Son of Heaven Read Free

called ‘lad’, as if he were Peter’s age again. And he liked being mothered. More than that, he liked Ma
Brogan’s irreverent approach to life. Some didn’t, but he did.
    In the kitchen doorway she half turned, looking to him. ‘You want a brew, boy?’
    ‘I’d love one, Ma. If you’re having one.’
    ‘I am. Now put those conies down on the side, then take a seat and rest your legs while you tell me all the latest gossip.’
    Which is precisely what he did for the next hour, sat there in that low-ceilinged, heavily-shadowed kitchen, among the overflowing shelves and the clutter.
    Back in the old days he might have scorned it as a waste of time, but now he knew. This was what life was for. Not for accumulating wealth, nor making an impression. It was for this. The old
lady – Margaret , she insisted, flirting with him – made him laugh. Not only that, but she made him think, and if she’d been thirty years younger he might even have slept
with her.
    He knew a great deal about her life, about her work as a painter and as a potter, and the children she had raised, never to see again. But aspects of her history were still a mystery to him,
even after coming here these past twelve months.
    ‘Margaret?’
    ‘Yes, my love?’
    ‘Can I ask you something deeply personal?’
    She turned to face him. ‘You may.’
    ‘How many lovers did you have?’
    Her smile broadened, stretching the thin parchment of her skin. ‘You cheeky boy. That is personal. But as it’s you…’
    She hesitated, searching her memory, the smile fading then returning as she remembered something, or someone. ‘My god, it’s years since I thought about it…’ She gave a
little shrug, then. ‘Twenty? Thirty, maybe.’
    Jake feigned shocked surprise, which made her laugh.
    ‘You wanted an honest answer, you got one.’
    ‘For which I thank you. But now I want to know something else. Who was the love of your life?’
    She stared back at him and for an instant, her eyes were still young in that otherwise ancient face. It made him think of the old saying – that the eyes were the windows of the soul.
    ‘What’s got into you today, my boy?’
    ‘I don’t know… It’s just that I’ve been missing her these past few days.’
    ‘Ah…’
    A faint, wistful smile had come to her lips. She met his eyes again.
    ‘His name was Matthew. Mattie, I called him. My beautiful Mattie. Ah, he could stoke the fires, that one.’
    ‘Was he your husband?’
    ‘Good Lord, no! My husband, hah! I had three husbands and a fat lot of good any of them were, especially the last! First he ran off, and then his son!’ She gave a snort
of exasperation, then, after a long breath and more calmly she said, ‘No, my love… Mattie was my secret. We’d meet as often as we could, in his room, sometimes, but more often in
hotels. Sixteen years younger than me, he was, and I knew it couldn’t last, only…’
    Jake frowned, seeing how deep the pain still was, and felt a moment’s regret at having raised the subject. ‘Look, I’m sorry, I…’
    ‘No… don’t be. It wasn’t like that, you see. He didn’t leave me. Or rather, he did, but not through choice. He said he’d love me forever. But then he died.
In a car crash. It was awful. I didn’t know what to do with myself. His family didn’t know, you see, and if they had they wouldn’t have approved. But the funeral… Oh, it
was terrible, Jake. I couldn’t stop crying. And no one there knew me. No one even bothered to ask who it was sitting there at the back of the church sobbing her heart out. No one.’
    For a moment he felt like holding her, comforting her for what was clearly still an unhealed wound, even after all these years.
    ‘How old was he?’
    She wiped at her eyes. ‘Twenty-six.’
    Jake caught his breath. It was the same age he had been when it had all come crashing down.
    ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.’
    She reached out and touched his arm.‘No. No, you should. I