The Other Son (Christmas Bonus): A short-story length sequel for The Other Son
Page 4
Bruno nods vaguely, unsure whether to feel flattered or insulted. “Sure,” he says. “I’ll show you when we get back. You can take your pick.”
When they reach the dam, Jarvis bounds up the snowy steps and then starts to run crazily back and forth across the top. “There are birds up here in summer,” Matt explains, “But he chases them whether they’re here or not. You see? He’s just running up and down chasing imaginary birds.”
When Alice and Bruno reach them, Matt points and says, “Mum saw a deer over there once, didn’t you?”
“I did,” Alice confirms. “I could hardly believe my eyes. It was at night time. In the summer. And it was a baby one, too. It looked like Bambi. It looked just like Bambi.”
“The dog doesn’t look ill to me at all,” Joe says.
“If he is going to get ill, it’ll be in a few days, apparently,” Matt explains. “But I think he threw it all up. I counted four wrappers in the mess. It’s probably the wrappers that made him throw up, in fact.”
“Yeah. It’s probably just as well he did eat the wrappers.” Bruno says, glancing at his watch. “My folks should be here about one. We need to head back, really. Or I do, at any rate.”
“That’s fine,” Alice says. “I’m getting a bit cold, to be honest.”
“Me too,” Matt agrees.
“So where are they sleeping?” Alice asks once they have climbed back down to the beach. “I assume they’re staying over.”
“Oh they’re bringing an air-mattress,” Bruno says. “I expect we’ll sleep on that and give them our bed.”
“They can have the sofa-bed, can’t they?” Joe suggests, provoking a brief but definite glare from Alice.
“What?” Joe says. “We’re not using it, are we?”
Matt glances lopsidedly at his mother.
“We’re sharing the bed, that’s all,” Alice tells her son. “So you can keep your funny looks to yourself, please.”
Matt raises his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I didn’t say a word,” he says.
“A woman leaves her husband,” Bruno says, in a comedy voice. “And shares a bed with her old friend. You have to admit, it sounds a little queer!”
“What?” Alice says, sounding half way between shocked and vexed.
“He’s just quoting Torch Song Trilogy,” Matt says. “It’s our favourite film.”
“Well spotted!” Bruno says.
“I don’t think that I’ve seen that one,” Alice tells them, grateful for the change of subject.
“I have it on DVD. We can watch it this afternoon, if you want. Anne Bancroft is awesome.”
“Bruno’s seen it like a thousand times,” Matt says. “He knows all the lines by heart. He drives you insane when you watch it by saying all of the lines just before the people in the film say them.”
“Oops.” Bruno says, clearly quoting another line. “Ed, did you say, Oops?”
Christmas Day - The Alps.
It is Christmas morning, and Matt is struggling to manoeuvre the air-bed into the bedroom while Connie, Bruno’s mother, fries mushrooms and tomatoes for breakfast.
“So are Alice and Joe sleeping together?” Connie asks casually. Sex in their household has never been treated differently to any other subject.
“We don’t know,” Bruno replies, “but we don’t think so. And please don’t mention it to Matt.”
“Oh honey,” Connie says, “of course I won’t! No one wants to think about their parents having sex.”
Bruno frowns as he briefly imagines Connie and Joseph doing the deed. He wouldn’t want to linger on the scene, but it doesn’t trouble him unduly. But then he’s adopted, he reminds himself. Perhaps that makes a difference.
Connie pulls a pack of eggs from the refrigerator. “So will Joe want eggs?” she asks.
“I guess,” Bruno replies. “She’s veggie, not vegan.”
Connie nods and starts cracking them into a second frying pan, but then hesitates and asks, “They’re definitely on their way, aren’t they? Because I don’t…”
At that moment, the front door to the cabin bursts open, and Joseph enters. “They’re here,” he declares. “They’re just trying to get the snow off their boots.”
Once breakfast has been eaten – mushrooms and tomatoes and toast for Bruno and Matt, with the addition of eggs for Joe plus salmon for everyone else, they gather around the weedy Christmas tree that Matt cut from the forest.
They had argued initially about the cutting of the tree. Bruno had been against, but had caved in eventually once Matt had explained that the pine trees were killing every other species of tree. It was unarguably true that the pine trees were neither lacking nor struggling for survival.
With six people in the small lounge, Alice, Joe, Matt and Bruno have to share the sofa. It’s a tight fit, and Alice finds herself wedged between Joe and her youngest son’s lover. What a modern family we have become, she thinks, with a strange sense of pride.
