‘I know you do, but she’s got her head screwed on, that one.’ Simon squeezes my knee. ‘Takes after her mother.’ He looks at Justin, who is sprawled on the sofa, his phone inches from his face. ‘Are you not going out?’
‘Skint,’ Justin says, without taking his eyes off the tiny screen in front of him. I see the blue and white boxes of a conversation too small to read from where I’m sitting. A strip of red boxer shorts separates his joggers from his sweatshirt, the hood pulled up despite being indoors.
‘Doesn’t Melissa pay you on Fridays?’
‘She said she’ll drop it round over the weekend.’
Justin’s been working in the café since the start of the summer, when I had almost given up hope of him getting another job. He had a couple of interviews – one for a record store, and another at Boots – but the second they found out he had a police record for shoplifting, that was it.
‘You can understand it,’ Simon had said. ‘No employer wants to risk taking on someone who might have their hand in the till.’
‘He was fourteen!’ I couldn’t help but be defensive. ‘His parents had just divorced and he’d moved schools. He’s hardly a career criminal.’
‘Even so.’
I left it. I didn’t want to argue with Simon. On paper Justin was unemployable, but if you knew him … I went cap in hand to Melissa. ‘Deliveries,’ I suggested. ‘Handing out flyers. Anything.’
Justin was never academic. He didn’t take to reading like the other kids in reception – didn’t even know the alphabet until he was eight. As he got older it became hard even to get him to school in the first place; the underpass and the shopping mall held more appeal than a classroom. He left school with a GCSE in computer science, and a caution for shoplifting. By then the teachers had worked out he was dyslexic, but it was too late to be any use.
Melissa looked at me thoughtfully. I wondered if I’d overstepped the boundaries of our friendship; put her in an awkward position.
‘He can work in the café.’
I couldn’t find the words. Thank you seemed inadequate.
‘Minimum wage,’ Melissa said briskly, ‘and on a trial period. Monday to Friday, on a mix of earlies and lates. Occasional cover at weekends.’
‘I owe you one,’ I said.
She waved away my gratitude. ‘What are friends for?’
‘Maybe you could start paying your mum some rent, now you’ve got a job,’ Simon says. I look at him sharply. Simon never gets involved in parenting. It isn’t a conversation we’ve ever needed to have; the kids were eighteen and fourteen when I met Simon. They were almost adults in their own right, even when they didn’t behave like it. They didn’t need a new dad, and thankfully Simon never tried to be one.
‘You don’t ask Katie for rent.’
‘She’s younger than you. You’re twenty-two, Justin, you’re old enough to stand on your own two feet.’
Justin swings his legs round and stands up in one fluid movement. ‘You’ve got a fucking nerve. How about you pay some rent, before you start telling me what to do?’
I hate this. Two people I love, at each other’s throats.
‘Justin, don’t talk to Simon like that.’ Picking sides isn’t a conscious decision, but as soon as I speak I see the look in Justin’s eyes, like I’ve betrayed him. ‘He’s only making a suggestion. I’m not asking for rent.’ I never would, and I don’t care if people think I’m soft. I won’t budge. I could charge Justin rock-bottom prices for bed and board, and he’d still have next to nothing left over. How can he have a life, let alone put something aside for the future? I was younger than Katie when I left home, with nothing but a suitcase of clothes, a growing belly and my parents’ disappointment ringing in my ears. I want more than that for my kids.
Simon isn’t letting it lie. ‘Are you looking for work? The café’s fine, but if you want to buy a car, get your own place, you’ll need to earn more than Melissa can pay you.’
I don’t understand what’s got into him. We’re not rich, but we do all right. We don’t need to take money from the kids.
‘Dad said he’d lend me money for a car once I’ve passed my test.’
I feel Simon bristle beside me, the way he always does when Matt is mentioned. There are times when this reaction is irritating, but more often than not it gives me a warm glow inside. I don’t think it ever occurred to Matt that someone else might find me attractive; I like that Simon cares enough about me to be jealous.
‘That’s nice of Dad,’ I say quickly; loyalty towards Justin making me say something – anything – in support. ‘Maybe you could consider doing the Knowledge one day.’
‘I’m not driving a cab for the rest of my life, Mum.’