If I Never Met You(66)
He drove them home in his Volvo, Laurie having to insist to be allowed to sit in the back, saying Jamie should be upfront with his dad.
‘Now it’s too late for a proper dinner obviously but we thought you might be peckish, so your mother’s got a lump of Stilton and some pork pies.’
‘Do you like pork pies, Laurie?’ Jamie said, turning in his seat.
‘Love them. Especially with pickle and mustard.’
‘I’m sure Mary will have some. Or we can send Jamie to the shop!’
‘Good for you, Jamie,’ Laurie said, and Jamie mock huffed.
They arrived at the house, and Laurie thought: had anyone asked her, a few short weeks ago, what Jamie Carter’s background was, she’d have said, he’s definitely from money. Possibly privately schooled. You didn’t get his sort of confidence from nowhere.
Yet here they were, in a very pleasant but ordinary three-bed semi-detached in a suburb of Lincoln.
Jamie’s mum was who he took after physically, dark – presumably dyed her original colour – hair in a bob, slender frame, high cheekbones, the same neat nose, dark blue eyes. She was a retired R.E. teacher and reminded Laurie of Joan Bakewell.
They poured lots of red wine and they sat round a table in a dining room stacked with bookshelves, and insisted Laurie eat, eat.
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.