by S M Mala
Alfie called it affection; Esme announced it was grooming.
At twenty-three, he was going to find out the hard way.
But today he looked miserable as sin, and that’s because the older lover was giving him the run around.
‘Mother, I don’t want to know,’ he said, stirring his tea and frowning. ‘I love him.’
‘He’s older than me!’ she bellowed, making her son start to smile. ‘I know I don’t usually admit my age but you’ve given me no choice.’
She scowled at the various birthday cards scattered around her room.
‘A week, that’s all you have to have them up for then you can go back to saying you’re thirty-eight.’
‘Thanks, sweetie.’ Taking a deep breath she knew her son was aware what was going to come next. ‘I think-.’
‘I can think for my own,’ he quickly interjected. ‘I know he doesn’t treat me well but he’s extremely busy.’
‘You’re like his muse when he’s interested, and then his door mat when he’s not.’
‘Not listening!’ he said, putting his fingers in his ears. ‘There’s no point talking. I have to leave soon to mark books.’
‘You probably did it last night over a glass of wine when he stood you up again,’ she whispered, seeing him scowl. ‘You deserve better than him. And I hate it when I see that he’s hurt you. He’s an ugly shit!’
‘Mum!’
‘Well, he is. No amount of cosmetic surgery is going to convince me he’s in his fifties. More like seventies. I bet his dick’s all wrinkly as well as his backside! And to think, you have to suck on that! Horrid!’
By reverting out of her quiet mode, she knew this would shock Alfie, who sat there open mouthed. Even saying it made her feel queasy.
‘I love you Alfie, with all my heart. I would protect you with my life. I hate to see you hurt. I know you’re a man and have your own life to lead, but it breaks my heart when I see you’re so sad. This isn’t what I wanted for you.’ Grabbing his hand across the table, she smiled. ‘You have to make your own choices, I know that, but for years that dick has been pissing you about.’
‘I know,’ he said, looking tearful.
‘And you better be safe because he looks like the type who has lots of diseases.’
Alfie instantly pulled his hand away before crossing his arms.
‘There are no germs on or in this guy,’ he said, pointing to himself. ‘Because of you, I’m surprised I let another human touch me without having a blood transplant first.’
‘I told you years ago, you have to be very safe and wrapped up if you want to have sex,’ she sniffed before sipping her tea. ‘Don’t complain. I sat there and watched specific things to make you aware of what’s expected when you make love to another man.’
Then her child started to laugh out loudly, slapping the table.
‘You make me laugh! You just wanted to watch two men shagging as much as I did.’
Esme smiled, seeing her son’s flushed cheeks then shrugged before nodding in agreement.
‘Your grandma is coming round this evening for dinner and I expect you here for seven. You can stay the night if you like. She’ll be crashing out in the single room, as she has less chance of falling out of the bed. You know how Steph likes her wine.’
They heard some banging from the next door, and Alfie tilted his head to the side.
‘Seen your new neighbours yet?’
‘I think they’re doing things to the place before they move in. Ralph said-.’
‘And why are you even bothering to give him the time of day? You know, stuck up Ralph?’ Alfie asked accusingly, leaning forward. ‘He’s a homophobic wanker.’ Then he pointed to her. ‘And you better not have had sex with him.’
‘Listen, your old mother’s hole has closed up, believe me. It has been that long.’
He pretended to look as if he was going to be sick at the thought.
‘You could seriously put me off sex, do you know that? Don’t avoid my question,’ Alfie said, standing up, taking his cup to the kitchen sink. ‘Please, not if you’re desperate, don’t entertain the idea of even shaking his hand. Ralph’s a bigoted arsehole. It’s why the establishment is run by a bunch of ex public school boys who have no idea about real people.’
‘You don’t like him, I know.’ Then Esme stood up and walked towards her son. ‘Thing is, he’s the only bloke who has shown me any interest. If I'm blatantly honest, I know nothing’s going to come of it. I don’t even fancy him, but it’s the company.’
