‘Wow,’ she says, trying to keep the smile off her face, ‘you have an answer for everything, don’t you?’
‘No,’ he says, grinning at her, knowing she’ll forgive him anything, ‘I don’t know the capital of Uruguay.’
Rose walks over and gives him a gentle cuff across the head, followed by a hug. It’s a long hug, and I can see him squirming slightly in her embrace. I stay quiet – this isn’t my drama to intrude on, plus I have no idea who Sylvie and Amber and Ariel and Heather and Charlie are. Joe gives me a friendly nod over his mother’s shoulder before he manages to escape.
‘Sylvie is Gareth’s second wife,’ Rose explains, as though reading my mind. ‘Amber and Ariel are their kids. Heather is the third wife, and Charlie is their two-year-old daughter.’
She turns her scrutiny back to Joe, who is sidling towards a cupboard full of chocolate cereal.
‘What about the beer?’ she snaps.
‘Oh … well. That wasn’t me, honest. Well, not all me, anyway. Simon saw the lights on last night and came round to check. He had a baseball bat and he scared the shit out of me – you know how hard he looks, even though he’s dead nice. When he saw I was here on my own, we got the pizza, and the beer. And I only had one. Maybe two.’
He pours himself the world’s biggest-known bowl of Coco Pops, and splashes on half a gallon of milk.
‘He kept all the milk in his house as well – I think you forgot to cancel it … you look nice, by the way, Mum. Your hair’s different.’
She half scowls, half laughs at his attempt to change the subject, and looks set to give him another telling off when there is a firm knock at the door. We all jump a little at the sound, but Joe recovers first.
‘That’ll be him now,’ he says, wandering through into the living room and collapsing on a sofa that’s seen better days, propping his bare feet up on the coffee table.
Rose looks slightly flustered, and does a thing with her boobs she probably doesn’t even notice she’s doing. She practically runs to the front door, and in comes the famous Simon – super neighbour and fine-assed lawn-mower.
He’s a big man, dressed in working clothes, his hair shaved short and his face a little on the battered side. His eyes, though, are a vivid shade of blue, and look kind. The type of kind that would save your milk and look after your kid for you.
They walk through, and Rose introduces us. She looks flustered, her eyes constantly darting between me and Simon, as though waiting for something to happen. I realise with absolute horror that she is expecting me to flirt with him. Possibly screw him on the kitchen table. Because, after all, he’s male – and that’s what I do.
I can’t say that I blame her for having some suspicions, but it still upsets me, the way she seems to automatically assume the worst. I know I don’t have a good track record – the absolute worst, in fact – but I would never, ever do that. Not in a million years. I’m a different person now, and it cuts deep that she doesn’t know that yet.
‘Nice to meet you, Simon,’ I say, politely shaking his hand. ‘I’m just going to pop upstairs and freshen up. Then maybe Joe can give me a guided tour.’
Joe gives me a small salute in agreement, Coco Pops dribbling down his chin, and I disappear off towards the hallway. I need to get out of view, and quickly, because I suspect I am about to do some very ugly crying.
Chapter 47
Rose
Iring Simon’s doorbell once, very briefly, half hoping that he doesn’t hear and I can slink away again.
I’ve left Poppy and Joe in the house, after a day of showing my sister around the area. She feigned enthusiasm well enough, but seems far more interested in Joe than in me. In fact, the two of them are getting along so well I fear the house may burn down.
It makes me twitch, seeing them like that, side by side on the sofa, as though they’ve known each other forever. I love my boy more than anything in the world, and am worried about him setting foot in the toxic cauldron that Poppy and I seem to inhabit.
She’s also told me about her Joe le Nephew savings account, and the frankly daft amount of money she’s set aside for him. It’s a kind gesture, but somehow I feel slightly threatened by it. By her incursion into my life. By all of it.
I needed to escape for a while, and Simon’s seemed the sensible option. I wanted to thank him for looking after Joe, and looking after our milk, anyway.
He opens the door, and looks genuinely pleased to see me.
‘Come in, come in … excuse the mess …’ he says, as I follow him through into the living room. The layout of the house is exactly the same as ours, but the resemblance ends there. He only moved in last year, and it still looks as if he hasn’t unpacked. Everything is perfectly tidy and uncluttered, the only sign of luxury being a mahoosive TV and some video games consoles.
The door to the kitchen is open, and I see one cup, one plate, one knife and fork laid out on the drainer, lined up with military precision.
‘Were you in the Navy SEALs?’ I blurt out, as he directs me to the sofa.
‘Erm … no,’ he answers, looking confused. ‘They’re American. I was in the Royal Marines.’
‘Oh! That’s … well, that’s good. Anyway, I just wanted to thank you for looking after Joe like you did.’
