I am waiting in the hallway when Nick arrives home with Benji.
‘Shoes off!’ I bark, the instant that the front door opens. ‘And hang your stuff in the cupboard under the stairs.’
‘What’s wrong with the hooks?’ asks Nick, walking across to where we normally hang all our coats. ‘And hello to you, too.’
I reach up and give him a kiss. Things have been so much better between us since we talked last weekend. And while I share his worry about what we’re going to do for money, I’m trying not to stress about it too much. Right now, I’m just enjoying the knowledge that my marriage isn’t about to go up in flames. Our financial plight is on my list of things to panic about but it’s way below my imminent appearance at Sex Con, for which I am woefully unprepared.
‘Nothing’s wrong with them,’ I tell him, yanking his jacket out of his hand and opening the cupboard door. ‘I just want there to be plenty of space for Dylan to hang up his coat when he gets here later.’
‘How many coats is he bringing?’ asks Nick, looking confused. ‘There are five hooks, Hannah. There’s always been five hooks – one for each of us.’
‘Don’t try and reason with her, Dad,’ advises Scarlet, descending the stairs. ‘And I sincerely hope that neither of you need to use the bathroom in the near future.’
‘I do!’ shouts Benji, hopping up and down and clutching at the front of his trousers. ‘I’ve been desperate for a wee since one o’clock.’
‘So why didn’t you go at school?’ Nick asks him. ‘That was hours ago.’
Benji scowls. ‘Miss said that I couldn’t go to the toilet because we’d only just had lunchtime and that was my time to go. And that if I wanted to go in my learning time then she was a bit disappointed about my attitude. She did say that if I was really desperate then I could ask her again in two minutes. But I forgot.’
‘So you weren’t really that desperate then, were you?’ I mutter.
‘I was,’ insists Benji. ‘But we were doing a science experiment with yeast and water and balloons and it was really fun. So I just kind of made the wee go back up so that I didn’t miss anything. But now it’s all pressurised and if I don’t go soon then it could be a medical emergency.’
Scarlet makes a delightful retching sound. ‘You’re an animal,’ she tells her brother. ‘I can’t believe that I have to put up with this kind of foul conversation.’
‘Well, you’d better get up there now,’ says Nick, grinning at Benji. ‘It sounds like the situation could turn nasty at any moment.’
‘No!’ I cry, stepping in front of our son. ‘I’ve just cleaned the bathroom for Dylan. I’m not having your explosive wee messing it all up again.’
‘Hannah!’ Nick grabs my hand and gently but firmly pulls me out of Benji’s path. ‘He’s allowed to use the toilet.’
I nod resignedly and slump my shoulders.
‘Just clean up after yourself,’ I mutter. ‘Properly.’
‘What time is Dylan arriving?’ asks Nick. ‘Have I got time for a cup of tea before I go to collect him?’
I stare at my husband. ‘I thought I was collecting him.’
He shakes his head. ‘No. I definitely remember saying that I’d go and get him in Betty.’
‘I was hoping to have a chat with him though,’ I say. ‘Before we get back here and everything is chaos, as usual.’
Nick looks at me. ‘If it’s that important to you then of course you should get him,’ he says. ‘But I’ve missed him too.’
I hadn’t even thought that Nick might want to spend some time with Dylan on his own. We talk a lot about what Dylan might be doing at uni but after that first day, Nick has seemed to take the whole thing in his stride and hasn’t really shown any sign that he might be finding it as difficult as I am.
Maybe I’m just a bit louder about my worries than he is.
It’s a possibility.
‘You can go,’ I say.
‘I want to go too,’ Scarlet interrupts.
‘And me,’ shouts Benji, leaping back down the stairs. ‘I’ve been excited all day.’
Nick grins at me and I smile back. I don’t know what I was thinking. Of course we’ll all go and collect him. Anything else just wouldn’t be right.
So it’s the four of us waiting on the platform as the train pulls into the station. I scan the carriages as they pass but can’t see Dylan anywhere. The doors open and people flood out and still there is no sign of him. I stand on tiptoe and peer along the length of the train, looking desperately for my little boy whose face I have missed so very, very much and whom I haven’t seen for four, whole weeks.