‘I thought you liked being alone?’ he asked accusingly.
‘I do but sometimes I want to talk to someone other than the people at work or the customers. It’s nice to go for a drink or dinner with someone other than Alicia, Steph or yourself.’
‘There’s Tracy, Shona, and the heap of women that work for you.’
‘It’s not the same,’ she sighed and looked out at her garden, seeing the gate she had installed in the fence. It was put there to help out Winnie, her old neighbour, when she became frail. Then she died, and her children sold the cottage to a property developer, hence the new neighbours. ‘I need male company. Very much like you but not so ancient.’
‘So rude mother!’ he laughed out and gave her a massive hug.
For that moment, she remembered when he lived at home and how much she doted on her only child. That’s when she missed him the most, when holding him in her arms.
Stepping back, she looked up at her son and pushed her hand through his hair. Something that had constantly annoyed him since he was little.
‘You’re such a beautiful child,’ she whispered, seeing him grin. ‘I want you to be happy but this Vincent? Well, if he was a proper artist he would have cut his own thing off.’
‘What?’ asked Alfie, looking confused. ‘Oh, his ear. I get it. Like Vincent Van Gough.’
‘No his dick, like any aging queen who likes the idea of banging my son should!’
‘Mother! Please?’
‘What are the neighbours like?’
Leon’s father, Stan, was helping to put the remaining things away. The intention was to make it perfect for Mali when she came that afternoon. ‘You’ve been here a few days; surely you’d know.’
‘Mainly families and couples. There’s a rich bloke across the road who lives in that house.’ Leon pointed towards it. ‘Everyone else seems nice.’
‘What about next door? Who lives there?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Shouldn’t you go round considering you’re attached by a wall and a fence?’ His father looked out into the garden. ‘You’ve got a lot of work to do there, you know. Is that a gate?’
‘Yeah,’ he replied, looking at it. ‘It’s not my fence; it’s theirs. I’m not sure what the gate is doing there. It’s not bolted, but it’s on a latch.’
‘That’s not safe. You don’t want people coming in here, not with Mali.’
‘Dad, I’m sure it’s fine. If there’s a problem, I’ll just shut it off this side.’
‘You know what people are like. Well, actually, that’s my point. You don’t know what people are like. I wish you could get police checks before you move in anywhere.’
Leon laughed at his overprotective father. Two older girl siblings had made his dad incredibly paranoid about safety.
And it wasn’t much different when it came to Leon.
His father took it on himself to take Leon to all the self-defence sports you could name, in preparation for fights at schools. Leon, when he was much younger, thought that secondary school was going to be like a boxing ring. But where he went to school, in a nice part of Primrose Hill, it was far more genteel.
Stan started off as a builder and then went into property renovation. He worked very hard to give his family a lovely home and lifestyle. He wanted better for his children and the two girls, Lauren and Lucia, did well. Lauren was a nurse and Lucia became a dentist.
Leon was never quite sure what he wante
d to do but liked plants and studied landscape gardening. His parents never said out aloud they thought it was an odd choice. It wasn’t the lawyer or doctor they had hoped for. But his father, being very practical, paid for his son to study to become an electrician. Stan’s logic was that when it rained, Leon could get alternative work inside.
And it worked out well.
Leon’s gardening business was called ‘Shoots and Leaves’ and he kept the same name for the electrician work.
Luckily his father was very helpful on how to set up the business and went through the books with a fine-tooth comb, ensuring his son was also well trained in the art of being self-employed.
‘Women,’ Stan said, walking towards the kettle. ‘Any single women you’ve spotted?’
‘No,’ frowned Leon, shaking his head. ‘And can you tell mum to stop going on about finding me a Jewish woman.’
‘You know what she’s like.’
‘You’re not Jewish!’
‘Yes, but you know your mother thought people believed she renounced her faith when she married me, a good old Christian man. She just about forgave me for having a German surname. That’s why she was so adamant all you three were brought up in her faith.’
‘But-.’
