48. Present Day – February
48
PRESENT DAY – FEbrUARY
SCOTT
W e pass neatly clipped privet hedges and pull up outside a large, mid-century red-brick house where I kill the engine. Memories of coming to call for Marcus flood back, but I push them down a bit. I do want to remember it, but I don’t want the memories to snowball and take over. Josie is my priority right now.
She doesn’t move to unfasten her seatbelt.
‘You okay?’ I ask, turning in my seat to face her.
I swipe a loose lock of auburn behind her ear. Her freshly dyed hair keeps taking me by surprise. Her natural colour is beautiful, but I’m used to seeing her with multi-coloured shades. Fuck, I love them all. Every colour. Every side of her.
She’s assured me she’s dyed it back for her, not to please her parents, which is a relief — it doesn’t sit right with me, the way she tries to change herself for them.
‘Yeah.’ She strokes her freshly healing arm. Then, looking up with watery eyes she says, ‘I … I hate it here.’
‘I’m here with you, all the way.’ Trying to reassure her, I pick up one of her hands as I ask, ‘So, are we telling them about going travelling today? Or just doing the meet the parents thing?’
‘Yes.’ She sounds hesitant as she shrinks back into the seat and follows up with a, ‘No.’ Nibbling her lip, she sighs, ‘I don’t know.’ My angel is all kinds of stressed, she can’t even answer the question.
‘It’s okay.’ I press a kiss to her knuckles. ‘I’ll take your cue. Please know, I’ve got you.’ I place it back down in her lap. ‘Now,’ I point to her new tattoo on her forearm, ‘don’t scratch it.’
She rolls her eyes and pulls her cardigan sleeve down. ‘Honestly, you get one bit of ink and you think you’re a tattoo guru.’
‘Isn’t that a song by T.Rex?’
Her pensive expression breaks into a smile and she snorts, and I can’t stop my own grin at making her relax somewhat. Her protestations about me coming here in the first place, telling me her parents don’t approve of her, and the way she seemed like she was, I don’t know, less of herself at New Year, means I want to support her through this.
Pulling her shoulders back, she fixes me with a determined look. ‘Let’s do this.’
After I grab some bottles of wine from the boot, we cross over to the house and Josie lets us in with her key. As the door opens, a waft of caramel fills the air and my stomach rumbles — today’s pudding smells delicious.
As we step into the hallway, it’s a little trippy — hasn’t changed in eight years. Although maybe it feels smaller. Or maybe I’m bigger.
‘Hello?’ Josie calls as she kicks off her shoes, and I do the same.
I adjust my grip on the two bottles, grasping the necks in one hand so I can stroke Josie’s face with the other. ‘You’ve got this,’ I whisper, tracing the line of her jaw.
Her chest rises and falls as she takes a breath, then she nods her head, just once.
Can’t say I’m not nervous, too — only just being on speaking terms with her parents. Her mum seemed cool when she found out about us, but are they really thrilled that I’m now in a relationship with their daughter? The main thing is that Josie’s happy, but it would be nice if her parents were.
Josie leads me through to the kitchen where her mum is preparing a salad. The radio plays in the background while a pot simmers on the hob. Ingredients and equipment spill over the counter.
‘Hi, Mum,’ Josie says softly.
Janet looks up, eyes wide and her face breaks into a smile. She places the knife on the chopping board and raises her arms up in greeting, cooing out, ‘You’re here, love,’ as she surrounds her in a hug.
When they untangle, she turns to me and pats my bicep. ‘Scottie. Nice to see you.’
My heart pounds in my chest. Fuck, I hope this is true and I’m not imposing, or worse, an unwelcome reminder of what they’ve lost.
Offering my sincerest smile, I say, ‘And you. Thanks for having me.’ I hold out the bottles of wine. ‘Wasn’t sure what you’d prefer.’
‘So you brought a red and a white? You can come again.’
There seems to be weight in the words, like, I should have come here sooner. But she tips me a warm wink as she takes the wine from me with a, ‘Thank you.’
Something tells me it will be okay eventually, even if it isn’t perfect right now.
‘Hey, man.’ Jamie strides into the room and offers up a high-five, which I meet up top. ‘ Jo Jo ,’ he drawls as he looks to his sister, head cocked to the side.
