He was right; he lived in a narrow street with very little parking available, but he managed to squeeze the small car into a gap. ‘I haven’t got an umbrella, sorry.’
‘That’s okay, I can handle the rain. My colour might run a little but it’s a small price to pay. I’ve handled much worse.’
He laughed. ‘Jonathan?’
‘Yes, Jonathan.’
She followed him to a large house with four letter boxes on the wall outside.
‘I live in the bottom flat, which is really lucky because I hate walking up and down stairs.’
‘You’re not into the gym or anything then?’
He snorted. ‘Absolutely not, haven’t got the time for that.’
‘Me either I much prefer reading.’
He opened the door and there was the scrabbling sound of claws on the tiled floor as a dog came bounding towards him, its tail wagging.
‘I didn’t know you had a dog, he’s so cute. What’s his name?’
He paused. ‘Er, I call him dog, but his actual name is Barney.’
Angela bent down to scratch his ears. ‘Hey, Barney, aren’t you the cutest.’
Barney proceeded to lie on his back so she could scratch his belly.
‘He’ll let you do that all day, he’s such a pushover. No good whatsoever as a guard dog either. He can’t bark to save his life.’
‘That’s not a bad thing. I mean, sometimes barking dogs can be a real nuisance, can’t they?’ She straightened up, and he passed her a towel. ‘Thanks.’ Angela patted her hair and cringed to see a little of her pink hair dye transfer onto his soft white Egyptian cotton towel. Clutching it to her chest, she thought she would offer to wash it for him. He pointed at the kitchen table, it was a small, round pine table with two old-fashioned wooden chairs.
‘Do you want to sit in here or in the lounge?’
‘If you’re going to cook in here, and if you don’t mind, I’d love to sit and chat.’
He nodded. ‘Would you like a glass of wine?’
Angela paused, it wasn’t even four, should she be so daring and wild? Before she could speak her answer her head nodded up and down.
‘Yes, I would. A small one though because I’ll have to get my car at some point.’
‘A small one it is. I thought it might make it easier to chat if we both relaxed a little.’ He opened the fridge and took out a bottle of white wine. She didn’t even look at the label; she would take a little Dutch courage. He got two tall juice glasses out of the cupboard.
‘Sorry, I haven’t got around to buying any wine glasses yet. I broke the last two I had and because I’m usually alone I make do with these.’
‘I don’t blame you, they are more than adequate.’
He unscrewed the cap and filled the glasses half full, passing one to Angela. Then he took a huge gulp of his and refilled it to the top. He began to pull some pans out of the cupboard, then the ingredients for Bolognese out of the fridge.
‘Do you want to explain everything whilst I’m prepping?’
He had his back to her, and she thought it might be easier this way. She could feel her pulse racing at the thought of telling her son what a crap mother she was or had been.
‘It’s not going to be easy for me to talk about everything,’ she said. ‘Do you want the short or the long, ugly version?’
He was expertly peeling an onion; he turned and smiled at her. ‘Maybe I should tell you what I think, and you can take it from there.’
She nodded. ‘How did you know who I was? You asked if I was your mother at the café, what made you think I could be?’
