by Erin Green
The front door opens.
Finally.
Nick appears on the step and waves.
I hold a hand up. I don’t really want to chat at this moment; I simply wish to collect Alfie and be gone.
Nick comes towards me down the driveway.
What is going on?
He taps on the driver’s side window. I lower it.
‘Hi, Angie… Alfie’s… not sure.’
‘What?’
‘He’s nervous… you can understand that.’
‘Nick?’
‘I know, I know… but see it from his side?’
‘Go and tell him to hurry up. This is nonsense. He agreed to a sleepover at mine, just the two of us.’
‘I’m just saying in case he decides not to.’ I can see this is difficult for Nick. ‘I can’t make him, can I?’
‘Yes, you can, actually.’
Nick leans an arm on the roof of the car and lowers his face towards mine.
I’ve got it all planned: we’ll drive by KFC and collect a huge bucket plus desserts. Then head to the flat, crash in front of the TV for a chill-out night at home. Just me and my son.
‘Could you go and fetch him, please…? This isn’t what I expected him to do.’
It hurts like hell.
Nick peels himself away from his leaning position and walks back to the house, their coach-light illuminates the driveway as he approaches the front door.
Why is everything so difficult? Everyone else just pulls up, parks and their kid comes running out, overnight bag in hand, and jumps in the car. Not mine. Mine equals drama.
I watch as the front door closes.
Alone. Again.
I busy myself staring at the neighbours’ first-floor extension.
I wonder what they’ll use it for.
My attention snaps back to Nick’s front door. Alfie appears, his holdall hoisted upon his back; Nick is ushering him out of the door.
Oh, great, he’s been made to come.
*
‘I don’t see your issue.’
We’ve only been in the flat for fifteen minutes and his holdall remains in the hallway.
‘Seriously, Mum, I’m bored of the lectures.’
‘You’re a bright lad, Alfie, you’ve a great future ahead of you and you can’t let some little girl—’
‘Holly. Her name is Holly.’
‘OK, then, Holly… ruin your plans.’
Alfie shakes his head, rolling his lips together as if preventing the words from spilling forth.
‘Look, this isn’t easy for me either, you know… so please can we just spend a pleasant evening with each other and enjoy the time we have?’
My words register as I see his eyelids flicker and avert my stare. His lips continue to roll, muting his inner thoughts.
He nods.
‘And my room?’
It’s as good an excuse to change tack as any.
‘This way.’ I swiftly lead him from the kitchen to his room along the hallway. ‘Ta-dah!’
It’s a simple room, decorated in shades of blue, with a single bed and a load of cushions and throws. I can’t decorate it as his permanent room, given that it is a rental flat, but I’ve purchased all new bedding and matching curtains especially for his stay. I’ve tried, let’s put it that way.
‘Cheers!’ is his only word as he throws the holdall down onto the bed.
‘It’s not much, but I don’t really know what you’re into nowadays so thought I’d keep it modern but mature.’
‘It’s fine – do you mind if I unpack?’
I smile. I’m crowding him; I just can’t help it. This is the longest I have been alone with my son since January and my head is spinning with so many things that I want to cram into our time.
*
‘And Dad, how’s he?’ I ask, with as much nonchalance as I can muster, while focusing on my fried chicken.
‘Fine, I think.’ Alfie pauses to finish his fries. ‘He seems happier since he’s been going out more.’
I pause, not daring to lift my gaze from my plate.
‘Which is a good thing, given his experience of the past few months,’ adds Alfie. His mood instantly annoys me. Should I tell him? Let it slip or would that create a bigger divide than is present?
I remain mute and let him talk.
‘I don’t know when he’s expecting to introduce her but…’
‘You’re OK with that, then?’
‘Yeah. It’s Dad. He’ll do it when he’s ready. He never does anything before he’s thought it through.’
Alfie smirks.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ My voice has an edge, as I know he’s referring to me.
‘What?’ His eyes lift to mine, and I know he can see the hurt.
‘Don’t give me, what? That is a dig at me… I’ll tell you what, Alfie, you’ve got a lot of growing up to do and dare you ever find yourself in the same position I did…’ My voice cracks, but I continue. ‘Stuck in a bloody rut, not knowing what I want in life, not knowing if what I have… had is the be-all and end-all… then you can remember that you thought my situation was bloody funny. Just you remember that!’
Alfie shrugs.
‘I won’t leave my kids…’
‘It wasn’t just about you or your dad – it was about me!’
He stretches across the table for another piece of chicken.
‘Being a grown-up isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, you know.’
‘You try being a kid in this era, then – you’ll soon see you’re not the only one that matters.’
I sit back and stare. Alfie eats his chicken as if nothing is wrong.
I want to scream. I want all my fears, sorrows, regrets to come pouring out so he can witness what he thinks is so damned funny. But I can’t, he’s just a child. And if I don’t truly understand where our marriage went wrong, why am I expecting him to?
‘What?’ he says, staring at me.
‘Nothing.’
‘You looked like you were about to say something, that’s all.’
I sigh.
‘I know you’re fairly young, but has your stomach ever flipped, Alfie?’
