Page 11 of The Stand-in Dad

10 MEG

‘It’s been what, eleven years? That’s crazy.’

‘Eleven and a half,’ Angus said. ‘I remember that September you left … Everyone went, all at once.’

They were sitting on a couple of outdoor beanbags that were dotted around the park. They were bright purple, and contrasted against the somewhat faded grass struggling to become its spring green. As she caught him up on the events of the last few weeks, Meg kept having to readjust herself and the way she sat in order not to slide off onto the ground.

‘So catch me up!’ Angus said. ‘Who’s David, then? And your fiancée! It’s Hannah, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah, Hannah. We’ve been together ten years now,’ she said, wondering how much of her life he’d know, or supposed he did, from her online profiles. ‘And that’s David who owns the florist’s in Woburn. I met him recently and he’s going to come to my appointments and stuff while Hannah’s away with work. Until my parents come round to it all.’

‘That’s so nice of him,’ said Angus, offering her a chip from his cone. They were loaded with purple mayonnaise and crispy bits of onion. ‘What’s in it for him?’

Meg hesitated before answering, wondering whether that was something she had even thought about before. She had just assumed David was being nice.

‘I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘He helps run the youth club with his partner, Mark, and does community work, helps the food bank, that sort of thing. He’s setting up a queer business network too, so that’s part of it. I ended up crying in the florist’s, so he kind of took me under his wing, which has been nice, you know, since we moved back, to have someone be so friendly.’

‘He sounds amazing,’ Angus said. ‘Like one of those people who wins an award for being a community beacon on The One Show or something.’

‘Yeah, he’s great.’

‘Do you worry if your parents came round and came to all these things with you, he’d suddenly feel left out again?’

‘I hadn’t thought about it like that,’ Meg said. ‘I’d hope he wouldn’t mind. Who knows what’ll happen.’

Angus smiled at her. He had always been like that when they were young: never doing anything without thinking about everybody else and what it might mean for them. He’d never stay too late at a party, knowing his mum would be worrying; he’d never be mean about anyone at school, knowing he wouldn’t want somebody to do the same to him.

‘So, Angus,’ Meg said. ‘Tell me about round here, your life … work, dating, everything.’

‘Well, firstly, I’m actually going by Gus now,’ he said. ‘Angus always felt so formal. ’

‘I like that,’ Meg said. He really was different from the boy she had known for the seven years of secondary school. His curls were the same, and his large green eyes. Different though, was the way he held himself. At school they’d both known the other was queer from maybe sixteen, though they didn’t say it to each other until a year later once they’d let people think they were dating and had to stage a fake break-up. Now, Gus was less awkward, as they all probably were, but it was so noticeable with him after a long absence. Shoulders not hunched up, hands waving freely as he spoke. His skin had cleared and seemed unnaturally tanned for this time of year, but in a way that looked completely real. ‘Anyway, tell me about you! That’s the problem when you get engaged. Everybody has so many questions for you, but I still want to know about everyone else.’

‘I’m single,’ he said, sadly, like it was a deficit or a problem to solve. ‘Have never really had anything too serious … I feel like it always all moves too fast, and then turns to nothing. It’s such a small dating pool here, not like what it must be in London.’

‘Are you on the apps?’ Meg said. Luckily, she had met Hannah before the boom of dating apps, so had never been on one herself, but she had friends who’d had successes. Her friend Sophie had just got married, and she had met her husband after just a week on Tinder.

‘I go on and off them,’ Gus said. ‘I’ll have a series of dates and then I get bored and cancel my accounts.’

‘Oh, it’ll happen,’ she said. ‘I know that’s annoying when people in couples say that … But it’s always when you least expect it. Genuinely. I never turned up to university thinking I’d meet my wife in my first term.’

‘That’s what everybody says to me,’ Gus said. ‘But I’m nearly thirty … I’m beginning to lose hope.’