And then he’s there, striding towards us in a new jacket with a slightly bedraggled bunch of flowers in his hand.
We run. As in, we literally sprint down the platform, dodging travellers and suitcases and commuters and briefcases. I reach him first and pull him into my arms, the bulk of him feeling at once so familiar yet so different.
‘My boy,’ I whisper, holding him tightly as Nick joins our hug, followed rapidly by Scarlet and Benji. ‘We’ve missed you.’
‘I can’t breathe,’ rasps Dylan and we laugh, loosening our hold. I step back to take a proper look at him, drinking in the grin on his face.
‘How was the journey?’ asks Nick, taking his bag. ‘Are you hungry?’
‘Starving,’ Dylan tells him, thrusting the flowers in my direction. ‘These are for you, Mum. And I love your hair!’
It’s highly likely that at least one person has sat on these flowers at some point in his three-hour journey. They are tired and drooping and squished. They are quite possibly the best flowers that anyone has ever given me.
Back at home, Dylan settles into his room while Nick cooks his favourite chicken curry and I open a bottle of wine. The sound of Benji laughing as he races between his room and his brother’s room floats down the stairs and I feel a lovely warm feeling spreading through my stomach that is only partly down to the Prosecco.
‘This is good, isn’t it?’ I say to Nick, pouring him a glass. ‘It feels like everything is back to normal.’
He nods and tips some coconut milk into the pan.
‘It’s like he’s never been away,’ he agrees and we toast our glasses, silently thanking the universe for making the Thompson family complete again.
‘So what have you actually been doing?’ asks Nick, once we’re all sitting down to eat. ‘Is all your time taken up with studying?’
Dylan laughs and loads up his fork with some chicken.
‘I wouldn’t say all my time, no.’
‘How’s Zoe doing?’ Scarlet’s voice is sly and instantly gets my attention. ‘Have you guys been visiting each other?’
Dylan shakes his head and puts the fork in his mouth.
‘We broke up,’ he mumbles around his food. ‘It was the right thing to do.’
‘I knew it!’ screeches Scarlet. ‘I’ve been looking at her Insta and she’s taken down all the photos of you and she’s been posting loads of motivational stuff about what to do when the world gives you lemons blah, blah, blah.’
I put down my glass and look at my son.
‘When did this happen?’ I ask, concerned. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
He shrugs. ‘It was after the second week,’ he says. ‘And I didn’t tell you because it’s not a big deal.’
‘Well, that’s good,’ I tell him. ‘But I am still your mum. I’m here to help you, even though you’re at university now. And I have so many good suggestions on how to get through heartbreak and trauma and angst. I’ve been saving them up to share with you at a time when they were needed. I’m actually quite good at talking about this stuff, aren’t I, Scarlet?’
Across the table, my daughter shudders and spoons some curry into her mouth.
‘I wasn’t heartbroken, Mum.’ Dylan sounds amused. ‘But I’ll remember that for next time.’
‘You’ll have to convince someone else to go out with you before there’s any remote possibi
lity of another time,’ mocks Scarlet through a mouthful of rice. ‘What’s the chance of two girls in the universe being that dumb?’
Dylan grins at her and reaches for a poppadum. ‘Well, based on evidence, I’d say the chance is one hundred percent likely.’
‘Have you got a new girlfriend?’ Scarlet’s mouth drops open. ‘Who is she?’
‘Give the boy a break,’ says Nick, passing Dylan the jar of mango chutney. ‘I’m fairly sure that he doesn’t want to share all the details with us.’
‘Sharing is caring, Dad,’ Scarlet tells him. ‘That’s what you always say, isn’t it, Mum?’
Everyone looks at me.
‘Dylan’s new girlfriend is not really the kind of thing that I’m referring to with that phrase,’ I say, chuckling lightly. ‘I’m sure he’ll tell us in his own good time.’
It’s exactly the kind of thing that I’m referring to. And there is no way on this planet that I am prepared to let this mealtime finish without finding everything there is to know about this mystery girl.
