All The Mixed Feelings (Van McCann)

Part 78

Abby

Van took me by the hand and led me down the hallway to the family living room. I sat down on the sofa but immediately spotted some photos on the mantelpiece so sprung up quickly on to my feet for a closer look.

"Aww look at you with your chubby little cheeks!" I laughed as I picked up a framed photo of Van at about 5 or 6 years old. He would have been almost unrecognisable if it hadn't been for those eyes.

"Oh god," Van grumbled, face-palming. "Don't tell me mam you've seen those or she'll have the bloody baby photos out!"

I grabbed another framed print. This one was of a slightly older Van with his dad. He was holding a toy guitar.

"So the music was in you from an early age," I said, holding it up.

"Guess so, I've always been around music. Me grandad plays the fiddle in a touring band. He's still at it now and he's nearly 90!"

I replaced the photo as I heard someone enter the room and Bernie came in with two glasses of amber liquid. "Here ya go champ!" He said, passing one to Van and clinking the top of his glass against his son's.

"You're on one tonight!" Van said with a grin.

His dad grinned too, with the same slightly crooked smile. "I'm just happy son. It's good to see you. You're so busy these days, especially now you're flying off around the world. Me and your mother are lucky to get a phone call every few weeks."

As if on cue, Mary appeared. "Abby, would you like another drink?"

I hesitated, worrying about the impression I would make if I ended up drinking too much and making a spectacle of myself. It was almost as if Mary could read my mind.

"Just a little one?" She said. "I know you're not a big drinker."

"I told her the story of how we met!" Van chipped in, much to my horror.

I cringed with embarrassment, imagining Mary and Bernie's reaction to hearing about me completely disgracing myself, but I needn't have worried. They were both chuckling away.

"Oh don't worry love," Mary reassured me. "You don't need to put on airs and graces with us!"

Bernie nodded. "We've all been there! I can tell you some funny stories of the states our Van's been in too."

There was more laughter as Bernie starting telling tales of a young drunken Van losing his keys and trying to scale a drainpipe to climb in through his bedroom window and another of him mistakenly stumbling into a guest's bedroom one night and falling asleep in their bathtub.

Eventually we all settled down on the sofas, chatting and sipping our drinks. I felt completely at ease now, a combination of the pleasant buzz from the drinks we'd had and the way that Van's family had welcomed me.

Bernie left the room at one point and came back holding what looked like a DVD aloft. "Shall we put it on?"

"Not that again!" Mary groaned, then she turned to me. "Every time these two get to drinking we have to watch this!"

"But we've not watched it since Christmas!" Bernie said, undeterred, slipping the disc out of the box and crossing to the TV unit.

Van started to tell me about how much his dad loved Van Morrison, his namesake, and they'd watch his concert performances together.

"I'm sure Abby doesn't want to watch it..." Mary started, but I shook my head, cutting in.

"No... no, I'd actually love to see it."