I wish. Nope, cleaning job first thing, then school and then an evening shift at the shop. Hence nearly dead, and possibly currently asleep.
I wouldn’t be surprised if you were texting and sleeping at the same time. You’re a powerhouse. But more importantly, you were in Bath? When are you next in the shop?
Thursday. Why?
Let me feed you and look after you when you’ve finished. If you’re getting the train I’ll drive you back afterwards.
The fact that she does this is also testament to who she is. Belle will always walk or get public transport if she can. She only drives with Marsha or to places too out of the way to practically get to any other way. I know she’ll get the train to Bath after her school workshop and then have the hassle of getting home on public transport too.
By Thursday I’ll be too whacked to talk.
Which is why I’ll feed you, not literally but with some of the best food Bath can provide. I’ll even watch Christmas movies with you. No talking required. In fact no talking preferred.
Sounds good.
And you know how much you love free food.
I do love free food.
Brilliant. Go to sleep. ‘We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.’
Did you just quote Shakespeare at me?
Yup.
Do you know that one by heart?
I know it by google. Go to sleep.
Google, pah! And I don’t know about the stuff dreams are made on. Feels more like ‘Weary with toil I haste me to my bed.’
Well then, stop sleep texting, haste ye to bed and I’ll see you Thursday.
I am going to cook her the best dinner known to man.
The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together.
December Fifteenth.
Rory.
I’m sitting by the pop-up ice rink at Cribbs Causeway and the grin widens across my face as I see Mum approach. She sees me and her face does the same. Both of us have always been like this whenever we see each other, even when I was a teen. Although in the past I would fight really hard to stop my face giving my affection away, casting my eyes at the ground immediately and trying to think of something to make me cross so I didn’t look like a complete twat.
She is laden down with bags and I jump up to take them. Both of us have come to do our Christmas shopping but we split up because she’s terrified I might see what she is buying me and thus ruin Christmas for ever. Because obviously I will never be older than seven in her head.
I’ve managed to pick up some terribly swish-looking food processor for her. Hers is about thirty years old and when I was making the pastry for the mince pies it looked like it was trying to hurl itself off the worktop, pleading with me to allow it to die peacefully. The one I bought looks as if it could land a probe on Mars if you press the buttons in the right order. I’ve also found a signed copy of the latest book from her favourite author. I suspect she has already read it on her Kindle but still, I know it will make her smile. I’ve ordered a new shed heater for Dave online so he is taken care of but I did buy him a bottle of specialist whisky as well. You can’t ever be too warm when dealing with important shed-based matters. But the hardest thing is not picking up anything for Belle. I have already seen something online that I feel compelled to buy for her but still, every shop I went in I saw something that I thought would be perfect for her. I can’t get it all, it would scare the bejesus out of her. She’d think I was some crazy stalker type. But I did pick up a Victorian-themed snow globe for Marsha which I thought was a nice reminder of the weekend.
‘Don’t look! Don’t look!’ Mum fusses at me as I reach for her bags to carry them over to the car.
‘I won’t, honestly! Have you got everything you wanted to?’
‘Yes, but … um … how much of a hurry are you in?’
‘No hurry.’ Any work I can more or less deal with from my phone. ‘Why?’
‘Well…’ She casts a look back at the ice rink. ‘I’ve always wanted to try ice skating. I mean I don’t think I’d be any good at it. But I’d love to give it a try.’
‘I’ve never skated before either.’ I look at the ice rink and can imagine ambulances, me and Mum encased in plaster for Christmas.
