You're My Kind

by Clare Lydon

  I shook my head. “No, nothing else. That ship sailed a while ago. You remember the ship’s name, right? The Titanic?”

  He stilled and raised a single eyebrow in my direction.

  “What’s that look for?”

  “Me thinks the lady doth protest too much.” He grabbed a pastry with his tongs, and put it on a plate. “I got the impression I was crashing a party for two when I rocked up.”

  I shook my head. “You weren’t.” My insides were twirling like a majorette’s baton, round and round and round. “You have an over-active imagination. You thought there was something between me and the new postie last month, remember?”

  Rob scooted around the counter, bringing me my pastry. “In my defence, she did bring you three parcels in one day. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.” He paused. “But this was more than the postie. I felt it. Didn’t you?”

  I shook my head. “No. I felt the pavement, but that’s all.” That’s all I was prepared to concede, at any rate.

  He narrowed his eyes. “If you say so. Now, shall I make a coffee to go with that?”

  Maddie’s smile flashed into my vision. I closed my eyes, shaking it from my head. “Yes, please.”

  Chapter 10

  My parents lived in Montpelier, now considered one of the more arty areas of Bristol. When we were growing up, though, it hadn’t been the case. But now, they were living among the artists and the styled street art, which Mum was weirdly proud of. I loved their house, a quirky semi-detached cottage with white brickwork walls inside and far more light and space than you’d first think from the outside. I was visiting today at the behest of my mother, who’d ordered me around for lunch because, “I’ve almost forgotten what my only daughter looks like”. She could never say that about my brother Dean, who only lived streets away and still brought his washing home for her to do.

  After yesterday, I was glad I’d agreed, because a home-made Sunday lunch always soothed my soul.

  Mum was washing up when I walked into the house via the back door, straight into the kitchen. I put the cupcakes I’d made yesterday on the side in their pristine white cake box, then kissed the back of Mum’s head and flicked the kettle on. “Hey, Mother Dearest.”

  She turned her head before she replied. “Is it really you or is it a mirage?”

  “It’s really me.” I opened the biscuit tin and plucked a shortbread out. They were pleasingly fat and left tell-tale grease on my fingers.

  “Are there cakes in that good-looking box?”

  “There are,” I replied. “Cupcakes from yesterday. You’ll be pleased to know they’re decorated with flowers and shapes, too, and not vaginas.”

  She laughed out loud. “Another hen party or were you just in the mood?”

  “You know my feelings, definitely a hen party.” I popped the last of the shortbread in my mouth. “Where’s Dad?” I couldn’t see him when I peered into the lounge. His end of the sofa was unoccupied.

  “Still at the pub. He’s got a football thing today.” Dad was a big Bristol City fan and was secretary of the fan club. He quite often had a ‘football thing’, which my brother and I had always decided was code for ‘a need to be down the pub drinking beer without his family’. It was an impulse I well understood now I was older. My brother and I still referred to the need for a drink as ‘a football thing’.

  “Did we win yesterday?” I normally kept up with the scores, but yesterday had been my most bizarre Saturday in quite a while. The affairs of Bristol City hadn’t been high on my agenda.

  Mum turned, her face looking like she’d just swallowed a fly. “Draw. 3-3. Last-minute equaliser by them.”

  Now it was my turn to mirror her face. Dad was a gentle man, but football had always dictated his mood. Win, and he was happy all weekend; but if City lost, as they frequently did, he was always grumpy for a few hours, sometimes all weekend. A draw could see it go either way.

  My mum could never understand it. As she said, by the law of averages, you were going to win and lose. But Dad never went into it like that. He was the eternal optimist and always expected City to win. It was amazing he wasn’t a crushed soul after 60 years of support.

  “Let’s hope he’s had a good time at the pub today.”

  “He’s fine. Even getting quite stoic about. Yesterday at dinner, he said, and I quote, ‘You win some, you lose some’.”

  “He did not.”

  “He did.” Mum wiped her hands on the tea towel neatly folded on the oven door handle, before grabbing me by the shoulders.

