She grabbed a baby wipe and began to scrape and dab. ‘It’s okay, you can laugh. It was a rookie error. I knew I should have waited until after he was done before I changed into my work clothes.’
‘Agreed. Although, your Power Ranger pyjamas might have been the most alluring sight I’ve ever seen. I’ve no idea why you’re single.’
Laughing, Tress chucked the wipe in Noah’s direction, but he was already on his feet and it missed him completely. This was why she’d never made the netball team in high school.
Noah headed to the coffee machine with his mug, but on the way past his godson, he leaned down and kissed the top of Buddy’s blonde curls. ‘Great shot, Buddy. As soon as you can talk, tell Mum you want birthday cake for breakfast next year.’
Tress was pretty sure her son had no idea what his godfather was saying, but he gazed up adoringly anyway. Her son had four favourite people in the world and his god-father, the man he was named after, was one of them. The forename on Buddy’s birth certificate was actually Noah, a decision she’d made with her husband, Max, as soon as they knew they were having a boy. Ironic. Max loved his friend, Noah, so much that he wanted to name his son after him. Yet, at the same time, he was having an affair with the person Noah loved most. Just one of the many contradictions that made Max Walker impossible to understand. Even in death. And the whole ‘Until death do us part’ thing had come way too soon, before he even got to forty.
Max Walker had been the driver of a car that had overturned as he’d raced back to Tress after he got the call to say she was in labour. Unbeknownst to them all, he had a mistress, Noah’s wife, Anya, and she was in the passenger seat. Anya survived, but Max died later that night, only hours after his son had been born in the same hospital.
Tress had loved Max with her whole heart and she’d lost him twice. The first time was when she’d found out that he’d been having an affair with Anya for years. The second time was just hours later, when he took his last breath. Now, one year on, the pain had dulled to a gnawing ache that she managed to ignore a little more with the passing of time. She had to. Her son deserved to grow up in a warm, sunny house with a happy, positive mother. It was the least she could do to compensate for the actions of his dad.
It would have been easy to crumble, to fall apart and convince herself that love had never existed, but Buddy was herreminder that it did. On the nights when she’d been unable to sleep, and in the days that she’d struggled to get out of bed, Buddy was the one reason that she’d kept going. She wouldn’t give in to the sadness because then his little life would have been tainted by even more heartache. No. She wouldn’t allow it. So every day for the last twelve months, she’d put a smile on her face, she’d taken strength from the special people in her life and she’d loved her son enough for two parents.
However, having two males called Noah in their little unconventional family had soon proven to be confusing, so they’d switched to the nickname that they’d used for her boy since he was only a day old. Just hours after his father had died, a tear-stained, heart-broken Tress had stared into her new-born son’s face and whispered, ‘Well, buddy, it’s just you and me now, but don’t you worry because I’ve got you, today and every day.’
That was it. Officially, on paper, her son was called Noah Walker, but to everyone in his world, he was Buddy. And Buddy Walker was the absolute love of her life. Even when he was weaponising Weetabix.
There was a hoot from a party blower, followed by a ‘Happy Birthday, gorgeous boy!’ as Val, right on cue, burst through the kitchen door, clutching a life-size stuffed octopus. ‘I tried to wrap it, but I gave up on the third arm. There isn’t enough wrapping paper in the world for this bugger.’
All five foot of Nancy came right behind her, wrestling a giraffe that was at least a foot taller.
Shrieking with laughter, Buddy put two arms up to welcome his new furry friends, side-swiping his breakfast right off the tray of his highchair. Any irritation Tress could possibly have felt was squashed by her son’s cheek-splitting grin at seeing both an eight-armed sea creature, an outlandishly long-necked safari animal, and two of the other people who reigned supreme at the top of his love list.
Nancy was her beloved next-door neighbour and Val was Nancy’s closest friend. The two of them had become self-appointed aunties to her and Buddy, and they had seen her through every sad time and happy moment in the last year. They also pitched in with childcare while Tress was at work, except on Noah’s day off, when he eagerly hung out with his godson for the day, and Fridays, when Tress usually worked from home.
Not today, though. Today she’d been summoned to the studio for the grand farewell to the legend that was Odette Devine.
In her previous life, Tress Walker BC (Before Children) had been a freelance interior designer, working for individual clients who wanted bespoke decor on a budget. After Max died, the luxury of self-employment was no longer an option. Max’s life insurance had given her enough to pay off her mortgage, but she still had to cover all their other bills and needed set hours, a fixed salary, paid holidays and sick pay if required, which, thankfully, it hadn’t been in the six months she’d been in the job.