‘Yeah.’ His answer surprises me.
‘Did you ignore it or act upon it?’
‘The latter… why?’
‘Me too. I also acted upon it. That one moment has determined everything I have ever done, achieved and desired for my entire adult life… from that moment onwards. Then last year, for the first time, I questioned what my life would have been had that moment never happened. So much so, I couldn’t bear it any longer, so January… I decided to find out.’
He puts his chicken piece down.
‘And?’
‘And it frightened me to think that I may have wasted my years by building my entire life on a chance meeting which made my stomach flip.’
Alfie nods.
‘And now?’
I stand up, cross the floor to the fridge, grab the open bottle of wine and pour myself a large glass.
He follows my every move, not daring to speak but awaiting my answer.
I lean against the countertop, take a long sip and face my son.
‘And now… I realise that stomach flip was possibly the greatest moment of my life from which everything I hold dear has come from… as if a basic instinct responded before my consciousness had time to. And now, I know last January had to happen for me to appreciate what I once had.’
Alfie breaks eye contact, staring down at his plate.
‘Pity we had to feel the brunt of it, then,’ he mutters.
I ignore him and continue.
‘Yes, I walked out, but I’ve learnt a lot about myself, Alfie. And I’ve learnt that that one moment doesn’t come around again as I thought it might…’
He pushes his plate away, his chicken unfinished, and stands.
I watch as his lean frame seems unsteady, beneath the weight of our troubles.
‘Thanks for
your honesty, Mum, but for me – I wish you’d figured that out without having to destroy our family,’ he says, adding, ‘I’m going to go for a shower, if you don’t mind.’
I nod and sip my wine.
Alfie’s got a point.
Eight
Nina
Saturday, 15 December
‘I can’t deal with this, Kitty. Seriously, last night has proven I’m not ready to start dating.’
‘So, you went?’ Kitty shakes her head, whilst dressing in her additional layers.
I nod. Bram arrived in a taxi bang on eight o’clock.
I follow suit regards dressing, as the silence lingers between us. I need her advice. I want her opinion but I know she’s not pleased with me.
‘Kitty.’
She halts pulling her coat on and stares.
‘What do you want me to say?’
I shrug.
‘I couldn’t say no to Bram, not after they’ve been so good to me.’
‘And Zach?’
‘I couldn’t say no to him either but he never asks, you know that.’
Kitty sighs, finishes pulling on and doing up her coat zipper. Her eyes don’t leave mine. I know she’s concerned: for me, Bram and Zach.
‘If you were my little sister, I’d say Zach’s your man—’
I begin to protest; it’s not that simple.
‘Hey, hear me out, Nina.’
‘OK.’ I lean against the coat pegs.
‘We all know how deep this friendship runs, OK, I get that, but you can’t spend the rest of your life dodging the one decision you need to make. Ninety per cent of life’s happiness or sadness probably comes from just one decision.’
‘I hear you – Zach’s kind, caring, reliable… but surely I shouldn’t just settle for what’s purely in front of me?’
‘Settle? He’s a good man, Nina. You probably still view him, them, as teenage boys but they’re not. Seriously, they’re both ready to settle down, buy homes of their own and commit.’
‘That’s not how you got with Connor.’
‘I knew you were going to bring us into it.’
‘Well, it’s true, you say it every time… your knees went weak… your…’
‘Stop!’ Her hand lifts to silence me.
‘So really the question is, do I settle or wait for what you and Connor have?’
Kitty sighs.
‘I know, it’s frustrating, Kitty – but I want what you guys have, honest I do. And if either of the twins had that effect upon me – I would grab the opportunity in a heartbeat…’
‘But it’s not there, is it?’ Her hand reaches out to gently stroke my cheek.
I slowly shake my head. I want to tell her about yesterday. I want to share what happened in the sales yard when that guy stared at me, but the words stick in my throat. Her woeful blue eyes show me how much she wants it to be me and Zach.
‘Tell you what, how about we head into town one night for a cocktail or two?’ she asks, a smile brightening her eyes. ‘We can ask Shazza along, if you fancy.’
For the first time in ages, I actually feel alive.
‘Yes, that would be great!’
‘Come on, best foot forward before Boss Fielding catches us skiving.’ She laughs, straightening her coat and heading for the door.
‘Kitty!’
‘Yeah?’ She turns, her hand on the door latch.
‘Thank you… for being there,’ I say, as my eyes glisten.
‘My pleasure… but you can thank me with an Espresso Martini!’
Suddenly, I feel eager for a night of cocktails – it’s just what I need.
‘Fair deal.’ I zipper up my embroidered coat and hastily follow Kitty’s steps.
*
Angie
We drive in silence through the snow-covered lanes towards the farm where he can escape into his new job lugging spruces around a busy yard.
‘Alfie, I’m sorry.’
‘I know. It wasn’t exactly what I’d planned either.’
‘Maybe we can have another weekend together, some time over the Christmas holidays when you’ve broken up from school… have some fun, like the old days?’
He gives the smallest of nods; he’s not convinced.
