THE TAGALONG
Back then, Id grown so weary of going out on the town, of fleeting romances, endless dates where nothing led anywhere, that when I met cheerful, clever Mary, I just knewshe was the one.
We wandered through a little café, listened to buskers on the high street, chatted about my work successes and her passion for modern poetry.
The clincher was when we both discovered a fondness for apple in our potato saladit felt like fate, and we realised it was time to take things further.
The fast track for our blossoming romance was set: dinner at Marys flat.
She invited me round, and I went to townput on my best shirt, had a close shave, memorised some odd poem from one of her favourite poets, then picked out flowers and grabbed a nice bottle of wine.
I walked to her place light as air, entirely at ease with myself.
I knew tonight would be special.
I had the confidence of a cat sauntering to its bowl about to be refilled for the fifteenth time that day.
Everything was mapped out alreadyeven the minor detailsexcept for one moment.
The front door opened, and a deep voice greeted me, Hello.
Im Stephen.
Mums just in the showercome in.
I froze on the doorstep.
Above me was a square, determined faceboyish, but almost manly.
Stephen offered me a hand that looked big enough to smother my whole head.
For a second, I thought I had the wrong address, but when Stephen sneezed in the same loud, peculiar way Mary didwith pinched nose and closed lipsI had no more doubt.
My optimism plummeted, the scent of my wine seemed to sour, and the bouquet wilted in my grip.
Inside, I spotted Stephens trainersenormous.
I reckon I couldve slipped my smart shoes straight inside them with room to spare.
Mary, herself, barely reached her sons chest.
I found myself wishing women grew out of gold the way boys grew out of shoesyou gave them a ring one day, and, years later, it had become a wedding band.
Now thats an investment!
Lost in such musings, I drifted to the kitchen, already set for a meal, while Stephenforgoing a chairwas swapping out the net curtains.
Five minutes, and Ill be out! came Marys voice from the bathroom.
Five five-minute stretches later, she finally emergedglamorous in an evening dress, makeup vibrant on her shining face.
She caught sight of my long face and immediately grasped the problem.
All the nervous anticipation in the flat evaporated, and with it, any hint of romance.
Wordlessly, she helped herself and me to supper, poured the wine, and started eating without pause.
Why didnt you tell me you had a child? I managed, feeling more than a bit deceived.
Did the tagalong scare you off? Mary smiled, wistful.
Thats not a tagalongthats an entire express train.
Hes a big lad, isnt he?
Takes after his dad.
Hes from some half-forgotten Yorkshire villagetaller even than Stephen.
Used to wrestle wild boar with his bare hands.
And where is he now? I croaked, nervous.
Touring.
Him and his boar.
Left us for the big timesometimes posts letters, though his handwriting resembles the boars more than a mans.
The boars got more manners, really.
How old is he? I nodded at the living room wall.
Fourteenjust got his passport.
Did he wrestle it away?
Very funny.
We finished the rest of the meal in silence, conversation firmly derailed.
Could I have a bit more meat? I offered my plate, desperate for distraction.
Like it?
Honestly, never tasted better.
What is it?
Venison.
Stephen cooked ithes a dab hand.
Blimey, hes got the knack.
Got it from his dad, along with a battered old cookery book, a knife set, some fishing rods, an inflatable dinghy and a few other odds and ends he palmed off on us.
A dinghy? I asked, swallowing.
In the cellarwell, when its not out being used.
My lad lives for fishing.
At that, Marys phone buzzedshe excused herself, disappearing to take a call in the bedroom.
Time to go, I reckoned.
There was nothing left here for me.
ErNick, could I ask a favour? Mary returned, agitated.
Theres been an accident at work.
Could you watch Stephen for a couple of hours?
Me?
Watch Stephen?
Whatever for? I stammered.
Hes a minor, you never know what might happen.
Youve seen the news: people roaming flats nowadays…
Worried hell be abducted without anyone noticing?
Honestly, Mary changed tone, Ill pay you for your trouble and babysitting, and promise never to bother you again.
And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?
Talk about whatever it is men discuss with boys.
I have to dash!