The gifts are handed out. A new jumper, a shirt, socks and a pair of beautiful brogue boots for Matt. Everyone has apparently conspired to improve Matt’s tatty wardrobe this Christmas.
Bruno gets a huge art-book of modern ceramists, a woolly ski hat with a pompom, and a CD from Alice. He resists the urge to explain that he hasn’t had, or even seen a CD player for years. And then Alice and Joe exchange gifts.
Joe appears genuinely overwhelmed by Bruno’s strange sea-urchin like vase. “Gosh it’s… Gosh…” she keeps saying. “And you made this? In that shed out there?”
Meanwhile, Alice is nervously unwrapping her gift from Joe. She can sense, through the wrapping paper, the shape of a frame, but the memory, when she finally casts the paper aside and flips it over, feels like a body-blow right in the centre of her heart.
The image is of Joe and herself on a park bench. Joe’s arm is around her. They’re young. And pretty. And happy. And it was an entire lifetime ago.
She remembers how truly happy she had been that day. She realises that in that moment she had not one inkling of the life that was to come, all those years with Ken, the beatings, the tears, the heartache… And she had been there that day, with Joe, in the sun, on a park bench. She had had free will, even if she hadn’t realised it. She had the power to choose, to change, to say ‘no’, to run away, to choose a different path... All of this flashes through Alice’s mind and she bursts, instantly, into tears.
“Oh God,” she splutters as they stream down her cheeks. “Just look at us!”
“Oh, Alice,” Joe says, sliding one arm around her shoulders and pulling her tight. “Don’t cry.”
“I didn’t even remember this photo,” Alice says.
“It was the park photographer,” Joe reminds her. “It cost sixpence for two, do you remember?”
Alice nods. She brushes the tears from her cheeks. “I lost mine early-on,” she says. “I think Mum and Dad probably hid it.”
“Figures,” Joe agrees.
Matt, who is leaning across Bruno as he tries to study the photo now asks, “Can I?” and takes it from Alice’s trembling hand.
“You look so happy,” he remarks, turning the photo outward so that Connie and Joseph can see it.
At these words, Alice collapses into a fresh bout of tears. Because she remembers, suddenly, that sensation, every bit of it. The sun on her cheeks. Joe’s arm across her shoulders, as now. The optimism of youth. The sheer joy of being young. And alive. And together. “I was,” she says. “It was a lovely day. A lovely spring day. And I was happy.”
“I had found a shilling,” Joe explains. “So we had our picture taken and we bought ice cream sodas and those liquorice things with the sherbet.”
“Sherbet fountains,” Alice says.
“Yes. Those are the ones.”
Alice shudders and clasps one hand to her mouth as if to contain a gasp. After a moment, she glances sideways at Joe and says, tremblingly, “I am sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t stronger.”
Joe laughs gentl
y. “You don’t need to be sorry, Alice. We just took different paths, that’s all. And my life hasn’t been so bad so far. I met Mary. I had a pretty great twenty years with her. As for you,” she says, nodding towards Matt. “Well, if things had been different, none of this would have happened, would it?”
Alice sniffs and nods and looks around the room. She sees her beloved son, Matt and his gorgeous boyfriend, Bruno. She sees Connie and Joseph and Joe, all smiling at her, eyes-glistening.
“You’re right,” she says. “It hasn’t been so bad this way, has it? There have been good bits as well as bad bits.”
“Um, cheers Mum,” Matt says sarcastically, and everyone laughs and the tension in the air vanishes.
“Now, don’t be like that,” Alice eventually adds. “You know full-well that having you, seeing you grow up, and, um, meeting your lovely chap here… Well, those were the best bits of all.”
“Yeah, right,” Matt laughs.
“They were. They are.”
“And maybe,” Joe says, “The best bit hasn’t happened yet. Maybe it just keeps getting better.”
Alice glances sideways at Joe. “You reckon?” she asks.
Joe shrugs and nods at the same time. “I reckon,” she says.
THE END.
A note from the author
Dear Reader.
I do hope you enjoyed reading these bonus chapters.
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Legal Notice
The Other Son, Christmas Bonus.
Nick Alexander has asserted his right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents act, 1988. Text by Nick Alexander, Copyright © 2016
The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happenings.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers and/or author.
While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher assumes no responsibilities for errors or omissions, or for damages resulting from the use of information contained herein.
This edition, Copyright © BIGfib Books, 2016
Cover photo © Nick Alexander