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‘Yeah, but he’s never met a woman like you,’ said Guy, turning to look at his wife. ‘He’s never been knocked sideways by love.’
‘You’ll be knocked sideways if you don’t keep your eyes on the road,’ laughed Kate. Rob watched his father reach over and take his mother’s hand, endlessly fascinated by the spark between them that had burned for nearly forty years. How was that even a thing? He’d had plenty of girlfriends, but they’d all been casual flings and none of them had even come close to knocking him sideways. Maybe he’d never met the right woman, or maybe he wasn’t a sideways-knocking kind of guy. Or maybe his parents were just one of a kind. Either way, they needed to get a room.
He looked out of the car window as Bath’s famous Georgian townhouses faded into Victorian terraces, excitement fizzing in his stomach. He’d been coaching tennis for years, but always as a side job alongside studying and bar work, not as a way to make a living. But for the next six months he’d be working full time at a luxury tennis resort in Spain, and then he’d be starting his dream job right here in his home city. Everything he’d worked towards was waiting for him at the end of a two-and-a-half-hour flight, and being knocked sideways by a woman was definitely not on the list. He made a silent vow as he glimpsed the first sign for Bristol Airport. No women, no stress, no drama. Just tennis.
CHAPTER THREE
The doorbell rang as Hannah was wrestling brown packing tape onto a cardboard box – Graham’s collection of vintage Star Wars books and figurines, bought from various car boot sales and toy fairs during one of his hobby crises. Every few years he would get in an insecure huff about how much time Hannah spent playing tennis and announce he was taking up indoor climbing, or fencing, or cultivating his collection of overpriced Han Solo tat. He’d been round to clear out most of his belongings while Hannah had been at work earlier, but this stuff had been tucked at the back of a wardrobe and he’d clearly forgotten about it. Hannah briefly considered taking it all to a charity shop, but maybe she needed to build up to that level of petty vengeance.
So her first thought when she heard the doorbell was that Graham had come back for his Wookie toys, but the reality was FAR worse. Hannah opened the front door to a two-pronged mum attack – Graham’s mother Ruth, and her own mother Elena. They were both dressed for some kind of Friday worshipful gathering – Ruth in a hairy tweed two-piece, and her mum in a horrible yellow shift dress with huge batwing sleeves that made her look like Big Bird fromSesame Street. Elena forced a weak smile that was more like a grimace, but Ruth’s mouth was pinched into the tightest of cat’s bums.
‘Can we come in?’ asked Ruth.
‘We’re just on the way to prayer group,’ added Elena, already flapping her way into the hall. They’d both left the evangelical church for good not long after Hannah got married, when rumours were circling about various shady/illegal/perverted practices happening in the parent church in the US. They’d shopped around every denomination of Christianity in Woking and Guildford over the course of a couple of years – Methodists, Baptists, even a brief foray into Catholicism, before settling on the local parish church of St Paul because it was the warmest in winter and had a twinkly-eyed priest. Elena also earned bonus Jesus points by attending a weekly service at the Orthodox church in town; apparently the incense and chanting reminded her of her Greek childhood.
Hannah held the door open as they passed, suppressing a sigh. Facing these two together was like being the disappointing meat in a judgement sandwich. She’d stopped being scared of them a long time ago, but it was hard not to feel like she was still a child with unruly curls and a grubby face who was about to get a serious telling-off.
‘What can I do for you?’ she asked, leading them into the kitchen. She didn’t put the kettle on, since that would indicate the two mothers were welcome, which they were very much not.
‘You know why we’re here,’ said Ruth smoothly. ‘Graham is very upset.’ She glanced at the box waiting by the back door, then fanned her eyes with her hand to stop herself crying.
Hannah raised her eyebrows. ‘What did he tell you?’
‘He said that there was some nonsense with a girl at work, a big misunderstanding,’ said Ruth. She put her handbag on the kitchen counter, but not before she’d run her finger along it to check for grease, which made Hannah press her lips together and breathe through her nose. ‘And apparently you’ve blown it out of all proportion and told him to leave.’
‘Surely things can’t be that bad, my dear,’ said Elena. Even though she’d left Crete over forty years ago, she’d retained a trace of an accent and occasionally went off in a torrent of Greek when she was upset about something – Hannah’s brother Luke described it as ‘Mum’s gone full Heraklion’. She’d gifted Hannah her dark curls and olive skin, plus a little of her own mother’s fiery spirit; Hannah’s ‘yia-yia’, who had lived with them until she’d died when Hannah was twelve.
‘I’ve blown it out of proportion? Is that what he said?’ Hannah glared at the box by the door, mentally impaling Luke Skywalker on his own lightsaber. ‘He didn’t mention anything else?’
‘That’s all,’ said Ruth. ‘I told him to give you some space to calm down and you’d see things more clearly.’
Hannah folded her arms and fixed her mother-in-law with a steely glare. ‘I can see very clearly, thank you, Ruth.’
‘Don’t be sarcastic,’ said Elena, wagging her finger. ‘It’s not becoming for a woman. You know we love you both.’
Hannah ignored her. ‘Does Graham know you’re here?’
‘No,’ said Ruth. ‘He wanted to come to prayer group with us and ask the Lord for forgiveness for his sins, but I persuaded him to stay at home.’
So Graham had gone home to his mother and was pretending to be a good Christian in exchange for her support. Hannah could smell the desperation from here.
‘OK,’ she said, trying to keep it light and friendly even though her teeth were silently grinding. ‘I’m listening. What would you both like to say?’
‘We want you to reconsider,’ said Elena. ‘Don’t make the mistake I made and throw everything away.’
‘Well, I’m not making Graham leave the country, so I guess that’s something.’ It was a cheap dig, but Hannah couldn’t help it. When she was fifteen her father had cheated on her mother, which had created huge drama within the church community. Hannah still didn’t know the whole story, but he’d moved abroad shortly afterwards and had never come back. Elena had banned any mention of his name ever since.
‘Graham made a mistake,’ said Ruth, resting her hand on Elena’s arm in silent support. ‘You’ve been married too long to throw it all away because his eye wandered a little. That’s just men.’
‘OK, two things,’ said Hannah sternly. ‘Firstly, I’m not thinking about the years I’m throwing away – they’re already gone. I’m thinking about the years ahead, which I no longer have to spend being a surrogate mother to your son.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ said Ruth, her eyes boggling in outrage.
‘It means not cooking for him, cleaning up after him, buying all his family’s Christmas presents, noticing when his socks have holes and buying him new ones. He’s thirty-two, Ruth. When we got married I thought he’d grow up, but it’s never happened.’
‘You have an easy life compared to most,’ scoffed Ruth. ‘No children to look after.’
‘Thank you for the reminder,’ said Hannah. Her barren status had been a source of much crying and prayers since the early days of their marriage, but secretly she’d been relieved when the years of trying were declared a waste of time. She’d never been particularly maternal, and it was clear she’d get no help from Graham.