My eldest son smiles at me. ‘I’m glad that you can respect my need for privacy,’ he tells me. ‘I was a bit worried that you’d still try to baby me when I came home instead of treating me like an adult.’
I wave my hand dismissively in the air.
‘Of course I’ll treat you like an adult.’ I smile back at him and pick up my glass. ‘As long as you behave like an adult, obviously.’
He nods. ‘Obviously.’
I take a sip of my drink and eyeball him over the rim of the glass. ‘And part of adulting is sharing important details of one’s life with the people who love you most.’
He opens his mouth to speak but Scarlet’s whoop of triumph beats him to it.
‘I’ve found her!’ she crows, waving her phone in the air. ‘I am literally a genius!’
‘I thought we agreed no devices at the table?’ complains Nick. ‘Put that away, please.’
‘But—’ she starts.
‘I’m serious, Scarlet,’ snaps Nick. ‘We’re having a nice family supper and there are rules about looking at your phone while we’re eating. Either you put it away or I’ll confiscate it for the night.’
Scarlet juts her lip out and rams her phone into her back pocket. ‘Fine. If you aren’t interested in Dylan’s new girlfriend then I won’t tell you what I’ve just seen on her Instagram account.’
‘Good.’ Nick gives her a nod of approval. ‘It’s not healthy, all this online stalking and snooping and prying into other people’s business.’
‘It’s really not,’ agrees Dylan sanctimoniously, dolloping mango chutney onto his plate. ‘I worry about the impact on young people these days, living their lives on the Internet instead of interacting in person.’
Scarlet glares at him. ‘Well, that’s not a problem for your new girlfriend, is it? She does a lot of interacting in person, from what I’ve just seen. She certainly isn’t shy, is she?’
I don’t know what she’s on about but I need to know what she saw.
‘That’s exactly what I’m talking about,’ says Nick, looking at Dylan. ‘Young people are losing crucial skills by having the majority of their communication online. I was reading an article the other day that said the workplace is really suffering from an intake of young employees who don’t know how to handle real-life situations face to face because they’re all too used to hiding behind a screen.’
‘Okay, Boomer,’ mutters Scarlet. ‘Like your generation is doing a stand-up job of running everything.’
I do not want this evening to turn into a debate on which members of our family are more responsible for the destruction of the planet and life as we know it (mostly because Nick and I never end up coming out of these discussions well).
‘Have some lime pickle,’ I say to Scarlet, offering her the jar. ‘And what did you mean about Dylan’s new girlfriend not being shy?’
She shoots a look at Dylan and then shakes her head. ‘Dad said that I wasn’t allowed to use my phone while we’re eating.’
‘It’s not true, anyway,’ Dylan informs us, breaking up his poppadum and scattering crumbs across the table. ‘She’s actually quite demure and reserved.’
Scarlet snorts loudly. ‘Oh yeah, those are totally the words that I would use to describe someone who takes off their clothes for a living.’
I choke on my rice.
‘What do you mean?’ I splutter, gesturing at Nick to pass me some water. ‘Who takes off their clothes for a living?’
‘That’s a rubbish job,’ states Benji, staring at Scarlet. ‘Why would someone get paid to do that?’
Dylan starts laughing but I can’t see anything remotely funny about this conversation.
‘Perhaps you should tell us about this new girlfriend after all?’ suggests Nick, taking a big gulp of wine. ‘Just to put your mother’s mind at rest.’
‘I don’t need to tell you anything,’ Dylan says, smirking. ‘Scarlet has clearly got it all figured out.’
‘Her name is Harley.’ Scarlet whips out her phone and I lean closer to peer at the screen. ‘This is a photo of her.’
Oh good god. Of all the things that I worried about when Dylan headed off to university, this was not one of them. I’ve been so concerned about his mental wellbeing and his nutritional intake and his ability to stick with his degree course that I have forgotten to worry about the most important thing of all. And this is what happens when mothers aren’t in control of every aspect of their child’s life.
They start dating pole dancers.
‘Where did you meet?’ Nick asks, raising his eyebrows when Scarlet shows him the screen.
