It May Rain

Chapter Eighteen

We walk up to a gorgeous three storey brick house with wide bay windows and a small garden leading up to the elevated front door. The grass is neatly trimmed and the flowers look preened to perfection.

As Hugo inserts the key into his mum's door, I watch the leafless sycamore tree on my right sway gently in the light breeze. It's pretty uncommon to have such a big front garden in London, and it must have cost a pretty penny to buy such a large house in an inner city suburb like Hammersmith

Hugo said his mum is a vice president in a pharmaceutical firm, the details of which I didn't fully understand, but from the way he described it I can see how she might have taught Hugo a thing or two on business acumen.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous about meeting her. Normally I don't care for stranger's opinions of me, but this is one of the rare occasions in my life where I want someone to like me. It would mean so much to Hugo if his mum approves of me because he talks so highly of her. She's always supported him through thick and thin, and no matter how crazy his ambitions sounded when he was growing up.

When he got continually bullied at school, she petitioned for the teachers to put better safeguarding measures in place, and when those didn't work she moved him to a private school where she knew he'd be better looked after. At one point he wanted to become an aerospace engineer and she got him a private science tutor to help with that, and when he changed his mind and decided to take up competitive fencing she used to take him to lessons all the way over in north London. Hugo's childhood is peppered with stories such as these, and now in adulthood he and his mum are still very close.

If I'd had the same opportunities as Hugo growing up, I wonder what kind of life path I might have taken...

The door opens and a black and brown boxer dog immediately comes up to greet us, panting and jumping around excitedly as Hugo bends down to rub his ears affectionately.

"Hey, boy! Have you come to say hello to Mae?"

I squat down and go to stroke his adorable squishy head. "Hello, aren't you a cutie?" I coo, then turn to Hugo. "What's his name?"

"You can call him Euma or Eumela. He responds better to Euma."

"Did you just say his name is humour?" I giggle. "Why did you call him that?"

"No, not humour," he laughs back. "Euma, pronounced like Yoo-Mah. It's short for eumelanin which is the pigment for brown and black hair. I chose the name for him when he was a puppy, but the little rascal never responded to it, so we ended up just calling him Euma."

That's the most Hugo answer I've ever heard, but I'd expect nothing less from him.

He leads me to a door on the right and when he opens it a draft of warm air hits my face, air tinged with a delightful mixture of cooking aromas. I smell something like bacon, roast vegetables, cinnamon, something fruity like apples, and a heavy undertone of onions. There's a candle burning on the windowsill and soft music seeping out from a wireless speaker next to it. It feels like I've just come home from a long day at work, and this isn't even my house.

"Hugo! You're here," a slender woman in her fifties beams. She sets down the red wine glass in her hand and comes over to us with her arms spread out. "And you must be Mae! Hugo's been talking about bringing you home for so long, I can't believe you're actually here now."

She leans over to embrace me and I meet her half way, not quite sure what to do with my hands because I don't know what the protocol is when it comes to hugging loving mothers. "I'm so glad to be here, too, and to meet you too Mrs Weaver."

"Oh please, call me Laura. And in any case, I haven't been Mrs Weaver for over a decade now. These days I go by my maiden name." She pulls out of the embrace and turns to face Hugo. "Hugo darling, I need your help carving the gammon. I don't know what you did with the carving knife after you took it to your Argentinian cooking class, but I can't find it anywhere."

"Oh, dang it! Sorry mum, I left it in my car. I'll go and get it." He dashes off and I'm left alone with Laura.

"Would you like a drink, Mae?" she asks as she refills her wine glass. "Knowing Hugo, it will take some time for him to find what he's looking for. I love the boy, but he is something of a scatter brain."

"I'd love one, thank you," I reply as I slip onto a kitchen island stool. The large kitchen is outfitted with white countertops and plain wooden knobs, and there's a plethora of kitchen gadgets lining the far wall, from a juicer to a coffee machine to a panini maker. It's got a somewhat rustic feel, almost like being in a renovated country cottage, and the large six burner range cooker only adds to that.

"Really? Hugo comes across as well-organised to me. He really loves planning date nights for us, and he's good at keeping on top of stuff at work."

"Ah, that's slightly different. When he has structure or a routine, or an end goal such as planning a date with you, then he's in his element. He's fine when he has something to focus on. But when it comes to organising himself and keeping his own life in order, then that's another story..." She hands me a glass full of red with a warm smile on her face. "But don't let that put you off. He's got a heart of gold and once he finds something, or someone, he likes, he's incredibly loyal to it. I know he adores you Mae from the way he's talked about you for the past few months."

My insides burn at the thought of him thinking of me for the past few months. If I could turn back the clock and not have cut him out of my life back in January, I would. In the past week since we reunited, I've realised just how much my heart has been longing for him, and I kick myself for denying my feelings for so long.

I never thought I'd have someone like Hugo in my life, but now I do, I don't know how I survived without him. He's the yin to my yang. None of the relationships I've been in before have left me feeling this way, like I'm helplessly falling in love and that I'd do anything to keep my man happy. And more to the point, none of the guys I've been with have ever been like Hugo.

"It doesn't put me off at all," I smile. "And I adore Hugo, too - I couldn't agree more that he has a heart of gold."

***

Laura serves the apple pie on a solid earthenware plate with gold paint decoratively streaked across it, almost like veins running across skin. I stare down at the plate admiring how beautifully unique the plates are and wondering how expensive handmade items like this cost.

"You'll have to excuse the plates, Mae. We're running low on dessert crockery at the moment, aren't we Hugo?" She raises her eyebrows at him with a subtle frown lining her face.

"Mum, I told you I'll buy some more plates soon, but in the meantime I'm sure Mae doesn't mind eating off these ones." He turns to me. "I recently got into kintsugi, but mum's not a fan of it."

"What's kintsugi, dare I ask?"

"It's where you go around smashing plates and glueing them back together, daubing over the cracks with gold paint," Laura explains with a light-hearted eye roll. "And you know I don't mind what you get up to in your spare time, Hugo, but what I'm not a fan of is you smashing up all my crockery to the point where we have nothing left to eat off."

"Mum, don't be so dramatic! There's plenty of plates left in the cupboard. And I'll have you know that kintsugi is a Japanese philosophical practice that teaches us to embrace our imperfections and be resilient in life. The plate smashing part is just a physical metaphor for it, thank you."

"Hmm-mm," Laura says with a frown as she looks over the rim of her glasses at him.

A grin escapes from my mouth because it sounds just like something Hugo would do. "Well, I think the plates look beautiful, Hugo. Kintusgi sounds...interesting."

"See mum? Some people appreciate kintsugi," he smirks. "Do you want to come with me to a kintsugi workshop, Mae? We could do it for our next date."

"I don't know, arts and crafts has never really been my thing. I think I'd be pretty bad at it."

"That's the point, though. It doesn't matter how bad you are at it - the more imperfect it is the better. Come along and you'll see for yourself." He stares at me wide eyed, and I can't resist those puppy dog eyes. "Please just come and try it?"

"Ok, for you, I'm willing to give it a try," I fake sigh with upturned lips.

"For the love of god though, Hugo, buy me some new plates before you do anything," Laura adds with a wry smile.