Page 14 of The Three of Us
Chapter 10
Carly
It’s one of those dull drizzly Saturdays when all I feel like doing is lazing around with a huge bar of Cadbury’s Fruit and Nut and a can or two, in front of the telly. Well, preferably Mum’s telly, so I don’t have to think about the washing or what to make for dinner, or Jack.
She has a habit of talking too much, my mum. It’s quite comforting, in its way, that feeling of not being on my own, of family life going on around me, and I’ve learned how to tune her out over the years, only really hearing the bits I want to hear, so it doesn’t bother me when she keeps coming into the room and chattering away about nothing in particular. I can always press the rewind button if I miss a good bit of the film I’m only half-watching anyway.
‘If I’d known you were planning on hanging around, I’d have bought extra meat,’ she’s saying now. ‘It’s okay when it’s a joint but you can’t really divide pork chops up, can you? It has to be one each.’
‘Mum, it’s okay. I don’t want a chop. You and Sam go ahead and eat them. I’ll grab something out of the freezer or the cupboard, if that’s okay? You must have some fish fingers or a can of beans. That’ll do me. Or I’ll get a takeaway delivered.’
‘Carly, you’re very welcome to stay, you know that, but I can’t have you eating baked beans, or chips out of a paper bag, while the rest of us have a proper meal. It will look…’
‘Look what? And who exactly is doing the looking?’ I sit up from my curled-up position on the sofa and drop my legs back down to the carpet. ‘Hang on, am I missing something here? What do you mean by the rest of us? Have you got someone coming over for dinner?’
‘I thought I told you.’
‘I don’t think you did.’
‘Well, it’s no big deal. I ran into Anthony during the week. You remember Anthony? From the allotments? He gave me a bag of plums, and they look delicious. I’ve made a pie. I thought it might be nice to ask him over to share it, that’s all. And for a bit of dinner too, of course. A man can’t live on plums alone.’
‘Oh, Mum. I told you to stop the matchmaking. He’s really not my type, and I have no interest in his plums!’
She doesn’t laugh at my joke. In fact, I’m not sure she realises I’ve made one. ‘I have no idea what you mean, Carly. I didn’t even know you’d be here for the evening, did I? I thought you’d drop by for lunch and a chat and be gone again, like you usually are on a Saturday. I would have got an extra chop otherwise…’
‘Right. Okay.’ I’m confused now. Maybe she really is just being kind to this Anthony, knowing he’s in need of company. Maybe she was never actually lining him up for me at all. ‘I’m sure Anthony won’t really care what I’m eating. You can tell him I’m not having the pork because I’m vegetarian or something! Or would you rather I go? Or I could pop out and buy another chop if it will help?’
She stops twisting the tea towel she’s holding and perches next to me on the sofa. ‘Whatever you want. I think you might be a bit bored though, if you stay. Once Anthony and Sam get together, the talk does tend to revolve around allotment business, you know. Pesticides and the Autumn Show and who’s going to tell old Mr Barton to get rid of his weeds before they infect everyone else’s plots. It can get a bit…’
‘Boring?’
‘Yes, I suppose so. If it’s not your thing.’
‘It’s not. So, I’ll go then, shall I? What time’s he coming?’
‘About seven. Oh, but I don’t want to push you out. It’s just that…’
‘It will be boring and you don’t have enough chops? I get it, Mum, honestly. I expect Fran will be home. We can get a takeaway together.’
‘No date tonight then? No nice young man to take you out somewhere?’
‘You know there isn’t.’
‘Shame,’ she says, under her breath, as she leaves me to curl back up on the sofa and heads back into the kitchen.
I look at my watch. It’s only just gone five, so I have time to finish the chocolate and the film, and crack open a second can of lager, before I’m bundled back out into the night. And I’d like to see Sam before I go. He’ll probably be back from his football match soon. It’s only a little local team. They play in a bumpy field tucked away behind the playground in the park, and Sam plays in goal, but he likes to tell me how they got on and talk me through the highlights. Mum doesn’t know the first thing about football and, since we lost Dad, I think Sam likes still having someone to brag to when he comes home, especially if he’s managed a particularly impressive save. Although, to listen to him, they’re all impressive.
The season’s only just begun, but I must try to get down there and watch a match soon. I have a sudden vision of being there with Jack, like a proper boyfriend and girlfriend, wearing matching scarfs, holding gloved hands on the touchline and only letting go when our team scores and we raise our arms and cheer like loons. It’s never going to happen though, is it?
As it happens, Sam’s late and Anthony’s early, and they arrive together. I hear the back door bang as they come clomping in to the kitchen, and Mum squealing as they’ve caught her unawares, still in her dirty apron and with her hair a mess.
She rushes up the stairs to sort herself out and Sam brings Anthony into the living room.
‘Did you win?’ I say, crinkling up my purple wrapper and stuffing it into my pocket and edging the empty lager cans round to the side of the sofa with my toe. Who wants to admit they’ve been drinking, and have eaten a whole giant-size bar of chocolate, all by themselves?
‘Three–nil,’ Sam says, with an air of triumph.
‘Well done. I wish I’d been there. You can tell me all about it tomorrow. I’ll call you, okay?’ I get up then and hold my hand out to Anthony. ‘Nice to see you again, Anthony, but I’ll be off now. Have a nice evening.’