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he tells her, ‘which happens about twice a year – did you ever see that Life on Earth documentary about the cockroaches that live on a huge pile of dung and never actually leave their cave?’
‘Oh yes, that’s Freddie’s favourite, the dung one …’
Harvey nods. ‘So my parents come over and it’s all nice, y’know, because my gay lover isn’t there, which always makes them twitchy – until Mum happens to glance at the fireplace and lets out this awful scream because Ethan had been complaining about a draught coming down the chimney and, in his wisdom, has stuffed my spare wig up there.’
Kerry snorts with laughter. ‘So it looked like someone was coming head-first down your chimney …’
‘Exactly.’ He grins. ‘Like Santa, but with bright yellow hair and about six weeks early.’
The next hour flies by extremely pleasantly as the sky darkens and Shorling’s silvery Christmas lights twinkle in the distance.
‘So,’ Harvey says as they head back along the coastal path, ‘you’ve told me about Rob, but what about you? Are you seeing anyone at the moment?’
His blatant question makes her break into a smile. ‘Nope. I did have dinner with someone a couple of days ago – the man I got Buddy from, actually – but it ended pretty abruptly with the leaky ear thing, and I think that’s that.’ She decides not to mention that she’s slightly put out that James hasn’t called since, not even to ask about how things turned out with Freddie.
‘What,’ Harvey asks, frowning, ‘because of the corn, you mean? Why would that put someone off?’
Kerry shrugs. ‘Well, he has one grown-up son who seems really sweet and sorted, and I suspect he was horrified that a perfectly enjoyable evening can end up with us hurtling off to A&E. Anyway,’ she adds quickly, glancing down at Buddy, ‘he’s the only man in my life these days. I’ve decided it’s a whole lot simpler that way.’
‘Oh, come on. It’s no fun going out with someone whose poo you have to pick up in a bag.’
‘There are far worse things,’ she says, smirking. ‘I know he’s not the most obedient dog – I mean, I can’t see him trotting off to fetch my Saturday Guardian anytime soon – but apart from that, he’s so undemanding and simple and at the moment, that’s just what I need.’
‘Undemanding and simple,’ Harvey muses. ‘So that’s what you look for in a man.’
‘Yes, although I don’t mind if he rolls over for a belly tickle now and then. Anyway, listen – I’m starving and I know the cupboards are bare at home. I’d better pick up some supplies.’
Harvey bunches his hands into his jeans pockets. ‘You’re welcome to come back to mine if you like.’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she says quickly. ‘Buddy and I were thinking of having a romantic Saturday night in.’
‘Ethan will be there,’ Harvey adds, as if keen to convey that he has no intention of pouncing on her, ‘and there’s a lamb dansak I made last night, always better the next day …’
‘Well, that sounds great,’ she says with a wide smile. ‘I’d love to come if you’re sure that’s okay. Just let me drop Buddy off at home.’
‘You needn’t do that. Just bring him with you.’
‘But I thought you said Ethan was allergic to dogs?’
‘He’ll be fine for a while,’ Harvey says with a grin. ‘Anyway, it’ll pay him back for his little prank with my wig.’
Chapter Forty
‘Roberto,’ Mary says, ‘I need to talk to you.’
‘Uh-huh?’ He drags his gaze away from a fast-moving Swedish thriller which is impossible to follow without staring intently at the TV screen.
‘Please listen to me,’ Mary says, twisting her hands together.
He looks at her in her armchair with what he hopes passes for rapt attention. ‘I am listening, Mum, but I know what you’re going to say.’
Her brow furrows. ‘What am I going to say?’
With a sigh – no chance of figuring out who that guy in the alley was now – he flips the TV to mute and turns to face her.
‘Look, I know it’s been hard for you. I understand that you’re really fond of Kerry, and when all this settles down there’s no reason why you can’t still see her as much as you used to …’
‘It’s not Kerry,’ she says carefully, her neck turning mottled pink. ‘Well, it is, and you know how I feel about all that, but you’re a grown man and …’ Mary shrugs sadly. ‘You make your own choices in life.’
Rob nods. ‘Look, I tried everything to sort things out, but she wouldn’t hear of it …’
‘Can you blame her, Roberto? The way I understand it—’
‘Mum,’ Rob cuts in sharply, ‘I can’t go into this now. I’m with Nadine and that’s just the way it is. It’s not ideal but it’s happened, and we’re trying to make it work.’ He blinks at his mother, wishing his dad would bring the children in now; they’re out in Eugene’s shed in the back garden, a treasure trove crammed with model steam engines at various stages of construction, where his father whiles away much of his spare time.
‘I’m doing my best, Mum,’ Rob adds. ‘You’ll like Nadine once you get to know her. She’s just young and she was nervous about meeting you, but she’s a sweet girl really and she means well …’
Mary waggles a foot, allowing a sheepskin slipper to drop onto the ivy-patterned carpet. ‘She’s certainly very attractive.’
‘Mmmm.’ Rob can sense her peering at him as he picks at a fingernail.
‘It all happened very quickly, didn’t it? I had no idea you and Kerry were having difficulties.’
‘Mum, please.’ The credits are rolling on TV; final episode too.
‘Does Nadine mind about this … this thing you have?’
‘What thing?’
Mary inhales deeply. ‘This thing about being born in the wrong body.’
‘What?’ Rob turns and stares at her. What is she on about now? He glances out of the living room window, focusing on the glowing window of Eugene’s shed.
‘I read about it in a magazine, Roberto.’ She lowers her voice and casts a quick glance at the TV, as if the muted model in the insurance ad might be able to hear them.
‘You mean … people who think they’ve been born the wrong sex?’
Mary shudders. ‘Yes, and I know what you’ll go through. It starts with hormones and you change shape and the beard stops growing and then …’ She looks at him, her eyes wet and shiny, the tears threatening to spill over. ‘And then breasts come.’
Rob stares at his mother. Her veiny hands are trembling on her lap as she fiddles with the pleats of her olive-coloured skirt.
‘You don’t think …’ he starts.
She nods, unable to form words for a moment, then blurts out, ‘They have surgery, don’t they? To remove it, I mean. It’s irreversible, Roberto …’
Her cheeks are flushed, fat tears coursing down her cheeks now as Rob lurches off the sofa and across the room to gather his mother up in his arms. ‘Mum, it’s okay, please don’t cry.’
‘But I read …’
‘What did you read? One of those real-life stories in some stupid