"Hi darling", Anne watched anxiously from the kitchen counter as Harry wandered in, yawning and rubbing his eyes. "How did you sleep?"
"Alright", Harry grunted, hoisting himself up on a stool and putting his head in his hands. "What time is it?"
"Just gone two, love", Anne replied, and Harry looked up, surprised.
"In the afternoon?" he queried, and she nodded. "Sorry for sleeping so late", he offered, and Anne shook her head.
"You must have needed it", she justified, touching his shoulder briefly as she made her way to the fridge, pulling out various items. "Would you like some breakfast? I'm making lunch but I could do eggs or French toast, if you like".
Harry shook his head. "Lunch is fine", he said. "Let's make sandwiches".
The two busied themselves in silence, moving fluidly round one another quietly. One spreading butter on to the bread, the other layering ham and smearing pickle, popping the bread on top and cutting the bread diagonally. Harry let a smile pull at his lips, letting his eyes flash to his Mums a few times, his green meeting her warm brown ones.
They sat opposite one another at the table, munching comfortably, Anne flicking absent-mindedly through a magazine, as Harry gazed out the window. He was grateful for his Mum, who was wonderfully intuitive, and wouldn't pry unless she felt it unduly necessary. He loved how she knew that he wasn't ready to talk about why he had turned up in the middle of the night, using his key to stealthily let himself into the house, only to trip in the hallway and set off the house alarm. He saw her worried eyes appraise him as he assured her he was just passing through and thought it would be nice to spend the night, knowing she wasn't stupid. She knew that something had happened to make him feel like he needed the comfort of home, and he felt grateful that she allowed this respite, for him to breathe.
He looked around, feeling his very being calm. This house was a balm to him, and his complicated thoughts.
He had offered his Mum and Robin a house when he had become financially established, about two years ago, but they refused. They were so comfortable where they were, and Robin refused to give up his job, something that although Harry pretended to grump at, greatly respected. Instead, they had agreed to put an extension on the house on his wallet, knocking down several walls and pulling the kitchen and living room much further down the garden, while pulling the garden back, laying some decking and giving his Mother her much wanted flowerbeds and willow tree. It had been enormously satisfying to be able to do things like this, and if Harry had to choose one of his greatest moments in life, it would be the end product of such an endeavour. He had also sent them to the Bahamas for Christmas, and while they were there, installed a real fire place in the living room, andother dream of Anne's. While the bottom half of the house had been altered, the vibe felt very much the same. A house was to be lived in, and while Anne loved to keep the place clean and tidy, it was also wonderfully warm and familiar. Harry adored Robin too, and trusted him implicitly with his Mother. This was still his home. The house in London was fun in the summer, he greatly enjoyed the roof terrace, showing off a bit, having parties and barbecues at the weekends, always having people over. But as the nights drew in and England became chilly and inhospitable, he found himself stealing back to a place that was always warm, and he was always welcome. This fight with Eilidh had been no exception.
He sighed, deeply, closing his eyes for a minute, opening them again to see Anne eyeing him. "What's up babe", she asked softly, and Harry shook his head with a smile, not ready yet. She accepted this with a soft nod, and stood, beginning to clear up their lunch around them.
"Gem is coming up soon", Anne called from the sink, and Harry chuckled discreetly, knowing his mother was bringing in the big guns.
"That's nice", he replied, heaving himself to his feet and wandering along to where she was washing dishes, and lifting a towel to help her dry them. "What brings her here?"
"She comes every Friday, after work", Anne said casually,a nd Harry felt his breath hitch in his throat, and widened his eyes, this information hitting him like a bullet that he tried to shake off. Anne continued washing, singing under her breath, oblivious. His whole life, his very being was rooted in his family and this house, and the thought of the Friday's that Anne Gemma and Robin spent together without him made him want to cry. He felt stupid for assuming Gem was coming here purely because of him, and berated himself.
"Hi darling", Anne watched anxiously from the kitchen counter as Harry wandered in, yawning and rubbing his eyes. "How did you sleep?"
"Alright", Harry grunted, hoisting himself up on a stool and putting his head in his hands. "What time is it?"
"Just gone two, love", Anne replied, and Harry looked up, surprised.
"In the afternoon?" he queried, and she nodded. "Sorry for sleeping so late", he offered, and Anne shook her head.
"You must have needed it", she justified, touching his shoulder briefly as she made her way to the fridge, pulling out various items. "Would you like some breakfast? I'm making lunch but I could do eggs or French toast, if you like".
Harry shook his head. "Lunch is fine", he said. "Let's make sandwiches".
The two busied themselves in silence, moving fluidly round one another quietly. One spreading butter on to the bread, the other layering ham and smearing pickle, popping the bread on top and cutting the bread diagonally. Harry let a smile pull at his lips, letting his eyes flash to his Mums a few times, his green meeting her warm brown ones.
