Dad walks in, old tattoos emerging from his black t-shirt and three days of stubble on his face. “Yo. Nice hair. Is that a King cake?” His voice is as deep as Leo’s.
“It is.”
“Pretty girl, you can stay,” he says, slinging one arm around Mom’s shoulder and holding his other hand out for Liaden to shake. She giggles, not immune to my father’s charm any more than the other girls, and seeming a little more settled and less of a jitterbug than when she first arrived.
So far, so good, I guess.
Liaden
It’slovely to watch Wendy and Kit together. An ageing silver fox biker guy with his hippie chick. When she moves, he moves, and it seems completely subconsciously done, like they’re subject to a force pulling them together. I think they’re everyone’s idea of the best happily ever after, the thing to strive for: still smiling and affectionate with each other after decades together. She plays with his shirt sleeve as he tells a story about the three boys when they were younger, and they had to look after Dean and Leo’s little sisters.
“And I come in a half hour later, and…” Kit laughs and shakes his head. I can see traces of Dean around his eyes and the shape of his face. “Neroli and Tippi had their tea set out, white withpink flowers, and all five of them are sat around that pink plastic table. And Tippi is putting hair clips in Leo’s hair, and these are glittery li’l motherfuckers - sorry, angel,” he says as Wendy slaps his arm. “And Neroli’s bossin’ Eli into pouring her more ‘princess tea’, and then she turns to Dean…” Kit cracks up again, and Dean smothers a smile as he shakes his head and hides his eyes. Eli laughs and claps his hands, and Leo shouts, “MRS SPARKLES! I’d forgotten about that!”
“Mrs Sparkles?” I look at Dean with a raised eyebrow. “Whois Mrs Sparkles?”
He’s going a bit pink, and mouths,You’re dead, to his father through silent chuckles.
“So Dean is sat there, and he’s wearing pink, like, flamingo pink lipstick all around his mouth, and thick blue stripes on his eyelids, and he’s got glitter raining down from his hair every time he moves his head.”
“Aww!” I stroke his hair back from his head, and he subtly leans into my touch for a split second.
“And then Neroli turns to him and says…” And Kit, Eli, and Leo say in unison, “More tea, Mrs Sparkles?”
We all lose it, laughter ringing around Leo’s garden. I must say, he has a hell of a nice place: a long garden with a neat lawn and a perfectly clean, top-of-the-range barbecue under a wooden shelter. His house is larger than I was expecting, a terraced townhouse on the outskirts of Foxton-on-Sea with three floors. The walls are plain white, but the furnishings are eclectic and tasteful in a quietly expensive way. Our host is clearly doing well running Wishbone.
Leo’s watching Sadie surreptitiously, and so is Wendy. Sadie’s smiling along with everyone, and contributing a mild wisecrack here and there, same as always, but there’s a set to her jaw like she’s gritting her teeth in determination to carry on as normal. There are purple shadows under her eyes, heavy liddedwith tiredness, and she keeps fiddling with a loose thread on her jumper while the thread of the conversation keeps slipping away from her. I’d bet money she doesn’t really want to be here, but also doesn’t want to miss out. She needs a break.
“Sadie, can I borrow you for a minute? I wanted your opinion on a tattoo idea I have for our next session.” Wendy stands and holds her hand out to her, and Sadie gives her a grateful look before taking it. They head into the kitchen, and I can’t miss the way Leo looks longingly in their direction.
“And what do you think Dean says?” Kit asks me. I shake my head, unable to hazard a guess. “He says, ‘Dad, I lost a bet with Neroli. And a Gastright pays his debts.’ I damn near pissed my pants laughing.” His eyes are alight with mirth, and dang, if Dean ages as well as his father, I’ll be a lucky woman.
Huh. I guess I’m thinking in terms of the future, then.
OK, so be it.
Dean looks a little wistful, and I wonder if it’s odd or sad for him to remember times when he could talk with his mouth instead of his hands.
By the time Sadie and Wendy return about twenty minutes later, talk has moved on to music. Kit is telling us about taking Wendy to see The Rolling Stones back in the eighties, and he and I are bonding overLittle Red Roosteras Wendy smiles to hear what we’re talking about. Sadie looks watery eyed, but a little brighter. I’m thinking she got a thorough mothering with a side order of pep talk. I imagine Wendy’s amazing at that. She’s been unendingly cheerful and friendly and gracious from the moment I met her.
“Right, I think it’s time for Liaden’s lovely cake,” Wendy declares, and touches my shoulder. “Shall we go and cut it, sweetie?” she asks me with a friendly smile.
“Absolutely.” Dean squeezes my hand under the table, and I get knowing smiles from the girls. I guess this is the partwhere I get one on one time with my boyfriend’s mother for the first time. I’ve not done this kind of thing before. I hope I do well. Maybe if I mentally frame it as a job interview? I’m good at those. Though I can’t imagine reciting my qualifications and work experience is going to impress her much.
She gives me a kind look once we’re in the kitchen, but I’m still nervous. I want her to like me more than I’ve ever wanted anyone else to. I want her to know I’m not going to piss about with her boy’s heart, any more than I’d throw myself into a rumbling volcano.
“Your King cake really does look lovely,” she reassures me.
“Thanks,” I say, “I hope it passes muster.”
“The plates are in the cupboard by the refrigerator,” she says with a nod in that general direction. I grab them all - there are plenty - and set them down next to her.
“He’s happier.” Her voice is soft. “I can see it, plain as day. There’s a lightness to him I haven’t seen in a very long time.” She squeezes my hand. “Thank you for that. I have a feeling it’s one hundred percent down to you.” I love the soft Louisiana twang in her speech. It makes everything she says sound even more sincere.
“It’s my pleasure. Dean is…well, he’s your son, you know he’s amazing.”
She beams. “He sure is. It’s so hard to be away from him all the time, but I know my boys look after him.” She grins. “They’re all my boys, whether I birthed them or not.”
I think about how Leo dotes on her, and the way Eli’s eyes soften when she talks. She could be all of their mothers, the way they react to each other. She could be the link that makes them brothers.
