‘I can’t stay, remember.’
And that was when she realised her mum wasn’t planning on dining alone tonight.
Her mum turned at the sink and faced her daughter. ‘Malcolm is coming over.’ She looked up at the clock on the wall. ‘Soon.’
‘Right.’ She tried to sound a lot brighter than she felt.
‘Oh, darling, I’m sorry. I was so pleased to see you, I didn’t want anything to upset you. And I’d like to introduce you two properly.’
Bess supposed she needed to get used to her mum forging a new life. She wasn’t a kid any more. ‘Listen, before he gets here?—’
Her mum put down the potato peeler. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing is wrong.’ Well, it was, but even though she’d been rehearsing a spiel in her head on the way over here, her mind had suddenly gone blank.
Then the doorbell went and her mum gathered herself like a sixteen-year-old waiting for a prom date, all upright posture,shoulders tensed in excitement, a giddy smile on her face. ‘He’s here.’
While her mum went to answer the door, Bess realised the signs were here when she turned up at the house that Fiona was expecting company. Her mum was wearing her favourite red shirt beneath the cooking apron, the silky one she only wore if she was going out for coffee with a friend or having someone over. Bess had assumed it was the former; she should’ve realised it could easily be the latter given how out of sync the pair of them were with each other’s lives at the moment.
Bess turned round to meet Malcolm and when she saw how nervous he looked, it made her feel a bit better. It shouldn’t, but it did. Meeting someone new at any age was daunting, at their age probably even more so, and meeting the family had to be hard. She wondered if it was as bad as when you were a teenager and went to your boyfriend’s house for the first time to meet their parents.
Malcolm handed over a seasonal bunch of flowers with reds, inky blues and plenty of foliage. His hands were shaking and so was his voice as he reeled off the names of some of the flowers. And he only made eye contact with Bess once Fiona had made a formal introduction.
She made the snap decision to make this as easy as possible for him. ‘Malcolm, it’s nice to meet you.’ She used the voice she had in team meetings, especially when potential sponsors came to meet The Skylarks and find out about the lifesaving work they did, and she shook his hand too, all very sensible and formal.
‘Well, we have met once already, remember.’ He seemed to be fighting the urge to put his hands back in his pockets. He probably wished he still had hold of the flower arrangement.
‘Roadside doesn’t count,’ Bess smiled. ‘How are you doing?’
His shoulders relaxed a little. ‘The bruising has almost gone,the headaches have stopped, and I think I’ve processed the shock.’
‘The shock is often the worst thing.’
‘I was very lucky. We both were.’
When her mum and Malcolm smiled at each other, Bess felt like an intruder until Liquorice weaved between her ankles to remind her that this was the family home. She picked up the cat and tickled him beneath his chin.
‘It’s been a pain trying to find a new car,’ Malcolm carried on now he’d found his voice. ‘I don’t live on a bus route. I’ve borrowed a friend’s today, but I need to sort one out soon before I talk myself out of driving altogether.’
Bess sat at the table first, Liquorice curling up on her lap, and Malcolm followed suit. ‘Don’t let the accident destroy your confidence,’ she told him.
‘That poor lass in the other car.’
Bess liked that he sympathised with the other driver; it showed integrity.
Their talking evolved to road safety, which led to a bit about her job and then onto driving lessons each of the three of them had had and their experiences – both terrifying and funny – and Bess found herself warming to the man despite the slightly porn-star-style moustache and the chin dimple. His grey hair was combed back and Bess spotted a tiny hearing aid in one ear, one of the discreet ones you could get that meant most people didn’t even realise you were wearing one.
‘What are you looking for, Mum?’
For the last couple of minutes, as she and Malcolm talked about what it was like driving on the wrong side of the road when you went to Europe, Bess had watched her mother rummaging through every single shelf in the food cupboard.
‘I can’t find the custard powder. I was serving apple crumble and custard for dessert. Not much good without custard.’
‘We could have ice cream,’ said Malcolm.
‘I don’t have that either.’
Malcolm got up. ‘I’m all about practising my driving to get my confidence back. I’ll drive and get some now. What’s it to be: custard or ice cream?’
