“Of course. Not that there’s much to steal here – they’ve already taken everything they can from me,” she adds sadly.
The conversation turns to a more cheerful topic: everyone noticed that Christine didn’t want to talk about it, and tried to shift the attention elsewhere to distract her.
“Is everything okay?” I lean in towards her, as she sits on the sofa, her untouched plate resting on her lap.
“I’m not really hungry.”
“Ian won’t be offended,” I smile, taking the plate from her hands. “Maybe they shouldn’t have just turned up like this, and invaded your privacy…”
“Are you kidding? I haven’t spent an evening like this since…well, I never spend any evenings like this, really.”
“It’s not…too much?”
She looks at me, her head tilted to one side.
“It’s not too fast, too…strange?”
She sighs. “I don’t know – but I know that I like it.”
I smile suddenly.
“Come on, let’s get you home,” Ian says, helping Riley to her feet, “Or you’ll fall asleep here on Chris’ sofa.”
“Sorry, Chris. I’m always so tired at the moment.”
“I understand, I fell asleep everywhere when I was pregnant with Evan. Once I actually fell asleep on the bus, and woke up at the airport.”
“Why does that not surprise me,” Evan comments sarcastically, and his mother slaps him around the back of the head.
Riley and Ian hug Chris, who thanks them for coming as they head towards the front door. Nick gets up and comes over to us.
“Are you sure I can leave you alone with him?” he asks Christine.
“I’ll be here too,” Evan cuts in.
“You’re right, sorry. Can I leave you with these two? Because, you know, Ryan could have a terrible influence on this kid.”
“I’ll try to keep them in line.”
Nick hugs Christine, sending a blaze of fury through my body.
“I’ll speak to you tomorrow,” he says to me, before joining Ian and Riley at the door.
My brothers leave, and we’re left alone.
The three of us.
The overwhelming instinct to run and find a paper bag hits me immediately.
“I’ll start clearing up,” Evan says, collecting the plates from the coffee table.
“I’ll give you a hand.”
I help him take everything through to the kitchen, putting the leftovers in the fridge and loading the dishwasher, as I hear the sound of the TV floating in from the living room.
Evan comes up to me and whispers: “She’ll be okay, won’t she?”
I look at this boy, trying so hard to be a man for his mother: but inside, I can see he’s shaking with fear. I grab his shoulders and give them a squeeze.