  I stood to attention as if I was in the army.

  “Let me get a proper look at you.” She did just that. “You’re looking well. I like your hair like that. Have you highlighted it?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. Just been getting out in the sun. I think it’s gone a shade lighter.” My hair was what hairdressers called ‘fair’. Less kind folks called it ‘mousy’.

  “Were you working yesterday?”

  I nodded as she let me go and made the tea. “Class of 14 learning how to make cupcakes. A lesbian hen party.”

  That made her turn her head. “Lesbians baking? That’s not much of a surprise. You and Gemma run it, after all. Did you know anybody?”

  I cleared my throat. “I did.” I paused. “Maddie was in the class.”

  Mum turned to me fully when I said that. “Maddie? Your Maddie?”

  “There’s only one Maddie.” Not strictly true. I’m sure there were umpteen Maddies all over the world, but only one had played a key role in my life so far.

  “There’s only one Maddie I’d like to kick from here to kingdom come. What was she doing there?”

  “She was part of the hen party.” I rolled my neck to show how relaxed I was about Maddie’s reappearance. “I saw her at James’s funeral, too. So it seems the universe has decided now is our time to meet up again.”

  Mum drew her lips in a tight, straight line. “I know it was a long time ago, but I still remember the hurt she caused. No trips down memory lane, okay?”

  “It’s fine, I’m a big girl now. I saw her, spoke to her and didn’t expect to see her again. And then, she turned up again yesterday. She’s a crap baker, that much I know. But apart from that, her life and my life have been separate for a very long time, and I don’t see a reason to change that.” I paused. “You’re not the only one who remembers all the hurt.”

  Mum nodded, satisfied for now. “Good.” She picked up the tea. “Shall we take this through?”

  My parents’ lounge was L-shaped and had a feature log burner in the fireplace, which lay dormant on this summer afternoon. At just after 1:00 pm, the sunshine was splashed in blocks up the lounge wall like a particularly seasonal Rothko painting. I settled on the two-seater tan settee with its well-worn leather. Mum’s much-loved antique patterned rugs covered bare, polished floorboards underfoot.

  My parents weren’t style gurus, but they were definitely far more stylish than most parents I knew. I wasn’t sure where Mum got her eye from, as nothing in her background screamed design. She might work at Marks & Spencer’s, but her downtime was filled with interior design, and watching makeover shows on TV. ‘Elle Décor’ and other such magazines littered the coffee table and were stacked in a pile by the settee. My house had similar piles, but of baking and cooking magazines.

  “So what’s madam up to these days?”

  If Mum didn’t trust a woman, she was always called ‘madam’. Like she was a specialist hooker.

  “She’s a property developer, and doing pretty well for herself reading between the lines. In any case, she looks good.” I still remembered our locked gaze after I fell. I could still feel it like a separate heartbeat in my soul. “She was living in London, but there was an opportunity here, so she switched her focus and moved back. She knows the area, so it made sense.”

  Mum took a sip of her tea before replying. “You seem to know a lot about her.”

  “I told you, I saw her at the funeral and
she wanted to chat to me. She apologised for how things ended all those years ago.”

  “So she bloody well should.”

  I loved it when Mum got all protective. “I can’t change the past, but I can control the future. So stop looking so worried. I might see a little more of her now everyone is back in touch, but she’s going to have to do more than just show up and expect everybody to fall into place.”

  “What did everyone else say?”

  “Gemma was ready to punch her for me, I just had to give the signal.” I shrugged. “But I can handle it.”

  Mum raised an eyebrow. “I hope you’re right.”

  The front door slamming signalled that someone was home, and moments later my brother Dean popped his head around the corner. When he saw me, his eyes lit up. Ever since we were little, Dean had always been thrilled to see me. When it came to his family, he was like a dog, his tail always wagging and perky.

  “Justine!” Dean always said my name in two very distinct syllables, the first part lower in tone, the second almost sung. If my brother had a volume control, I’d never found it and no matter how many times he did it in public, I never got used to it. He scooped me up in a hug, before doing the same to Mum, then sitting down. “I didn’t know you were coming. No baking today?”

