When We Are Old (If We Were... Book 2)

by Anna Bloom

  “What? I’m being nice.”

  “No, you aren’t. Get in the car, Mum.”

  Wow. Overreaction.

  I gave him a wave, although he was already walking away, pulling his hood up—clearly a terror to society.

  In the car I turned to her. “What?”

  “You aren’t cool.”

  “Well, I’m not uncool,” I mumbled before giving myself a mental bitch slap. “And anyway. This isn’t about me. What are you doing walking around holding hands with some boy?”

  “Some boy has a name, Mum. Jackson. And we are friends.”

  I sighed, glancing out of the window at the standstill school traffic. “You’re thirteen. Way too young to be stuck in the friend zone. Believe me, it’s not a good place to hang out.”

  “Because that’s what Matthew and you did?” She huffed a breath. “And anyway, I’m fourteen next week.

  I side eyed myself in the rear-view mirror. “Yes, you are.”

  Fuck. I don’t know what fact was more shocking. That I had a daughter who was nearly fourteen, or that I’d forgotten to organise anything for her birthday.

  “Mm. So what do you want to do next week?” and does it by any chance involve going to Scotland to meet Matthew’s rather large and boisterous family? No?

  “Just hang. Thought I’d go into town. Nonna always gives me cash. Jackson and Annabelle will want to come.”

  Oh. The moment she said the words it all became clear. “The three of you?”

  “Yeah. We're friends.”

  Go on, Ronnie, say it… “Boys and girls can’t be friends.” I nodded with satisfaction. If there was any lesson I’d take it on myself to teach my daughter, this would be it.

  “Sure, they can.”

  “And Annabelle is friends with Jackson too?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And do they hold hands?”

  “Well, no…”

  “Hannah, love. I know you think I talk shit. But take this from me. It will end in tears.”

  “Like you and Ange?”

  “That’s different. She lied and kept secrets.”

  “But she’s your friend.”

  “Yep.”

  “So if I say next week for my birthday I want a party at home, would you let me?”

  Hold on. How did we get onto this?

  Cheeky mare distracted me again.

  “How many people?”

  “A few.” She shrugged.

  “It’s not going to be one of these Facebook parties is it?”

  Her expression and eye roll said it all. “You are so old, Mum.”

  I started the car and flicked on the indicator waiting for a gap. I didn’t know what had happened to today, but it had all gone very weird and then some.

  “I’ll have to ask Nonna; it’s her house.”

  “That’s not what she’s saying.”

  I eyed Hannah. “What's she saying?”

  Hannah shrugged and slouched in her seat, muttering about not wanting to be picked up. Mental note to self. Don’t bother again.

  “I was hoping you’d meet Matthew next week?” I tightened my grip on the steering wheel in case she turned into Godzilla and blasted me out of the car with her fiery breath of doom.

  “On my birthday?”

  I concentrated out the window.

  “Mum!”

  “Okay, well let’s get home and see how it goes. We will still need to ask Nonna.”

  Hannah gave a little jump on her seat.

  “What’s so exciting?”

  “Nothing,” she said, but she looked too innocent, her eyebrows still resembling large caterpillars, smoothed out.

  “Mm.”

  “Of course she can have a party, darling.” Ma was wearing, well, Lycra.

  I think my eyeballs would still be bleeding around my fiftieth birthday.

  There were too many things in my head for me to think about all at once. So I went with the first and most pressing. “You never let me have a party.”

  “Really, Veronica? Are we still carting suitcases of ill feeling around with us?”

  Well that was rude.

  “No.”

  “Shouldn’t you be all happy and full of beans? You have a boyfriend now.”

  “Not just any boyfriend,” I mumbled. “The boyfriend.”

  “Ah, yes. The lanky boy who used to smoke cigarettes down the end of the road.”

  Gah, unintentionally she painted one of my favourite mental images. Matthew, tall and slim resting against the wall of the house on the corner, blowing smoke into the air.

  God, I'd idolised him.

  With a start I remembered that he was mine now.

