Taking her on every surface in the hotel the night before had also helped.
Now, the loud engine sounded out of place on the small cul-de-sac. Luke killed it, and the sound of cawing seagulls took over.
“Stay where you are,” Luke said, before getting out of the car. He walked around to her door and opened it, before helping her out.
“Thank you,” she said.
“I want to ruin that lipstick of yours,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to her cheek instead.
“You can ruin it when we get back to the hotel.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.” She pecked his lips, then ran her thumb over them to remove her gloss.
“Tease.”
“Luke,” his mum cried, and he looked over at the front door of her home. Her dark bob swung as she beamed at him. The smile seemed out of place, his lasting memories of her were of her being sad.
“Mum,” he said. Instead of being happy to see her, he felt the awful grip of panic in his throat. Maybe that was what happened when you decided to confront an absent parent.
“I was so pleased to get your text.” She reached out to hug him, and he stepped awkwardly into her embrace. Even in her boots with a heel, she still only came to his chest. “It’s good to see you.”
Awkwardly, Luke patted her back.
“Come in. Come in. Kevin is… well, your step-dad’s at work.”
Relief flooded him that it was just his mum in the house. “Mum, this is Willow. My girlfriend.”
He was grateful that Willow’s bump wasn’t immediately noticeable.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Bryson.”
“Oh, it’s Mrs. Garrett now. But please, call me Shelley.”
Hearing her use a different name to him, to their father, stung. Anger began to bubble in his chest.
Shelley led them into the house, a cosy bungalow, and gestured to the sofa. “Take a seat and I’ll make a brew. I just made myself one, so the water’s hot.”
“Oh, not for me,” Willow said. “Thank you.”
“Something else? Water? Juice?” Shelley hovered, slightly anxious.
“No, thank you.” Willow sat on the sofa. “We just had breakfast at the hotel, and I’m full.”
“Hotel? You could have stayed here.”
Luke sat down next to Willow. Close to her, so he could feel the warmth of her. “We’re fine, Mum. Won’t be here long.”
Shelley sank into the beige chair opposite them. Had she always seemed so small? “What made you come all the way down here?” she asked.
“Do you have the old photo albums? The ones you made of us all?”
“They’re in the spare bedroom somewhere. I’d have to go look. Did you want something specific?”
“I did. I wanted to see the ones just before Dad died. Like, when we went on that holiday to Benidorm.”
His mum studied him for a moment, as if trying to understand what he was going to do or say next. “Okay.”
Willow reached for his hand and squeezed. “You doing okay?” she whispered.
“Well enough.”
Footsteps on the stairs silenced them, but Willow kept her hand in his until his mum offered him a blue photo album. “I know it’s old-school to still print them out, even by however many years ago it was standards. But I just liked doing it. Not so much now, because Kevin thinks it’s a waste of money with everything digital.”
Luke took it and flipped the album open on a page from their holiday. A month before their dad died.
“That’s my dad.” Who looked healthy and happy in his vest top and board shorts. His mum was smiling, her arm on Izabel’s shoulder. How had he forgotten Izabel had worn braces when her appointments had always been such a pain in his arse? And then himself.
Willow touched the sheet covering the images. “You were so young, Luke,” she gasped. “Look at you. A proper baby face with dimples.”
“I’d just turned eighteen, Will. Not that young. I didn’t even want to be there because I wanted to go away with Matt, but Dad had insisted we celebrate my eighteenth with a holiday instead of a party.”
“I know. But just look. Think about what that teen went through so soon after this trip.”
“Is that why you needed to see them?” his mum asked. Her voice shook with emotion. “Is it because of what happened . . . after?”
“I’m trying to piece things together. What was Dad like?”
Shelley looked confused. “You knew him, Luke.”
“I know, but what was he like, with you, when I wasn’t around?”
She tapped the arm of the chair. “He was a good man. Capable. Self-possessed. Could drink too much sometimes when we were out together. Made him boisterous and loud, usually funny, but sometimes could tip him into stupid.” She smiled softly, staring off into space as she thought. “He loved being physical. Running, play fighting with you, playing footie at the weekend with his mates when he didn’t have a shift. For the most part, he was a good family man.”
“What do you mean, for the most part?”
Shelley snapped back to the moment. “Oh, nothing. He was a good man.”
Luke leaned forward. “I’m serious, Mum. I need to know his flaws too.”
“He was only ever there for the fun stuff. He never took you to your appointments, or made sure your homework got done, or helped out with housework. He believed in gender roles. I was responsible for laundry and cleaning and doing the food shop. And, you know, I was okay with it. Because he kept a roof over our head, and was great when it came to hanging out with you for fun or coming to your games.”
Luke tried to remember, to mine back through his memories. “I thought he came to parents’ evening at school, talked to teachers and me about what I needed.”
Shelley shrugged. “He did. But that’s where his involvement started and ended. He’d show up, say the right thing, then look at me, and when we got home he’d say that I needed to fix it, to keep an eye on you, to make sure you knuckled down and did your work.”
Luke considered what she’d said. Those memories he’d told Willow about, of his father being there. His mum was right. There wasn’t substance. There was discipline, and he’d stood up for Luke publicly, but no assistance of real value.
Perhaps that’s why the death of his dad had been so devastating on their family. It wasn’t the loss of his dad’s presence. It was the loss of his mum to grief. She’d been the one who’d got them going and kept them together. If they’d just lost Dad, they might have been able to muddle through.
His brain hurt. It was as if all the puzzle pieces of his life had been thrown up in the air and were falling down to create a new picture.
But it still didn’t justify her decision to take all the money and insurance and leave them while she followed Kevin to Brighton.
Luke leaned back in the sofa, running his hand along his jaw. “It sucked to be made responsible for Izabel when you checked out on us emotionally. It sucked that I had to cancel my dreams to become a pilot so you could follow your own. You left us with nothing.”
Shelley took a sip from a cup he hadn’t noticed sitting on the table, but the liquid sloshed in her shaking hands. She put the cup down and wiped her hand on her jeans. “Losing your dad broke me.”