Chapter Three
On the walk home I vow to myself not to react if Eddie behaves like he did yesterday. Don’t rise to it, I tell myself. However, as soon as I step into the house, it’s apparent that something is different. Eddie isn’t lying on the sofa or shut away in his room. No, my son is upright – devoid of hooded robe and actually in motion! Most bizarrely of all, Eddie is smiling as he bounds into the hallway to greet me.
Greeting me, as if I am an actual human, with feelings!
‘Hey, Mum,’ he says brightly.
I gawp at him. Has he broken something? Is this cheery display a way of buttering me up before imparting bad news?
‘Hey, love,’ I say, hanging my jacket on the hook. I’m naive enough to expect an apology over yesterday’s shitty behaviour. ‘Everything all right?’
‘Great, yeah. I’ll just put the kettle on, shall I?’ And off he goes.
Suspicion rears up in me as I follow him through to the kitchen. Normally, he opens the fridge and glares into it, announcing, ‘There’s nothing to eat.’ But not today. Today it’s as if another, extremely pleasant person – who looks exactly like my son – has taken his place.
Has the real Eddie been abducted by aliens?
‘Here you go, Mum.’ My body fizzles with tension as he hands me tea in my favourite pale pink china cup. What’s going on?
He leans against the sink and looks at me. Like his dad, Eddie is strikingly handsome: brown-eyed, with defined cheekbones, having recently grown into his looks. His hair is dark and glossy, rarely cut or washed – or even combed – but somehow still the hair any young man would want.
‘Dad back soon?’ he asks with studied casualness.
‘Yeah, should be,’ I reply. ‘Why, love?’ Normally, our movements don’t even register on his radar. We could be at home, or out – even dead , I’ve sometimes thought. It’s all the same to Eddie as long as meals appear, miraculously, at dinnertime.
‘Just wondered.’ He places his mug on the worktop and grins at me in an odd way. As if he’s holding something inside him. Something that’s bursting to come out.
‘You seem very perky today,’ I venture with a smile.
‘Perky?’ He chuckles.
‘Well, yes.’ And his deathly pallor has gone, I notice now. In fact he’s more like the old Eddie. The younger Eddie, I mean, who’d hug me for no reason at all, before this interminable malaise set in, like a mould, that no amount of forced jollity, or trying my damnedest to be kind and patient could shift.
‘It’s nice to see,’ I add, ‘but you seem, I don’t know …’
‘Well, I have news!’ he blurts out.
‘News?’ My heart clangs. ‘What kind of news?’
He rubs his hands together and pushes back his hair. ‘I’m moving out.’
‘You’re what ?’
‘Moving out. Leaving home.’ He laughs. ‘It’s what people do when they’re adults, Mum. They break free of parental constraints. They fly the nest and forge their own independent lives. They grab opportunities …’
‘But …’ I catch myself. Be pleased! This is good news, right?
‘Aren’t you happy for me?’ Eddie arches a brow.
‘Yes! Yes, of course I am!’ I sip my tea, scalding my lip. ‘But where are you going?’
‘Well, there’s this room in a flat in Edinburgh.’
‘Edinburgh?’ I repeat. ‘Wow!’
‘Yeah.’ He nods. ‘In Raj and Calum’s place. Their other flatmate moved out. Their landlord had someone who wanted the room but that’s fallen through. So it’s mine if I want it. So of course I said yes.’
‘Wow, that’s great news …’ I’m trying to remain positive. ‘But how will you afford this flat, love?’ Surely he doesn’t think his dad and I will pay his rent?
‘It’s really cheap,’ he announces. ‘Like, so cheap you wouldn’t believe it. Some friend of Calum’s dad owns it, so he’s done them a deal on the rent.’
‘But it must cost something ,’ I remark.
‘Yeah, but I’ll work, Mum. I can work, you know!’
‘Oh, I know, darling,’ I say quickly. ‘Of course you can. But what kind of work?’
‘In a restaurant. I have a job already. Don’t look so shocked!’
‘But how … ?’ I start.
