“Come tomine.”
“Um...” Angelo wanted to.Fuck, he wanted to. But Dylan spoke again before Angelocould.
“Pretend I didn’t saythat.”
“You don’t want me in yourplace?”
“Angelo, I want you everywhere, and that’s the problem. We’ve been fucking all this time and not paying attention to stuff that actually matters. We’ve got to change it up if we want to livebetter.”
Live better. It was the exact phrase Harry the friendly physio had tossed out when he’d visited Angelo at home that morning. And Dylan thought he didn’t know jack about what Angeloneeded?
“Listen,” Dylan said when Angelo failed to respondagain.“Leave it with me, okay? I’ve got a mental week coming up, but I’ll think of something. I want?—Ineed? to see you. I’ll figure it out, Ipromise.”
It was on the tip of Angelo’s tongue to remind Dylan that figuring everything out wasn’t his responsibility, but he let it go. He’d do whatever Dylan asked, be anywhere if it brought them together anytimesoon.
They said goodnight and hung up. Angelo plugged his phone in and swallowed the palm full of vitamins and supplements Harry had recommended. It would be months before he saw any meaningful results, but as they slid down his throat, he felt better already. Tacit complicity in his own recovery was apparently the greatest tool ofall.
* * *
Angelo turnedthe small white box over in his hands. “You bought aniPhone?”
Theresa shuffled some paperwork. “If that’s what it’s called. It looked the same as that broken thing you spend your days staring at, so I got you a newone.”
There were three things about those two sentences. First, that his mother had noticed his newfound preoccupation with his phone; second, that she cared; and third, that she’d done something about it. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d given him anything that wasn’t a bowl ofpasta.
Not that he was complaining aboutthat.
The phone, though... “Thanks, but I can’t afford to put credit on a phone right now. I only use the one I’ve got because it’s logged into next door’s Wi-Fi.”
“The one I bought has acontract.”
“What?”
“That’s what they called it in the shop. Data things andminutes.”
“Mum, I can’t have a contract either. My finances are all tied up in the DRO I told you about thismorning.”
That had been a fun conversation. To an outsider, Theresa’s reaction would’ve seemed cold, but Angelo was beginning to know her better than that again. Naively, he’d thought that she’dlistened.
Theresa tucked the folder of papers relating to the house sale into an envelope. She labelled it in neat block capitals and set itaside.
Then she folded her hands in front of her and fixed Angelo with a look he didn’t quite understand. “While you were in hospital, I went to see the businessadvisor.”
“InDagenham?”
“Yes.”
“The one you called aputtana?”
“Don’t pick at me, Angelo. I’m trying to talk toyou.”
Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Angelo sat back in his seat at the kitchen table and pushed his half-eaten lunch away. “Sorry. Goon.”
“So, I went to see the advisor and discussed with her the sale of all ourassets.”
“Yourassets.”
“Angelo!Let me speak, child.” Fire flashed in Theresa’s dark eyes. “That was precisely why I went to this woman when you weren’t here. I’ve had enough of you men thinking you can talk forme.”
