Second Chance(5)

“Sure.” Jack got a shopping trolley while his mum burrowed in her handbag for her list.

“Oh hello, Cathy. How are you?” A woman greeted his mum with a smile.

“Hello. I’m fine thanks.” His mum nodded but didn’t maintain eye contact or try and make conversation.

Jack sighed in relief, glad that his mother wasn’t particularly sociable. He wanted to get this over with as soon as possible so he could get back to the refuge of home—not that his parents’ house felt much like home.

Trailing around behind his mum, Jack pushed the trolley, and obediently reached for things from high shelves. At five-foot-eleven compared to her five-three, he had his uses. He remembered doing this with her as a teen after school sometimes and had hated the whole process just as much then, only for different reasons: bored and wanting to be out with his mates, he resented the chore, and it was always embarrassing to be seen with his mum by other kids from school.

Jack still hated seeing people he knew. There were a few familiar faces around that Jack remembered from school. He couldn’t always recall names, or what year they’d been in. But they’d obviously settled here, got married, had families. When he’d come for an occasional duty visit over the years, Jack had always felt scorn for those who’d stayed. Why would they choose to make their lives in the small town they grew up in when there was a whole world out there to explore?

Jack had loved the anonymity of living in cities. Despite the concentration of people in a small space, he’d felt free there. Village life had always made him feel trapped and claustrophobic.

Yet here he was again, stuck in bloody Hedbury with no immediate plans for escape.

Recognising a woman who he thought had been in his year at school, Jack ducked his head. Her gaze seemed to linger on him as he hurried past, but maybe it was his imagination playing tricks.

Not looking where he was going and moving too quickly, he couldn’t stop in time as a man rounded the corner of the aisle.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Jack said as his trolley crashed into the one the other man was pushing.

“No worries. It’s fine.”

Jack looked up at the familiar voice and saw the man from the churchyard last week. He hadn’t paid close attention to him at the time, embarrassed at being caught during his moment of angst when he thought he’d been alone, but he remembered his name. “Oh. Hi, Nate isn’t it?”

Nate’s eyes widened and he flushed. “Um. Yeah. Good to see you again.” His expression said it was anything but good, and Jack was confused by his reaction. Only then did he realise Nate wasn’t alone. He was with a pretty, but sullen-looking teenage girl, and a woman who Jack recognised immediately.

“Mrs Harris, hello,” he said automatically. Good manners had been drilled into him from early childhood.

“Hi, Jack.” She gave him a nervous smile, and then glanced at Nate.

Jack frowned, confused by their connection. He looked at Nate, hoping for clarification, but Nate was frozen in a horrible awkwardness that Jack didn’t understand. He studied Nate’s face, searching for answers and slowly, like a blurred image gradually coming into focus, Jack saw the piece of the puzzle he’d been missing.

“Nat?” he whispered, almost afraid to ask the question in case he was horrifyingly, embarrassingly wrong. But what other explanation could there be for this man standing in front of him? He could be Nat’s brother—if Nat had ever had a brother, but she was an only child like Jack. “Is that you?”

Nat… Nate nodded, the flush draining from his face leaving him ghostly pale. He set his jaw, head held high as he answered in his deep, unmistakably masculine voice, “I’m Nate now, though.”

Jack had no idea what to say. Life hadn’t prepared him for this. He’d met a few trans people before of course, but never someone he’d known before their transition, never someone who had been such a significant part of his life.

His mother was staring at Nate too, mouth open. Her usual social skills had deserted her.

“Well, this is awkward,” the teenage girl said, eyeing them with what looked like amusement. “Are you going to introduce me, Dad?”

Nate swallowed. “Um, yeah. Cass, this is Jack. We were at school together. Jack, this is my daughter, Cassie.”

“I prefer Cass.” She offered a slim hand to Jack to shake. Her nail polish was black and chipped, and her grip was surprisingly strong.

“We were best friends at school,” Jack blurted. “For years.”

“Oh. I’ve seen you in Dad’s old photos then. Skinny, sort of gothic, really bad hair?” Jack could see the resemblance to Nate in the curve of her teasing smile.

He snorted. “Yeah, that would be me.”

“Cool.”

“Sue, how are you?” Jack’s mum asked stiffly. She’d finally managed to collect herself and remember her manners. “And Nat, sorry… Nate. It’s been a long time.”

“I’m fine thanks, Cathy,” Sue replied.

There was another uncomfortable silence.

Cass saved them all by saying, “Well, this has been super fun”—the sarcasm made Jack bite back on the urge to laugh. She was definitely Nate’s daughter all right—“but I have plans tonight now I’m no longer grounded. So can we get on with the shopping? I want to have time to eat and change before I go out.”