Meg looked at him. He was such a positive person, and always had been, but he looked so sad she wanted to hug him. Instead, she put her hand on his knee. ‘If you want to get out there, go to events and stuff to meet people, I could always come with. We could join a running club or something.’

‘I’d like that,’ Gus said. ‘It’s so nice to have you back.’ He leaned across and hugged her, and it felt completely natural. ‘Why did you move back? I always thought you hated it here.’

‘I didn’t hate it here,’ she said. ‘I just … needed to leave when I did. It’s so nice you stayed. I always wonder, if I’d been closer, whether they’d have got on board with the gay thing more. If they’d had to.’

‘I get that,’ Gus said. ‘It must be the grass is always greener thing … I always thought about leaving. Still do. What pulled you back?’

‘We wanted somewhere more affordable, where we can still get into London for work … But somewhere I knew and being near family, that felt nice. Woburn is lovely too, and it’s so different from when we were at school. There would never have been a proud gay flower shop like David’s then … Do you remember that old antiques shop where the old man used to yell at everyone?’

She thought fondly, for the first time in a long time, of her years as a teenager here. She and Gus had come to Campbell Park for a gig once, but they’d never have come to something like this. When she was younger, it had felt like nothing like this existed for miles around her, and if it did, nobody had had the grace to tell her.

Meg couldn’t help but be brought back to those years at school when she’d felt like she’d been born in the wrong town or the wrong family. She and Angus had never really officially dated; it had been more that they’d been each other’s lifeboats, she thought. At the time, she had believed they must have both known what was going on – that they were both discovering their sexuality, and it was a good subterfuge to avoid questioning – but with hindsight, maybe it hadn’t all been so clear-cut, or so linear for them both. Meg had liked being seen together, and liked that her parents had assumed they were in a relationship, until she hadn’t.

It was a ruse that had lasted for perhaps the entirety of Sixth Form when, towards the end, they’d started to go into London together to hang around gay pubs and clubs, too scared to go in, but feeling brave that they’d made it to the area, at least. Their parents thought they were going on dates.

‘So do you still talk to anyone from school?’ she asked him, the classic question that always returned when you caught up with someone from your past.

‘Not really,’ he said. ‘The old group of boys, I see usually when everyone’s back for Christmas. Kirsty, she’s still around, works in town.’

‘I just bumped into Miss Apoline,’ Meg told him. ‘You know, the old music teacher?’

‘She was gay, right?’

‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘I could tell now but I don’t know if we actually knew that at the time. She knows David.’

‘I can’t believe how many gay teachers there were,’ he said. ‘I bumped into Mr Martin at Pinks a few years ago. If only we’d known when we were young that there were gay people round here, and they were having a nice time! Imagine what that would have meant.’

‘I know!’ Meg said. ‘I think about that all the time, actually.’

Gus put down his rubbish. ‘I feel worse for you. At least I could come into school and not hide myself as much … But you had the trouble of not being yourself at home, and then coming into school and your parents were there too. At least I had a break.’

‘But your parents were like mine right?’ Meg said. ‘A bit homophobic, but in the way that everyone was?’

‘Yeah, I guess,’ Gus said. ‘A year ago we had a big talk about it, and they apologized. Dad said he regretted for years telling me I’d grow out of it, and said they should have known and been better, which meant a lot. I think it’s worse when it’s unspoken. Knowing your parents, and actually remembering your dad tell me off once, I get that it’s scary. But you’ve got time. I hope they come around. They’re teachers, they must see how much the world has changed.’

‘Yeah,’ Meg said, feeling herself well up. She’d found since that day at the shop that any mention of weddings or relationships or parents or children brought her close to tears. She’d do anything – literally anything – for a conversation like that with her parents. The problem was, she wanted them to want to have it.

‘It’ll all work out like it should,’ Gus said. ‘I promise.’

‘Do you want to come to my wedding?’

