It was an encounter that had unsettled her, to say the least. The car was booked in to the local garage to be repaired. She had decided after all to go via her insurance company, meaning she could avoid further contact with the married charmer who had won her over with such ease, and had left her punctured with holes of shame from which disappointment in her actions leaked. How could she have considered such a thing? A married man! The thought alone enough to make her shudder. And did he think she was stupid? He’d taken a lease on a flat thatveryday... yeah, right.
More than that, she loved Jonathan, missed Jonathan, and was without the heart space or mental capacity to consider anything else, and that was all there was to it.
A text came through from Holly.
Samon On Croot In. All Good X
‘All good except your spelling, command of French, and knowledge of cuisine,’ she whispered a little meanly, knowingAngela would find that hilarious and dismissing her brief desire to show the message to Maeve next door. I mean, yes, it was all well and good being able to weave a bike in and out of traffic cones, but did it really make you gifted?
Drawn by a shape in her peripheral vision that was familiar, her heart lifted at the sight of her boy. Call it mother’s intuition or just an above-average level of insight into the human condition, but he didn’t look to be in any hurry to jump into her little Audi. The one with the ugly dent of a Mercedes grille on the passenger door. His demeanour not that of someone who had been away from home for three weeks and was happy to be back. Not that she was counting. Her heart flipped at the prospect that something might be wrong. Was he ill? He didn’t look ill, but Jonathan hadn’t looked ill either, until he did.
Oh God!
She watched, heart racing, as he stood under the covered walkway and stared into the middle distance, before running his hand over his face in the way someone did when they were either exhausted or trying to find an expression to go and face a situation.
‘What do you think?’ she whispered. ‘Probably just very tired. Do you remember when he got back from cub camp and was too shattered to get out of the car, you had to scoop him up, lift him over your shoulder and cart him up the stairs, dumping him straight into bed in his little uniform, woggle an’ all. He had muddy knees, a dry flannel, and a pristine bar of soap, after a week away. Said it was the best time of his life! Honestly, Jonathan, that feels like five minutes ago.’
She waved at her son, who narrowed his gaze in her direction then instantly straightened his shoulders and waved back.
He climbed into the passenger seat and closed his eyes, so distracted he didn’t notice the ugly dent in their shared vehicle.
‘That’s better.’ He breathed slowly through his nose.
‘I know, air conditioning! Isn’t it a marvel?’
She took in his profile, a little surprised as ever that the man with the two-day stubble, deep voice and hairy hands was her child. It was almost as if any time away erased years so effectively that she actually half expected him to be returning from cub camp with his unused flannel and unfeasibly dirty knees.
‘Yep. Crap for the planet but lovely on a long drive, which is also bad for the planet, at the end of a flight, which...’ He shook his head.
‘You’re right, of course, but if we look at our carbon footprint as a family, the fact that I don’t go anywhere and haven’t flown for yonks and don’t plan on doing so any time soon, surely we are better than most?’
‘Not quite sure it works like that.’ He smiled at her. ‘Hi, Mum.’
‘Hello, love. Welcome home.’ The dark bruises of fatigue beneath his eyes confirmation that her boy needed sleep. ‘Good trip?’
He was always full of enthusiasm when it came to his career. Continually learning where and how the robotic surgery that was his specialism might improve the lives of people all over the planet, the planet that the air conditioning was right now damaging. The three-week programme in Rome was to understand the delicate nature of knee surgery that could, with a skilled practitioner, be directed hundreds of miles away from the patient via computer if the tech was used correctly. It had blown her mind to think of it. And not that she’d said it, but she wasn’t sure she liked the idea of having her knee or any other part of her body operated on by a surgeon who could, for all she knew, be living it up on holiday, knocking back strawberry daiquiris and then swapping her bikini and sarong for scrubs to laser open a human. Enya had shivered at the thought. Progress or not, she wanted, should the need ever arise, to be able to look her surgeon in the eye.
‘Erm...’ He turned to look out of his window, and she felt the weight of the uncharacteristic silence.
‘What’s wrong, love?’
‘Just give me a moment.’ He turned down the whirring air con a couple of notches and instantly she lamented the loss of cold air on her menopausal face.
‘You’re scaring me!’ She failed spectacularly to meet his request, as Jonathan’s voice down the phone came to mind.
‘. . . just give me a moment . . . not sure how to say this, Enya B . . . I love you . . . you know that . . . but I’ve just seen Dr Birch . . . it’s not good news, love . . .’
‘I want to get married.’ He turned to her now, and a smile split his face in two, magically erasing all signs of fatigue as his features leapt to life. ‘That’s it!’ He threw his palms in the air and let them fall into his lap as he exhaled. ‘I want to get married, Mum. No,morethan that, Iamgetting married!’
‘My goodness, Aiden! You had me worried for a minute!’ She placed her hand on her chest, where her heart did the rumba. ‘That’s wonderful! Absolutely wonderful! Oh my!’ She laughed her relief into the confined space. ‘As long as you’re sure, and I only say that as your mum and not in any way trying to interfere, this is your life, your choices. But you need to be certain.’
It was probably a foolish thing to say he and Holly had grown up together; a couple since they were seventeen. She didn’t want to meddle but was painfully aware that they still had a lot of growing up to do and that the dynamics of their relationship seemed a little out of balance. An image came to mind of Jonathan coming home to their little house as newlyweds when she’d served rice that had congealed into a solid lump. He had carved them both a chunk and eaten it with relish. It had been an in-joke ever since. ‘One slice or two?’they’d ask whenever they ate rice.
And she had learned, and they had grown together, figuring out as they went along; maybe it would be the same for Holly and Aiden. They had, after all, weathered him going off to university and her yearat the local college, and had in the last couple of years built a beautiful home together in a flat on the other side of town with a view of the river. A home that now boasted a vintage ship’s library in which they would sleep, one with knobs on the dresser covered in old books. She still didn’t get it. Not that anyone would be discussing the décor of their flat once the date was set and the wheels were put in motion.
‘I am.’ He locked eyes with her. ‘I’ve never been surer of anything in my whole life!’
‘Oh love, I am so happy for you, and I know your dad would be too.’ She pictured her planned evening with Jenny; they now had something to truly celebrate! Her gut gripped with excitement. ‘But neither of us could match how happy a certain young lady is going to be. In fact, I suspect if you look under your bed, you might find pre-made wedding favours and several shades of toile from which she will make the bridesmai—’
