Not that people recognised me. I was just…a dull, middle-aged man with an over-talkative son who seemed to know everyone and anyone in there.
Then he finally let me back home, and the door slamming shut behind me was an enormous relief.
“Ollie says hi,” he said, putting his phone in my face.
A text. From someone called Ollie. Just a laughing emoji beneath theHI!
I didn’t want to know what that meant.
And my phone was making a racket on the worktop.
“Answer your goddamn phone, Dad,” he said. My son, throwing himself on the sofa. Shoes still on. I didn’t have the energy to tell him off.
The phone. It was still making a racket and I…
“He’s calling you now, will you pick up!” Cal shouted.
“Who?” I said weakly.
“Your goddamn boyfriend.”
The ceiling creaked. Of course it did.
“Mary, it’s not easy!” I shouted to the ridiculous ceiling.
“Mum, he’s an idiot. Make the lights blink if you agree!” Cal shouted.
The lights were steady and bright. It made me laugh. Everything was just…
I picked up my phone before all my bravery left me. I mean. I was once again pushed into a tight virtual corner, and here was the number blinking on my phone.
I didn’t even have it saved. What kind of boyfriend was I?
Boyfriend. Oh for…
“Hello?” I said weakly.
“Hi.” His voice. Oh God help me. His little voice. Small trickles of sunshine. Everywhere.
“Oliver,” I said. Because that was me.
“Peter,” he said back. “It’s been days. You need to actually talk to me.”
“I know.”
“I talk to your sons more than I talk to you. Also? There is football on Saturday. I am required to attend according to Cal. How do you feel about that?”
How did I feel about that?Don’t go to football. Come to me.
“It would be nice to see you,” I said. Weak. In a minute, Mary would kick a saucepan into my head. It wouldn’t surprise me one bit. And? I deserved it.
“Peter,” he whined.
“I want to see you.”
“Better.”
“Oliver.” Now who was whining?