She barely finished before she was out the door.
Left alone in the kitchen, I drained my phone battery, finished the venison, and polished off the wine, but still, Mary didnt return.
Pacing, I paused outside Stephens doorfamiliar noises wafted out.
No way, I thought, rapping gently.
Its open.
I eased the door; the room was a troveon one wall, a large wooden target riddled with knives and arrows.
There didnt seem to be a single mark in the plasterevery shot hit home.
Nearby, an old record player crooned out Iron Maiden, my personal favourite.
Stephen, in the corner, was tending a box of fishing tackle.
The wardrobe was topped with trophies, a boxing bag swung from the ceiling, and a brand-new X-box nestled beneath the TV.
Your mum spoils you rotten, I half-whistled.
Id have killed for a room like this myself.
I do odd jobs in the summer, Stephen said matter-of-factly.
I felt a flush of guilthere Id pictured Mary endlessly hustling just to keep up with her bottomless offspring, but her son was the independent sort.
Got a phone charger by any chance? I asked, waving my dead phone.
By the railway, he gestured.
Railway? I echoed, incredulousand turned to see an elaborate, working model train set along one wall.
My breath caught.
You built this?
Yeah.
Gradually.
Saving for more, want to build a second tier, more bridges.
Just came this weekfresh box of track.
Havent got ’round to it yet.
A warmth filled memy heart, my head.
May I run a train round the track? I asked.
Yeah, give us a minute. He set down his tackle box, unfurled to full height, and crossed the room in a single stride.
***
Mary returned an hour later, almost certain Id left long ago.
She hurried straight to Stephens bedroomonly to find us both deep in concentration, piecing together tracks, utterly indistinguishable in age at first glance.
Nick, time you went home, Mary called quietly.
But mu-u-uOh! I tumbled up from the floor.
Whats the time?
Half ten, she yawned.
Ive got chaos at work all over again in the morning.
I must sleep.
She saw me to the door, kissed me on the cheek, and offered cash.
I dont take money from a lady, I replied, a little too haughtily.
All right.
Thank you for looking after my tagalong.
I smiled shyly and left.
***
Hier, could I drop by again? I phoned a few days later.
Honestly Nick, work is mad, Im always tied up, and that last evening…
But could I see Stephen?
Stephen? She was clearly puzzled.
Why not?
Might need a sitter, someone to keep an eye on the youngster?
Well…
Ill have to ask him.
Ive already checked.
He doesnt mind.
Ive bought him that new X-box game.
Well just hang out, and you can work in peace.
Oh…
all right, come on by.
That evening, I arrived a changed man.
No smart shirt or posh cologne, no bottle of wine, no sultry glances.
Just a black tee with my favourite band, a rucksack full of crisps and fizzy drinks, and a dopey, boyish grin.
Keep it down, Ive a video call for work at two, Mary warned, clad in her dressing gown, a face mask in place, and the scent of onions lingering in the hall.
I nodded and ducked into Stephens room.
By nights end, Mary nearly had to drag us apartwe were deep in debate over whether Guy Ritchie or Shane Meadows was the better director, passionately defending our tastes, and seconds from settling the matter with a marathon film session when Mary declared us both tasteless and showed me to the door.
Dont forget the bait on Saturday! Stephen called after me.
Bait? Mary pressed a look of suspicion on me.
Were off pike fishing.
I told him I know a shop with the best stuffhavent been angling in years, actually.
So youre best mates now.
Dont want to spend time with me?
You can join usmake up the sandwiches?
Yeah, because I have nothing better to do, she grinned, hustling me out.
Works all-consuming.
At least youre giving my boy something to do.
***
A month passed.
Mary buried herself in her job, with barely a thought left for romance.
But Stephen and I?
Wed been busy: finished building the railway, took a trip out for crayfish, even brewed our own ginger beer according to his ancient family recipe.
Stephen showed me how to find my way in the woods; in return, I taught him the rudiments of flirting and gave him some tips on asking out a girl from the next form.
Things rolled calmly alonguntil, one evening, a thunderous knock shook loose the bulbs from Marys ceiling.
