Page 7

"Because this feels like it could really be something," I whisper, as if saying it any louder might attract disaster. "And that just means it'll hurt more when it ends."

Mum regards me silently for a moment. I figure a hug and some words of comfort are on the horizon, but I'm surprised when instead, she reaches over and flicks me on the forehead with a finger.

"Ow!"

"That were for saying the daftest thing I've ever heard," Mum tells me calmly.

I rub my forehead. "Gee, thanks Mum."

She ignores the sarcasm. "You're welcome. I need you to listen, love. Your father and me, we weren't some big wonderful love story. He didn't start off good and then suddenly change one day; I knew he weren't a good man way before he walked out that door."

"Really?"

"Aye, love. So stop thinking every fellow you meet is a monster waiting to rip the mask off his face."

I sit back, nearly squashing a couple of completed favour boxes with my elbow. "I always thought you might think the same way about men, to be honest. Ow! Son of a… what was that for?" I rub the back of my head.

Mum narrows her eyes at me. "Language. Believe it or not, Charlie, I'm not with a woman because your father made me think all men can't be trusted. Don't be trying to mansplain my bisexuality."

"Sorry," I mumble ashamedly.

"You're alright, love. Just stop giving that man all this power over you."

I purse my lips. "Right. Just like that. I'm all fixed now, thanks Mum."

"Don't do that with your mouth, you look like you did as a baby when you were doing a number two. And of course it won't just disappear. But if you face it, and you talk about it, and you work on it, and you let the people around you help, it'll get easier with time."

I look into her warm brown eyes as a thought occurs to me. “Mum,” I start tentatively. “How did you deal with it? When we had to move here, and it was just you and a little kid?”

She smiles gently. “It weren’t easy, I’ll be honest. But, you know, if you let people in, you’ll be surprised how many good people are out there, who only want to help.

Just take old Margie. You don’t know how many times she’s talked me out of a black mood over a cup of tea while you and Ellie were playing. ”

“Oh, so that’s why she’s calling in the favour now,” I joke, but I make a mental note to call in on them once all the wedding furor is over. Clearly, Mum’s helpfulness towards the rest of the neighbourhood isn’t as one-sided as I’d thought.

Mum’s eyes twinkle. “Maybe. Or she’s just being forgetful old Margie.” She starts filling favour boxes again. “So, love. Try again. Tell me about this boy Luke.”

I busy my hands with our task again, and take my time to think through it.

Sue quietly joins us, placing a steaming cup of tea each in front of me and Mum.

She pats the back of my shoulder gently as she goes back out for her own, and I’m pretty sure she’s heard the whole exchange from the door.

Clearly she’d wanted to give us space. I smile at her as she nips back in with her own cup, and retreats to her armchair in the corner to silently but deftly tie lilac-coloured ribbons into neat bows to the finished boxes, pulling a scissors blade across the open ends to create the perfect curl.

I take a sip of tea before I finally answer.

“He seems kind. Respectful. It feels like he’s really interested in getting to know me, and listening to what I think.

And I already really like him. But…” I gulp down more tea, hoping it’ll help me tamp down the swell of confused feelings. “I’m terrified.”

“Why, love?” Mum’s voice carries with it three decades of memories, of warm hugs and comfort.

“It’s just too good to be true.” Just admitting that makes my chest ache a little, my emotions trying to steel themselves against a future blow. “Maybe he isn’t what he seems to be, or maybe he’ll decide I’m not good enough for him, or…” I take a deep breath, and let it out.

“You’re good enough for anyone two times over,” Mum says instantly and firmly. “What cause has he, to think any different?”

“I don’t know.” I don’t want Mum to get the idea that I’m ashamed of our background, because I’m not. And Luke’s given me no reason to think he’s anything but a good person.

Mum seems to guess at least part of it anyway. “Charlie, you’ve done so well for yourself in your life. If this lad is a good one, and if he likes you, it won’t matter how you were raised or how he was raised.”

“It might not matter to start with, but sometimes - sometimes it does later on.” I peek at Mum from under my eyelashes, suddenly petrified that I’ll reopen old wounds.

Mum shakes her head, but surprisingly, Sue beats her to it, speaking quietly in her clear, genteel Edinburgh accent.

“As your mother says, a part of this is about trusting that there are people out there who are basically decent human beings. And when you give them a real chance, they may show you that they like you for who you are.”

Mum shoots her a loving look. I muse, not for the first time, that I’d love to know more about Sue’s past, before Mum.

“So that’s it,” Mum adds. “If you think he’s a good one, give him a real chance and see what happens.”

“It’d be easier if you’d given me your psychic powers,” I retort. “I can’t read people like you do.”

“So tell him to come over here then,” she says simply, and I scoff. “No, love, I’m serious. Get him over, and see how he is with us.” She grins. “We could use another pair of hands anyway.”

“Mum! I’m not going to ask him to come join your impromptu sweatshop!

” The thing is, now she’s suggested it, I can’t help but wonder if it might be a good plan.

If Luke can’t handle being here with Mum, the whole thing is a non-starter anyway.

And at least I’ll know, before things get any more serious.

And if they do get along… So I send him a quick message on my phone.

Hey. Sorry I have to ask, but… how flexible are you about what we do today? The plan had been to spend time over at my flat, and I’d said something about cooking dinner.

He replies nearly instantly. Hi! I don’t mind at all. Are we still ok to meet up? No worries if not, but I am really looking forward to seeing you.

That makes me smile. Wait till you hear what I’m suggesting first, I type, and explain.

“Is he coming?” Mum asks, and I look up to see that she’s practically hovering over me.

“Ugh, Mum, stop your mithering,” I complain. The accent and the slang always makes an appearance soon after I step foot into this house, and I briefly wonder how Luke’s going to react to this. I check my phone. “He’ll be on his way soon.”

“That’s cracking, love.” She settles back down.

My thigh starts to jiggle, and I know my nerves are already starting to build. “Mum?”

“Aye, love?”

“Is it fair? To start something with someone, when I’ve got stuff to work through? Don’t people always say you shouldn’t be bringing loads of baggage into a relationship?”

Mum catches my gaze fondly, and after a beat, she laughs.

“Mum! Rude.”

“Sorry, love. I weren’t meaning to make fun of you. But… here, Sue, you know what I mean.”

I turn to look at Sue, who actually does seem to know what she’s on about. “I think she might be trying to say, Charlie, that you’re making this a bit more dramatic than it really is. You’re a well-adjusted young man, with one or two specific hang-ups.”

“It still seems unequal,” I protest.

She tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and smiles crookedly at me. “It’s not a chemical equation, darling. And here’s the thing about adult relationships. The other person’s almost certainly dealing with something or other as well. Just make sure there’s some give and take.”

This all sounds lovely in theory, I want to argue. But I’m sitting there, in a room full of wedding favours and trinkets and love, and as Mum and Sue exchange another fond glance, I realise that if anyone in my life knows what they’re talking about when it comes to relationships, it’s these two.