Charlie was so fed up with endless nights out, onenight flings and relentless dating that when he met sweet, lively and sharpwitted Poppy, he thought, Finally, the real thing. They popped into a café, listened to street buskers, compared his career triumphs with her love of contemporary poetry, and discovered a shared fondness for Olivier salad with apples. Verdict: it was time to move on.
The next step of their whirlwind romance was Poppys flat, where she invited him over for dinner. Charlie donned his best shirt, shaved, memorised a few odd verses from one of Poppys favourite poets, and bought flowers and a bottle of red wine.
He strutted over, feeling on top of the world, as confident as a cat that circles its food bowl fifteen times a day. The evening hadnt even begun, yet everything was planned down to the last detailexcept for the line: Good evening, Im Stan. Mums in the shower, come on in.
Charlie froze. A squarejawed, boyish face stared down at him, and the owner of that face extended a hand that could easily enclose Charlies whole head.
At first Charlie thought hed the wrong address, but when Stan let out a loud, comedic sneezemouth shut, fingers pinching his nosejust as Poppy always did, any doubt vanished. Charlies mood plummeted, the wine started to taste sour, and the flowers wilted.
He stepped inside and, seeing Stans sneakers, let out a startled gasp. He could have slipped them over his dress shoes and theyd still look like theyd grown on him.
Poppy was practically a child herself, barely reaching his waist. Charlie mused that it was a shame women didnt know how to handle gold the way they dohand her a ring and, ten years later, youd have a wedding band (not a bad investment). He drifted to the kitchen where a table was already set, while Stan was changing curtains without a ladder.
Five minutes and Ill be out! shouted someone from the bathroom.
After five rounds of fiveminute waits, the door finally opened and Poppy floated out of the shower in an evening dress, makeup dazzling. Spotting Charlies sour expression, she instantly grasped the problem; his nervousness evaporated, taking the romance with it.
Silently setting plates for herself and her guest, she poured the wine herself and began eating without waiting for Charlie.
Why didnt you mention you have a kid? Charlie blurted, feeling cheated.
Scared of the trailer? Poppy replied with a melancholy grin.
Its not a trailerits a whole train.
Big, eh? Thats his dad. Hes from a remote Yorkshire village, taller than any of us, and once wrestled a bear with bare hands.
Wheres he now? Charlie swallowed, the knot in his throat tightening.
Out on a gig with that same bear. He left us for a big stage. Sometimes writes lettershandwriting so wild I swear its the bear himself penning them.
How old is he? Charlie gestured toward the wall.
Fourteen, just got his passport.
Strong?
Very funny.
They ate in silence; conversation just didnt click.
More meat? Charlie asked, passing the plate.
Like it?
Honestly, Ive never tasted anything better. What is this?
Moose. Stans cooking.
Wow, hes talented.
It runs in the familyalong with an ancient cookbook, a set of knives, some fishing rods, a boat, and other bits hes managed to scrounge up.
A boat? Charlie gulped.
Yeah, its stored in the cellarsometimes there, sometimes not. The sons an avid angler.
Poppys phone buzzed; she apologised and slipped away to answer.
Time to head home, Charlie thought. There was nothing left for him to catch.
Hey, Charlie, Ive got a favour Poppy returned, looking flustered. Theres been an accident at work. Could you mind looking after Stan for a couple of hours?
Me? With Stan? Why?
Hes a minor; who knows what could happen. People are wandering the flats right now
Youre afraid someone will whisk him off?
Bottom line, Poppy shifted tone, Ill pay you for the lost evening and the babysitting, and then Ill never call again. Deal?
What am I supposed to do with him?
Just chat, you two men chat about man stuff, and Ill dash.
Charlie hadnt managed a reply before Poppy was off, shoes thudding down the street.
He sat in the kitchen, drained his phone, polished off the meat, finished the wine, while Poppy never returned.
When he reached Stans bedroom door, familiar sounds drifted out.
Cant be, Charlie muttered and knocked.
Open.
He nudged the door open and entered a childs room. The first thing that caught his eye was a large wooden target studded with knives and arrows. No holes dotted the wallsStans aim was flawless. A vinyl record player sat on a table, Iron Maiden quietly crooning from a speakerCharlies favourite band. Stan lounged in a corner, tinkering with fishing gear.
Charlies eyes roamed: trophies on a shelf, a boxing bag hanging from the ceiling, a brandnew gaming console beside the TV.
Your mum does a decent job, Charlie whistled, halfjealous. I always dreamed of a room like this as a kid.
I work in the summer, Stan replied, making Charlie feel a tad embarrassed. He imagined Poppy hunting for an endless wallet for her endless kid, while the lad seemed perfectly selfsufficient.