He gives a smirk as she returns his tone and says, ‘ Jamie .’
Jamie reaches across his mum to steal a red pepper stick. She bats at him with a tut and he chuckles as he shoves it in his mouth, grabbing another before darting out of her reach.
‘Get out of here, you three. You’re making it feel cramped.’ There’s a sparkle in her eye as she pretends to complain. ‘I’ll just clean up.’
Josie grabs my hand and drags me from the room. Meeting Janet as Josie’s plus-one has gone okay, and a weight lifts slightly from my shoulders.
As we head towards the lounge, I whisper in her ear, ‘It’s going to be okay.’
She squeezes my palm in hers.
The sitting room is like something out of a show home, and I suddenly feel underdressed in my jeans and shirt.
‘Where’s Dad?’ Josie asks, glancing around the room.
‘Had some business to attend to , or something.’ Jamie shrugs and sinks into one of two cream sofas.
‘On a Sunday?’ Josie frowns.
‘Search me.’ He scrunches his nose. ‘He’ll be here soon.’
Josie wanders over to the French doors, staring into the beautifully manicured back garden. Even in February, with naked tress and stark borders, it looks well kempt.
There’s a pinging sound and Jamie pulls his phone out of his pocket, running his teeth over his lip as he reads the screen. He rubs the back of his neck with a sigh.
I leave him to his text message and move towards Josie, cloaking her with my arms. Resting my chin on her shoulder, I nuzzle into the crook of her neck, breathing in her soothing coconut scent. Together, we look out onto the space where Marcus and I built a hundred tents, fought a thousand battles, and laughed a million laughs.
‘That’s better,’ Janet announces brightly as she comes in. ‘I can relax for a few minutes.’
She perches next to Jamie on the spotless sofa and fusses, ‘Make yourselves comfortable, you two.’
‘Garden’s looking nice, Mum.’ Josie grips my hand in hers as we sit on the sofa opposite theirs, her voice not giving away the anxiety that’s extruding through her fingers.
‘Thank you. It keeps me busy.’
It strikes me then — this immaculate house, the beautiful garden, the lunch cooked from scratch — Janet fills her time with chores to escape. The way Josie paints. The way I’ve worked constantly at the pub.
‘Feet, Jamie.’ Janet wafts her hand at Jamie’s tube-socked feet on the coffee table.
He drops his feet down and there’s an awkward pause for a moment as we all sit silently in the pristine room.
‘This almost feels like the old days,’ Janet says with a tremulous voice and looks around at us all. ‘Marcus would have loved it.’
Jamie’s face whips to his mum’s, as if surprised she’s bringing him up. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Scottie was always round here for dinner, before Marcus moved out. You were about six or seven then, don’t you remember?’
‘Don’t think so.’
I recall Jamie saying they didn’t talk about Marcus much at home, and a fresh wave of sadness washes over me at the thought of my best friend being forgotten.
‘You two always had extra helpings of pudding.’ Josie narrows her eyes at me, as if just remembering. ‘There were hardly ever any seconds left for me.’
I shrug trying to be innocent. Totally guilty. ‘Your mum’s puddings were the best,’ I say, catching Janet’s gaze, my grin almost shy.
‘They were growing lads,’ Janet says ruefully. ‘I’m pleased you’re here to enjoy it today. I never have got the hang of cooking for fewer tums.’
A timer clamours in the kitchen and Janet slaps her palms down on her thighs. ‘Right. Jamie, come and help me sort things in the kitchen, please.’
The moment they’ve left the room, Josie swings her leg over, straddling me, pressing her forehead into mine, sinking her fingers into my hair. The movement seems out of place in this formal room but I sense she needs the closeness, the reassurance. I rub her back, trying to soothe her.
‘It’s going okay, isn’t it?’ I whisper into the shell of her ear. It’s sad, it’s hard, but it’s … okay.
Holding her close to me, I feel her nod. ‘Think so,’ she breathes. She sits back and nibbles her lip. ‘I feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. It can’t be this … easy.’ Hope glimmers in her ocean eyes.
‘Maybe it can?’
She presses her lips together as if trying to hold back her smile. Fuck, I hate it when she holds back. But I get it. We haven’t told them about travelling yet. Shouldn’t celebrate too soon. One non-fraught conversation doesn’t mean all is well.
