at his delighted grin. The room was decorated in shades of blue and grey, and I'd urged Brian to put in the second telly. A boy needed some comforts, after all.
That evening stands out like a beacon in my mind. We were so happy, the three of us. It was almost as if Alix didn't exist at all. Certainly no one mentioned her.
Perhaps it was that night, its simple perfection, that caused everything to unravel. It tipped the scales in my favor, and I should have known better. I should have been happy with what I had, instead of wanting more. Believing I could have it.
A few weeks later Jamie and Alix had a blazing row, and of course Jamie came to us. It was a filthy night out, and he was soaked simply from walking from his door to ours.
"I hate my my mum," he said savagely. "She likes him more than me!"
I patted his shoulder and clucked sympathetically.
He looked up at me, eyes shimmering with tears he refused to cry. "Is it all right if I kip here for the night?"
And of course it was.
I showed him up to the spare room--his room--just as Alix pounded on the front door.
"Mrs. D... I can't... I don't want to talk to her!" He looked panicked, and I smiled.
"You don't have to, Jamie. Just leave it me."
Downstairs Alix was pale-faced and strained. "Is he here?" she asked. "Did he come here?"
My lip curled for a moment at such a stupid question. Of course he'd come here. "Yes, he's upstairs," I said calmly.
Alix made a move to start up the stairs. Instinctively I blocked her.
"Alix, this might not be the best time."
She turned to me, her voice and face both quite wild. "He's my son!"
I felt it again that--piercing, blinding rage. I had to hide my hands behind my back so she wouldn't see how they trembled.
My son.
"I'm afraid," I said quietly, although I think my voice shook a bit, "your son doesn't want to see you right now."
Alix's eyes widened, and for a moment I saw suspicion leap to life within them. For a moment I did not sound like the kindly, concerned neighbor I'd been all along.
I smiled. "Alix, why don't you give him an evening? He'll calm down and I can talk to him--talk him round. He'll come back in the morning and everything will seem better."
"I don't..." she licked her lips. She was uncertain; she looked to me for help. I smiled again.
"In the morning," I repeated, and put my hand on the door knob. Alix waited for what seemed like an endless moment--why couldn't the silly cow just go? And then finally she shuffled off. No thanks this time, though. No gratitude for being such a helpful neighbor. I didn't care.
Of course, Jamie didn't go back in the morning. He had a magnificent fry-up for breakfast and since it was Saturday Brian took him to the rugby.
By the time they returned, it was late and I'd made dinner, so I simply rang Alix and told her Jamie would be back by Sunday evening. She didn't protest, and I thought to myself, so now you see how things are.
Jamie went back reluctantly. "I want to stay here," he told me as I smoothed his bed cover. And then impulsively, with the helpless appeal of a little boy, "I wish you were my mum."
My hand stilled on the cover and my heart leapt within me. "Oh, Jamie," I said sadly, "so do I."
He blinked; it wasn't the right answer. I knew that. I'd made a mistake. So I smiled and put my arm round his shoulders and said, "come on. Time to go back to your mum's house." House, not home.
This was home.
Yet his words ate at me like a fever, a canker of unfulfilled longing. I fantasized about Alix running off with her man and asking if Jamie could live with us. I pictured my calm, smiling response, and then the best part of all, Jamie. Jamie with us every day, every night, like a son.
I knew I couldn't have that. I did understand it, even if I didn't like it, and I accepted the reality. At least I thought I did. But there were other ways, other ideas which bubbled to a ferment inside of me, and I put one of them to Alix.
"I was thinking," I said airily one
That evening stands out like a beacon in my mind. We were so happy, the three of us. It was almost as if Alix didn't exist at all. Certainly no one mentioned her.
Perhaps it was that night, its simple perfection, that caused everything to unravel. It tipped the scales in my favor, and I should have known better. I should have been happy with what I had, instead of wanting more. Believing I could have it.
A few weeks later Jamie and Alix had a blazing row, and of course Jamie came to us. It was a filthy night out, and he was soaked simply from walking from his door to ours.
"I hate my my mum," he said savagely. "She likes him more than me!"
I patted his shoulder and clucked sympathetically.
He looked up at me, eyes shimmering with tears he refused to cry. "Is it all right if I kip here for the night?"
And of course it was.
I showed him up to the spare room--his room--just as Alix pounded on the front door.
"Mrs. D... I can't... I don't want to talk to her!" He looked panicked, and I smiled.
"You don't have to, Jamie. Just leave it me."
Downstairs Alix was pale-faced and strained. "Is he here?" she asked. "Did he come here?"
My lip curled for a moment at such a stupid question. Of course he'd come here. "Yes, he's upstairs," I said calmly.
Alix made a move to start up the stairs. Instinctively I blocked her.
"Alix, this might not be the best time."
She turned to me, her voice and face both quite wild. "He's my son!"
I felt it again that--piercing, blinding rage. I had to hide my hands behind my back so she wouldn't see how they trembled.
My son.
"I'm afraid," I said quietly, although I think my voice shook a bit, "your son doesn't want to see you right now."
Alix's eyes widened, and for a moment I saw suspicion leap to life within them. For a moment I did not sound like the kindly, concerned neighbor I'd been all along.
I smiled. "Alix, why don't you give him an evening? He'll calm down and I can talk to him--talk him round. He'll come back in the morning and everything will seem better."
"I don't..." she licked her lips. She was uncertain; she looked to me for help. I smiled again.
"In the morning," I repeated, and put my hand on the door knob. Alix waited for what seemed like an endless moment--why couldn't the silly cow just go? And then finally she shuffled off. No thanks this time, though. No gratitude for being such a helpful neighbor. I didn't care.
Of course, Jamie didn't go back in the morning. He had a magnificent fry-up for breakfast and since it was Saturday Brian took him to the rugby.
By the time they returned, it was late and I'd made dinner, so I simply rang Alix and told her Jamie would be back by Sunday evening. She didn't protest, and I thought to myself, so now you see how things are.
Jamie went back reluctantly. "I want to stay here," he told me as I smoothed his bed cover. And then impulsively, with the helpless appeal of a little boy, "I wish you were my mum."
My hand stilled on the cover and my heart leapt within me. "Oh, Jamie," I said sadly, "so do I."
He blinked; it wasn't the right answer. I knew that. I'd made a mistake. So I smiled and put my arm round his shoulders and said, "come on. Time to go back to your mum's house." House, not home.
This was home.
Yet his words ate at me like a fever, a canker of unfulfilled longing. I fantasized about Alix running off with her man and asking if Jamie could live with us. I pictured my calm, smiling response, and then the best part of all, Jamie. Jamie with us every day, every night, like a son.
I knew I couldn't have that. I did understand it, even if I didn't like it, and I accepted the reality. At least I thought I did. But there were other ways, other ideas which bubbled to a ferment inside of me, and I put one of them to Alix.
"I was thinking," I said airily one
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