The Importance of Being a Bachelor by Mike Gayle Page B

front path and paused while Adam used his set of keys to open the door. They could see their mum’s overnight bag sitting in the middle of the carpet but there was no sign of the letter. They began frantically searching around the hallway in the hope that it had accidentally fallen off the stool but to no avail. Adam was just about to suggest that they split up and check over the house when he became aware that they were no longer alone: his mum was standing at the top of the stairs watching them.
    ‘Mum,’ said Adam guiltily. ‘You’re home.’
    ‘Of course I’m home,’ she replied tersely. ‘There’s my bag and shoes right in front of you.’
    ‘Yes, yes, of course,’ said Adam. His mum came downstairs and he gave her a kiss with Luke and Russell following suit.
    ‘So what are you all doing here?’
    ‘Nothing,’ replied Adam casually. ‘We were just passing on our way to a thing in town so we thought we’d drop in and say hello.’
    Russell stepped forward. ‘Did you have a good trip?’
    ‘It was fine.’
    ‘And the taxi ride over here was OK?’
    ‘It was all fine.’
    ‘I know,’ suggested Adam, determined to move her out of the current hallway search zone. ‘Why don’t you put your feet up and we’ll put your stuff away for you?’ He tried to usher his mum into the living room but she refused to budge.
    ‘Do you think I’m stupid?’
    Adam was confused. Although his mum had always been a big fan of rhetorical questions he couldn’t work out what had provoked this one. ‘I never said anything of the sort, Mum,’ he said cagily. ‘I was just suggesting that you have a rest. Since when was that a crime?’
    ‘Adam,’ she said fixing him with her most stern look, ‘do I look like an idiot to you?’ She didn’t wait for his response. ‘Then don’t treat me like one.’ Then she made her way into the kitchen.
    Adam exchanged perplexed glances with his brothers and followed. She was in the process of filling the kettle but as the boys entered the room she carefully turned off the tap, set down the kettle on the kitchen counter and faced them.
    ‘This is about your father, isn’t it?’
    ‘What do you mean?’ bluffed Adam.
    A look of utter exasperation flooded her face. ‘Adam,’ she said carefully. ‘What did I tell you less than a minute ago about treating me like an idiot?’
    Adam decided the game was up. ‘You mean you’ve already seen the letter?’
    ‘What letter?’
    ‘The letter from Dad?’
    ‘What letter from Dad?’
    Adam’s brain was about to explode. ‘Are you saying that you haven’t seen the letter Dad wrote to you?’
    ‘I’ve just told you that,’ snapped his mum impatiently. ‘Have you got something wrong with your ears?’
    ‘I don’t understand,’ said Adam. ‘If you haven’t seen the letter then what do you think we’re here about?’
    ‘Your father of course.’
    Adam rubbed his throbbing temples. ‘So you already know Dad is at mine?’
    ‘Is that where he went? Doesn’t surprise me.’
    ‘Mum, look, I don’t know what you know or what you think you know and I hate being the one to tell you but it’s like this . . .’ He felt sick. This was no way for a woman of his mum’s age to hear news like this.
    ‘I came in last night from a night out to find Dad sleeping on the sofa at mine. Apparently he wrote you a letter telling you that he was leaving you and we’re here because we were hoping that we could get rid of the letter before you could read it.’ Adam put his arms round his mum and hugged her tightly. ‘I’m sorry, Mum.’
    She pushed Adam away. ‘So where is this letter?’
    ‘I don’t know. Haven’t you got it?’
    ‘No, and do you know why that is? Then let me enlighten you: you can’t find the letter because there was no letter and there was no letter because your father didn’t leave me . . . I threw him out. Now if you don’t mind, boys, I’d like some time on my own.’ Her expression indicated that she