Trust (London Love #5)

I was The Dieter. I could do whatever fuck I wanted.

I always had. Had security sort out hook-ups then made them stand outside hotel room doors as I got fucked into oblivion.

I’d never had a boyfriend. Never actually dated anyone. I’d tried, and where had that got me?

I knocked on my parents’ front door and almost gave my mother a heart attack.

“What the…? George! George!! Graham is here!”

I got dragged inside, of course I did. Hugged and pinched and offered a cup of tea. My dad grunted a greeting at me and went back to bed. My mother fussed around me and fretted.

“You should have told us you were coming, darling.”

“Didn’t know I was coming, Mum. Kind of a spur-of-the-moment decision.”

“You have a couple of days off then?”

“Ehhr…yeah.”

I was supposed to be meeting with Michelle to arrange filming schedules and interviews and all that other crap, not sitting in my mother’s kitchen dunking digestive biscuits into a cup of tea wondering what the hell I was playing at.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked softly, sitting down opposite me. “I can tell you’re tired, but you don’t come up here often, and when you do, it’s because you’re upset.”

“I’m not upset,” I lied. “Just tired. Wanted a bit of a break, and it’s nice to come up and see you. I’m allowed to come visit my mum and dad, aren’t I?”

I was going for light-hearted. I didn’t feel it.

“Well, my darling, it’s late, and I’m going back to bed. I have my weekly flower club in the morning. We have someone coming up from Manchester to talk about growing orchids. Did you know you should keep orchids in the shower? Apparently, they like that. Not sure I would like having plants in my shower, but anyway. Should be a good turnout.”

“Okay, Mum.”

“And I’m afraid you’ll have to sleep on the sofa. We removed the bed from your room. Dad was reorganising—”

“You got rid of my bed?”

“Graham, the last time you visited was three years ago. What am I supposed to do? Wash your bedding weekly, just in case you decide to drop in?”

Yes?

No, she was right.

“The sofa is fine, Mum.”

“That’s my boy. Now, go get some rest. Your dad will want to take you with him to the garage tomorrow. The car is making some awful noises.”

She grimaced, and so did I. I was not going to the garage. I was buying my dad a new car instead.

With money I didn’t have. Or maybe I did. Whatever, I didn’t do going to the garage, and anyway, there was a guy I knew who would purchase you any vehicle you wanted and have it delivered to your door. No need to go to a garage or anywhere else. I was never going out on my own again.

Mum got me a blanket for the sofa and then went back to bed, leaving me sitting in the kitchen of my childhood home, the clock over the door ticking as loudly as ever.

I sat there, staring at the walls, listening to that bloody clock, nursing an empty cup.

It wasn’t until the sun started to come up that I finally made myself move. Flopped down on the sofa and pulled the blanket over my head.

I smelt of car air freshener and sweat. I’d probably peed on my shoes.

Sleep?