Nick
Nick
Six months later
It’s strange how when one thing in your life changes, other things do too.
Shortly after they made things official, Beth asked Nick to move in with her, into her cottage in Barnes. He was staying over a lot anyway, but he had to explain that he couldn’t.
He couldn’t leave his mum.
She had forgiven him for clearing out her things while she was in hospital. She was still quite woozy from the painkillers when she was discharged, and she was so glad to be home that she wasn’t that upset some of her precious things had gone.
And then something unexpected happened.
She met someone, at her new Pilates class. Something the hospital recommended she try, to help her strengthen her core.
Roger is half Dutch and ten years older than his mum, and has worked as a council caretaker for nearly forty years. Fixing kids’ playgrounds, that kind of thing.
And his mother is besotted. Initially, Nick found it suspicious that this man would be interested in her, then he felt guilty for thinking that, then he worried that Roger was just after his mother’s house, but then he felt guilty for thinking that too.
In the end, Roger asked Nick to go to the pub for a drink with him, and as they sat opposite one another at a wonky table, Roger told Nick how much his mum made him laugh, how much he appreciated her good sense of humour and her resourcefulness, and then, Nick felt ashamed. Because he had never truly appreciated these qualities in his mother. That she was funny, and kind and yes, resourceful in ways he could never dream of being.
All he ever saw was her illness, her vulnerability.
‘But what about…’ Nick began to ask, and Roger had made a ‘pfft’ sound, and waved his hand in the air.
‘Her home is her home,’ he said, eventually. ‘She likes those things, they make her happy. It is no big deal.’
Yes it is , Nick wanted to shout. It’s a health hazard. It’s dangerous. But then he thought about it some more and he realised, finally, that it was his mother’s life to live the way she wanted. That he didn’t have to live with her any longer – he was a fully grown man – and what right did he have to dictate how she spent her time?
So, the house remained stuffed with things, but Roger somehow persuaded his mother to be more picky when it came to adding to the pile. Nick watched in amazement as one weekend Roger said that the yellowing newspapers that had gathered again in the hallway were beginning to smell, and his mother had paused, sucked in her lip, thought about it and replied that yes, he was right. Perhaps they should go?
Nick couldn’t believe it.
Perhaps that was the power of true love.
He knew, of course, that those newspapers would be replaced by new newspapers within no time, but for the handful of days that the hallway was relatively clear, Roger managed to fix the wiring behind the door which had been chewed away by some rodent, and deal with a woodworm infestation that had taken up in the skirting board.
Nick changed his mind about Roger.
*
He turns right into his mother’s cul de sac. He can see Roger’s small blue car parked outside – an electric Toyota. For a Boomer, Roger is surprisingly passionate about climate change.
They’re going for a walk around the park, to feed the ducks, and then they will stop off at his mum’s favourite bakery in the town for a cake and a cup of tea.
‘Hello, Nicholas,’ Roger says, opening the door. He’s holding a bag of specialist duck food, his generous stomach straining at the waistband of his shorts. ‘We’re all ready. Shall we go?’
The walk around the park is more distracting than Nick expected, and he finds himself relaxing, even as his mum outlines their plans to get a dog.
‘Not a puppy,’ she says. ‘Puppies are hard work. But an elderly dog. A retired greyhound perhaps.’
He frowned, chucking a handful of seeds towards the eager ducks.
‘Mum, they’re huge. They need a lot of space.’
‘Well we’ve talked about that, haven’t we, Rog?’ she says, glancing at him. ‘We’re going to clear some space in the dining room.’
‘Oh,’ he says, surprised. ‘Right.’
‘The dog will need room to spread its legs,’ Roger says. ‘Jayne has agreed that some of that old stuff can go. The shelter does a home visit first, you see. To make sure it’s safe for the dog. So we want the place to be up to scratch. We don’t want to fail the test.’
His mum beams.
‘We’re going to make the place beautiful,’ she says.
Nick looks at Roger, wondering if he might be a genius.
‘I want to call it Snoopy,’ she says. ‘But obviously whoever we get might already have a name, so we’ll have to wait and see.’
‘Mum, Snoopy was a beagle.’
‘So what?’ she says, and he laughs.