It was out of Meg’s mouth before she had really thought about it, or indeed told Hannah, but it wasn’t like it was an ex-boyfriend or girlfriend she might still be interested in, and they had space. Sitting with Gus, she felt incredibly attached to her past. It was a part of her, and she realized that if her parents were going to be how they were, other people from her history might be able to fill the gap.

‘I’d love to! Oh Meg that’s so nice,’ he said, hugging her. ‘I’d be delighted to come!’

As they were hugging, Ramon from the taco truck walked past, and waved at both of them. It seemed to Meg like he hesitated, not wanting to overstep a boundary, but she found herself waving him over.

‘Hello again!’ he said.

‘Hi, Ramon,’ Meg said. ‘How’s the day going? This is my friend Gus.’

They introduced themselves to each other and had an overly formal handshake. Meg made a joke about not having been to any other food trucks, trying to hide their wrappers, and Ramon insisted she try the tiramisu stand.

‘That one’s fine,’ Ramon said. ‘Desserts aren’t direct competition with tacos.’

As they spoke, David appeared, and suddenly Meg wondered what time it was. It felt slightly darker than it had before, and the group on the stage that had been rapping had now been replaced by a duo who were singing and dancing in perfect rhythm.

‘We’re late!’ David said. ‘Do you mind if we go? I’m sorry.’

‘For what?’ Meg asked.

‘I completely forgot … Time … I thought six o’clock was four o’clock, and … Sorry, hi again, Ramon! Hi, Gus.’

She and David made their excuses quickly and started to walk towards the van, leaving Gus and Ramon alone.

‘Where do you need to get to?’ Meg asked. ‘I thought you just had to get back at some point …’

‘No, it’s a youth club thing at the shop … Mark’s going to be mad if we’re late.’

‘Oh I’m sorry,’ she said, thighs burning. ‘I should have come to find you. I completely forgot about the time.’

‘That’s okay,’ he said. ‘I did exactly the same.’

‘Where did you go, anyway?’

‘Oh, I just went for a walk, some thinking time, you know.’

He was walking so fast, Meg was losing her breath trying to keep up with him storming up the hill and still holding a conversation.

‘Yeah.’

‘I was going to ask if you’re okay, Meg.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I noticed with the cakes, and with Martha and some food today,’ David said. ‘You were hesitant to fully confirm things. Is that … are you just like that, or do you think part of you is delaying committing to things without knowing your parents are okay about it?’

Meg hadn’t really thought about that, but she supposed there was a small part of her holding herself back.

‘A little bit of both,’ she said. ‘It does all feel a bit weird.’

‘That’s normal,’ he said.

‘Do you think?’

‘Yeah,’ he continued. ‘Just do it anyway. Our friends Carl and Matty, they got married as soon as it was legal, and they said it all felt so strange. It’s not like you get married every day. It’s supposed to feel weird.’

‘Oh that’s good to know.’

They had got to the top of the hill, but David didn’t slow down, breathing loudly as he made his way to the van, Meg trailing behind.

‘But there is one thing,’ David said when they reached the van.

‘What?’

‘If you don’t get Ramon to make those tacos, I know a Pad Thai stand that’s not too shabby.’

‘I’ll keep it in mind.’ The van beeped as David unlocked it. ‘What’s tonight?’ Meg climbed into the passenger seat and David set off immediately.

‘We do these careers nights, people talking about what they do, their path, and talking to the kids about jobs and exams and things.’

Suddenly, David gasped, and Meg worried he’d seen something on the road that she hadn’t.

‘What?’

‘I was supposed to prepare a presentation!’ he said. ‘Oh Mark’s going to be mad … I promised I wouldn’t forget.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Meg said. ‘We’ll sort it together.’

As the streetlights switched on above them, whizzing past their heads in lines of yellow and white, Meg felt nostalgic about the place. Years before, she’d been a shy teenager and now she was heading back to a youth club made up of people of that age. How far she’d come. Suddenly, she had an idea. ‘Hey, maybe I could talk about my job?’