Mary opened the door and was nearly bowled over by the scent of smoked wild boar.
There on the doorstep stood her ex-husband, Stephens father.
Ive seen the light, he declared, dropping to one kneeand, even kneeling, he was a head taller than Mary.
Me and Winstonthe boarhave had enough of showbiz.
Ive saved a bit, come to take you and Stephen back to the village.
A proper life.
Youll leave work; Stephen and I will fish and hunt.
Ha!
Good one.
Ten years gone, and now he sees the light.
The boar still committed to the family too?
No…
actually, he signed a film deal behind my back, grumbled the man.
Ah, so you got dumped, Mary folded her arms.
Doesnt matter!
What matters is I
He broke off, for I emerged behind Marywearing her old T-shirt.
Mary, I borrowed your shirtspilt gravy on mine while Stephen and I
Can anyone here ever actually finish a sentence? Mary sighed, looking at us all.
Whos he? the ex aimed a meaty fist at my face.
Thats…
thats… Mary was flustered, at a loss.
Just then Stephen burst from his room, nimbly twisted his fathers arm behind his back, and pinned him to the wall until the big man yelped.
Hes the tagalong! Stephen spat.
Stephen!
Son!
Its meyour dad!
What do you mean, tagalong? puffed the man, contorting.
Just the tagalong whos helped Mum and me haul along all the baggage you left for us both.
But…
but I never left you anything, the ex muttered, only now realising what the words implied.
Mary and I pressed into a corner, watching the titans square off.
All right, all right!
Break! groaned the father, and Stephen finally let go.
Youre a tough ladtakes after me.
Time you tried for wild boar. The man rubbed his arm.
Thats what I proposelet me take him hunting tomorrow?
Catch up?
Try for a fresh start?
I am his father, after all, not just anybody, he pleaded, staring at Mary.
She hesitated, looking from him to me.
I get it, I nodded, reaching for my coat.
Im sorry…
***
The next day, father and son left early and Stephen trudged home alone that evening.
Wheres your father? asked Mary, anxiety taut in her voice.
Hes gone, Stephen replied, pulling off his boots.
What do you mean, gone?
Just up and vanished?
Not exactly, Stephen shook his head.
He left with the boar.
Hooked it up to his trailer and set offwants to train a new act.
Dropped me at the city and drove off.
Oh, how daft am I, Mary groaned, palm to forehead.
I need to ring Nick
No needI just said goodbye.
He gave me a lift home.
He promised hed drop by tomorrow.
But your phone was herehow did he know where to find you?
Said he followed us.
Wanted to make sure everything was fine with meand with you.
Is that what he said? She waited.
Yes.
And he said… Stephen grinned.
Hes just latched on to usand doubts hell ever let go.Mary rested her head on the kitchen door, a smile tugging at her lips as Stephen stomped off toward the shower, humming a riff of Iron Maiden.
The flat felt fuller than it had in agesnot just with mismatched shoes and fishing rods, but with laughter biding its time in the corners, waiting for the next dinner, the next new recipe, or wild story over tea.
She lingered by the window, watching lights flicker across the street and thinking of the curious, gentle-hearted man whod seen her lifeevery awkward, tangled threadand still, unbelievably, wanted in.
Not with grand declarations, but with simple things: an offer to watch her son, a knack for soothing stormy evenings, a tenacity that quietly outlasted showboating wild boars.
When Nick texted, *Hows my fishing mate?* she caught herself grinningreally grinninguntil Stephen called out from the hall, Mum, are you making that apple salad again?
Yes, love! she replied, heart lighter than itd been in years.
She thought of tagalongsboys shadowing older boys, men trailing the ones they loved best, and sometimes, sometimes, the best kind sticking around when all the noise and drama had faded to something real, and warm, and lasting.
Mary drew the curtains, chuckling as she imagined how, someday, Stephen would teach Nick the fine art of perfecting a railway curve, and NickNick would teach them both that letting someone in is not weakness, but its own everyday magic.
And out in the night, the city sparkled, promising that sometimes, the truest journeys begin not with a leap, but with coming homeagain, and again, and again.
