Charlie was exhaustedtired of endless nights out, onenight flings, a parade of dates. When he met the bright, witty and sharptongued Emily, he sensed the missing piece finally clicked into place. They slipped into a cosy café on a rainy Camden lane, listened to a busker strumming an old folk tune, swapped stories about his fledgling marketing career and her love of contemporary verse. When they discovered a shared fondness for Coronation chicken sprinkled with grapes, they both knew the night was only the beginning.
Emilys flat in Brixton became the arena for the next stage. She invited Charlie over for dinner. He chose his crisp white shirt, shaved clean, rehearsed a few obscure lines from one of her favourite poets, bought a bunch of roses and a bottle of red wine. He strutted to her doorstep buoyant, confidence soaring like a cat that circles its bowl fifteen times a day. Everything was setdown to the smallest detailexcept the line that would shatter the script: Good evening, Im Stephen. My mums in the shower, come on in.
Charlie froze. A squarejawed, boyish face stared down at him. The owner of that face extended a hand that could easily have engulfed Charlies head. At first Charlie thought hed the wrong address, but when Stephen let out a loud, goofy sneezepinching his nose the way Emily always didany doubt evaporated. Panic rose in Charlies chest, the wine began to sour, the roses wilted in his mind.
He stepped inside and, spotting Stephens battered trainers, gasped. They were so oversized they could have swallowed his own shoes. Emily herself was taller than him by a good head. Charlie thought bitterly of how women never learned to handle gold properlygive a ring now, end up with a wedding band ten years later. He drifted toward the kitchen where a table was already laid and Stephen was fiddling with curtains without a stool.
Give me five minutes, Ill be out in a flash! a voice shouted from the bathroom.
Five rounds of five minutes later, the door swung open and Emily emerged, draped in a sleek evening dress, her face glowing with makeup. Seeing the sour look on Charlies face, she instantly grasped the cause; the tension melted away, pulling the romance along with it.
She placed plates before them, poured the wine herself, and began to eat without waiting for Charlie.
Why didnt you tell me you had a child? Charlie blurted, feeling cheated.
Scared of the trailer? Emily replied with a rueful smile.
Its not a trailer, its an entire train set.
A big one, then? Thats his dadssome rugged bloke from a remote Cornish village, taller than Stephen, who once wrestled a bear with bare hands.
And where is he now? Charlie sputtered.
Out on the road, touring with that same bear. Sometimes he writes letters, though the script looks as if the bear himself penned them, conscience and all.
How old is he? Charlie asked, nodding toward the wall.
Fourteen, just got his passport.
Strong?
Very funny.
Silence settled over the meal; conversation sputtered.
More meat? Charlie offered, passing his plate.
Like it? Emily asked.
Honestly, Ive never tasted anything better. What is it?
Venison. Stephens dad prepared it.
Wow, hes talented.
Its a family heirloomcame with an old recipe book, a set of knives, a fishing rod, a little boat and a bunch of other bits hes hoarded.
A boat? Charlie swallowed.
Yeah, it sits in the cellar. Sometimes its there, sometimes not. The lad is a keen angler.
Emilys phone buzzed; she excused herself to the next room to answer.
Time to head home, Charlie thought. He had nothing left to catch there.
Hey, Charlie, listen Emily returned, visibly jittery. Theres been an accident at work. Could you look after Stephen for a couple of hours?
Me? With Stephen? Why?
Hes still a minor, you never know what could happen. People are wandering the flats
Afraid hell be snatched?
Bottom line, Emily softened, Ill pay you for the lost evening and for babysitting, and then I wont call again. Deal?
What am I supposed to do with him?
Just chat, you lot are men, talk about whateverthen Ill be off.
Charlie barely managed a reply before Emily was gone, her heels echoing down the hallway. He lingered, drained his phone, finished his meat, and downed the remaining wine while waiting for her return. When he reached Stephens bedroom, familiar sounds drifted from behind the door.
Cant be, Charlie muttered, knocking.
The doors open, came a muffled reply.
He nudged the door gently and entered a teenagers den. The first thing that caught his eye was a massive wooden target riddled with knives and arrowsno holes in the walls, the marks always hit. A vinyl turntable spun softly, Iron Maiden crooning from a speakerCharlies favourite band. Stephen sat in a corner, tinkering with fishing lines. On a shelf sat a row of trophies; a punching bag dangled from the ceiling; a brandnew gaming console lay beside the TV.
Your mums doing a cracking job, Charlie muttered, envious. I always dreamed of a room like this.
I work in the summer, Stephen answered, making Charlie feel a pang of shame. He imagined Emily hunting for an endless purse for her endless kid, while the lad seemed perfectly selfsufficient.
Got a charger for my phone? Charlie asked, holding up his device.
Theres one by the railway line, Stephen gestured.
The railway line? Charlie repeated, disbelief turning his throat dry. He turned and saw a genuine set of tracks spilling out the back door, a miniature world of rails and bridges.
You built it yourself? Charlie whispered, not wanting to break the spell.
Yeah. Im adding bits, planning a second tier and a few bridges. Got a fresh box of rails, just cant get my hands on them yet.
