Laurie wolfed down cheese on crackers and grapes and slices of pie and discussed the law, crime in Manchester, politics. Her twitchiness disappeared in small increments, until she was having a thoroughly nice time. She was less ashamed of the false pretences that brought her here. Yes, she might not be what they thought she was, but her pleasure in their company was sincere, and she hoped vice versa.
The Carters appeared delighted she had plenty of opinions and insights. Dan’s parents were nice people, but they were principally interested in things immediately around them, the neighbour’s intrusive extension, the weather, their own children.
Jamie’s parents wanted Laurie’s take on world affairs, they wanted to know where she was from (but in a: ‘You sound Northern …?’ kind of way), what motivated her. When Jamie had said they badly wanted her to visit, she thought that it was excitement or relief their wayward son was settling down. While it might still be that, she could see they simply enjoyed meeting people.
‘I’m very impressed at your commitment to legal aid cases,’ his mother said, when Laurie described why she first wanted to study criminal law, and that everyone deserved a defence, ‘My son wants to make the world a better place, but only for himself.’
They all laughed.
‘Nothing wrong with starting with the man in the mirror, as Michael Jackson said,’ Jamie said.
‘I think at some point you’re supposed to stop looking in the mirror,’ Laurie said, and his parents hooted, slapped their thighs.
‘Oh, I like her, Jamie, I really like her,’ his mum said, putting her hand on Laurie’s wrist. Laurie squeezed her hand in return and met Jamie’s awestruck gaze of gratitude, and it was in some ways, the most unexpectedly rewarding split second of Laurie’s life.
They asked how Jamie and Laurie met, and Jamie told the lift story with much light wit. Laurie was glad to let him take over there, still prickling at the falsehood.
‘We sparked, you know, and that was that.’
Laurie gave a forced smile.
Jamie had been right that the cancer wasn’t present. They obviously wanted normality, to still meet the girlfriend and talk interestedly with her, without the Sword of Damocles hanging over them.
When it came time to turn in, Laurie went ahead and Jamie hung back, tacit agreement it’d be easier for her to change without him.
It had been peculiar, when packing, to plan around the hitherto unexplored social occasion of ‘sharing a bedroom with a straight man you were not intimate with.’ She had a Lycra vest top to stand in for the support of a bra overnight, and on top of that, baggy grandad pyjamas. She’d brought a silk pillowcase because she was too self-conscious to wear her usual turban to protect her hair from breaking against cotton. Eesh, she’d thought this would be easier because they weren’t sleeping together but in some ways, it was harder.
‘I’ll sleep on the floor,’ Jamie said, in hoarse whisper, tiptoeing in quietly when Laurie was in bed.
‘Jamie,’ Laurie hoarse whispered back, ‘Don’t, it’ll be crazy uncomfortable for you and if your mum comes in with a cup of tea and sees you it’s going to be a disaster. You’ll have to start making up lies: I’m a True Love Waitser. We can put this big pillow between us like this,’ she flumped it onto the bed, ‘As a breakwater.’
‘Are you sure?’ Jamie hissed.
‘Yeah.’
‘OK, thanks.’
‘I’ll shut my eyes while you get changed,’ Laurie whispered and they started giggling, stupid uncontrollable giggling, as if they were naughty kids at a sleepover.
‘This is so fucking bizarre,’ Jamie whispered, and Laurie said: ‘Telling me!’
She twisted round and buried her face in the pillow.
Moments later, Jamie got into bed beside her.
‘Am I safe to look?’ Laurie said, in stagey whisper.
‘No, I am doing a naked dance, it’s a nightly ritual of mine,’ Jamie replied.
Laurie was shaking with laughter. It was welcome and necessary, this puncturing of the tension.
‘Your parents are fantastic,’ Laurie said.
‘Aw, thanks. They liked you too. You look like a “young Marsha Hunt” apparently. I’m not sure who she is.’
‘She was bedded by Mick Jagger.’
‘That doesn’t narrow it down really, does it?’
‘Says you!’
‘Oh, for fu— I’m sick of this perception of me as the greatest man slag of the North West,’ he said.
‘Then be less man slag. Be the unslaggy man you want to see in the world.’
‘Pffft. I’m selective.’
‘Then select fewer of them.’
‘This country. It’ll soon be illegal to be a human man.’
Laurie heaved with laughter.
They whispered ‘n’night’ to each other and Laurie felt grateful that she didn’t, to the best of her knowledge, snore.
The next thing Laurie knew, it was dawn, and she had an extremely disorientating moment when she awoke, remembering she was in the East Midlands, not Chorlton, and that the sleeping male form next to her wasn’t Dan. She couldn’t help wondering what would happen if she moved the pillow away, slipped her arms round him. Would he respond?
How did I get here? she wondered dozily, then it occurred to her that was a bloody good question.
27
Jamie decreed a Full Tourist Day was in order to Laurie, and pointed out that it would yield some killer content for the ’Gram.
Laurie was increasingly unsure she wanted to be killer content for the ’Gram, but agreed. It was obvious they could sell it as look how serious I am, I’ve taken her to meet the folks and yet neither of them said so, because it was exploiting the real reason they were compelled to be here, his father’s illness.
They started with a trip to Lincoln Cathedral, and Jamie showed Laurie the Lincoln Imp, a little stone grotesque with sticky outy ears, nestled in the eaves.
‘First, he and his mates went to Chesterfield and twisted the church spire, a proper Imp ruckus. Probably all had cans on the train, you know the sort of thing. In a medieval justice version of a life term, this one’s behaviour was so bad, he got turned to stone,’ Jamie said. ‘Very punitive, considering he was a youth offender.’
‘Brutal,’ Laurie agreed, taking a photo. ‘Obviously Satan wanted to send a message to the other Imps.’
‘The lesson we take from this is, keep your demonic children under close supervision. Something anyone who’s eaten in a Nando’s during half-term can fully agree with.’
Laurie laughed. ‘Do you want kids?’
Jamie shuddered. ‘One hundred per cent no, no thank you. Do you?’
‘I’m more fifty-fifty.’
Laurie got a mental flash image, pulled straight from Boden Kids catalogue, of she and Jamie bumping a winter-bundled toddler up steps, holding one tiny hand each. She never fantasised her children with Dan, this must be happening because she was entirely safe from its possibility. She tested her emotions on this for the umpteenth time. It still felt like Item 5(ii) on the great agenda of life questions, and couldn’t be answered without 5(i) – If I Find Appropriate and Willing Father.