‘Oh, she doesn’t need to concern herself with Devon – she’s a grown-up now,’ she says bluntly, waving my dad’s comment away while ushering me into the kitchen. I think my mum has always felt outnumbered by Dad and I, and that was only heightened when Devon was around. I think she thought Devon leaving would mean she’d get more time with her only daughter and with less of a bad influence around, that maybe I’d start taking interest in hair and fashion, but that wasn’t to be and the whole incident only put a strain on our relationship more and we’ve never been especially close.
I see Mum around the village and have dinner with her and Dad once or twice a week, but it’s never the most casual of affairs. Mum usually talks of her need for grandkids, asks about promotions at work, when I’m going to start dating and tries to get me to go shopping with her. Dad usually sits back, only occasionally giving me the “why did you give up drawing?” speech. It’s hard to be mad when I know his heart is in the right place and I have to admit, it’s nice to have someone around who appreciates that about me and gets me, even if I can’t act on it.
‘Nonsense, Pam. Of course, she’s going to see Devon and say hello. You’ll bring him around won’t you, Scar? My favourite tag-team duo back together again. Ooh you two sure did keep me on my toes.’ My dad beams fondly.
I can’t help the grin that spreads on my face with my dad’s words. He knew how much I struggled when Devon left. He’s never forced me to be something I’m not and back then he was always there with a positive word, telling me to keep my chin up and that Devon would be back, whereas my mum took to suggesting I try this and that, pushing me into different clubs and telling me I’d make new friends.
‘Did you know that Richard just broke up with Rachel? You two always looked so cute together way back when you were in nursery. He’s a vet and so handsome. His mother is coming into the salon this week. I’ll have a word,’ Mum informs me, getting straight to business when I visit. She’s busy making tea while Dad and I are sat at the kitchen table. He rolls his eyes at me behind her back and gives me a small wink, so she doesn’t see. ‘You need a sensible man, darling. Someone sophisticated who has their life together,’ she adds and I know this is her way of saying I need someone to knock some sense into me and bring a little decorum and purpose into my life. ‘And, where’s that pretty polo neck I got you for work last week? Did you go to work like that today?’ she questions, giving my attire a disapproving once-over.
‘You know Devon’s a movie star now, Mum? He’s probably got loads of money. He even wears suits; I mean he can’t be wearing his Superman pyjamas on the red carpets, now can he?’ I say, sending a wink back my dad’s way, as my mum turns around and places two cups of tea on the table. ‘And this is the blue polo neck you got me,’ I add, tugging at the restricting neckline.
‘Oh, honey, celebrity is such a fickle business,’ she says, looking at me sympathetically, like I’m being serious; she never did get my sarcasm. ‘Oh, well, it looks beautiful on you, darling,’ she comments waving at my blouse. It clearly didn’t look beautiful if her expression was anything to go by; there is obviously something wrong. ‘Are you going to grow out that hair of yours?’ Ah, there it was. It would no doubt look better if my hair was longer; my mum is pushing my last nerve today and I’ve been in the house less than ten minutes. I’ll wear her clothes, but I am not about to let her style my hair too.
‘Well, you will have to be sure to tell D on Thursday when he comes for dinner,’ I say suddenly feeling like a child again, wanting to stand up for Devon and ignoring my mum’s ambush about my hair. My mum falters as she sits down.
‘Thursday?’ she questions. I stand up, not in the mood to further debate with my mum and not wanting to be late for dinner with Hope and Jess.
‘Yes, Thursday. He’s coming for dinner on Thursday night. He wanted to say hi to you both while he was in town,’ I lie, feeling a little woozy with the words coming out of my mouth. Before my parents can see me turn pale, I turn and leave the kitchen. ‘I’m glad you got home safe; I’ll see you Thursday evening,’ I shout as I let myself out.
I quick-march to Hope and Jess’s while the reality of what I have just done sinks in. Devon and I are in the middle of a fight, well, no, not even in the middle of a fight. We had a fight and now it has ended, we have made peace and have no reason to talk. I have my mini Devon and he has my Superman cape. It was all going to plan, where we could fly off into the sunset and not look back, so why on the earth did I go and invite him for dinner with my parents? He doesn’t need me to stand up for him anymore.
The snow crunches beneath my feet as I push open Hope’s gate and walk up her path. Wait, I can just tell my parents that important movie star stuff has come up and Devon won’t be able to make it. OK, my dad will be a little gutted, but my mum can just add it to her list of reasons why Devon is trouble and a disappointment.
As a plan is swirling around my brain, the snowflakes are swirling around me under the moonlight when Jess answers my knock on the door.
‘You’re early for a change,’ he informs me, teasing. I smile in response, a bright and sarcastic smile, as I shiver and step into the hallway. ‘Go through, Scarlett. Hope’s cooking.’ He takes my coat and hangs it up.
I hear nattering in the kitchen between clatters of spoons and pans and wonder if Hope needs help, not least because she’s talking to herself but because cooking usually makes her frazzled; she’s a great cook but tends to panic when cooking for guests, even when it’s only me.
When I enter the kitchen I freeze on the spot and my stomach takes a rail spill. Devon is sat at the dining table. He’s wearing a relaxed white cotton shirt with long sleeves, slim jeans and his hair is making curly shapes that stick out every which way; like it used to do when we were kids risking the damp and rain for the sake of keeping a lookout for any supervillains in Springhollow.
We say “hi” in unison before Jess claps Devon on the back. ‘Let me show you my action figure collection,’ he says. Devon gets up off his stool, relaxed and at ease with that slight jerk of enthusiasm he does when he gets excited about something. ‘Yeah, man, sure.’ He nods at me as they walk into the living room.
I’m still glued to my spot while Hope continues cooking casually, like this kind of evening is a daily occurrence.
‘What’s he doing here?’ I ask in a hushed, fast whisper, making my way over to the small island where Hope is dicing tomatoes.
Hope’s eyes go wide under her giant glasses. She stops with her wrist movements and looks at me.
‘Don’t be mad,’ she pleads.
‘I feel like you’re saying that to me a lot this week,’ I reply.
‘It’s just we were having such a good time on Saturday until Ruby spoilt it. I’m not standing up for him for what he did, and I know there’s still hurt there but after listening to your fight, it felt like there was so much more you both needed to say. And then your eyes lit up when he gave you that gift. You both still care. And besides his press finished early today, and I couldn’t risk him sitting alone in the pub or wandering the streets of Springhollow where anyone could get their paws on him, like you-know-who,’ she says, putting the back of her hand to her mouth as she says the last bit in a whisper.