‘I know I messed up. I just don’t need my teenage son to keep drilling that home for me, Alfie. I need time to show you that I never stopped loving you… despite my actions.’
He looks at my profile as I drive.
‘And I need time to rebuild my trust in you…’
I nod, my gaze fixed upon the snow-covered road ahead.
‘I get it, I let you down. But know this, Alfie – I also let myself down along the way by not having the time I needed to mature before I became a wife and mother.’
We continue in silence. How do you flip to discussing the weather when it’s chillier inside the car than it is outside?
I indicate and pull into the farm’s rutted track. A thick layer of snow covers every inch of the driveway.
‘You’d have thought they’d have gritted this section.’
Alfie doesn’t answer but sporadically waves to some passers-by heading towards the farm. I assume they are also part-time teenage workers who he knows from school trudging towards a busy shift.
I park up in the car park. He opens the door, allowing Noddy Holder’s screaming tones to invade my space. Alfie grabs his holdall from the rear seat, before addressing me.
‘See you, Mum… take care.’
There’s no kiss or hug forthcoming.
‘See you in a few days, Alfie.’ I hold it together as he slams the passenger door and bounces off towards a log cabin.
I swiftly turn the car around, taking the driveway slower than usual as my sight blurs and my emotions overflow.
*
Nina
‘Nina, wait!’ Zach’s voice wails as I stride towards the netting machine, to which I’ve been assigned for the day.
I continue to trudge in the snow, knowing his long legs will catch me in no time.
‘Oi, Nina!’
‘Hi, Zach… you OK?’
‘Are you?’ he mutters, his grey eyes downcast and staring. ‘Didn’t you hear me?’
‘Sorry… I was in a world of my own.’ I begin organising the netting feed and the plastic secure ties.
Zach stands and watches. I’m pretending to be engrossed in my task.
‘Are you not talking to me?’
‘Dooh!’
‘Nina, stop!’ He grabs at my arm, pulling me around to face him. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing. Just trying to earn a living by doing the job your father pays me for.’ I attempt a breezy tone but I can hear it has edge. He’s not stupid.
‘Seriously? Since when has my old man’s bottom line been your main interest?’
‘Always.’ I snatch my sleeve free of his gloved hand. ‘I like to do a good job.’
‘Nina?’
I dump the cable ties and pliers onto the ground. If I have a choice, which I don’t usually get, I’ll be at this end removing the netted spruce from the machine – the loading end is the worst part due to the constant lifting from the pallet. Cable tying and throwing down is far easier on your back.
‘What?’ I snap, unsure why I’m taking this out on Zach. Though, forgive me, but he is the nearest I’ve come to Bram all morning.
Zach eyes me suspiciously.
‘You don’t want to talk, do you?’
I give the smallest of head shakes.
He nods but continues to stare.
‘Zach, I’m just out of salts… it’s tough at the minute and I feel…’ I pause, watching the raucous cutting team drive nearer. The wagon begins to reverse and, despite the overhead speakers spewing ‘Santa Baby’, the air is filled with an intermittent bleeping as the wagon reverses alongside the netting station.
‘Sorry,’ I mouth, as Zach’s eyes bore into mine.
The cab doors open on the reversed wagon and the crew jump down.<
br />
‘Nina… where have you been hiding?’ shouts Bram, straightening his puffa jacket having jumped from the wagon.
*
Holly
‘Would you like a bag?’ I ask, emptying her wire basket.
The customer smiles but doesn’t answer.
‘There’ll be five pence charge if—’
‘No.’
I press the till for the total to charge.
‘Nine pounds, thirty-three pence, please.’
The ten-pound note is delivered with a quick flicking action of her wrist. Serving the general public isn’t a joy first thing on a Saturday morning, but it helps to give me a little extra pocket money.
My customer swipes her goods into her own shopping bag before departing. I bid her goodbye. She ignores my farewell. I smile, awaiting my next customer, and that’s when I see them. The group of mean girls standing at the end of the hair and beauty aisle staring at me. Gawping, in fact. All dressed in tight jeans clutching their large designer handbags, primped hair and black eyeliner skilfully flicked, stare as if viewing an alien. Yep, me, the alien in their classroom. The one that works for her own cash, has little chance of parental pocket money and is constantly harassed by the likes of them.
They turn on their heels and flee along the aisle. I’m glad.
I can predict their post-sixteen options: A-levels, university, potentially high-flying careers, before marriage and family. My journey will probably skip to the final two options unless I’m lucky.
Becca, the cashier supervisor, sidles towards the till as her mahogany-rich bob swings with each step.
‘Can you see the CCTV monitor from where you’re standing, Holly?’
I nod.
‘Can you check aisle five, a bunch of teenage girls – they’re acting a little strange beside the gift boxes. I don’t want any funny business, not today.’
My heart stops.
I look at the grainy image on the tiny screen below the countertop. The group of girls huddle together into a tight rugby scrum; an arm stretches from their mass of bodies towards the shelving unit, grabs an item and quickly withdraws amongst the crowd.
They have a bloody nerve. Do they think they’ll get away with it?