  “Nope. Everyone deserves a day off.”

  Dean licked his lips. “Any more vagina cupcakes?”

  “She ate them all yesterday.” Mum guffawed at her own joke, followed by my brother. My family humour was strange sometimes. I ignored Mum and turned to my brother.

  “So how’s your work going? Last time I saw you, that project you were working on was coming to a close.” Dean was a builder and had been working with the same developer on a massive project for the past year. Now that was coming to an end and a couple of planned jobs had fallen through, he’d been getting a little antsy. I was sure it would work out for him as good builders were hard to come by, but he wasn’t so calm.

  “Still a bit up in the air. I’ve got a few irons in the fire and I’ve got money saved up, but I’d like a project to really sink my teeth into.”

  “I’m sure something will come up.” Mum’s response was the same every time, and Dean gave me a look as she said it.

  “Where’s Dad?”

  “He’s got a football thing at the pub,” Mum replied.

  Another knowing look to Dean, and we both suppressed a laugh. He’d driven me nuts when we were growing up, but now I was pretty happy to have my younger brother in my corner as an ally, especially as our parents were approaching retirement age. Some of my friends were only children and all the responsibility fell to them. Plus, who did they make faces at when their parents said stupid things?

  “If you’re at a loose end, you could always come around to mine and do those jobs you promised you would do when you had some free time.” Dean had been telling me he was going to fix my slightly off-kilter bedroom doors for the past year, as well as fixing a couple of wonky cupboards in my kitchen. Even though I rented, it was at mate’s rates from a friend, so I was happy to do a few odd jobs without bothering her.

  “What’ll you do for me in return?”

  “Not give you a wedgie?”

  Dean’s laugh reverberated around the lounge. “You couldn’t give me a wedgie now if you tried. I’m far too big and strong.”

  “But I’m light and agile, you seem to forget. That trumps it all. Low centre of gravity. Like that new forward for Bristol City.” I sat back, a grin on my face. Although the bruises on my knees and elbows told a different story, but my family didn’t know that, did they?

  “When you two have quite finished your plans to beat each other up,” Mum said. “Dean, go fix things for your sister. Justine, bake a cake for your brother in return.”

  We both grinned at each other. Instructions from on high.

  “Next week any good? I’ll come around and see the extent of the damage. So long as you don’t mind a bit of mess in your life?”

  I thought about the last few weeks. “My life’s messier than you might care to imagine, so what’s a bit of dust between family?”

  “There’s a joke there about the dust settling, but I can’t quite pin it down.” He leaned over and patted my knee. “You can tell me all about it next week.” He turned to Mum. “What’s for lunch?”

  “Roast chicken.”

  “My favourite!” both Dean and I chorused.

  Mum rolled her eyes. “I know.”

  Chapter 11

  “I’m going to miss you if you move.” Rob stood on the step of The Bristol Bakery, locking up. It was another hot mid-July day, the sun cutting the path with a yellow stripe. “Are you looking in Bristol and Bath, or just here?”

  “Both.” I fell into step beside him, both of us walking to my car. Rob’s was in the garage and I was giving him a lift home. Rob was one of the many reasons not to leave, but with Kerry’s money now firmly in our sights, it seemed like it was written in the stars. Rob was the one who’d told Gemma and I about our current location, having already opened his bakery two years earlier. It’d been fantastic working so closely with an old friend, and I’d miss him, too.

  “I’d like to stay in Bristol just to keep it real, plus the transport links are better with the airport nearby. But if something comes up in Bath, we’d take it. Bath is just as good for baking.”

  Rob nodded. “It is. Bath is a chocolate box town and you make a slice of chocolate box every day. It suits it perfectly.” He sighed. “But wherever you end up, I won’t have anyone to chat to across the street, and that will make me very sad.”

  I bumped him with my hip. “I’m not gone yet, and we’ll still see each other, won’t we? Nights out, dinner, drinks. You might even finally make it over to my place so I can repay that gorgeous dinner you cooked for me and Gemma last month.”

