He shrugs apologetically and backs out of the door.
‘But another time, Lisa. You know you can always count on me.’
Chapter 40
Work is ridiculous over the next few days. Not because of a single particular issue. It’s just one of those weeks in which every team meeting, deadline and crisis seem to converge. I see off most of them with the same well-honed juggling skills I employ at home, but it does mean that certain important fringe matters – like mentoring Daisy or supporting Calvin on his first proposal – are a challenge.
I see Zach every so often but resist going out of my way to bump into him. The most I allow myself is to let my mind drift every so often. To that kiss in a rainy alleyway. Our clinch in the bathroom. The sensual warmth of his skin against mine . . .
I tell myself that these short, private moments of inner bliss are a better use of a spare five minutes than anything my meditation app offers. Just a small pleasure all of us surely need, even if these amount to nothing more than scraps of ‘free time’ while standing in a queue for coffee. But they are, inevitably, just that. Scraps. Mainly, I am pulled in all directions for a full five days and only really decompress on Friday night when Nora and Rose come over for our monthly book club get-together. We spend three minutes discussingShadow of the Wind, then move onto other matters. Namely, Leo.
‘Why do you keep banging on about saying the word “fuck” to him, Lisa? He said it first,’ argues Rose. I sort of knew she’d say this, which was precisely why I told her. ‘You need to get over this.’
‘And after pulling the stunt with the wine, he could’ve been in line for far worse,’ Nora adds, supportively.
‘I know he said it first, but I’m the parent. I’m supposed to maintain a dignified moral high ground.’
‘Look, I’m not a mum, but I do know that this idea that, as his mother, you’ve got to be this serene, all-knowing, perfect being is bullshit. You’redoing your best. That is enough.’
‘Even if you are a potty mouth,’ Nora adds, which makes us all laugh.
As I go to bed that night, a ‘memory’ pops up on my phone. It’s a video of Leo, aged two, all kissable cheeks and sparkly smile. In it, we’re in the kitchen in our old house. Brendan is there, working in the background on his computer, not looking up from it. He’s got a small but noticeable paunch and is wearing a jumper that makes him look like he’s running a post office.
Leo is in his high chair, banging his little hands on the plastic tray as he says, ‘MUMMY, MUMMY, MUMMY!’
‘What is it, you noisy thing?’ I say in that silly, sing-song voice it’s impossible not to use with small children.
Then he looks at the camera, his eyes shining, as he declares, ‘I lub you, Mummy!’
‘That’s good because I lub you too,’ I laugh.
I click off the phone and close my eyes. The last words I think of before I drift off are: I still feel the same, Leo. No matter what. With every cell in my body, I lub you too.
The following morning, Jacob is at a loose end because he’s given up on the basketball and I’ve refused to even entertain the idea of a trampolining club. So I make a snap decision to go and watch Leo play rugby. I know this is a risk, that he might well shoo us away for cramping his style. But when he spots us, he jogs over during a break in proceedings and ruffles his little brother’s hair. ‘You come to support me, little mate?’ he asks.
‘Yeah!’ says Jacob.
‘Great. I’ll score a try just for you,’ he says, winking at him.
The rugby union season is over now, so he’s been playing league for a few weeks. I can’t say I’m entirely au fait with the difference between the two – although I know one has fewer players – but promise myself I’ll find out.
In the event, he scores three ‘absolute belters’ according to the guy next to me, though even if they’d been very average I think Jacob and I would’ve cheered and clapped just as loudly; my voice is nearly hoarse by the end of the match. It’s as I’m watching – and seeing the sheer joy in his eyes as he runs across the pitch – that I start to question everything I’ve said about the rugby academy. I desperately want him to do well in his exams, to take his future seriously. But his passion for this sport is difficult to argue with.
‘You were phenomenal!’ I say after the match. Leo shrugs but looks pleased with the comment. I hand over a banana and a drink from my bag. ‘Sorry if we embarrassed you.’
‘Nah, it’s fine,’ he shrugs. ‘I’m going to get a shower and go out with the rest of them though, okay?’
I nod. ‘Of course. Have a great time. Just keep your phone on and make sure you’re back for dinner at seven,’ I say, even though it’s actually at 7.30. I already know he’ll roll in at ten past.
As Jacob and I walk back to the car, we pass the swing park I used to take them to when they were small.
‘Are you too big for those, these days?’ I say.
He looks at me with pursed lips. ‘Are you joking, Mum? I’m 10 years old. OfcourseI am.’
‘Right. Sorry. I hadn’t appreciated you were a man of such sophisticated tastes these days.’
He starts to giggle. ‘Course . . . if there was an ice cream on offer, I might be interested . . .’
