Page 32 of The Second Chance Supper Club

‘Hey, Mum, I’m coming back!’

‘Ah, that’s lovely news, Adam. When?’

‘Set off tomorrow. Flight lands Tuesday, Edinburgh. It’s an early one as the last leg’s overnight. You don’t fancy a trip to the airport, do you?’

Hah, that was typical, but also rather lovely. ‘Well, yeah, of course. It’ll be wonderful to see you again. Be great to catch up on all your news and adventures.’

‘And the washing …’ he chortled.

She might have known that was coming her way. But after months apart, it was probably the least she could do. She felt a buzz of excitement at seeing her son again. At being able to hold him in her arms. However old your children were, there was nothing quite like being able to give them a hug.

‘And can I stay with you for a bit, yeah? ’Til I get sorted with some digs? Maybe for a week or two. Dad didn’t seem too keen on having me at the flat, to be honest. Says things aren’t quite settled with Steph, right now.’

Jeez, had he gone back to her already, after all that faff turning up in Tilldale like a lost soul? Or was her ex trying to sort out his own place to rent? Whatever was going on, it seemed he might well have reverted to Turncoat Trevor mode. ‘Yeah, I’m basically homeless with you two selling up.’

Adam’s tone was light, but the fact was that their family home was gone, sold.

A dart of guilt hit Cath once again, but she reminded herself, it wasn’t her misdemeanours that had started the whole crashing down of the Roundhay house of cards.

She suddenly felt irritable, feeling the shine was being tarnished on Adam’s impending arrival, but she held back from dissing her ex-husband to their son.

‘Well, even if our old house has gone, we’ll both always be your parents and have a home for you. ’

But undoubtedly, the new family dynamics were going to take a bit of getting used to for them all.

After an early alarm call, and a quick shower, she was on her way up the A1, heading north towards Scotland.

Just twenty-five minutes from Tilldale, and she was over the border and on a stretch of single carriageway past Berwick-upon-Tweed, where the cliffs shelved sharply and rather stunningly down to the pewter-grey North Sea.

Next, a series of dual carriageways led her up the coastal route, then up over hills and down again, passing roundabouts off Dunbar, Haddington, soon to hit the traffic of the Edinburgh City By-Pass.

It was still only just past 5 a.m. – she’d given herself plenty of time – and yet there was already quite a flux of vehicles and lorries.

She felt slightly anxious as she didn’t know the roads here that well, even though she’d always been okay negotiating the Leeds city traffic.

The roads in Tilldale were quieter by far.

In the past few weeks, she’d gotten used to the odd tractor, farm truck, a tourist vehicle or two and the slower pace of the country roads.

Cath hoped her satnav would be kind to her.

It was the first time she’d ever been to Edinburgh Airport, and she’d researched the on-airport car park best to pick up from.

Oh, there it was, the slip road she needed to take.

A quick indication, manoeuvre, and off she went.

Another busy road, following signs for the airport.

Her heart beat a little faster, with the tension of finding the right car park.

She felt a flutter of excitement at the thought of seeing her son again.

It had been many weeks after all. She’d given him wings and let him fly, but it felt good that she’d be getting him back to her nest – even if it was her new nest – once again.

She’d whizzed about yesterday, making up the spare room with fresh linen, moving out her laptop and work gear from there, and cooking his favourite Thai chicken curry – oh, might he actually be sick of curry after all that Asian travel?

Maybe, it should have been a cottage pie or something more English, she began to fear.

Perhaps she could do something like that for tomorrow.

She’d ask what he most fancied, later. There it was, Short Stay 2, so far so good.

Oops, tight little gap at the concrete post for the barrier entrance, thank heavens she was in a Mini.

A multi-storey maze affronted her, and finally a space, phew.

She pulled up in good time and in one piece.

She sat for a few relieved seconds, and then sent a message.

Text: Here in Short Stay 2. Will come and find you in Arrivals! x

She chuckled to herself thinking she should have made one of those little signs with his name on, like a taxi pickup. But he should recognise his own mother, even with her new, slightly more glamorous haircut and colour. She gave it a few minutes before heading in.

In the terminal building, she watched a flurry of people coming and going, wondering what their stories were, and where they were all travelling to and from.

