The Mum Who Got Her Life Back Page 31

  Instead, we acted like teenagers. Does anyone ever truly grow up?

  ‘Any interesting Aberdeen facts then, Jack?’ Alfie asks now from the back seat. When I glance in the rear-view mirror I can see that he’s smirking.

  ‘I can tell you it’s not the most northern city in Britain,’ Jack replies.

  ‘No? Really?’ Alfie asks with exaggerated interest. ‘So, which one is? I hope you’ve researched this …’

  ‘I have. It’s Kirkwall on Orkney.’

  ‘Oh. ’Cause it’s got a cathedral?’

  ‘It does, yes,’ Jack says. ‘It’s called St Magnus and it’s about eight hundred years old. I can tell you all about it if you like.’

  ‘Nah, save it,’ Alfie sniggers. ‘Put it in an email or something. Or write me a letter.’ The two of them chuckle. Although I know Alfie confided in Jack in Barcelona – and of course, Jack told Alfie about Sandy’s accident – they seem to have bonded way more than I could ever have hoped for. After all, it’s only four months since Alfie narrowly missed walking in on us romping about on my sofa. Back then, I’d have been delighted if they’d managed to sit and have a cup of tea together and talk cordially. But now it’s constant chit-chat, often with Alfie gently ribbing Jack about aspects of his personality that my son associates with being ‘of your generation’ (i.e., ancient). He had Jack’s sports watch properly programmed and working efficiently within five minutes. He couldn’t believe Jack hadn’t heard of the rising-star comedian who donated a bike to the charity auction – but at least the assembled audience at the auction clearly had. The gleaming mountain bike (bought on a whim and barely used, apparently) raised by far the most money of all the celebrity-owned items.

  ‘What am I bid for these mittens?’ Dinah’s strident voice rang out at the auction in the Assembly Rooms in Edinburgh. ‘They’re very, um, fleecy inside, super-warm, and they’ve been kindly donated by our favourite soap star, Miranda Ford …’ On and on she banged about the snugness of the mittens, while everyone clapped and Miranda Ford beamed and shimmered from her table at the front. She was extremely pretty in that blonde-hair-pink-cheeks kind of way, like a child’s drawing of a princess.

  ‘Please,’ Jack murmured into my ear, ‘someone bid …’

  ‘C’mon, folks!’ Dinah called out. ‘Let’s get the bidding started!’ This was becoming embarrassing. Kevin Masters’ apron had gone, and the mountain bike, plus various other lesser items that other shop managers had managed to rake in. Dinah had clearly been holding back Miranda’s mittens as the star item. ‘Folks!’ she cried again, a smudge of desperation creeping into her voice now.

  ‘Poor Miranda,’ I whispered to Jack.

  ‘I know. Christ.’ He winced and looked around the room.

  I looked at Alfie, who didn’t seem remotely concerned, and why should he? He’s never watched a soap in his life. He’s barely capable of empathising with his parents or sister, let alone an embarrassed soap actress whom he has never seen on screen. I glanced at Iain, who was sitting opposite Jack; the only volunteer who had wanted to come, despite Jack’s offer to everyone. I’d have thought Mags might have wanted to, but I get the sense that she’s a little offish whenever I’m around.

  ‘I think she has a thing about you, Jack,’ I’d teased him.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ he exclaimed, and I laughed. Of course she has; I could tell the first time I saw them together in the shop.

  ‘Jack, you should bid,’ Iain was saying now.

  ‘Why me?’ Jack exclaimed.

  ‘Because no one’s bidding. It’s embarrassing.’ He looked at Alfie. ‘What about you?’

  ‘No way,’ Alfie said, cringing.

  ‘They’re sheepskin,’ Molly added. ‘He doesn’t wear it.’

