‘Bye, Dr Mav.’
‘But… what? I haven’t met your grandpa yet.’
‘That won’t be happening. Today, or ever.’ He moved forward, forcing her to step backwards over the doorstep. ‘Putting it bluntly, Ms Maverick, this ain’t my first rodeo. No way on earth I’m letting a cowboy like you near my grandfather. Whose name, by the way, is Mr Bywater.’
Beckett slammed the door so hard Gramps woke up.
When he retold the meeting to Mary, later that evening, she laughed so much she snorted louder than Dr Mav had. Something else Beckett had forgotten from his medical, sociable days – sharing a dreadful story with a safe person will usually reveal the humour hidden below the horror. Panning for gold, as not-doctor Meryl Maverick might say.
14
MARY
On Friday afternoon, while I was cleaning mud off the pram wheels after taking it for a test-drive through the forest, Sofia sent three messages in quick-fire succession.
Sofia
Hey, Rina’s picking you up at 11 tomorrow
Coffee mums meet-up
That ok?
Mary
Am I really so sad and boring you’ve assumed I’m not already busy?
Sofia
Mary, you had a baby like a month ago. You’ve no family here and we’re your only friends
Of course you’re not busy
Mary
I could be doing something with Beckett and Marvin!
Sofia
Nah, Moses already checked for me
But I take the point that you do have 2 other friends
Despite being awake since six, I was nowhere near ready to go when Rina pulled up in a grey estate car.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, opening the door in the hope I could deter her from entering into the mess that had accumulated over the past few days. ‘I’ll be with you in a minute.’
I was hurriedly hunting for baby wipes when Rina appeared in my living-room doorway, seemingly unfazed by either the baby shrieking as if being tortured, or the chaos.
‘What can I do?’ she asked, scooping Bob out of his new bouncy chair. ‘How about I take that, and you sort your hair out?’
She gently prised the changing bag out of my hand.
‘It needs restocking. I’ll do it if you can hold Bob.’
‘Mary, I have two small children. I can do up a bra, bake brownies and certainly shove nappies into a bag while holding a baby. Don’t worry,’ she added, noticing my perplexed expression. ‘It took a lot of practice. When Jock was this tiny, I couldn’t even drink a glass of water without putting him down. Then my husband went AWOL, and I had to learn. Make use of my hard-won expertise, and go and brush your hair.’
‘That’s the second time you’ve mentioned my hair. Is it really that bad?’