Holidays, family trips, work schedules, the airline staff, weddings, funerals, meeting new members of the family, friends, and lovers. It felt like a microcosm of life.

Adam’s flight had already landed, she saw.

He was here, back on UK soil. She’d seen the little square image of him on the phone on video calls, but what would he look like in the flesh after all those weeks away?

A swish of metal and glass sliding doors, and another batch of travellers appeared, with wheelie suitcases and rucksacks galore.

A bearded man with shoulder-length dark wavy hair approached, looking a bit like that PE teacher guy, Joe Wicks. He was heading straight for her with a grin.

‘Hi, Ma …’

Oh my … she nearly hadn’t recognised him. Deeply tanned, and with his new beard, he looked to be in his thirties. Her boy had changed. He’d very much turned into a man. She felt a lump in her throat.

He dropped his huge canvas travel bag. And there he was in her arms, so much bigger than her, than even she’d remembered, and slightly sweaty from two days of travel. Adam was home … and safe … her body relaxed, revelling in that steady flow of deep maternal connection.

‘Hello, son. Lovely to see you.’

‘You too, Mum. How’ve you been?’

‘Fine, fine. Settling in at my cottage.’

And they were off, chatting about his travels, the places he’d seen, people he’d met, all those new experiences and adventures, all the way back along the by-pass and down the A1. The massive bag and her son very much filling the space in her vehicle … and her heart.

The first evening together after such a long time was lovely. They sat in the kitchen, chatting as they ate. The chicken curry seemed to be going down well, anyhow.

‘Hey, you’d have loved some of the Thai and Vietnamese food I’ve had. Amazing. All those hot and spicy flavours. And so cheap, lunch with a beer for like ￡2. Beachside or roadside, in great little wooden huts.’

‘Ooh, wonderful. So, what was your favourite dish of the trip?’

‘Had the most amazing Thai prawn curry served in half a scooped-out pineapple. The prawns were huge … and the sauce, hot and zingy, red Thai style, but so much more flavour than those pastes and mixes at home.’

‘And what did you miss?’

‘Foodwise, or people, do you mean?’

‘Food, I meant.’

‘Ah, definitely roast dinner and Yorkshire puddings … oh, and your homemade leek-topped cottage pie. Nothing like that in the whole of Asia.’

Cath had to smile. Well, that was tomorrow’s menu sorted. ‘And you, of course … and Dad.’ He went a bit quiet then.

‘But it’s all a bit different now, isn’t it. I’m like okay with that, with you splitting … overall, you know. But it just takes a bit of getting used to. You both being in different places … living different lives.’

She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s taken me a bit of getting used to, as well, son. But … I’m getting there.’

‘Well, that’s good. So, how’s life in Tilldale? Seems pretty quiet around here? What do you get up to?’

‘Well, I’ve been making a few friends, and we’ve formed a kind of informal supper club. It’s good fun, and they’re nice people. Two of the lads run the village shop, in fact.’

‘That sounds cool. I’ve been a bit worried about you,’ he admitted, his eyes searching hers. ‘All that shit going on with Dad.’

‘Well, it happened. And I suppose we all have to deal with it.’ ‘Doesn’t mean it’s easy, though. I’m still bloody cross with him. Typical middle-aged crisis. The silly twat.’

‘Adam, don’t talk about your father like that.

’ Why the hell was she sticking up for him?

Instinct probably, and hanging on to the last shreds of decency, to keep the family from folding altogether.

‘It wasn’t all bad … only the last couple of years.

We had some lovely times when you were younger.

’ She tried hard to keep her comments positive.

There was so much to talk about, and yes, so much had changed for them both, yet she just wanted them to enjoy their first evening together, to chat and eat, and savour each other’s company. There’d be time enough to talk more deeply over the coming days.

She hadn’t played any music other than the radio for a while, and suggested putting on her Bluetooth speaker, letting Adam choose a ‘chilled’ mix he liked.

He’d always been into his music. Over a cup of proper English tea served with cold milk, he’d said it didn’t sound cool but confessed that he’d missed it, they sat chatting some more.

She was enjoying listening to the tales of his recent adventures, but as he began to relax, his words began to slow as bone-tiredness took over him.

Adam had crashed soon after dinner, jet lag hitting home. And after their talk of family life, memories were whirling in her mind, as she lay in bed later.