  ‘Doesn’t wear sheepskin? Why not?’ Iain scoffed, as Dinah’s voice rang out again:

  ‘Do I have a starting bid of just ten pounds?’ She looked around the room with a hopeful expression. Her face brightened. ‘Fantastic. The young lady here …’

  We all turned and stared at Molly, who grinned. ‘No more bids?’ The room fell quiet, and everyone seemed to be staring at my daughter. ‘Sold!’ Dinah announced. ‘To the young lady in the red jumper. And that brings our auction to an end today.’

  ‘I can always use a pair of gloves,’ Molly murmured, as Dinah launched into her thanks at the end. Alfie pretended to be mortified to be mentioned personally; obviously, Jack had asked Dinah to include him.

  ‘I only asked my mate to ask his brother,’ he hissed.

  We have arrived at the outskirts of the city now. It’s a bright, warm morning, and the sky is a clear, cloudless blue. It feels the right kind of day for a fresh start. ‘So, your stuff’ll definitely be at the flat, will it?’ I ask my son.

  ‘Yeah, the guys have got it. They picked up the keys yesterday …’

  ‘Can you direct me now?’ I ask.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘You said you know the way, Alf. I need you to tell me where to—’

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ he says, as we make our way through the suburbs: austere, proud houses with immaculate gardens, gradually making way for shabbier modern bungalows.

  ‘Turn left!’ Alfie shouts suddenly, in the manner of someone who has never driven a car and doesn’t understand that a driver needs more than a millisecond’s notice in order to perform a manoeuvre.

  ‘Christ, Alfie!’ Jack exclaims.

  ‘I need more warning than that,’ I mutter.

  ‘You’ve gone past it,’ Alfie complains with a sigh. I glance over to Jack, catch his eye and smile. I’m so glad he came today, not that Alfie and I need any help really; it’s just good to have him here. He had offered to drive us, but his old banger finally gave up the ghost last week (my brother-in-law could hardly disguise his glee when he heard, and immediately offered to source an excellent bargain for Jack at auction). Naturally, Danny is away again. So we are in my car, which also contains several large bags of household items; a starter pack for living, if you will. Yes, Alfie left home officially last year, and I bought him all the kitchen stuff for that, plus towels and bed linen, all the essentials. However, he confessed that pretty much everything had broken or disappeared during his year in halls, and could he start afresh?

  His dad had a moan about it, unsurprisingly. ‘Bloody millennials,’ he started, at which Alfie piped up: ‘Yes, Dad, I know. What we need is a bloody war.’ This is the man who complains about the price of green juice in a noodle bar, after all. Well, he doesn’t seem to be baulking at spending a few quid now, not now they’re fitting out a nursery to Kiki’s specifications.

  She was pregnant, it turned out, that day she traumatised the inside of my mouth with her fingers. She claimed she didn’t know then, but I’m not so sure; perhaps she’d been testing me, to see if I could shed any light on how Danny might react? Nothing to do with me, of course, but I’m happy for them, and although Alfie and Molly were a little freaked out when the announcement was made, I know they are delighted. ‘Having a baby at his age?’ Alfie sniggered to me, once the news had sunk in. ‘It’ll knacker him.’

  The boys’ flat is in a rather unlovely concrete block, but it seems bright and clean enough as we help him carry in his belongings. This time, we are actually allowed into the premises and even offered a cup of tea by Jez, Alfie’s cheery flatmate. Then it’s back south for us, as we have decided to drop in on Jack’s parents in Perthshire.

  We are greeted warmly by Pauline and Brendan and given an enthusiastic account of their cruise, and Craig and his wife Jill join us for coffee. Later, I am given a tour of the farm, including the shop, and the barns, which have been given over to cheese production. ‘I recognise this,’ I tell Pauline, as we wander off together through a small glade, ‘from your sketches. Have you been drawing much lately?’

  ‘Yes, I did feel quite inspired after meeting you,’ she says. ‘Encouraged really. You were very kind.’ We make our way through an orchard adjoining the yard. There’s
a gentle breeze, and one of the sheepdogs is pottering along at our side. ‘I’m so sorry about what happened that day,’ I add. ‘At Jack’s place, I mean.’

