Ed was a ‘late’ baby, or as Yvonne likes to sayher little miracle,as she fell pregnant in her forties, which always seemed so old to me growing up; my mum and dad had me when they were sixteen.
Understandably, they absolutely dote on Ed but constantly mention that they wish they’d had a bigger family. Given their age, I understand why Ed wants to give them a grandchild but I’m just not ready. I’m not sure I’ll ever be.
‘She was running late as usual and we hit traffic,’ I hear Ed remark as I walk around to the boot and take out a bag of presents.
‘Well, he didn’t use GPS,’ I say, in a passive-aggressive, sing-song tone, intentionally standing on his toe as I lean in to hug Chris. ‘You know what he’s like. Merry Christmas, Chris.’
‘Come on you lot, you’ll freeze to death out there,’ Yvonne yells from the front door, not caring that it’s almost 2am and her neighbours are asleep.
I see Ed plaster a smile on his face as he walks up the path to greet his mum, who hugs him like she didn’t just see him in October. I walk behind, trying not to skid on the path which has begun to freeze over.
‘Bitter out, isn’t it, my love?’ Yvonne says in a soft east London accent. ‘You look gorgeous as usual, doesn’t she Chris?’
‘She does,’ he confirms, as Yvonne squeezes the life out of me. Even though Chris is also from east London, he went to boardingschool where, apparently, theyknocked the cockney out of him,so his accent is far more generic. Ed’s accent is soft like his mum’s and far nicer than my Derbyshire drawl, though he’d disagree.
We shuffle through the entrance hall and place the bags at the top of the basement stairs, which lead to Ed’s old room, though they’ve taken down all of his Oasis posters, added a small en-suite and undoubtedly fumigated it to remove the odour of teenage boy.
‘Now, you’ll have a glass of something, won’t you?’ Yvonne asks, pulling me into the living room. ‘I’ve got some of that Christmas flavoured Baileys in and mince pies from Sal at the market. You remember Sal, yeah?’
‘Sal, of course,’ I reply, having no clue who she’s talking about. ‘But I’m exhausted, Yvonne. I might just head to bed and then we can do this properly tomorrow?’
Ed appears behind me and flops down on to the couch. ‘I’ll have one with you, Mum,’ he says, kicking off his shoes. ‘Kate’s had a long day.’
‘You sure, love?’ she asks.
I nod. ‘Sorry– I wouldn’t be much company. But I’ll see you all in the morn. . . well, a few hours!’
This is the point where Ed would normally tell me he’ll be down soon, but he doesn’t say a word. I give Yvonne a kiss on the cheek and trudge down to the basement.
‘Wow, you’ve really spruced this room up!’ I say, admiring the new décor. ‘Ed never said.’ This doesn’t surprise me, though. I once painted our white kitchen lemon while he was away chaperoning a school trip for three days and it took him a week to notice.
‘Yeah,’ Chris replies. ‘We got Phil Horne in to do it. Yvonne was fed up with the green.’
It’s beautiful. The dark green walls are gone, replaced with achampagne-coloured wallpaper and new floor. It looks like a hotel suite. They’ve even placed a little gold Christmas tree in the corner of the room.
Chris pushes my case against the wall before straightening up with a groan.
‘Oh, I could have done that,’ I tell him. ‘Don’t do yourself a mischief running about after us.’
‘Nonsense,’ he replies. ‘It’s no bother. You not having a nightcap? Your mum’s been going on about that Baileys all week.’
Your mum. He’s been doing this for a couple of years now and I never correct him. Neither does Ed. We figured it’s either his age or he simply sees me as his daughter-in-law, given that I’ve been dating Ed for so long. I know Ed secretly likes it; to him, it’s one step further in his quest to wife me. I smile and tell him I’ll try the Baileys tomorrow, but I’m just absolutely beat.
‘OK, love, sleep well,’ he replies, turning on the bedside lamp. ‘I’ll send the boy down soon, though you’ll probably be glad of five minutes to yourself.’
His eyes sparkle, the way Ed’s do. I mean, Ed’s always been like his dad, but I see it more than ever tonight. The same wide brown eyes, the way they both stand with their hands in their pockets when they feel a tad awkward, but most of all, the way I feel completely at home whenever I’m around them, regardless of where we are, though I’ve lost that with Ed recently. These days we just seem to pass like ships in the night. . . actually, more like stray cats in the night, occasionally mating and hissing at each other as we go.
Chris closes the door behind him as I kick off my shoes, unreasonably miffed that they’ve replaced the carpet in here with wooden flooring, but I’m grateful to have a minute alone. I half-heartedly wash my face and brush my teeth before climbing into bed. New mattress. New pillows which appear to be filledwith some kind of memory-foam cement. I punch them into submission and lie back, closing my eyes and hoping that I’m asleep before Ed comes in. But as tired as I am, I couldn’t be less relaxed if I tried. Being here normally fills me with a sense of calm but this time it’s different, and it’s not the room or the new mattress or the stupidly firm pillows. It’s me. It’s us. We’re different.
Today just seems so surreal but not entirely unsurprising. One of us needed to say something, to finally admit that we weren’t happy. But what happens now? I’ve never broken up with anyone before. Ed’s been my only boyfriend for the past fourteen years. He’s all I’ve ever known.
2006
Ed
‘Kelly-Anne, take Edward with you to the lunch hall and show him the ropes, will you?’
I watch Kelly-Anne’s satsuma-coloured face scowl as she lifts her folder from the desk in front of me, making sure our headteacher Mr Cartwright is out of earshot before tutting loudly.