  “Don’t go making promises you can’t keep.”

  “Besides, whoever takes over might be much nicer and then you’ll never need to see us again.”

  He laughed. “When you put it like that.”

  I gave him a look. “Life changes, at least that’s what Gemma keeps telling me. And apparently, change is good. Change drives you forward.”

  Rob gave me a look that told me he didn’t believe a word as we got into Kermit. The inside was salamander-grill hot, so I put the air-con on straight away. When I touched the steering wheel, I swore. It almost singed the tips of my fingers.

  “She’s probably right, but I hate that self-help twaddle,” he said, relaxing into his seat. “Although Jeremy is getting into meditating and wants me to do it, too. I keep telling him I can’t, because it gives me the willies.”

  “As a gay man, is that not a good thing?”

  He moved his sun visor down as I pulled out. The car hopped before settling down. Sometimes it really did think it was a frog.

  “It’s not. Being so still and contemplative reminds me of praying, and that reminds me of growing up in the cult that is the Catholic Church. And then my mind shuts down and I can’t do it. So meditating isn’t for me at all.”

  I laughed. “Is meditation even a possibility when you have two babies in the house?”

  He chuckled. “My point exactly. But Jeremy says having two babies makes it even more imperative. I do wonder where he manages to fit it in, in between caring for the kids and running his business, but he does. He’s a wonder of modern science. Which is why I put a ring on it as soon as I could.”

  Rob and Jeremy lived in the centre of Bath, not far from where Maddie was doing up her flat. Rob loved living in Bath and working in Bristol, saying it gave him the best of both worlds. Bristol was a more vibrant, buzzy city, whereas Bath was more old-school style and glamour. Bristol was Emma Stone, whereas Bath was Audrey Hepburn. I loved them both, but had to admit moving the business to Bath would make my current commute far easier, and would probably tempt more of the London crowd in, too.

  “Have you seen Maddie recently?”

&nb
sp; My cheeks heated at the memory of me falling on my arse. “Negative.” I clutched the steering wheel that little bit tighter as we navigated the city centre. As we drove past Wapping Wharf, I glanced towards The Spanish Station. Our bar. After our first night there, we’d gone home and made love all night long, and Maddie had stared at me in the same way she’d stared at me after I fell on the path. Like she wanted me. When Rob said he’d felt something between us, I had, too. I hadn’t known exactly what until this very moment.

  “And are you sad you haven’t seen her?”

  Rob’s gaze was heating me up again, just as the air-con was cooling me down. “Nope. We’re ancient history, so it’s fine.”

  He let a few beats go by before he spoke again. “She’s living in Bath, isn’t she?”

  We pulled up at some lights. “Kinda. She’s doing up a flat around the corner from you.”

  “So I might see her in Chequers?” That was Rob’s much-beloved local.

  “You might. Maybe you can become best friends with her.”

  He spluttered. “Not if I want you to talk to me again.”

  “Didn’t stop James.” I shook my head. “Anyway, that doesn’t matter. What’s done is done.” I paused. “But we were something once, Maddie and I. Her coming back into my life has thrown me.”

  “I can tell.”

  Something fluttered in my chest. “She was going to be my Jeremy, my bench-warmer, you know?”

  He gave me a puzzled look.

  I smiled. “At my funeral. She was going to be the chief mourner, the one on the front bench. Our whole life was mapped out, but she tore it up. So seeing her again is tinged with fear. A bit of grieving for what I lost, and a bit of futility because I still don’t know why. Oh, she tried to explain, but…” I shook my head.

  “Maybe you should ask her again. Maybe there’s still a chance.”

  “Just because you’re in the perfect relationship, stop trying to put your relationship goals onto me.”

  Rob’s laugh filled the car. “Does anyone have a perfect relationship? Damn sure ours isn’t. It’s held together by Jeremy’s patience and child-rearing, and my culinary and cleaning prowess. Otherwise, we’d have killed each other by now.”