorce.

“Don’t spoil her fun,” my mum giggles. I stare at her because there’s a palpable air of excitement about her.

“What’s happening?”

“Vera’s treating me. We’re off on a cruise,” she shrieks.

“No,” I gasp.

She reaches over and pats the magazines and there’s something so soft and awed and almost reverent about the way she touches the expensive papers. Something that makes tears rise in my throat and sorrow in my belly because my mum should always have this.

“That’s good, Ma,” I say softly. “I’m so pleased you’re doing this. You’ll have so much fun.” It’s the truth and I worry slightly that the cruise liner system isn’t quite ready for the Gallagher sisters. Then I stiffen and pull out a magazine. “Tell me you’re not considering this one.”

She nods happily. “That’s the main one at the moment.”

“It’s the Wild Knights Cruise, Ma. I’m not sure about that. You do know there won’t be any men in chainmail with swords.” I pause. “At least I bloody hope not,” I mutter.

She smiles. “Auntie Vera said it sounded so much like her, it’s like it’s meant to be.” She crosses herself piously.

“Ugh,” I groan. “Ma, please don’t say things like that. I’m not sure this is for you.”

She looks cross and picks up the brochure. “It says there are parties every day and it doesn’t sound too posh because clothing is optional for the Captain’s Dinner.”

“Optional being the notable word.” She looks at me, perplexed, so I try another tack. “The parties aren’t your sort of thing,” I say earnestly. “I mean, there are toys involved in this one.”

She looks bemused. “That’s nice. It’ll be handy for the children.”

“It’s adults only, Ma. There’s a reason for that.”

She sighs. “Even better. I’m not a huge fan of children. Always shrieking and crying and making a fuss. I mean, I liked you,” she says hurriedly, misinterpreting my look. “But not any other children. Anyway, it’ll just mean there’ll be more free sun loungers.”

“It means more than that. Ow!” I mutter as she slaps my arm.

“Stop being so overprotective, Oz. It’s time to let me be an adult.” I open my mouth to argue more but she leans forward. “What’s happened to put you in a mood?”

“I’ve left James.” I give a wry smile as she tries and fails not to look ecstatic.

“Oh, mo stór. That’s so sad.”

“That’d be a lot more convincing if you weren’t smiling like the fucking Cheshire Cat.”

She grins, a wry quirky twist on her lips that I see on my own. “Okay, I’ll drop the act. I’m so happy about that. He was bloody embarrassed of you, Oz.”

“Well, he wasn’t wrong,” I say slowly, and she gasps with all humour gone.

“Don’t you ever say that,” she says sharply.

“You might not have had his advantages in life but you’re a wonderful person.

You’re clever and funny. A man would be lucky to have you, and the day you introduce me to a man who looks at you as if you’re all his Christmases in one go then I’ll be happy. You should look for one like that.”

Concern suddenly clouds her face. “Does that mean you’ve lost your job? Oh my God, where are you going to live?”

She looks at the brochures. Determination and a soft sadness fill her face, and it’s this that decides me.

“No,” I say firmly. “You are not giving up the cruise. Not for anything and certainly not for me.” I reach over and drag out the crumpled magazine from my jacket pocket. I never thought I’d look at it again. “Anyway, I’m applying for this job, Ma. I think it’s just what I need.”