“Hi baby,” Mia says, her voice shaking as much as her hands. “Am I glad to see you.”
Tank nudges Mia’s leg, seeming to sense his mum’s distress, one ear flopping down as he gazes up at her. Mia scoops him up in her arms, and cuddles him to her chest. He eagerly licks her cheek as she carries him to the kitchen, still in her coat and high heels.
“Sit down, I’ll make you a cup of tea,” I say, kicking off my shoes and shrugging off my coat.
“You don’t have to do that,” Mia calls back, and when I reach the kitchen, she’s curled up with Tank on the huge black sofa. She regards me with bloodshot, shining eyes, and sniffles. “Really, you don’t.”
“Mia, I’m not leaving you right now.” I put the kettle on, retrieving two cups from the drawer beneath the counter, andprepare a tea for us both. Mia watches me silently, cuddling Tank, not crying, but anguish twisting her face all the same.
I take the prepared cups across the sitting room and place them on the table.
“You probably think I’m a monster,” Mia says, sniffling.
“I do not think that.” My eyes meet hers as I sit at the other end of the sofa, and I pull her feet into my lap.
“What are you doing?”
“I am taking off your shoes,” I murmur, and gently undo the strap of one, then the other, placing them on the floor.
Tank curls up at Mia’s side, nuzzling into her, his eyes moving from her to me and back again. I reach over to scratch his ears, and he snuffs loudly.
“He likes you,” Mia says with a smile.
“Of course he does. Dogs love me.” I keep her feet in my lap, which should feel wrong, but it doesn’t. Not at all.
Mia takes up her cup from the table, curling her hands around it, and takes a deep breath. “I didn’t dump him there. I promise.”
“I believe you.”
“He…” She trails off and eyes me uncertainly. “This is a long story.”
“I have time.”
She nods, her eyelashes fluttering ever so slightly. “My dad had something called Korsakoff Syndrome. It’s a kind of dementia, when your brain’s been starved of thiamine for a long time, you know, vitamin B?” She looks at me, and I nod. “It happens a lot with alcoholics.”
“Is that what caused it in your dad?”
Mia nods, biting her lip and casting her gaze across the room. “My parents weren’t bad people. I need you to know that. Because it sounds like they were, but they weren’t. They werejust… addicts.” She looks back at me, her brows drawn down. “They tried, they really did. But… the addiction won out.”
“I’m not here to judge anyone.” I give her a reassuring smile. “You can talk to me.”
She takes another shaky breath, and a sip of her tea, looking down at the mug as she begins to talk.
“My dad, I told you he grew up with a violent father. My dad was a big bloke, really strong, and his dad realised that there was another man in the house now that could defend his wife. So he kicked my dad out right when he finished school.” She shifts in her seat, but keeps her feet in my lap. “He got a job at a factory in Ardsley, down in south Leeds, doing security. That’s how he met my mum.” A smile ghosts over her lips. “He loved telling me that story. About how one night he heard a noise and went to investigate, and suddenly this blonde head popped up out of a dumpster and asked him for a hand to get out.”
“A very romantic meeting?” I say with a chuckle.
Mia’s smile widens just a little, and she nods. “He was smitten immediately. But my mum, she was tough, she didn’t have time for him. She was a runaway, left home when she was 14, had been on the streets ever since. She was from Hull, but had followed her shitty boyfriend up to Leeds. Broke up with him, but kept the drug habit he’d introduced her to.”
I rake my fingers through my beard. “Oh, dear.”
“Mmm. Meth. I don’t know how she fed that habit, but I don’t like thinking about that too much. She was just a kid.”
I feel nothing but sympathy for Mia’s mother. To leave home so young, to be out on the streets as a kid, a child… I think of Archie at that age, playing football with his mates and getting excited about post-match McDonalds, and my heart hurts.
“Anyway,” Mia goes on. “My dad started bringing food for my mum so she didn’t have to search the dumpsters, tried to charm her and ask her out. She asked him how old he was, and whenhe said 19 she’d laughed and said he was too old for her. She was 17 then I think, still a kid.” She takes another sip of her tea, and runs a hand over Tank’s head. “Anyway, one night my dad gave her something she must have been allergic to, and my mum came over really ill. My dad panicked and abandoned his post, and drove her straight up to the LGI. He carried her in and was just yelling for someone to help her, and when they said he’d have to leave if he wasn’t family, he lied and said he was her fiancé.” Mia shakes her head with a smile. “He didn’t even know her last name, but somehow they believed him and let him stay.”
“That’s true love.”
