Two smiling faces burst into the room, a man and a woman, both of them turning into statues the moment they laid eyes on the scene inside.
‘Good God!’
The woman covered her face, cheeks the same shade of scarlet as her tailored wool coat.
‘Cal,’ she said in a high-pitched voice. ‘You’ve got company.’
The man at her side didn’t seem nearly as distressed, his smile broadening at exactly the same rate his companion’s disappeared
‘Are we interrupting?’ he asked. ‘Sorry, son, I told your mother we should’ve called first.’
Son. Mother. He had the same shade of reddish brown hair as Callum, she had a similarly shaped mouth, and they all shared the same shortened vowels and soft Scottish burr that warmed up their accents. These were Callum’s parents.
‘You’re not interrupting, I was just leaving,’ I said, turning towards the door to make a hasty exit but neither of them moved, blocking off my escape route.
‘Oh no, you mustn’t go on our account.’
Taking advantage of my stunned state, Callum’s dad stepped towards me with open arms and before I could duck underneath them to make a break for it, he wrapped me up in a bear hug and squeezed every ounce of air out of my lungs. Desi was right, this flat was going to be the death of me but not in any way she might have predicted.
‘Aye, she’s a bonny one, Cal,’ the older Mr McClay exclaimed. ‘Not exactly how I’d imagined it but we’ve all been dying to meet you.’
‘You have?’ I replied, face smushed against his itchy jumper.
‘Dad, don’t,’ Callum started as his father released me from his vice-like grip.
‘I really do need to get going,’ I squeaked, stumbling out of his arms and gasping for breath. Adrenaline coursed through my veins. Fight, flight or jump head first through a triple-glazed window? Whatever it took to get out of that flat.
‘Nonsense, you’re not going anywhere. You’re going to sit down and tell me all about yourself while Cal finds his trousers.’ His dad took a seat on the sofa and patted the open spot next to him. ‘No need to run off on our account, hen, we can’t stop long, only popping by on our way back from the airport. We’re just back from our holidays. I’m sure he told you we’ve been away.’
‘You’d be amazed at what he hasn’t told me,’ I replied with a Care Bear stare at Callum.
When I didn’t join him on the sofa, Callum’s dad grabbed my wrist and gave it an encouraging tug. I crumpled down at his side and he threw his arm around my shoulders, pinning me in place.
‘I know she’d love to stay,’ Callum said when I crumpled down at his father’s side, ‘But she really was on her way out, weren’t you?’
‘I’mtrying,’ I replied through gritted teeth, held fast by his father.
‘Tryharder.’
‘Callum George James McClay.’
Everyone in the room snapped to attention. His mother’s voice flicked a switch in me I didn’t know was still operational after all these years, the very specific tone of a parent who was not angry but disappointed. She wasn’t even talking to me and I still felt guilty.
‘You were raised better,’ she said. ‘That’s no way to talk to your girlfriend.’
I stared at his mother, she stared at her son, he stared back at me. Only his dad sat back, relaxed, perfectly happy with the situation.
‘Me?’ I said, pointing at myself. ‘I’m not his girlfriend?’
All of a sudden, Callum let out a loud laugh, too big, too forced to be real.
‘She’s joking!’ he said between guffaws. ‘Loves to joke, this one, has me in stitches. Classic.’
They all turned in my direction, his mum and dad examining me with open curiosity as though they’d just been introduced to an entirely alien concept, like Pepsi Max Wild Cherry or Morman wife TikTok, and Callum, his beseeching blue eyes open wide and staring at me with an intensity that could’ve set fire to a wet paper bag. I opened my mouth to correct him but something in those eyes stopped me. They were so dark, the sapphire depths contrasting sharply against his pale skin, and suddenly my intended words of protest dissolved on my tongue.
‘Classic,’ I croaked instead. ‘Always the joker, me.’
‘Hilarious, I’m sure.’ His mother sniffed, reappraising me in a way I did not care for in the slightest. ‘So. You’re the girlfriend.’