  Funny that I didn’t know when he'd stopped smoking.

  I hadn’t thought about it the last few days. I made a mental note to ask him.

  “Well he’s not a lanky boy anymore.” I hesitated. This pained me. “And he wants to meet you.”

  She stilled from rolling a length of stretchy material into a tiny rectangle. Which brought me to my other questions.

  “Ma, what are you doing? And what are you wearing?”

  “This.” She smoothed her hands down her cotton and Lycra clad torso. “Is my yoga kit.”

  I snorted and then wiped at my nose making her frown. “Yoga? Since when?”

  “It’s one of the classes in the Eden zone at Sunrise.”

  My questions spawned even more questions. How was one woman supposed to survive this level of curiosity?

  “Okay, you’re going to have to start at the beginning.”

  “No time, Veronica. I have places to be.”

  I began to see I must have woken up in an alternate reality. It was the only explanation. “You never have places to be.”

  “Had, darling. It’s past tense.” She picked up a backpack that coordinated with the black and purple of her stretchy outfit. “Now, listen, I didn’t want to rush this conversation, but I’ve arranged for some estate agents to come and view the house tomorrow. Now I’m not saying you have to sell. This is part of your inheritance from your father, but we do need to work out the best way to proceed.”

  I shook my head. I needed a lie down, or a vodka; either would do. “Proceed with what?”

  “With what to do when I move out. Obviously, we both have a mutual investment in the property, and I want to try to keep as much of Daddy’s money for you as I can...” I zoned out. Mutual investment? Ma has never said words like that in her life. Well not her life post having me.

  She spoke again when I continued to stare at her with my mouth flapping like a carp. “Okay, darling, I don’t know what time I will be home. Don’t wait up.”

  “Ma, I really think we should talk.”

  “We will, don’t worry. Listen, try not to make a mess. I’ve cleaned up especially for the valuations.”

  I glanced around the kitchen. It looked exactly the same as always. Immaculate.

  “I’ll try very hard.”

  “Perfect. Have you made up with Angela yet?” She paused by the door.

  I scrubbed at my face, my skin sagging beneath my fingertips. “Yeah, sorry I meant to apologise for leaving her here the other night. She was drunk, and I had to go and...”

  “Chase down the sexy boy who used to smoke at the end of the road?”

  That was it. Check out. I was done.

  “Night, darling.”

  “Ma...”

  She sighed and turned around. “I’m going to be late for the sun salutations.”

  “Hannah has already asked you about the party, hasn’t she?”

  She graced me with a rare bright smile and a cheery wave. “Night, darling, don’t wait up.”

  After she left, I walked into the hallways and shouted, “Traitor,” up the stairs at Hannah’s closed bedroom door. “Maximum ten people and no boys!”

  Her door opened. “Eight people, and some boys.”

  “Hannah! I’m the par—”

  “Yes, yes, you’re the pa
rent, but you want me to have friends, don’t you, and be popular?” She reeled me in with the number one parenting guilt trip.

  “Well, yes, but…”

  “How about…” She sat on the top step. One half of her hair was dead straight, the other still naturally waved. Her lips were purple. “You invite Matthew down?”

  Oh, the girl had brains. “So I’m distracted?” I lifted an eyebrow. “I wasn’t born yesterday.”

  “I know. You’re ancient. Just so you have someone here, unless Ange is coming?”

  “We’ll see.” I couldn’t see there being much chance of Ange and Matthew being in the same room anytime soon—or ever.

  “Can I invite people then?”

  “Jackson?”

  She giggled, her eyes scrunching up as she tried not to smile. Oh. It was bad. “And other people.”

  I gave a gentle shake of my head. “Okay.”

  “Oh my god, you’re amazing. The best mum ever, I swear. Annabelle’s going to be so pleased. Her mum wouldn’t let us have a party at her house.” She scrambled up from the top stair.

  “What?” Why…?” I called after her retreating form, just hearing the word, “Mess,” shouted back in response before the door slammed closed again.

