‘Coming!’ she yelled again as she raced down the stairs, wiping her damp hands on the thighs of her jeans. ‘Hello, darling!’ She smiled at the sight of her floppy-haired boy who sat with his back to her on a stool at the kitchen island. Charles caught her eye and she noted his look of concern, his gaze a little lingering, as if giving her a sign she was quite unable to decipher. He did this a lot, as though he could telepathically relay what he was trying to say. It was maddening. She knitted her eyebrows in confusion as he reached into the fridge and pulled out two bottles of cold beer.
‘Here we go, mate.’ Her husband plonked the bottles down on to the island as Ed turned to greet her.
‘Oh, love!’ Her heart twisted at the sight of him and suddenly Charles’s message came through loud and clear:Bear is upset. Veryupset.His eyes were red raw from crying, his nose snotty. ‘What on earth? What’s happened?’ Walking forward, she cradled him to her. He might be a grown man of twenty-nine, but he was still her son, and this was what she did best – administered love where and when she could.
‘I’ve really messed up, Mum.’
‘You have? How?’ Her thoughts raced as she tried to figure out what possibly could have caused this level of distress. Had he bashed the car, rowed with Petra, got fired? Nothing insurmountable, she was sure; it was just a case of holding him close and finding the solution. ‘What’s happened, love?’ she pressed, wanting the information right this minute to stop her thoughts from racing.
‘I’ve ... met someone.’ It was not what she’d expected to hear and her mouth fell open as the significance of these three little words sunk in.
‘You’ve met someone?’ Charles was slow on the uptake and she fired a look at him. He slunk back on his stool and sipped his beer.
‘A woman.’ Bear clarified for his stepfather.
‘A different woman to the one you’re engaged to?’
‘Yes, Charles! Obviously!’ she tutted and rubbed her son’s back as he actually laughed.
‘I bloody love you, Charles.’ Her son sniffed.
‘The feeling is entirely mutual, boy, even if it takes me a wee while to catch on!’ He raised his bottle in a toast. Despite the flair of love she felt for this man, she chose not to comment, hoping that for her son, this meeting of ‘a woman’ did not mean infidelity. She knew too well the cold cut of pain such an action could cause and still, after all these years, felt the lance of betrayal at the thought. She pictured Petra, who had always seemed a little besotted.
‘Come through to the sitting room, darling. We can sit in the comfy chairs and you can tell me all about it.’ She thought this might be the best and most private place to talk.
‘I’ll do the dishes and I’ll keep the human wrecking balls out when they come home,’ Charles offered. She was thankful for this sweet, sweet man she had married nearly sixteen years ago.
‘Come on.’ She walked slowly with her hand on his back, turning to mouthThank you!to Charles as they left the room. He blew her a kiss in reply. It landed on her cheek and was soft and inclusive and spoke of unconditional love.
Bear settled on one end of the squidgy sofa, which took up a large chunk of the square room, and she clicked on the lamp that sat on the side table, before taking a seat at the other end and folding her legs beneath her.
‘What’s going on, Bear?’ she asked gently, while her whole being itched with the need to hear the detail.
‘I don’t know where to begin.’ He bit his lip as if to quell further tears and she was so powerfully reminded of the little boy who had wept when she’d packed up a bag and headed off to stay with her sister, promising with her whole heart to be back in three sleeps, that it almost took her breath away. Nerves fluttered in her stomach, not a familiar feeling when addressing her boy, but that was by the by. The thought that his behaviour might echo Hugo’s was as unsettling as it was worrying. The topic itself enough to take her back to that time she chose not to revisit. Not ever.
‘Start at the beginning. And take your time.’
Her son took a deep breath and wiped his eyes. Displays like this were rare for him in recent years, and from this alone she understood the magnitude of his feelings. It was hard to see him so distressed, but at the same time she rather admired his openness. This was in itself a world away from Hugo’s shady secret life of infidelity, which, the first time it had happened, had come as the greatest shock, but thereafter was no more than a rather sad expectation. It was, she thought, an uncomfortable way to live. And onethat she, long after she had extricated her life from his, still felt the consequences of.
Like those moments when Charles, her beloved Charles, was late or didn’t answer a call, and the breath caught in her throat, not necessarily thinking that he too might be a philanderer, but aware of how these things came out of the blue, like a barking dog coming at you in the dark. No matter that it was tethered or friendly, it made your heart jump just the same. And that tiny nagging sliver of self-doubt that if she hadn’t been able to stop Hugo from straying, why was it going to be different with any other man? What exactly had she done wrong? Had she inadvertently driven him to it? And if she didn’t know, how could she avoid doing it again? All this before she started on the deep gash that ran across her heart and her trust, a cut that had only ever partially healed, so deep was the injury. An injury sustained in a battle she had never believed she would have to enter – the shock of it as great as the fight itself.
‘Let’s start with Petra,’ she suggested.
Having watched him struggle, she offered the prompt and spoke the name of the sweet girl who Hugo and Ramona seemed positively dotty about.
‘It all happened so fast, Mum.’ He took his time.
‘The engagement?’ she queried, not quite understanding as the two had been dating on and off since they were twenty. Nothing about it felt rushed.
He nodded.
‘Petra’s mother came to stay with Dad and Ramona for the weekend.’ Harriet chose not to voice how this sounded ‘cosy’, knowing it was pure jealousy on her part which was neither attractive nor founded. She could, of course, make more effort with Petra’s mother and invite her over, as long as the invite didn’t have to include Ramona. She found the woman to be impossibly loud and opinionated. This too she kept to herself.
‘They were all drinking wine, Dad was in his element, Petra and I were joining in, and it was great. And then Ramona said wasn’t it about time we tied the knot, took things up a gear – I don’t know exactly what she said, I can’t remember. It was more a joke than anything and I think I agreed and laughed, and the next thing I know’ – he gave a slow blink – ‘Ramona’s opening a bottle of champagne, Petra’s mum is crying and texting her friends and Dad’s ferreting about in that attic to try and find Granny Stratton’s ring!’
‘So ...’ It sounded ghastly and bloody typical of Hugo, running headlong at a hundred miles an hour no matter the consequences. It was a thing she’d loved about him in their youth, a wild and exciting adventure, but when stability and a clear plan were needed, it was the very opposite of endearing. She was aware of treading carefully, delicately, as expressing a personal opinion that might alienate Bear could have a disastrous effect. Plus, if there was any chance of him smoothing things over with Petra, she needed to leave all pathways open. ‘Is it that you don’t want to get married at all, or you have doubts about Petra or are fearful of the change, or ... ?’
‘I did want to be with Petra,’ he confessed. ‘I figured even though marriage hadn’t really been on my mind, it kind of made sense. We’ve been together for a long time and all our friends have been saying it’s the next logical step and Jack and Fi have got married, so ...’
