Oh, God, please don’t let us argue on a train the day before Christmas Eve.
‘You shouldn’t say that Aunty Emily,’ he snaps. ‘You and Rory still love each other; I know you do.’
A wave of emotion is building inside of me. This talk of Rory is pointless. Why does Felix keep mentioning him and why do I keep thinking about him? It’s a futile situation. Rory, in my eyes, was not ready to be a father to Felix and he didn’t need all my emotional baggage over Vivi dying thrown into our relationship. Rory needs to be single but not date gorgeous Beth. Her profile photo is seared onto the back of my mind. Oh, God, the thought of him dating other women is so painful. Rubbing my aching chest, I wonder whether I should buy some paracetamol when we get to London.
Felix is not giving up. ‘Aunty Emily, if you didn’t love Rory, you wouldn’t always be thinking about him, you wouldn’t do your angry sewing after seeing posts about him on Facebook and you wouldn’t shout his name when you are asleep.’
My nephew is pushing all my buttons.
‘I do know you, Aunty Emily.’
Vivi used to say Felix went on and on about stuff, but I always assumed it would be about new trainers or games consoles.
Without thinking I grip hold of the table and shout… ‘I DO STILL LOVE RORY BUT HE’S NOT RIGHT FOR US. I BLOODY LOVE HIM, FELIX, WITH ALL MY HEART but…’ I’m gasping, ‘he doesn’t want to settle down.’
Everyone in the carriage is staring at us both.
An ear-to-ear smile spreads across Felix’s face. Baxter starts to bark with excitement. This is not the reaction I was expecting as, normally, when I lose my shit Felix does the same. ‘You do still love him. I knew it.’
I let out a heavy sigh and sit back in my seat. All my energy is oozing out of me. I’m emotionally spent, and we left Brighton station only a minute ago.
‘Mrs Atkinson, my maths teacher, says once you acknowledge a problem you can start to fix it.’
Turning away I mutter bad words about sensible Mrs Atkinson who clearly has not lost her shit in a long time.
He starts to rummage around in his rucksack. It’s bulky and filled to the brim. I watch him struggle to fasten it back up.
‘What have you got in there? From here it looks like you’ve brought the contents of your bedroom with you.’
I watch him flick his eyes to the plastic table. ‘Don’t shout, Aunty Emily, but I have brought along your iPad.’
He takes it out and slides it over to me. ‘I thought you might want something to do on the trains.’
Tilting my head to one side I stare at him. ‘Let me get this straight, you’ve brought along my iPad for me?’
I can see the start of a naughty grin working its way onto his face.
‘Yes, Aunty Emily.’
We both start to giggle, and Baxter excitedly leaps onto the train table. For a few fleeting seconds I smile at Felix and think optimistic thoughts about today’s adventure. That is until Baxter cocks his little leg and pisses on the train table.
After I’ve lost my shit a second time in the space of five minutes, cleaned up Baxter’s pee and shouted about how I never wanted to bring a dog with us, I sit and take some deep breaths. My head is awash with thoughts about whether Rory has bought satin sheets to go on his bed for this afternoon’s hot date with Beth, whether we will get home in time before the snow gets bad and the emotional breakdown Felix will have if someone accidentally flattens his tin-can-sized dog.
Why do I get the feeling this is going to be a long day?
The train has stopped at Burgess Hill. Someone is standing over my empty seat. I look up to see a woman, wearing a wonderful red-and-gold headscarf filled with a mass of impressive afro box braids. Standing next to her is a girl of Felix’s age who has rows of complicated, neat braids, complete with pink and yellow beads. She’s wearing an electric pink coat and a yellow scarf. ‘Are these two seats free?’ the woman asks with a huge smile.
The woman sits next to me. My nostrils are going wild at her perfume, a sweet tangerine aroma. Her daughter sits next to Felix and immediately falls in love with Baxter. She strokes Baxter with a tender hand. I watch Felix’s eyes light up at the sight of the girl.
The woman turns to me. ‘My daughter, Jade, has been asking for a little dog nonstop for months. What’s your cute sausage dog’s name?’
‘Baxter,’ I reply as we turn to see Baxter gaze longingly up at his new admirer. Jade strokes his tiny black head and floppy ears.
The woman grins at her daughter before turning back to me. ‘I don’t know anything about sausage dogs. What’s he like?’
‘Hard work,’ I sigh, grimacing at Baxter. ‘He’s very naughty and is gradually chewing up all my underwear. He won’t walk very far so one of us ends up carrying him everywhere. He has a lot to bark about, he has tantrums daily, he thinks he’s a wolf and doesn’t like me.’
The woman’s smile evaporates. Jade lifts her head and casts a dreamy smile at the woman. ‘Mum, please can we get one like this doggy?’