  ‘Oh, don’t mention it,’ Pauline says quickly. ‘We didn’t give it another thought.’

  I glance at her, suspecting that this isn’t entirely true, but I’m grateful for her generosity.

  Then it’s just us: me and Jack, having said our farewells and now heading back home to Glasgow. At least, I’d assumed that’s what we would do, but now he’s saying, ‘Could you just turn off here? It’s a lovely village and there’s a little hotel I wanted you to see …’

  ‘A hotel?’ I ask, glancing at him and grinning. We arrive at the village, which is little more than a cluster of cottages and a couple of old-fashioned shops – a general store and a grocer’s – arranged around a bend in the shallow river. It’s astoundingly lovely in the golden light of the late afternoon.

  ‘Like it?’ Jack asks as we park up and stroll towards the hotel.

  ‘It’s lovely. It looks so cosy. Wouldn’t you just love to spend the evening in that lounge, looking out over the hills?’

  ‘Well, we could,’ he says, smiling. ‘You know Lori’s at Shannon’s tonight, and there’s no work tomorrow, is there?’

  I stare at him. ‘They might not have any rooms.’

  ‘But they might have,’ he says, taking my hand. ‘We could go in and ask.’

  I’m laughing now as we make our way to the worn stone steps that lead to the front door. ‘It’d be crazy to stay here when we’re so close to your mum and dad’s.’

  Jack shrugs. ‘But wouldn’t you rather stay here?’

  ‘Yes, of course I would, but I don’t have anything with me. I didn’t think we’d—’

  ‘There are those shops just along the road,’ he remarks. ‘I’m sure we could get what we need …’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ I say. ‘We could probably buy toothpaste, but what about knickers and—’

  He laughs. ‘You’re worried about knickers?’

  ‘I just mean …’ I tail off.

  ‘Actually,’ Jack says, ‘I sort of brought an overnight bag for us. I hope you don’t mind.’

  I stop and look at him, realising now that we can do this; we can just stay the night, on a whim, because why shouldn’t we? We’re not answerable to anyone now. It’s just us two.

  ‘Of course I don’t mind,’ I say, kissing him.

  ‘Well, that’s good,’ he says as we step into the hotel where the young woman on reception looks up and smiles.

  ‘Can I help you?’ she asks.

  ‘Yes, I’m Jack McConnell,’ he says, making my stomach flip as he squeezes my hand. ‘I reserved a room for tonight.’

  Minutes later, we are on the very top floor, poised to unlock our door. Jack pauses and looks at me. ‘You really don’t mind, do you?’

  ‘Are you crazy?’ I ask as I take his hand, my heart soaring with joy as we step into our room. ‘I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be than right here, with you.’

  The End

  Everyone has a last straw …

  An unmissable novel from the voice of the modern woman!

  What happens when The One That Got Away shows up again …

  thirty years later?

  Forget about having it all. Sometimes you just want to leave it all behind.

  A warm, funny and honest read that’s perfect for when you’ve just had enough.

  Midlife crisis? WHAT midlife crisis?!

  A hilarious read for fans of Carole Matthews and Catherine Alliott.

  THE MUM WHO GOT HER LIFE BACK

  Fiona was born in a youth hostel in Yorkshire. She started working on teen magazine Jackie at age 17, then went on to join Just Seventeen and More! where she invented the infamous ‘Position of the Fortnight’. Fiona now lives in Scotland with her husband Jimmy, their three children and a wayward rescue collie cross called Jack.

  For more info, visit www.fionagibson.com. You can follow Fiona on Twitter @fionagibson.

  By the same author:

  Mum On The Run

  The Great Escape

  Pedigree Mum

  Take Mum Out

  How the In-Laws Wrecked Christmas: a short story

  As Good As It Gets?

  The Woman Who Upped and Left

  The Woman Who Met Her Match

  The Mum Who’d Had Enough

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