Page 109 of Paper Roses

“Oh dear.”

“I haven’t seen you in six weeks. I was wondering whether aliens had abducted you.”

“Or I was busy. No need to break out the galactic probes just yet.”

“Cheeky. Well, it’s fortunate I’ve finally got hold of you.”

“Why?” I ask warily.

“Because I’m cooking Sunday dinner, and your arse has an appointment with the chair at my table. I’m sure you’re not too busy for that.”

There’s a challenge that I have no intention of taking up. “Yes, I’ll be there.”

“And Artie? Will he be coming? My friends in the book club were cooing over his photo last week. I think I’ve won the most handsome son-in-law competition very easily.”

I swallow hard. “No, he can’t make it, Ma.”

There’s a long silence, and then she clucks. “Just you then, love. See you at one.”

I end the call, throw my phone down on the bed, and scrub my eyes again. “If at first you practise to deceive,” I quote, then give up and go to grab a shower.

A couple of hours later, I let myself into my mum’s house. It’s warm inside and does not smell of Sunday dinner. “Ma?” I shout.

“In the kitchen.”

I walk into the room and groan. “Ohfuck.”

My mother and brother are sitting at the table, arms folded. My mum looks determined, which never bodes well, but my brother’s eyes are twinkling.

“This is an intervention,” he announces grandly, and then winces when my mum pinches him.

“That was my line, Adam.”

He rolls his eyes. “Come on. This is Jed. I’ve been waiting for years to say that. I had dreams of saving him from press gangs and pirates.”

“Really?” I ask.

He considers that and then shakes his head. “It’s hard to be abducted by pirates when you’re always in the office.”

“I do get out, you know,” I say mildly. “And where is my roast beef?”

My mum waves a careless hand. “I’ll make you a sandwich afterwards.”

“After what?” I sigh and slide into my seat. It cradles my bum as if it were made for me. “Go ahead,” I say, gesturing. “Let’s get it out of the way.”

My mum tuts. “What a way to describe a family chat.”

“Hang on,” my brother says. He puffs his chest out and waves his fingers at his head. “Line, please.”

Sighing, I say, “Jed, we are concerned.”

He snaps his fingers. “That’s it. Jed, the family is concerned, and we come together as a family to celebrate family love and family concern. I know I don’t exaggerate when I say that the family is worried.”

“You’re overusing the word family more than Prince Harry in an interview.”

“Shit.”

We grin at each other, and my mum smiles. She gets up and pats my head before trotting over to the kettle. “Tea,” she says. “And then talk.”

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