It’s an excellent question. All those nights that I was imagining my little boy sitting alone in his room feeling homesick and missing his family, the reality was clearly very different.
‘You do know that strip joints reinforce the sexual objectification of women, don’t you?’ snarls Scarlet, glaring at her brother. ‘She might think that she’s in control but until there are as many men as women being paid to take off their clothes while other people watch then she’s just being used by the patriarchy as a cheap thrill.’
‘I have to agree,’ I say, leaning forward to stare at my son. ‘I can’t believe that you’ve been frequenting establishments like this. And if she’s your girlfriend, then what does that make you if you’ve been paying her to perform?’
‘It makes him her pimp,’ snaps Scarlet. ‘And it’s disgusting.’
‘I didn’t meet her in a strip joint,’ says Dylan. ‘And for your information I have never been inside a place like that.’
I breathe a sigh of relief. Of course my boy wouldn’t go to a strip club. He’s a nice, decent clean-living young man. He probably met her somewhere completely innocent like the supermarket or the library.
‘I met her in the Student Union,’ he continues. ‘At Sexploration Society.’
‘What the fuck?’ asks Scarlet and I know that I should admonish her for her bad language but she’s only voicing what the rest of us are thinking.
Dylan nods. ‘Yeah – that’s their motto.’
There is a moment of pause while we all absorb his words.
‘Can I go and play on my iPad?’ asks Benji.
‘Absolutely!’ I trill.
‘Just go!’ urges Nick, at the same time.
I wait until the kitchen door closes behind him and then top up my wine glass with the rest of the bottle, sending a silent apology to my liver while I do so.
‘So,’ I start, ‘this society. What exactly is it about?’
Dylan grins at me. ‘I’d have thought the clue was in the name, Mum.’
Nick clears his throat. ‘Maybe this isn’t something that we should be talking about in front of Scarlet?’
Our daughter scowls at him. ‘Oh, that’s nice. I’m the one who found out that your child has turned into a sex addict and now you’re going to leave me out of the best bit of the conversation?’
I saw an
article on Facebook the other day that featured people with all different kinds of addiction and the ones who were sex addicts could barely live a regular life because they kept having to stop what they doing and get it on. At the time I did briefly wonder if my sex bubbles were an indicator that I may be in the early stages of addiction but on reflection, I have decided that I’m more of a hobbyist rather than addict.
‘I’m not a sex addict,’ Dylan sighs, as if we’re all being very boring and the whole sex subject isn’t a big deal. ‘Sexploration Society is about exploring and challenging sexual norms and engaging in conversation that identifies the stereotypes and myths around sexuality.’
‘Oh.’ Scarlet doesn’t have very much to say to that.
‘That all sounds very responsible,’ I tell him. ‘I’m very proud of you.’
See? I can engage in a non-awkward conversation about this, especially as he’s being so grown-up about the whole thing. We’re clearly evolving as a family and this is how life is going to be now. Adult conversations about real-life topics, all without any judgement or shame. Just sensible people with mature attitudes.
‘I only went once,’ Dylan confesses. ‘It was the Condoms and Cupcakes Social and I hadn’t eaten all day.’
Not that mature, then.
‘It still doesn’t explain why your new girlfriend is a stripper,’ announces Scarlet, bringing our attention back to the actual topic.
Dylan reaches across and grabs her phone, swiping the screen and then turning it so that we can all see.
‘If you actually look, you’ll see that she is fully clothed. There’s no stripping going on here.’
‘But she’s halfway up a pole,’ I point out, keeping my voice calm and mild like the progressive, liberal parent that I am. ‘How do you explain that?’
He swipes the screen again and I blink, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. Which is my oldest child, dangling from a pole in a position that looks both striking and uncomfortable.
‘Is this how you’re funding your degree?’ I whisper. ‘I-I-I just—’
I am speechless. This is what it’s come to. Our child has had to resort to desperate measures to keep himself in beans on toast. If this is how life is going to be from now on then I did not sign up for this.
Faking It: The most hilarious and laugh out loud page turner you’ll read this year! Page 25
