Page 45 of Pitch Prince

“And you were…serious…about him?”

I nodded, not trusting the lump in my throat not to stop me from speaking. She carried the mugs over to the coffee table and started to clear up the mess.

“So he ended things, why? Did his wife find out? Were you going behind her back. You know I’m not one for judgement but…”

I snorted through the tears. If only God could judge then on a Saturday night in the local Bingo Hall my mum was very much a god. “No, she knew. He’s that Scottish one, the one who separated a few months back.”

“The retired one? Wait, didn’t you used to have pictures of him on your walls? He’s a bit old for you, isn’t he?”

“I thought we weren’t judging?” I asked.

“Well I’m not but if I’d known you were going for older men I’d have asked Harold at the Bingo if he was interested.”

Mum sounded so earnest that I had to laugh. “There’s a difference between thirty-three and sixty-three, Mam.”

“Well I’m glad it got you smiling.” Mam took a sip of her tea and looked over the mug at me. “What are you going to do now?”

“Same as ever, I suppose. Keep playing rugby and being bloody good at it,” I said. I wiped at the snot under my nose with my sleeve, already starting to feel gross for how much I’d cried and let myself go.

“I worry about you,” Mam said. “Always so hushed up with your emotions. You’ve managed to keep a four month relationship from your own mother…how can I know that you’re actually OK? That you’re not going to…I don’t know, throw yourself over the balcony tomorrow?”

“I’ll get some goldfish,” I said. “Can’t kill myself if I have goldfish.”

Mum looked horrified and I remembered that Gen-Z humour probably wouldn’t land so much with her. “Sorry Mam, I mean to say…that I’ll talk to you if I’m down. See? Already over him. Men are gross. I should have just been straight. See? Easy.”

My lame attempts at humour weren’t going down well at all. “Just…take care of yourself, OK?”

I could already feel the next wave of tears welling up and I took a generous slurp of hot tea to distract myself. “I will,” I said.

21

Chapter Twenty-One - Callum

I looked at the front door for a second after I’d rung the bell, wondering why I’d even bothered coming here immediately after getting off the train. I still had a key, but this was Sarah’s house now. Not mine. I had a compulsion to see her and the kids, and I thought I knew why. Because I’d abandoned one of the people I loved I needed reassurance that the other three were still there, as they always would be.

When the door opened, I knew then I definitely shouldn’t have come. Because it wasn’t Sarah at the door, but the Monster in Law. “Hi, Elizabeth,” I said. “Is Sarah in?”

“She should be home from work in about five minutes. Here to see the kids? It’s been a while.”

“I’ve been looking after them for the last two weeks, Elizabeth. We do have a shared custody agreement.”

“Hm.” Elizabeth didn’t seem to agree with my appraisal of the situation but stood aside anyway as I came in.

I could hear the sound of shooting and screaming going on in the front room so I went in immediately. The kids seemed to be engaged in a fire-fight with some gruesome looking zombies and blood splattered the screen as Logan’s character died. He covered his head with the pillow and screamed. “Turn it off, Liv! Turn it off!”

“Stop being such a baby,” his sister said.

“I really think you should turn that off,” I said. Sometimes I forgot how the scary dad-voice came out on instinct. Both kids immediately turned to me. Logan was still shaking and Olivia’s face turned down at the edges. She immediately reached for the TV remote and switched it off. Once the TV was off, I walked past them both to pull the XBOX lead out from the socket and wrapped it around my arm. “Who said you could play this kind of game?” I asked.

Both sets of eyes turned to the door, to where Elizabeth was standing, hands on her hips and looking completely unrepentant. “Want to have a talk?” I asked her.

“Gladly,” she replied. She walked toward the kitchen with the expectation I’d follow her.Why do all the confrontations in this house take place in the bloody kitchen?I asked myself. “Right both, have you got homework to be doing before your mum gets home?” Two heads nodded slowly. I held up the wire from the console. “If you get to it before your mum gets home, I’ll think about letting you have the console back before tonight.”

They both scampered up the stairs, and I took a deep breath toward where I could hear Elizabeth clattering away with pots and pans in the kitchen.

She was placing a lasagne on the heat mat in the middle of the kitchen island when I walked in, the image of a kind and doting grandmother. I held up the cable as I had when I was talking to the kids.

“Want to explain?” I asked.

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