‘Someone Raj knows works there and said they really need staff. So I emailed them and we spoke on the phone. They want me. They’re really keen. So they’re going to try me out.’
‘Waiting tables?’ I ask.
‘No, kitchen work.’ Oh God, last time Eddie fried an egg he set off the smoke alarm and the incinerated pan had to be thrown away. And aren’t people always cutting and damaging themselves in kitchens? Eddie is terrified of blood. As a little boy every cut or graze was a major drama. ‘It’s kitchen portering,’ he continues cheerfully. ‘But if they’re happy with me, they’re gonna train me up to be a chef!’
I blink at him, remembering the time he was grating some cheese and somehow grated his thumb. I’d found him bleeding, traumatised, lashed in sweat. ‘Will you be okay, doing that?’ I ask.
‘God, Mum, yeah.’ He laughs in disbelief. ‘D’you think I’m incapable?’
‘Of course not!’ I clear my throat. ‘So, what’s the restaurant?’
‘It’s this amazing place, just opened. Called Bracken – have you heard of it?’
‘Um, no, love.’
‘… They do those tasting menus, y’know? Like, ten courses of totally amazing food?’
‘Wow!’ I blow across my tea, remembering how uninterested he was when Frank bought the food truck. How he’d flatly refused to learn even the basics and do the festivals with his dad. ‘So you really like the idea of working in a professional kitchen?’
‘Yeah.’ He grins. ‘It’ll be fun!’
‘And … you don’t think it’ll make you queasy? You know, with your fear of blood and all the butchering and offal and—’
‘Mum, that’s just meat. ’ He shakes his head at my idiocy. ‘I’ll be fine.’
I muster a broad smile. ‘That’s great then. I’m so happy for you. So when is this happening?’
He grins, cheeks flushed with excitement. ‘My first shift’s on Saturday.’
‘Saturday? You mean this Saturday?’
‘Yeah!’
‘But that’s … that’s three days away. How are you going to pay your first month’s rent if—’
‘Paid it,’ he announces. ‘Used all my Christmas money and savings.’
‘Oh, Eddie.’ I stare at him, emotion surging up in me like a wave. ‘I wish you’d said. We could’ve helped with that.’
‘Well, you can help. Could you or Dad give me a lift?’
‘To Edinburgh? Of course, darling!’
‘Can we do it tomorrow?’
‘Tomorrow?’ I exclaim, then quickly gather myself. ‘Yes, if that’s what you want. As long as you’re sure.’
‘I am sure.’ He grins.
‘We’ll drive you over after work then,’ I say, deciding that this really is good news. At least, he seems to have thought it through.
‘So you’re getting rid of me at last.’ He chuckles.
‘Oh, Eddie.’ My eyes prickle with unexpected tears. ‘I don’t want to get rid of you. But I’m happy for you. I really am. Wait ’til Dad hears about this!’
He beams at me and then, unexpectedly, he throws his arms around me – my big, tall, handsome boy who’s barely found it in himself to be civil to me for months now. Years, even. My heart seems to splinter as he pulls away. ‘Sorry I’ve been … y’know,’ he murmurs. ‘Like I’ve been lately.’
‘Oh, love,’ I start. ‘You don’t have to apologise.’
He shrugs, looking down at his feet. ‘It’s just, Bella and Ana are so clever and amazing and they’re getting on with their lives and doing so well. And you and Dad are always going on about that. About how proud you are …’
‘Eddie, that’s not true,’ I exclaim. ‘We are proud but we’ve never compared you. We don’t “go on”.’ Have we, though, unwittingly? Guilt twangs at me, deep in my gut.
‘… And I’ve felt left behind,’ he continues, ‘like I’m this failure, this massive disappointment to you both—’
‘Honey, you’re not! Please don’t say that. You’re not at all.’ Tears escape now, trickling down my cheeks. As Eddie looks up at me I see that he is welling up too. ‘You have so much going for you,’ I add. ‘You’re clever and popular and kind and I’m so proud of you.’
He smiles then, and rubs at his eyes and hugs me again. ‘Thanks, Mum. So you can stop worrying about me now, okay? ’Cause everything’s gonna be all right.’