Page 60 of Secrets of Starshine
I pat him on the arm, say goodnight, and leave. I close the door quietly behind me, and walk slowly around the green and back to the cottage. I see signs of life around me – snatches of laughter from some of the homes I pass, lights glinting from windows up on the hillside, the hoot of an owl in the nearby woods – but I feel completely alone.
I stroll past George’s cottage, and see his living room light is still on. I imagine him sitting there doing a crossword or reading a book, and know he wouldn’t mind if I popped in – but I am morose, and will be bad company. Thoughts of my own dad are playing around at the corners of my mind, and everything feels flat, grey, and sad. I trudge through one of the few remaining piles of snow, and let myself into Kittiwake with a sense of gloom.
Inside, I find Sam sprawled along the sofa, his feet dangling from the end. He is wearing odd socks – one striped and one spotty – which I know will be by design, because he pays attention even to his socks. He is looking at his phone, and sits up when he notices me. He frowns, saying in a serious voice: “And what time do you call this, young lady?”
“Umm…I don’t know, about 10.30? What are you doing home so early?”
“Only just got in,” he replies, staring at me. “Film was crap but I did have a hotdog, which makes the whole venture a roaring success. Plus I capitalised on the wi-fi in town to win an eBay auction on a pair of very nice brogues at the last second. You okay? You look upset. Do you want wine? We have wine…I think I want some wine!”
I dredge up a smile, and he dashes off to the kitchen, returning with two large helpings of rosé. I swig down half of it without even noticing. I definitely wanted wine.
“Mum,” he says, once he’s settled back down, “why was there jelly in my Vans when I got ready to go out earlier?”
I am momentarily confused, then smile for real.
“Ah! Well, that was revenge, darling. For the time you chucked a snowball at me.”
“I see. Well, I can’t argue with justice. Fair cop. So, what’s up? You look as wobbly as the jelly.”
I sigh, sip some more booze, and consider lying to him – but why would I? He is old enough now to see his mum as less than superhuman.
“I think,” I say slowly, feeling out the words, “that I’m about to be dumped.”
He is silent, but I see his eyes widen in surprise. I wonder how he is going to respond, if he’ll even believe me – because I’m not totally sure myself. I am going on gut instinct, and the sick feeling in my tummy that tells me very surely that something isn’t right.
“Oh. It’s shit, isn’t it?” he says simply.
“Yeah. Totally. But hey, such is life…”
“Are you sure though?” he asks, frowning as he stares at me. “Because you two seem to have been getting on really well. Are you maybe making it up a bit because you’re worried it might happen one day? Trying it on for size? What’s the word – catastrophising?”
“I might be, love – I’m pretty new to this game. But I don’t think so.”
I suppose I have been partly expecting something like this for a while now. I knew I could never compete with the memory of Sandy, and I genuinely never wanted to – she is irreplaceable. I knew that this thing between me and Archie wouldn’t last forever – but now the end seems to be approaching, I am stunned by how much it hurts.
“Well, maybe you should talk to him about it, properly?” Sam says. “I mean, before you make his mind up for him, if you know what I mean?”
He is speaking very seriously, and I realise that what he says does make sense. That I am now getting pep talks on my love life by my eighteen-year-old son. It fills me with a much-needed flutter of happiness – of the reassurance that whatever happens, I’m still me, he is still him, and I am still lucky.
“You’re probably right, babe. Do you remember that book we used to read?Where the Wild Things Are?”
“Of course I do!” he says quickly, his face lighting up at the memory. “Still the greatest piece of literature ever created…I so wanted to have a wild rumpus of my own…why do you ask?”
“No reason,” I say, looking at my giant baby and remembering a much smaller one. “I love you, Sam.”
“And I love you, Mommy dearest. It’ll all be okay, honest.”
TWENTY-FOUR
That horrible thing happens to me in the morning, where you wake up feeling like everything is okay, everything is normal, and then you remember that it’s not. Memories of the night before crashed down on me like collapsing rubble, and I wanted nothing more than to hide under the blankets and pretend the real world didn’t exist.
I have no idea why I feel this bad. I try to remind myself that I have only known Archie for a very short time, that what we had was never anything formal. That as far as I know, he will be waking up, just a few steps away from me, feeling completely different to how he’d felt last night. Mainly, I remind myself that whatever happens, I will survive – but I won’t sort anything out by staying in bed.
Sam was right – I do have to talk to him about it. Otherwise I’ll just keeping poking away at it until I go crazy. I am a grown woman, not a love-struck teenager, and I need to start behaving like one.
I drag myself up, get dressed, and head out. It is a dull day, the promise of rain in the air, the temperature hovering somewhere between full-on padded coat and jumper and scarf. I decide on the former, just in case, and call in at Trevor’s Emporium to pick up some pastries. If all else fails, I can overdose on pain au chocolat – it wouldn’t be a bad way to go.
I make small talk with Trevor, who tells me he’s found a copy of the originalBlade Runnerin his store room, and I walk around the green towards Archie’s house. Sam is already at work, and I see him through the café windows, delivering a tray to one of the tables. I give him a little wave but he doesn’t notice me, and I feel that weird sense of embarrassment you get when you find yourself waving at nothing.