If someone had told her twelve months ago that she’d have to give up the business that she’d grown from scratch, she’d have been devastated, but on the scale of life’s upheavals in the past year, changing career barely registered. Besides, surprisingly, she thoroughly enjoyed her job. Working on a TV set didn’t have the glamour or glitz that she’d imagined – half the sets were built in a panic and held together with gaffer tape and prayer, but she loved the variety of it, and it was nice to be surrounded by people every day. Even those prone to a touch of the divas, like Odette. Tress found it all fascinating and a welcome respite. A solitary occupation had been fine when she was married, but now she came home to a house where the only male was a year old and his conversation skills didn’t yet stretch to words with more than one syllable – even if his cuteness made up for it.
Val and Nancy serenaded Buddy with ‘Happy Birthday’, finishing with more blasts on their party hooters, which sent him into raptures of giggles and squeals of delight. Tress was ambushed by a distinct dampness in the cheek area and dabbed away her tears of gratitude. Buddy didn’t have a dad, or grandparents, or real aunts, uncles, or cousins, but he had two adopted aunts, his god-father, Noah, and a mum who adored him, so he lacked nothing in the love department. Every day, not just his birthday, was a happy one, but there would be an extra special sprinkling of joy this weekend. Buddy’s official first birthday party was planned for Sunday, when everyone had the day off and Tress was determined to make it the most special day for him. She’d bought balloons, streamers, party bags, ordered food, arranged a bouncy castle, and invited all their friends and neighbours. There was definitely a part of her that was relieved that his party wasn’t happening today, on his actual birthday. There were already way too many emotions to deal with. She immediately chided herself. This was the first and last time she’d allow herself to feel a shred of sadness on his birthday. From now on, all negative connotations about today would be banished and it would only be about celebrating her son. Even if he was way too young to understand what was going on and why there were giant stuffed animals in their kitchen.
Songs and cheers over, Buddy got busy trying to feed his octopus some mashed banana, while Tress poured two fresh cups of tea from the pot in the middle of the table, then slid them across to where Val and Nancy were clambering onto the bench on the other side.
‘In the name of the holy hernia, can you not get chairs for this table instead of this bloody bench?’ Nancy muttered. ‘I’m going to do myself an injury climbing over this plank one of these days. I’m trying to hold out a while yet before my first hip replacement.’
Tress didn’t like to point out that the dining set was an artisan piece, crafted by a local carpenter from reclaimed railway sleepers. And yes, it was heavy, but the whole industrial vibe had been her obsession when she’d designed this room.
Val had an opinion, which she delivered to Nancy while spooning half a sugar into her tea. ‘You’re more likely to fracture something at Zumba.’ She turned to Tress, to impart more context to the statement. ‘Last night, they introduced a new routine to a Shakira song. Honestly, my pelvic floor hasn’t clenched like that since the eighties.’
Tress loved how Noah just accepted these conversations without batting an eyelid – probably because the two older women made no secret of their absolute devotion to Dr Noah Clark, whom they’d known since he was a kid climbing over the fence to Nancy’s house next door, to get his ball back after Max had booted it too hard for the hundredth time.
Tress and Max had bought this house, the one her late husband had grown up in, from his parents, after they had retired and moved to Cyprus. When she’d met Max, Tress has been on a work trip to Glasgow from her native Newcastle, but she’d been happy to be the one who relocated. Her mum had passed away, she’d never known her dad and she was an only child, so she had no strong ties left to the North East. A fresh start, in a gorgeous old house in a beautiful Scottish village, with her new husband, hadn’t been a hardship. Tress had spent the next couple of years renovating it to make it their forever home, with no idea that Max wouldn’t make it to forever.
‘Eh, Noah Clark, did you have a sleepover here last night?’ Val asked him, one eyebrow raised in suspenseful optimism.
Tress rolled her eyes.
‘Yep…’ Nancy and Val’s eyes lit up like strobe lights until he went on, ‘I was in Spiderman pyjamas, Tress wore PowerRangers ones, and we played video games all night because we’re twelve.’
Val’s shoulders sagged as she realised he was joking.
Tress didn’t have time to point out that elements of that were true, before he laughed and went on, ‘No, I didn’t have a sleepover. I popped in to have breakfast with the birthday boy and myfriend,Tress, and now I’m off to work, where I’ll no doubt see mygirlfriendif she’s on shift too.’
Indignant, Val only unpursed her lips to have a sip of her tea. In the last couple of weeks, she’d suddenly started dropping hints about the possibility of Tress and Noah getting together romantically. Tress had no idea where it was coming from, but it was so ridiculous, they just laughed it off.
