A tapping sound comes from the roof of the cottage and I turn to see a builder replacing some tiles. Farther down the house, two more builders are erecting scaffolding along the back wall. Signs of their activity are everywhere and at the bottom of the driveway someone has put up a sign saying LAVORI INCORSO, which I assume from the image means “Building work in progress.” At leastthe builders are making progress—which is more than can be said for me with the kids.
Theo steps into the big lounge. He’s wearing khaki cargo shorts, a burgundy T-shirt and sandals, and takes off his Panama hat. “Where is everyone?”
I look up from a stack of opera records I’ve found: I would never have thought anyone from my family would be a fan of opera, but evidently, I was wrong. “Archie’s playing in the other lounge,” I say. “Callum and Mabel are in their rooms.”
“Have they behaved?”
He looks careworn and I don’t want to add to it. “I’ve had a fab morning!”
Theo sits next to me on the sofa. “Yeah, but did they help?”
“Archie’s been brill. And so adorable.”
He narrows his eyes. “And Cal and Mabel?”
I frown. “They didn’t exactly help, no.”
He looks away and I can see how much this upsets him.
“But it was fine!” I add quickly. “Honestly, we got loads done. Although you might have to talk to Mabel about the lizards.”
“I was wondering when she’d spot them.”
“Well, it’s happened. I suppose it was always going to.”
Theo nods, gravely.
I stand up and slide the vinyl that’s in good condition down the side of the record player, leaving the scratched records by the door. “How about you? Did you get everything done?”
“Well, I sent those emails I needed to. But I also spoke to my parents.” He dashes his hand over his eyes.
Sothat’swhy he looks troubled.
Theo’s parents live in Hertfordshire, which is where he was born and brought up, before moving to Manchester for university then settling in the city. They go out of their way to stress that they don’t disapprove of him being gay: they just don’t understand why he couldn’t have waited a few more years till he came out. Their reasoning is that this would have been less distressing for the kids, but they don’t seem to have any awareness of how distressing it was for Theo to stay in the closet. It doesn’t helpthat Kate got to them first, turning up on their doorstep and breaking down in tears as she related how hard the breakup had been for her.
I swallow but can feel my throat going dry. “And what did they say?”
He lets out a weary sigh. “Just the usual. I mentioned the problems we’ve been having with the kids and they basically told me the same old story about it being my fault. Apparently my sister feels the same.”
I go back to sit on the sofa. “Theo, you can’t listen to them.”
“No, I know.” But he doesn’t sound convinced.
In an instant, I feel vulnerable and exposed. Because if he believes his parents—even if a tiny part of him believes them—where does that leave me? After all, if he hadn’t come out we wouldn’t have met.
But I manage to keep my anxiety inside. What I actually say is, “Theo, you did the right thing. You’ve got to hold onto that.”
He massages his stubble. “Ads, I just want my kids to be happy. And they’re not. At least not Callum and Mabel.”
Out of nowhere, I feel a flash of irritation. “And what about you, Theo? Don’t you deserve to be happy?”
I didn’t intend to raise my voice and immediately regret it.
“But that’s just it, Ads,” he says, sounding tetchy. “I’m a parent. Ican’tbe happy unless they are.”
“And what aboutmyhappiness?” I want to say. “Or does that not come into it?”
But I can’t: that would only put him under more pressure. And it would pit me against his kids, forcing him to choose between us. I know how that would end.
