Page 15 of The Three of Us
‘Oh, you’re going?’ I hope I’m wrong but he looks really disappointed.
‘Yes, I’ve been here far too long already. Things to do, you know how it is.’
He nods, hesitantly. ‘I hope I’m not pushing you out, Carly. I’m sure Joyce wouldn’t want that. I know how much she likes having you around.’
‘Of course not. I raise my eyes to the ceiling, and wonder how long Mum is likely to be and if I should just slip away or wait to say goodbye.
Sam leaves the room, kicking off his shoes in the hall. I hear the water splashing into the kettle and the rattle of mugs. He’s obviously decided not to wait for Mum and to make them all some tea. I almost wish he hadn’t as that leaves me alone with Anthony.
‘Did you manage to get your car insurance sorted?’ I say, not being able to think of anything else to talk about. I’m still standing and so is Anthony.
‘Yes, thanks. Not your company, I’m afraid. Got a better deal somewhere else.’
I laugh. ‘There goes my Christmas bonus then!’
Anthony looks uncertain, as if he’s not sure if I’m being serious.
‘Joke! I think the company profits will survive. Please, Anthony, sit down. I can recommend the sofa. It’s very comfy, and I’ve been on it a while so it’s still warm!’
He smiles then and, I have to admit, he’s not so bad-looking really. Not in Jack’s league, obviously, but he’ll do for someone.
‘Anyway… I’ll say bye now. Enjoy your dinner, and your plums. Maybe Mum will save me a slice of the pie, if the plums are as good as she says they are.’
‘They are. Very plump and juicy,’ he says, and I manage to hold my laughter back just long enough to get me safely out into the hall and out of sight.
‘Bye, Mum,’ I call up the stairs, and I make my escape before she tries to talk me into staying and the chop situation rears its ugly head again.
The rain has managed to hold off, although the sky is heavy with dark clouds. It’s a bit of a walk to the station and then two trains to get back to the flat, and I’m starting to worry that I don’t have a coat. I’m hurrying along, head down, when I hear a voice calling my name. A car has slowed down beside me and I recognise the head that’s sticking out through the open window.
‘Syd! What are you doing around here?’
‘Just dropped Rosie and the little ones off at her mum’s. Some sort of baby-shower thing for her cousin. Do you want a lift?’
‘Are you sure? I can get the Tube.’
‘It’s fine. I’m going near your place anyway. Come on, hop in!’
I flick a few crumbs off the passenger seat and sit, dragging the seat belt across and clicking it into place. My foot hits something on the floor and I reach down to pick it up. A dummy, covered in dirt.
‘Oh, don’t worry about that,’ he says, taking it from my hand and throwing it over his shoulder onto the back seat. ‘This is Rosie’s car, and we’ve given up trying to keep it clean and hoovered! There are dummies all over the place. She bought a job lot. It’s easier to chuck them away than bother with all that sterilising lark, when you can get them so cheap. Thank God for Poundland, eh? To be honest, if it’s just a bit of fluff I just give them a suck and swish them under the tap sometimes. Doesn’t seem to have done the kids any harm.’
Really? Doesn’t he worry about the germs? Still, what do I know about babies and how to look after them? And the twins always look in perfect health to me.
‘So, how are they?’
‘The kids? Fine. Noisy, messy, never bloody sleep, but wouldn’t be without them, you know? Rosie’s thinking of going back to work soon, but there’s a lot to sort out. Childcare-wise.’
‘There must be.’
‘I’ve got my own business now, see. Gave up on the IT stuff. Not sure it was ever really my thing. Well, Rosie’s probably told you. I give driving lessons now. Got a new posh car with dual controls and everything, so I can pick and choose my hours, which works out well. Evenings, weekends… I can be out when she’s in, and vice versa. Means we hardly see each other sometimes though, and we’re still going to need help to make it work on any sort of permanent basis. Nurseries cost the earth. There’s only so much free childcare you can expect from the in-laws. Financially, I’m not sure it’s worth it, Rosie going back. We could end up paying out more than she earns. But I think she misses it, you know. Mixing with people, feeling useful, getting back into the real world…’
Rosie’s a teacher. A good one, too. Secondary level, English. All the GCSE and A-level stuff she thrives on. I can imagine how much she must be missing the classroom, and the kids.
‘The new term starts soon.’
‘I know, but she doesn’t have to go back just yet. She’s spoken to the head teacher and they’re looking at after Christmas. There’s a locum, supply teacher or whatever they call her, holding the fort until then.’
The rain is hitting the windscreen now and Syd puts the wipers on. The rhythm of them, swishing backwards and forwards, almost sends me to sleep. Must be the lager.