a double layer of embarrassment; Stevie twigged that Fin’s mother was checking her out as potential girlfriend material for Patrick in a none-too-subtle manner.
Stevie quelled an urge to laugh. Families. A hothouse of tension, mixed with forced joviality. She felt like a biologist observing a colony of meerkats. They were fascinating to watch, but she’d never be part of their community.
Later, Stevie and Fin retreated to the kitchen, declining offers of help with the washing-up and closing the door behind them. Fin looked hot, flustered and slightly drunk. “Stevie, I am so, so sorry about my family. They’re a nightmare!”
“It’s all right. Quite funny, really.”
“Are you sure? You looked … uncomfortable, to say the least.”
“No, I’m fine. My real problem was thinking about Daniel’s mother. Has Frances spent the day alone in that cold old house? I offered to go, but she said no. We’d both have felt miserable and awkward all day.”
“More awkward than my mother?”
“Well…” Stevie gave a brief, sad laugh. “They’ve got something in common: the torment of fretting to death over their beloved sons.”
The kitchen door opened and Patrick slipped in, offering to dry the pots and pans. Fin handed him a tea towel and said, “Good timing. Take over. I need to chill upstairs for ten minutes before I murder someone.”
“Christmas, eh,” Patrick said ruefully, as Fin closed the door. He spoke softly, standing close as Stevie handed him wet crockery.
“Sometimes I think I’m better off without a family,” Stevie said with a grin.
“No kidding. Please accept my groveling apology. My mother does it constantly: any time there’s a halfway eligible female in the room, she tries to pair us off. Why d’you think I moved to America?”
“Halfway eligible? That makes me feel special.”
“No, I didn’t mean— I think you’re absolutely gorgeous, Stevie.”
“You’re quite cute yourself.”
“No, really, you’re stunning. Mum actually chose well for once.”
Stevie turned, holding a large glass dish that dripped soapy water onto their shoes. “So, don’t you think it’s about time you told her you’re gay, Patrick?”
He went white. “Fucking hell, is it that obvious?”
She smiled. “To everyone except your mum, and maybe your dad, too. Andy’s father couldn’t keep a straight face.”
“Don’t say anything. Please don’t say anything!”
“Hey, calm down. Not a word. How old are you?”
“Twenty-seven.”
“Got someone special?”
Red blotches spread into his pale cheeks. “Yeah. My business partner in California.”
“So pretty soon you have to tell her the truth. It’s for the best. Put a stop to the excruciating matchmaking attempts.”
He groaned. “Yes, I know. I think she knows, secretly. But we’re Catholics; denial is her default setting. If I sit down and tell her, all her illusions come crashing down.”
“I’m sure she’ll survive,” Stevie said crisply.
“Hey, you know, it’s really nice meeting you,” Patrick said, sounding more relaxed. “Any time you’re in the States, you have to call me and we’ll meet up. I’ll write down my phone number. Promise?”
“It’s a deal,” she said, knowing she’d never go. No time, no confidence. Also, no passport.
The day rolled into evening, full of games and chocolates and cakes and more drinks, overexcited children, too much television. By nine o’clock, Stevie was exhausted. She made her excuses.
“Andy will drive you home,” said Fin.
“You’re kidding. He’s more drunk than you are. And it’s only ten minutes’ walk.”
“Fifteen. He and Patrick can walk with you then.”
“There’s no need. Please. I promise not to get murdered.”
“How’re you fixed for tomorrow?” The question was too polite. Stevie knew the score. Fin knew she was alone, and found it a pleasure to invite her on one special day. But for the entire holiday season? That was different.
Stevie quelled an urge to laugh. Families. A hothouse of tension, mixed with forced joviality. She felt like a biologist observing a colony of meerkats. They were fascinating to watch, but she’d never be part of their community.
Later, Stevie and Fin retreated to the kitchen, declining offers of help with the washing-up and closing the door behind them. Fin looked hot, flustered and slightly drunk. “Stevie, I am so, so sorry about my family. They’re a nightmare!”
“It’s all right. Quite funny, really.”
“Are you sure? You looked … uncomfortable, to say the least.”
“No, I’m fine. My real problem was thinking about Daniel’s mother. Has Frances spent the day alone in that cold old house? I offered to go, but she said no. We’d both have felt miserable and awkward all day.”
“More awkward than my mother?”
“Well…” Stevie gave a brief, sad laugh. “They’ve got something in common: the torment of fretting to death over their beloved sons.”
The kitchen door opened and Patrick slipped in, offering to dry the pots and pans. Fin handed him a tea towel and said, “Good timing. Take over. I need to chill upstairs for ten minutes before I murder someone.”
“Christmas, eh,” Patrick said ruefully, as Fin closed the door. He spoke softly, standing close as Stevie handed him wet crockery.
“Sometimes I think I’m better off without a family,” Stevie said with a grin.
“No kidding. Please accept my groveling apology. My mother does it constantly: any time there’s a halfway eligible female in the room, she tries to pair us off. Why d’you think I moved to America?”
“Halfway eligible? That makes me feel special.”
“No, I didn’t mean— I think you’re absolutely gorgeous, Stevie.”
“You’re quite cute yourself.”
“No, really, you’re stunning. Mum actually chose well for once.”
Stevie turned, holding a large glass dish that dripped soapy water onto their shoes. “So, don’t you think it’s about time you told her you’re gay, Patrick?”
He went white. “Fucking hell, is it that obvious?”
She smiled. “To everyone except your mum, and maybe your dad, too. Andy’s father couldn’t keep a straight face.”
“Don’t say anything. Please don’t say anything!”
“Hey, calm down. Not a word. How old are you?”
“Twenty-seven.”
“Got someone special?”
Red blotches spread into his pale cheeks. “Yeah. My business partner in California.”
“So pretty soon you have to tell her the truth. It’s for the best. Put a stop to the excruciating matchmaking attempts.”
He groaned. “Yes, I know. I think she knows, secretly. But we’re Catholics; denial is her default setting. If I sit down and tell her, all her illusions come crashing down.”
“I’m sure she’ll survive,” Stevie said crisply.
“Hey, you know, it’s really nice meeting you,” Patrick said, sounding more relaxed. “Any time you’re in the States, you have to call me and we’ll meet up. I’ll write down my phone number. Promise?”
“It’s a deal,” she said, knowing she’d never go. No time, no confidence. Also, no passport.
The day rolled into evening, full of games and chocolates and cakes and more drinks, overexcited children, too much television. By nine o’clock, Stevie was exhausted. She made her excuses.
“Andy will drive you home,” said Fin.
“You’re kidding. He’s more drunk than you are. And it’s only ten minutes’ walk.”
“Fifteen. He and Patrick can walk with you then.”
“There’s no need. Please. I promise not to get murdered.”
“How’re you fixed for tomorrow?” The question was too polite. Stevie knew the score. Fin knew she was alone, and found it a pleasure to invite her on one special day. But for the entire holiday season? That was different.
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