‘There’s no point telling your mother different. Bennylita just proved her point. She was a Muslim, wasn’t she?’
Leon didn’t bother to answer as he continued to unpack boxes.
His ex-girlfriend, mother of his child, was not only a lapsed Muslim, but she had been a bitch.
An unfaithful one, he found out soon after they split though he had suspected it.
He didn’t want to tell anyone about the emails he had recently seen in his in-box from her. This would seriously upset his nearest and dearest, especially his mother.
The best way for Leon to handle it, handle her, was to simply ignore them; not even bothering to read anything the woman sent.
From previous experience, she probably wanted something and Bennylita certainly wasn’t going to have anything to do with Mali.
Now or ever.
Any chance of that simply diminished as the years went by, much to his own personal dismay and hope. His life had to change, and he needed to move forward.
‘You know that Melanie from your mum’s hairdresser was asking about you. Babs took Mali to get her fringe cut the other day, and you know my grand-daughter causes a fuss wherever she goes,’ Stan said proudly. ‘Didn’t you go to school with her brother?’
‘Yes, I went to school with Peter,’ he sighed, knowing what his father was up to. ‘And Melanie’s about twenty-five or something. A little too young for me.’
‘Age is irrelevant. Your mother is seven and a half years older than me and it makes no difference.’ Then his father grinned mischievously. ‘She taught me a thing or two, you know.’
‘No dad, I don’t want to know.’
‘What I’m saying is that older women have maturity and experience.’
‘And are old.’
‘You’re thirty-five. You can take your pick of any woman, with your handsome face. All courtesy of my side of the family.’
Leon laughed out, knowing he looked nothing like his father. Stan was a little shorter than him but was well built and rather stocky. He had grey thinning hair, which he refused to shave off hanging onto the last of his strands, and clear blue eyes. No matter how hard he tried, he could never get a dark tan as his skin was so fair; he would turn the colour of a tomato. All his children had inherited the dark colouring of Barbara. Lucia looked more like her father, mainly because she was small and stocky too.
Plus she resembled more of a boy than Leon ever did.
His dad was a handsome man and still had an eye for the ladies, much to his mother’s annoyance. But his father completely adored his mum and that’s what Leon was striving for.
A normal family and the love of a good woman.
That was far from how it was right now.
Picking up his phone, he looked at his emails and the websites he had carefully selected regarding surrogate mothers.
What he really wanted was a welcome addition to his family, and to Leon, that was a brother or sister for his child.
The chance of ever finding true love seemed millions of miles away and less feasible than paying someone to have his baby.
‘Oh my!’
Esme had jumped out of her skin on Sunday afternoon.
There was a beautiful little girl standing at her large folding doors that faced the garden.
Standing, peering in with her face pressed up against the glass, was the prettiest child she had ever seen. She resembled Alfie when he was younger, including the wonky fringe, when she had taken to trimming her son’s hair, before getting it done professionally.
‘Hello,’ Esme said, walking towards the door and pulling it back. ‘Who are you?’
‘Oh, your doors are really big, and they fold,’ the little girl said, smiling up at her. ‘They’re as big as your house!’
Slightly dumbstruck, she knelt down to look at her green-brown eyes.
‘Are you lost?’ Esme asked, realising she must have come through the gate. ‘Does you mum know you’re here?’ The little girl shook her head from side to side. ‘Shouldn’t we tell her?’ Again the girl shook her head. ‘Won’t she be worried?’ Another shake. ‘Where do you live?’
The girl pointed to the house next door.
‘Ah, you just moved in, haven’t you?’ A nod was given then a big smile. ‘Hello, I’m Esme your new neighbour. What’s your name?’
‘Mali.’
‘Mali!’ a woman shouted out. ‘Where are you? Mail!’
‘You better run back quickly,’ Esme laughed and watched the child nod quickly and run through the gate.
Watching her go, Esme realised she would have to put a lock on it to make sure the neighbours didn’t think she was some sort of stalker. Then there was a knock on the glass door, and she turned to see an older woman standing there, holding onto Mali’s hand.