  Once I’d bleached the kitchen and washed the floors, just to make sure I left it exactly as my mother had, I sat down in the lounge with my wine. My Friday night treat, albeit a bit odd without Ma providing a running commentary on EastEnders.

  My phone was balanced on my knee and I unlocked the screen and swiped for Ange’s contact details. I hated this. Eighteen years we’d been friends. I couldn’t believe that she’d been lying to me. It hurt. It cut in a different way to the absence from Matthew all these years. I mean for God’s sake, Angela had been with me while I’d given birth to Hannah. Her and Paul, they’d both been in there, Ange slipping sarcastic and detrimental comments so I’d get angry and really push the bloody baby out. It had worked.

  I’d seen her face when Paul had handed over Hannah. She’d pretended that she was disgusting, but her hands had trembled as she clutched her against her chest. Paul had winked at me.

  All of that. Every single bit of the last fifteen years had been… what? A lie?

  Emptiness seeped its way through my limbs.

  Having Matthew back was a dream come true; more than a dream, it was everything I’d childishly and foolishly held onto for a lifetime. Having Ange lie? It hurt as much as Matthew’s 'Fuck off', to me in that club all those years ago, except this time the tang of bitterness left a nasty aftertaste.

  I scrolled to the new entry under Matthew Carling (Boyfriend) and hit dial. My heartbeat kicked up as I listened to the rings. He was probably busy. He’d seen me today; he probably didn’t need to speak to me again…

  “Hey.”

  “Oh, hey.” I relaxed back with my greeting, my body melting from its uptight hold. “You got home okay?”

  “Yes.” He chuckled and it made my insides warm. “That was intense. Scotland to London is a long way for lunch.”

  “Too far, especially when you didn’t eat.”

  “Oh, believe me, the lunch was more than satisfactory.”

  I grinned and tucked my legs up, mindful of the fact Ma wasn’t there to tell me off for making the cushions soft.

  “Staff okay when they came back?”

  “I legged it. Said I had to pick Hannah up.” I rubbed at my nose with my palm, my cheeks heating again.

  “I have to say, I never expected that.”

  “I think you bring out a repressed side to me.”

  “Don’t say that.” I shivered at his major and minors. “It will make me regret all those years even more.” There was a clatter in the background and the sound of a dog barking.

  “Ewan! Hugo’s got mud all over your mother's floor again,” he hollered, and my back straightened.

  “Who’s Hugo?”

  “The bloody dog. Jack forgot his Xbox controller. I said I’d get him one tomorrow, but he wanted it now, so we’ve just popped back home to get it.”

  Home?

  I chewed on my bottom lip, nodding before remembering that he couldn’t see me. “Oh, right. Sorry, I didn’t know you were busy.”

  “I’m not busy, we are just stopping by.”

  “And she doesn’t mind seeing you?” I minded her seeing him. Ridiculous. Childish. Pathetic.

  “Ronnie, she’s not here. It’s her night off. She’ll be out trying to pull some poor bastard in a bar.”

  I tried to read his tone. Was he jealous? What was that lingering under the surface? All I could find to say was, “I didn’t know you had a dog.”

  “Hugo. She bought him when I filed for divorce. I think she wanted it to be a bit like a baby.”

  “Oh right.”

  “Didn’t work though. Bloody thing.”

  “You don’t like dogs?”

  I had no opinion on this. Ma had never let us have pets. Not even a goldfish. They made mess, pooped in water, whatever her reasons had been.

  “No, I love them. This one is stupid. Anyway, I love him, but she wouldn’t let me take him when I left.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  There was an audible space for a shrug.

  “Right, Jack, Ewan, let’s get on.” He softened his voice as he directed his attention back to me. “Ronnie, love, I’ve got to go.”

  “Sure. Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  “Ronnie. Stop it. Listen, let me get the boys to bed and I will call you back.”

  “It’s okay. I might go to bed.”

  “How about I talk you to sleep?”

  My heart squeezed with such intensity, I inhaled sharply. “Like you used to?”

