Chapter 7
I meet Charlie in town at lunchtime the next day. I arrived early to see a mechanic, who has pronounced Nina dead—or at least economically dead. It would cost me more to repair her than she’s worth. He offers me 500 pounds for scrap, and I accept. In normal circumstances, I would be sad to see her go, and possibly hold some kind of memorial service with a car-related playlist, but in the inventory of Rubbish Things That Have Happened in the Last Seven Days, it barely registers.
I promise to clear the car out and bring him the paperwork the next day, and then spend a good half an hour rummaging through the trunk and the glovebox. Apart from general garbage that I trash immediately—I am a car slattern—I come away with 97 pence, a Black Eyed Peas CD, a packet of blister cushions, and a half-eaten bag of cashew nuts. Party time.
Charlie walks into the pub just after one, looking exhausted. His hair is clumped on one side and his eyes are bloodshot and crusted with sleep. He is so pale his skin is almost gray.
“You look good, love—has there been a zombie apocalypse without me noticing?” I say as he collapses into the booth with me. He lays his head on the table for a moment, then winces up at me.
“Xbox. All night long. I’m out of practice, Mum.”
I ruffle his hair and go and get us both a drink. I order him shrimp and chips because I know that’s what he’ll want, especially after a tough night of virtual warfare.
By the time I get back, he is upright again, gazing at his phone with tired eyes. I pass him his Coke and he gulps at it thirstily—I suspect he forgot to either hydrate or eat while he was away. It prompts a niggling worry about what will happen to him when he is at uni, surrounded by other young people and with a subsidized college bar and no mum to remind him to take care of himself. I am probably not the first parent to feel like this, and I reassure myself that he will survive.
We chat for a few minutes about his night, about Eric, about Eric’s family, about other friends’ lives. It is so strange, thinking about them all heading off to uni or jobs or apprenticeships—these little men I have known since they were kiddiwinks.
Eventually, once the food arrives and he inhales his lunch and I make my soup and roll last as long as I can, I broach the subject with him. I have been thinking about Luke’s offer all night and am catapulting between “this is 100 percent the best idea ever” and “don’t be such an idiot.” I have to make some decisions, and soon—by the end of the week, I need to let Tim know if I am accepting the layoff, let the council know if I am taking up their offer of a flat, leave the hotel, and decide whether to go on a road trip with Betty and her pet human. No pressure, then.
“So,” I say carefully, not at all sure how Charlie will react, “you know Luke?”
“Um... yeah?”
“Well, he’s asked if we want to go on a trip with him and Betty in his motorhome. Just for a bit, to see if we like it. I thought we might get one.”
“Like, to keep, not just for a holiday?” he says, looking confused.
“Yes. Because, also, they’re closing the office, and I’m being laid off. I don’t want you to worry about it. It’s all okay—I’ll get a payment for it, and I’m sure I’ll get another job quickly anyway. We could even end up better off. So it’ll all be okay.”
Charlie frowns and spears the one chip that was left on his plate, then chews it slowly.
“When did you find that out?” he asks eventually.
“The day we lost the cottage. Well, that’s when I was told it might happen anyway. I only found out for definite yesterday.”
“So this is something you’ve been hiding from me?”
“Not hiding exactly, love. I just didn’t see the point in giving you something else to worry about when there was already so much going on, and anyway, it’s for me to sort, not you.”
“You realize I’m eighteen, yes? I’m not a baby anymore. I don’t need protecting, and I don’t need you treating me like I’m a kid.”
“I don’t treat you like a kid!”
“Yes, you do. You stopped me getting a job when I wanted one. You think I never notice when you’re worried about money. And you hide things, like, all the time—like this. And all your family stuff? Every time I ask questions about that, you shut me down, even though I don’t think I’m being a dick to ask—you just fob me off. Sometimes I think you still see me as a four-year-old, Mum, and it makes me feel like crap! How am I supposed to grow up if you never let me?”
He actually sounds quite angry with me, and I am worried that I might cry. It’s been a rollercoaster, and not in a fun way, and I hate rollercoasters anyway. I realize that I am clinging to my resilience with the very tips of my fingernails. I screw up my eyes and force myself to stay calm.
“Okay, you have a point. I accept a lot of that, even though I have my reasons—I’m not perfect, and I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel like crap. But you did walk in here with a teen hangover from playing Xbox all night, so forgive me if I don’t always see you as the mature adult you are. Don’t give me grief over this, son, because I just don’t need it right now. I’m sorry if I’ve upset you, but it’s been a bit chaotic, hasn’t it? I’ve just been concentrating on getting through each day since it happened.”
He is tapping his fingers on the tabletop, and I see he is still annoyed but is also turning my words over in his mind. I see the grown-up battling it out with the pissed-off teenager and wonder who will win.
“All right,” he says quietly. “I’ll let you off for now—but there are still things we need to talk about, Mum. So tell me about this thing with Luke, as that seems to be something you’re actually willing to discuss.”
I bite back my snarky reply and say, “Well, I went to see him yesterday, while you were at Eric’s. Barb had just told me about the layoff, and it struck me that a motorhome could be the answer for us. It’s a weird time, isn’t it? You’ll be off soon anyway, and we don’t have a house, and I’m just not sure what’s going to happen next.”
“I don’t have to go to uni this year, you know, Mum. I could defer. I could get a job. We could get you settled somewhere else.”
“That sounds like you’re planning on putting me in a nursing home, love! And no, Charlie, I don’t want that. This is your time, and I want you to enjoy it. Anyway, I’ve been looking forward to September myself—I’m going to start hanging round in casinos, maybe get some tattoos, possibly buy a hookah pipe and a skateboard.”
“Ha! I’d pay good money to see you skateboarding. So how would it work, with Luke?”
“I’m not entirely sure it will. But he says there are three beds—he has his own room, and there’s one in the living area that pulls out, and one over the driver’s cab that you climb up a ladder to get to.”
“I want that one.”
“What?”
“When we go, with Luke, I want the one with the ladder. I might be a grown-up, but who doesn’t love a ladder?”
“So you think it’s a good idea?” I ask. I was half hoping he’d hate the concept and I could write it all off. It is a whole new level of change and I’m already dizzy with change.
“Yeah. Why not? If nothing else it’ll be a free holiday, and I’ll get to play with a dog. Is there Wi-Fi?”
“No idea. Is that a deal-breaker?”
He considers this and then shakes his head. “Nah. I think, after last night, I’m ready for something different myself, Mum. And I like Luke. He seems like a cool guy.”
“Why do you like him?” I ask, genuinely interested.
“Well, he stepped up big-time, like a low-level superhero. He just has all that good stuff you’ve always said matters in life—he’s kind, seems dependable, like you could trust him. Plus a dog. Maybe this will be good for us.”
“Maybe it will,” I reply. “So, I suppose it’s time to hit the road, Jack.”
“Mum, I keep telling you—my name is Charlie.”