“Ha! Well, that’ll teach you—be careful who you snub or you might end up rescuing them from a world-class storm! I feel bad now, for intruding so much... and maybe even more confused as to why you’re inviting us along?”
“Well, it was all pretty dramatic, wasn’t it? The storm? Before I moved the motorhome into shelter, it was rocking our world as well. And seeing what happened to you and Charlie... I suppose it made me realize that we all need a bit of help sometimes.”
“You don’t seem to,” I reply, gesturing around us. “You seem to have life cracked.”
“Ha! Far from it... and I did need help once, a long time ago. Someone I loved, someone I’d hurt, was kind enough to keep me in their life when I didn’t deserve it. Kind enough to help me move on. So maybe this is just a messed-up way of paying it back. We all need help sometimes, don’t we? It’s part of what makes us human.”
“Maybe. I’m not very good at asking for help.”
“You’re not asking; I’m offering.”
I’m not entirely sure I want to feel like a charity case and in two minds as to whether he realizes what he’s letting himself in for. Sharing close quarters with a teenager is not for the weak.
“So taking me and Charlie on a mobile mini-break would actually be a way of making yourself feel better?” I say.
“Yeah. Exactly. In fact, you’d be doing me a favor!” I look at him, at this man who has been so kind, at this man who just moments ago I knew I was going to miss. He’s right. He is a complete stranger. This is an insane idea.
“It’s an insane idea,” I say out loud. “But, on the other hand, you do have a really good biscuit tin. Let me talk to Charlie about it.”
Chapter 7
I meet Charlie in town at lunchtime the next day. I arrived early to see a mechanic, who has pronounced Nina dead—or at least economically dead. It would cost me more to repair her than she’s worth. He offers me 500 pounds for scrap, and I accept. In normal circumstances, I would be sad to see her go, and possibly hold some kind of memorial service with a car-related playlist, but in the inventory of Rubbish Things That Have Happened in the Last Seven Days, it barely registers.
I promise to clear the car out and bring him the paperwork the next day, and then spend a good half an hour rummaging through the trunk and the glovebox. Apart from general garbage that I trash immediately—I am a car slattern—I come away with 97 pence, a Black Eyed Peas CD, a packet of blister cushions, and a half-eaten bag of cashew nuts. Party time.
Charlie walks into the pub just after one, looking exhausted. His hair is clumped on one side and his eyes are bloodshot and crusted with sleep. He is so pale his skin is almost gray.
“You look good, love—has there been a zombie apocalypse without me noticing?” I say as he collapses into the booth with me. He lays his head on the table for a moment, then winces up at me.
“Xbox. All night long. I’m out of practice, Mum.”
I ruffle his hair and go and get us both a drink. I order him shrimp and chips because I know that’s what he’ll want, especially after a tough night of virtual warfare.
By the time I get back, he is upright again, gazing at his phone with tired eyes. I pass him his Coke and he gulps at it thirstily—I suspect he forgot to either hydrate or eat while he was away. It prompts a niggling worry about what will happen to him when he is at uni, surrounded by other young people and with a subsidized college bar and no mum to remind him to take care of himself. I am probably not the first parent to feel like this, and I reassure myself that he will survive.
We chat for a few minutes about his night, about Eric, about Eric’s family, about other friends’ lives. It is so strange, thinking about them all heading off to uni or jobs or apprenticeships—these little men I have known since they were kiddiwinks.
Eventually, once the food arrives and he inhales his lunch and I make my soup and roll last as long as I can, I broach the subject with him. I have been thinking about Luke’s offer all night and am catapulting between “this is 100 percent the best idea ever” and “don’t be such an idiot.” I have to make some decisions, and soon—by the end of the week, I need to let Tim know if I am accepting the layoff, let the council know if I am taking up their offer of a flat, leave the hotel, and decide whether to go on a road trip with Betty and her pet human. No pressure, then.
“So,” I say carefully, not at all sure how Charlie will react, “you know Luke?”
“Um... yeah?”
“Well, he’s asked if we want to go on a trip with him and Betty in his motorhome. Just for a bit, to see if we like it. I thought we might get one.”
“Like, to keep, not just for a holiday?” he says, looking confused.
“Yes. Because, also, they’re closing the office, and I’m being laid off. I don’t want you to worry about it. It’s all okay—I’ll get a payment for it, and I’m sure I’ll get another job quickly anyway. We could even end up better off. So it’ll all be okay.”
Charlie frowns and spears the one chip that was left on his plate, then chews it slowly.
“When did you find that out?” he asks eventually.
“The day we lost the cottage. Well, that’s when I was told it might happen anyway. I only found out for definite yesterday.”
“So this is something you’ve been hiding from me?”
“Not hiding exactly, love. I just didn’t see the point in giving you something else to worry about when there was already so much going on, and anyway, it’s for me to sort, not you.”