  “Exactly like I used to.”

  “In that case…”

  “I’ll ring you back in an hour.”

  I looked around at the empty living room. “Okay.” I went to hang up, but then called him back. “Hannah’s having a birthday party next week. She said you could come.”

  “What?” I could almost sense him stopping walking. “Really?”

  “She said it was so I wasn’t bored.”

  “To keep you distracted she means.”

  “Wow, you haven’t even met her properly and you know her so well.”

  He laughed. “Told you. You’ve reconnected me to my teenage self.”

  “Speak to you later, Matthew.”

  But of course, he wouldn’t. Because I’d already be asleep on the sofa, my wine still in my hand.

  Indegestion

  Ronnie

  Friday evening, I pelted down the motorway to Gatwick. There had been zero point me being in the office, so distracted all I could do was rearrange the things on my desk.

  How long could a week be?

  Seriously? Seven days had felt like seven years on a trajectory of being lost in space.

  I circled around the drop off section once, and then when I didn’t spot my six-foot- four man with a face like beautiful thunder, I circled around again, accidentally ending up in the McDonald’s drive through.

  This time he was there and honestly if my heart could have jumped out of my chest and run on teeny tiny red cartoon legs to get to him it would have done.

  He stole all my air, all my thoughts. My palms slipped against the steering wheel in anticipation of him opening the car door.

  When he did, I inhaled his smell of fabric softener and fresh air like a crack addict getting their first hit of the day.

  “Are you smelling me?”

  “Yes. It’s amazing. You’d make millions if you bottled it.”

  “Ronnie.” He gave me a wry smile and kissed my cheek. I wanted to crawl into his lap like a cat and never move again. “I don’t even wear aftershave.”

  “Must be all that Scottish air then. It’s fucking sexy.”

  “Potty mouth.”

  “Sweetheart, that’s not all my mouth is for.”

  Oh my god. What was wrong with
me? The moment he got close I lost all my brain cells.

  “Sorry. Shit.”

  Laughing, he caught my face in his cold fingers, drawing my lips to his. My eyelids fluttered closed and I held my breath as he brushed the surface of my mouth with his own and then darted his warm tongue along my lower lip, giving a firm tummy flipping swipe. “I’ve been waiting all week for that.”

  “Mm-mmm.” My brain buzzed with a momentary blankness until a car behind beeped. Waving my hand over my shoulder at the person behind, who obviously didn’t realise I was having a moment, I let go of the handbrake and the car jerked away from the curb like a kangaroo on speed.

  “Are you okay? Do you want me to drive?”

  “Uh. No.” I shook my head and tried to focus. Not easy, because Matthew was there. Again. Like he intended to keep coming back and this was happening. I flashed him a smile. “It’s been a long week.”

  His eyebrows pulled together. “It has.”

  “What’s the matter?” My seatbelt dug into my neck as I sat up straighter.

  “Nothing.”

  “There is. I can sense it.”

  “This long-distance thing is hard work.”

  “It’s only been a week.”

  “I know. But I’m greedy and I want you all the time.” I stared at him until he glanced out the windscreen and then shouted, “Brake!”

  I turned just in time to slam on the brakes before rear-ending a Renault Clio. “Sorry.”

  “Okay. Forget I said that. Let’s start again.” His lips curved in a smile that made the blue of his eyes look like pools of liquid heaven. “So I get to meet your mum, properly?”

  I grimaced. “Hope you don’t mind indigestion with your dinner.”

  He chuckled and reached a hand for my knee and I swear the hot touch of his palm through my jeans was close to orgasm inducing.

  “Have you guys come any closer to deciding what to do with the house?”

  My turn to frown. “Nope. She’s determined to move into this old people's village. I wouldn’t mind, Matthew, but she’s not that old. She’s only seventy.”

  “She obviously feels this is the time to move on and do her own thing.”

  I wagged my finger at him. “See you think that, but she doesn’t like change, she hates it. There is no way she really wants to sell the house.”