Moses placed the largest chocolate marble cake Beckett had ever seen in the centre of the table and introduced Sofia’s brother-in-law, Sam, who gave a quick nod before going back to sorting out game cards, a guy called Angus who had been hiding at Moses’ house while his wife hosted a baby shower, and a couple of others whose names Beckett immediately forgot. They all looked to be around his age, were drinking Pepsi or tea, because Moses’ adopted son Eli was currently working through some alcohol issues, and to be honest they looked about as knackered as Beckett felt.
He’d readied himself for the usual questions. What do you do? Where do you live? Any kids…?
But they never came. Moses had been correct about them taking the evening seriously. There was as much small talk as you’d expect at a professional competition as they set up and dived straight into a strategy game involving surviving on an uninhabited planet. It was almost as complex as performing surgery, and the stakes could have been as high, judging by how focused they all were. He’d not have believed these men even liked each other if it hadn’t been for the quips that accompanied every decision, and the grins and hugs offered to Sam once he’d won.
Beckett loved it. He came a very respectable third, considering it was his first time. Once they’d finished, he again steeled himself for conversation, but the only topic mentioned was what game they’d play next time and who was giving Moses’ cousin, Dante, a lift home.
‘Was that normal?’ he asked when Moses showed him out. ‘You said it was serious, but, well…’
Moses nodded, picking up on what he meant. ‘Yeah, the whole point is we find the most complicated games we can, so we have to forget about work, family, everything else, for a few hours. It’s a safe space, no pressure to put on a front or talk about the hard stuff. We have other times when we ask the uncomfortable questions and get real with each other about how we’re doing. Our Wednesday night group, Bravehearts, is strictly BS free, if you’re interested.’
‘Maybe another time.’
Like, never.
He would come to next month’s games night, though. He had to have found another carer by then.
Sunday, Gramps was up and out with miraculously minimal fuss, so they arrived at Mary’s house a few minutes early. Beckett did his best to temper his happiness at seeing her again to a reasonable level. She seemed as tired as ever, even dozing in the car for a few minutes, but somehow lighter at the same time.
‘Good weekend?’ he asked once she’d jerked awake and taken a few minutes to orientate herself.
‘I went to a baby shower,’ she said, running a hand through her hair, which despite the snooze looked tidier than he’d ever seen it.
‘At Li’s house? For someone from the mums’ group you went to?’
‘Yes but no.’ Mary shook her head, as if as bemused as he was. ‘They threw one for me. Then someone gave me a Tupperware full of beef stew to take home.’
She went on to describe the party, and how they’d organised something called a meal train. Beckett was pleased, but couldn’t deny the prickle of jealousy that other people were helping Mary and Bob.
For pity’s sake, it wasn’t as though she couldn’t do with all the help she could get.
He was able to shake it off once he told her about his own unexpected invite, able to demonstrate that he didn’t completely rely on this woman he’d met mere weeks ago for any hope of a social life.
They arrived at the New Life building a good twenty minutes early, due to light traffic, Gramps being engrossed in a podcast about the Boer War and a free parking space right outside. Unlike the previous week, the car park was empty of people milling about, so while Mary and Beckett were fighting with the pram, Gramps wobbled straight inside.
Hurrying behind, they found him already engaged in conversation with a young man in the foyer.
‘We’ve booked a table for lunch,’ Gramps said, forcefully. ‘Let us through.’
‘I already said, lunch isn’t on this week,’ the man, wearing a ‘New Life’ T-shirt, said, relief flooding his face when he saw Beckett and Mary approaching. ‘Maybe you got the date wrong?’
‘Hey, Gramps. We’re not here for lunch today,’ Beckett said, gently taking hold of his arm.
‘What? I came for lunch. No cabbage! The Scottish man promised me a rematch.’ He shook Beckett’s hand off with an angry huff. ‘Why are you always spoiling my fun?’
Beckett took a deep breath. The tiniest of wrong moves here, and things could turn sour.
‘We’re here for the rehearsal,’ he said quietly, trying to convey his apology.
‘Ah, right.’ The man nodded. ‘It’s in the small hall, but not for another half-hour. You could catch the last few minutes of the service, if you want.’
‘I do not want!’ Gramps said, his voice rising. ‘What I want is for this pipsqueak to stop trying to steal my lunch.’
‘It’s not lunchtime yet,’ Beckett said, sounding impossibly calm considering the stress flooding into his system. ‘Why don’t we go and listen to the music while we’re waiting?’
‘Because it’s terrible music,’ Gramps scoffed. ‘Is that a tone-deaf woman, or a cat being strangled? Take me to the dining hall. I’ll wait there.’
‘I said, it’s?—’