Heat rose in Charlies chest.
Mind if I try the loop? he asked.
One minute, Stephen said, setting aside his line, standing tall and crossing the room in a single stride.
***
Emily returned an hour later, certain Charlie had already bolted, and hurried straight to Stephens room where the two were busy assembling the railway. It was hard to tell which of the two was older.
Charlie, you should go home, Emily whispered.
Ugh what time is it? Charlie sprang up.
Its halfpast eleven, Emily yawned, exhausted. Im on call for another emergency tomorrow, need my rest.
She escorted him to the door, planted a kiss on his cheek, and slipped him some cash.
I never take money from women, Charlie said with a sneer.
Alright, thanks for looking after my trailer. He gave a brief smile and left.
***
A few days later, Charlie rang.
Hey, can I come over again? he asked.
Im swamped at the office, no time for anything else and after our last thing
Could I at least pop in on Stephen?
Stephen? Emily sounded puzzled.
Yes, I could keep an eye on him, watch the little thing.
I dont know Ill have to ask him.
Ive already texted him. Hes fine. I bought him a new game for his Xbox, well have a quiet night, you can do your thing.
Alright, Ill be there tonight.
That evening Charlie arrived in a completely different guiseno shirt, no perfume, no wine, just a plain black tee sporting his favourite band, a rucksack stuffed with crisps and fizzy drinks, and a childish grin plastered on his face.
Just keep it down, I have a twohour video call coming up, Emily greeted him in a soft robe, face halfcovered by a cotton mask and breath smelling faintly of onions.
Charlie nodded and slipped into the den.
Emily soon had to separate Charlie and Stephen, who were locked in a heated debate over the merits of Balabanov versus Guy Ritchie. Each defended his favourite with fervour, edging toward a sixhour film marathon, when Emily stepped in, declaring both tastedead and ushered Charlie out.
Dont forget the bait for Saturday! Stephen shouted from the room.
Bait? What bait? Emily asked Charlie.
Were going pikefishing. Told Stephen theres a shop with topnotch bait. I havent been on the water in ages.
You lot are mates, huh? Not interested in spending time with me?
You can come, cut up the sandwiches, Stephen offered.
Fine, Ive got nothing else to do. Go on, enjoy your fishing, Emily said, ushering Charlie out. Work always eats my time anyway. At least the kid gets an activity.
***
A month passed. Emily threw herself into her job, romance forgotten. Meanwhile Charlie and Stephen turned the railway into a sprawling network, went crabbing, brewed a batch of ale from an old family recipe, and Stephen taught Charlie how to navigate the woods. Charlie, in turn, showed Stephen the basics of flirting and helped him ask a girl from a neighbouring class out. Life settled into a quiet rhythm until one night a frantic knock rattled the front door, sending ceiling lights clattering down.
Emily opened it to a whiff of bear meat. On the doorstep stood her exhusband, Peter, and Stephens father.
Ive had a revelation, Peter declared, dropping to one knee. Even bent, he towered over Emily. Potap and I are tired, we want a quiet family life. Ive saved enough; Ill take you and Stephen back to the village. Youll quit your job, well fish and hunt together.
Ha! Youre a joker. Ten years and you finally realise that? Even your bear wants to come home?
No actually the bear signed a contract with a studio behind my back, Peter snarled.
So thats it, Emily crossed her arms. Youve just been used.
It doesnt matter, the point is
He was cut off as Charlie burst in, wearing Emilys old tee.
Emily, I grabbed your shirt cause mine was stained while Stephen and I were repainting the locomotive
Someone finish a sentence around here? Emily snapped, eyeing both men.
Whos that? Peter growled, fist raised at Charlie.
Its its Emily stammered, unsure what to say.
Stephen darted from his room, twisted Peters arm behind his back and slammed him against the wall until he howled.
This is a trailer! Stephen hissed.
Its Stephen! Son! Its me, dad! What trailer? Peter gasped, writhing.
Its just a trailer we use to haul everything you left behind for us.
But you never left anything, Peter muttered, finally understanding.
Charlie and Emily clung together in the corner, watching the two giants clash.
Alright, alright, call a truce, Peter croaked, loosening his grip.
Youve done well. Ready to hunt boar together tomorrow? Talk about lost years? Im a father, not just a stranger, he pleaded, meeting Emilys gaze.
Emily was speechless, eyes flicking between her ex and Charlie.
I get it, Charlie nodded, standing to leave.
Sorry
***
The next morning Peter and Stephen left early, and Stephen returned alone late that night.
Wheres dad? Emily asked, furious.
Hes gone, he said, slipping off his boots.
What do you mean gone? Just up and left?
Not exactly. He hit the boar, loaded it into the trailer and drove off to train it. Found a new partner for shows, dropped me off in town and vanished.
Stupid me, Emily slapped her forehead. I should call Charlie. She reached for her phone.
No need, Stephen said. He just dropped me home. He promised to swing by tomorrow.
How did he know where to pick me up?
He said hed keep an eye on us, make sure were alright.
And he said hes attached now, cant detach ever again
The night settled over the flat, the sound of distant trains echoing the rhythm of a life that had finally, at last, found its own track.