‘I’m sorry about that,’ the woman said, looking down at Mali. ‘I told her not to come through the gate. I’m Barbara.’
‘Hello, I’m Esme.’ She walked over and shook the woman’s hand. ‘Welcome! It’s a nice area and-.’
‘Oh no!’ the woman smiled. ‘I’m not moving in. It’s my son and his daughter, who you’ve just met.’
‘Nice to meet you,’ Esme smiled, seeing the woman look at her suspiciously.
‘Your gate?’
‘Oh,’ Esme replied, knowing she probably thought she was a paedophile. ‘I had that installed when the previous owner became ill. I kept an eye on Winnie, and she used to walk down her garden to come and sit in mine. Her garden, as you can see, hasn’t been looked after. I tried, but it was quite hard. I’ll get a lock put on it, so you don’t have to worry.’
‘I like the gate,’ said Mali, in her sweet baby voice, looking up at her grandmother.
‘Well, we’ll have to speak to your daddy about that.’ Barbara seemed to be examining Esme and glanced quickly inside her house. ‘You have a beautiful home. Have you lived here long?’
‘About fifteen years, and mainly with my son.’
‘Oh, that’s lovely!’ The look on the woman’s face put paid to Esme being a kiddie fiddler. ‘And your husband?’
‘I’m divorced,’ Esme said, seeing Mali grin. ‘I brought my son up alone since he was eight, officially. But probably about from when he was five due to my ex’s work. These things happen.’
‘Like me and daddy,’ Mali said and Esme did a double take.
‘My son is a single father too,’ Barbara said, and now she looked both sad and embarrassed. ‘Sometimes a parent never stops worrying, and you have to protect your child. Life is such a mixture of surprises.’
‘But look at the wonderful surprise you have,’ Esme said, grinning at the child and wondering what the woman meant. ‘Would you like a cup of tea or a drink?’
‘
We have to be getting back. Lovely to meet you,’ Barbara said, putting out her hand again.
Esme shook it and smiled. She then rushed to the kitchen and got the plate, then grabbed a few lollipops from her sweet jar, before hurriedly returning.
‘These are for your son,’ she said, handing over the samosa she had made in anticipation of popping next door, then handed Mali the sweets. ‘I keep a stash to placate my twenty-three-year old son when it comes to matters of the heart.’
‘He is grown up!’ Barbara said, looking genuinely surprised. ‘You don’t look old enough.’ Then the woman spotted the large balloon with the glaring confirmation. ‘Was it your birthday recently?’
‘Last week and I’m still sulking about it.’
‘We’ll let you get on,’ Barbara said cheerfully and walked away, dragging the smiling girl.
Esme whispered to herself, ‘I wonder what your father’s like?’
‘Shoots and Leaves?’
The voice behind made Leon jump. He turned to see the posh man from across the road looking at his van. ‘Is that your business?’
‘Erm, yes,’ Leon replied, turning to look at the well-dressed gentleman standing in front of him.
Leon had dropped Mali off at school and was getting ready to head off to a job.
‘Sorry to be rude, I’m Ralph Parker. I live across the road. And you are?’
‘Leon Sachs. And I live here,’ he smiled, shaking the man’s hand.
‘I don’t know,’ he sighed, looking at the house next door. ‘This place is turning into an entrepreneurs’ paradise. Next door, Esme has two vans and now you.’ Ralph grimaced. ‘Just the one vehicle?’
‘Just the one.’ Leon glanced over at the house. ‘I’ve been here nearly a fortnight and I’ve not seen this Esme. My mum and daughter met her not so long ago.’
‘Yes, Esme,’ he said and Leon noticed a smile on his lips. ‘She’s always very busy doing this and that. The woman’s hard to pin down but one day, you never know.’
Immediately Leon knew the man fancied his next door neighbour.
‘Are you a gardener then?’ he asked, turning to Leon.
‘I’m a landscape gardener and an electrician. Good to have many tools to your trade as it helps.’