As she slides off sideways, snuggling into the corner of the sofa and leaving her legs draped across my lap, I can’t help a swell of excitement in my stomach that things are going well.
‘Still up for telling them about travelling?’ I trail a hand up and down her shins.
‘Urgh.’ Josie slumps deeper into the couch. ‘They say you should do something every day that scares you.’
There’s my brave girl. ‘I’m not scared. Are you?’
‘Yep.’ She nods. ‘I’m scared for both of us.’ She circles a finger in the air and whispers, ‘This is scarier than walking into that sex party dressed in a handkerchief.’
‘You were not scared that night.’ I stroke up to her thigh. ‘You were confident, calm, in control … fucking iridescent. ’ Her hands have clenched in her lap and I lift one up and kiss it. ‘You are now, too.’
She jiggles her shoulders. ‘Totally faked it.’
‘Really? Surely not.’ I laugh.
‘Maybe I can fake this, too. Maybe this can be like the sex house,’ she whispers again. ‘Terrifying but exhilarating.’ I chuckle as she continues, nodding to herself. ‘A nice house where you don’t want to break stuff,’ she gesticulates around the fancy trinkets on the sideboard, ‘and we’ll probably want to find a private room and let out some screams,’ she adds. ‘It’s pretty much exactly the same. No masks though.’
‘I don’t know about that.’ I cock my head to the side. ‘You’re different with them. I want you to feel like you can be you.’
She casts her eyes to the side. ‘My parents don’t approve of the real me.’ Shrugging like that’s okay.
I dampen down the lick of fire through my veins. We’ve only been here twenty minutes and we seem to have made a good start. The last thing this situation needs is me losing my shit at how her parents treat her, how she lets them treat her. No, I need to make sure today goes as well as possible for Josie. Make the best impression I can. Be there for her.
‘Who wants wine?’ Jamie calls out, coming into the lounge with a tray of glasses and the bottle of red we’d brought over.
‘I’ll open it,’ Josie sighs and swings her legs off me, holding out her hand. ‘You’ll probably end up spraying the carpet again.’
‘Fuck off, I’m a trained bartender now.’
She cocks an eyebrow at him, like whatever, in response.
‘That was one time ,’ he argues.
I chuckle and stand, saying, ‘Just water for me, please. I’m going to see if there’s anything I can do to help.’
When I get to the kitchen, Janet is leaning against the counter, pinching the bridge of her nose, eyes shut.
‘Can I do anything?’ I ask softly, so as not to startle her. ‘Set the table?’
She visibly rallies herself, brightening her expression. ‘Yes please, Scottie.’ She clears her throat. ‘If you could take the cutlery through to the dining room. You remember where it is?’
‘Couldn’t forget.’ I offer her a small smile.
Janet sighs, shoulders dropping. ‘He really would have loved this, you know?’ She holds my gaze and then spins away quickly, bending to check the oven.
Wondering if she meant Marcus would have loved the meal, or me and Josie being together, I pick up the pile of silverware from the counter and head to the dining room.
The oval table seats six, but only five placemats are laid out. It’s like I’m being stabbed with the whole fucking dining set as I see the empty chair Marcus should have occupied. When I came over as a kid for dinner, we always sat in the same order, and the spot where Marcus would have sat is the one that’s been left empty.
I take a deep breath and lay out the cutlery. I really should have come back sooner.
Heading back to the kitchen, I hear voices murmuring inside.
‘You didn’t have to take that call today, did you?’ Janet mutters as I push the door open, my socked feet silent as I step through.
‘I had to get out for a bit,’ David replies gruffly. ‘You know … I’m not happy about this.’
‘Well, I am,’ says Janet. ‘Maybe it’s a good sign.’
Before I can recognise that I should back away, the door creaks and they both look at me.
‘You came, then?’ It sounds like more of a statement than a question from David, his voice flat, his eyes cold.
I steel myself. There’s the shoe dropping.
‘Yeah. Thanks for having me over,’ I say as cordially as possible. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I get why this guy hates me. Just because I’ve begun to forgive myself doesn’t mean he has any reason to.
David studies me as if he’s going to retort with I’d like to say you’re welcome or thought I’d told you to get out of my sight but he doesn’t say anything. He just inhales — his chest puffing a little, asserting his dominance.