‘Why not?’
‘He’s a teacher!’ Ava said this with the expression and tone of voice that might have been justified if she was outing Owen as a cannibal. But I could still feel the warm glow from his smile, making me defiant.
‘So what? I’m pretty sure he’s a man as well.’
‘Urgh, that’s just gross.’
‘What is?’
‘You and Mr Ferguson … kissing.’
‘We’re not kissing.’ Of course, I immediately started thinking about kissing. Could I kiss Owen? His lips were plumper than Leo’s. Would that feel odd? The whole idea of kissing other lips seemed odd. I had never expected to do it, had never wanted to do it, except once, in one mad, extraordinary moment … Heat rushed across my skin. ‘Let’s see how the drink goes first.’
Jonas pulled out one earphone, and grinned.
‘Go on, Mum,’ he said. ‘He’ll be lucky to have you.’
Ava reached across from the back seat and punched him on the shoulder.
‘Shut up. It’s embarrassing. She’s too old for all that.’
‘I’m only thirty-eight.’
‘Exactly!’
‘Dad’s forty-two.’
‘But he’s not going out with one of my teachers! What will my friends say? It will be so embarrassing. I can’t believe you’re doing this to us. You’re so selfish.’
Ava got out of the car, slammed the door, and stomped off without saying goodbye. Jonas loitered, passenger door open.
‘It’s okay,’ he said, gazing at me with eyes that were just like mine, only without the bags and wrinkles. ‘You deserve some fun. She’ll get used to it.’
I didn’t believe either statement, but leaned across the handbrake and kissed his cheek. He submitted before pulling away and strolling into school. I waited in the car park until he was out of sight, grateful that while I had lost so much, I still had my lovely, peace-keeping boy.
A few years ago I set up an informal ‘meals on wheels’ service for the older residents of the village, so early the next week, when I was left with an extra meal at lunchtime, I dropped in at Audrey’s house to see if she wanted it.
‘Audrey!’ I called, as I pushed open the door with my shoulder, balancing the plate of food in my hands. ‘It’s only me! One of the old dears went out shopping and forgot I was coming, so I have …’
The plate fell to the ground, bouncing on the lino and sending vegetables rolling. Audrey was lying on the floor, half in the kitchen, half in the hall. She was wearing her pyjamas and slippers; a mug lay on its side on the hall carpet beyond Audrey’s head, surrounded by a brown stain; there was another stain on the kitchen lino, spreading from beneath Audrey’s legs. The smell of rich morning urine filled the room.
‘Don’t come in, Mary.’ Audrey’s voice was faint, weakened by fear. A sheen of sweat shimmered on her face, around eyes that were enormous and terrified. Audrey, my lovely, lively Audrey, looked as if every second of her sixty-five years had stamped their mark on her all at once, adding ten more years for good measure.
‘What’s happened?’ I asked, stepping over some stray broccoli, and kneeling at her side. Her left arm was tucked underneath her at an awkward angle. I took her right hand, rubbing it between mine, trying to add warmth. ‘How long have you been here? Since breakfast?’
‘I tripped over the door plate …’
The door plate between the kitchen and the hall had been loose for months. I had told Leo before Christmas, and he had promised to fix it – but as usual, I hadn’t wanted to nag. Why hadn’t I pressed him? Why hadn’t I fixed it myself? Was it because somewhere in my head, I hadn’t accepted that this post-Leo world was real?
‘Where are you hurt? Can you tell?’
‘My arm. Mainly my wrist. I can’t lean on it to get up.’
‘Don’t try. I’m calling an ambulance.’
I started to stand, but Audrey clutched my arm. Her grasp was as feeble as a child’s.
‘No. I can’t go in an ambulance like this.’
I nodded, understanding exactly what she meant. I ran upstairs to her bedroom and picked out a fresh pair of knickers and pyjamas. It was an effort to put them on, as I feared exacerbating injuries or causing Audrey pain; she closed her eyes when I inched down her knickers, and I stopped, terrified I might be damaging a broken hip, but she insisted I carry on. It never occurred to me to be embarrassed. I would walk on hot coals rather than undress my own mum, but this was Audrey. Nothing was too much for her.
I couldn’t change her pyjama top, as I couldn’t risk disturbing her arm.
‘I don’t match!’ she said, with a hint of her normal self.
‘I don’t expect the paramedics will mind,’ I replied, putting down the phone after calling for an ambulance. ‘We’ll tell them that it’s the latest fashion: mismatched pyjamas as daywear. In fact, if I’m quick, I could go and put on some random nightwear too, to establish the trend.’
That raised a weak smile, which was better than nothing, and while we waited for the ambulance I followed Audrey’s instructions and washed her face, applied lipstick, and spritzed her with perfume. I tried ringing Leo, but he was on voicemail, so I left a message. Then all I could do was wait.
We seemed to spend hours in A&E, but at least when Audrey was finally seen, the news wasn’t as bad as it might have been. Audrey had suffered a Colles fracture, which meant that she’d broken the bone in her left arm just above the wrist. It was a clean break, and didn’t need surgery, but she would be in a plaster cast for up to six weeks, and she could have residual stiffness for up to a year. For a fiercely independent woman, who was prone to think herself half her actual age, it was hard to accept, and I turned my back, pretending to read a poster while Audrey shed some discreet tears.
‘Has Leo not telephoned?’ she asked, while we waited for confirmation that she could go home.
‘Not yet. I’ve left a couple of messages.’
‘What about Ethan? Have you let him know that I’m fine? I would hate for him to be anxious.’
‘I haven’t told Ethan.’ It hadn’t crossed my mind. What use would he be, in New York? ‘I don’t have his number.’
‘What time will it be over there? About lunchtime? Do call him. He’ll tell me off if he finds out days after the event. Take my phone and give him a ring. Make sure he knows that I’m right as rain, and there’s no cause for panic.’
Reluctantly, I took Audrey’s phone and went outside, squeezing past the smokers balancing on crutches at the entrance of the hospital, to find an empty bench. Ethan’s number rang out, and I scuffed my feet under the bench, hoping for voicemail.
‘Hello, Mum! I wasn’t expecting to hear from you today. What are you up to?’
I had to lift the phone away from my ear: the love that poured from it, coupled with that familiar Lancashire accent with a New York twist, caught my breath in a way I hadn’t expected.
‘Mum? Are you there?’
‘It’s Mary.’
‘Hello, Mary Black! What are you doing brightening my day?’ And then his tone changed as realisation dawned. ‘Mary? Is something wrong?’