Got a charger for my phone? Charlie asked, holding up his device.
Near the railway line, Stan pointed.
The railway line? Charlie repeated, eyes wide. He turned and saw a genuine railway yard, and his breath stopped.
You built it yourself? he whispered, not wanting to break the spell.
Yeah. I keep buying bits, want to add a second tier and some bridges. New rails arrived, but I cant get my hands on them yet.
Heat rose to Charlies cheeks and heart.
Can I give it a spin? he asked Stan.
One minute, the boy said, setting down his gear, standing tall, and crossing the room in a single stride.
***
An hour later Poppy came back, convinced Charlie had already fled, and rushed straight to Stans room, catching the two boys amid their railway project. At first glance it was hard to tell who was older.
Charlie, you really should head home, Poppy whispered.
Ahoh! Charlie sprang up. What time is it?
Half past ten, Poppy yawned, exhausted. Ive got an emergency at work tomorrow morning, so I need my beauty sleep.
She escorted him to the door, planted a kiss on his cheek, and handed him a few notes.
I dont take money from women, Charlie said, eyeing her disdainfully.
Fine. Thanks for looking after my trailer.
Charlie gave a brief smile and left.
***
Hey, want to pop round again? Charlie called a couple of days later.
Im swamped at workno time for relationships, and after our last
Could I still swing by Stans?
To Stan? Poppy asked, puzzled.
Yeah, maybe keep an eye on the little guy?
I dont know Id have to ask him.
Ive already messaged him. Hes cool. I bought a new game for his Xbox, well hang quietly, and you can get on with your life.
Alright, come over tonight.
That evening Charlie arrived in a completely different guiseno shirt, no perfume, no wine, no sultry stare. He wore a plain black tee with his favourite bands logo, a backpack jammed with crisps and soda, and a goofy boyish grin.
Just keep it downIve got a twohour video call coming up, Poppy greeted him in a housecoat, a fabric mask over her face, and a faint onion scent from her breath.
Charlie nodded and slipped into the childs room.
Later, Poppy struggled to separate Charlie and Stan, who were debating Balabanov versus Guy Ritchie with fierce passion, about to launch a sixhour film marathon. She managed to convince them both they were victims of terrible taste and ushered Charlie out.
Dont forget to buy bait on Saturday! Stan shouted from the room.
What bait? Poppy snapped at Charlie.
Were after pike. I told Stan theres a shop that sells topnotch bait. I havent been fishing in ages.
Looks like you two are best mates. Want to join us and slice some sandwiches?
Fine, Ive got nothing else to do. Go on, have your fishtrip, Poppy smiled, shooing Charlie out. Work always eats my time anyway. At least the kids got something to do.
***
A month passed. Poppy threw herself into work, romance a distant memory. Meanwhile Charlie and Stan made good use of their time: they finished the model railway, caught crabs, brewed a batch of traditional ale from Stans inherited recipe book, Stan taught Charlie basic woodland navigation, and Charlie handed Stan the basics of flirting, even helping him coax a girl from a neighbouring class onto a date. Everything ran smoothly until one evening a knock rattled the front door, scattering ceiling lights onto the floor.
Poppy opened it to a whiff of bear meat. On the doorstep stood her exhusband, a hulking man, and Stans father.
Ive had an epiphany, he said, kneelingstill taller than Poppy by a head. Potter and I are tired, we want a quiet family life. Ive saved enough, Ill take you and Stan back to the village. Youll quit your job, well fish and hunt together.
Ha! Youre a comedian. Ten years and you finally realise that? Your bear decided to come home too?
No Actually I signed a contract with a film studio behind my back, the husband muttered.
So thats why, Poppy crossed her arms, they just tossed you aside.
It doesnt matter! The main thing is I now
He was cut off as Charlie burst in wearing Poppys Tshirt, having stained his own.
Poppy, I grabbed your shirt cause mine was ruined while we were repainting the locomotive with Stan
Good heavens, does anyone finish a sentence in this flat? Poppy asked, eyeing the men in turn.
Whos that? the husband demanded, fist aimed at Charlies head.
Its its Poppy stammered, clueless.
Stan lunged from the room, slamming the mans arm against the wall until he howled.
This is a trailer! Stan hissed.
Stan! Son! Its me, Dad! What trailer? the man croaked, grimacing.
Its the trailer that helps us haul everything you left behind, Stan said.
But you never left anything, the husband realised, the words hanging heavy.
Charlie and Poppy huddled in a corner, watching the giants tussle.
Alright, alright, break, the father shouted, releasing his grip. Youre doing well, lad. Might as well go after that boar now, he massaged his sore arm. How about tomorrow I take the son hunting? Talk about lost time? Im a father, after all.
Poppy was at a loss, eyes flicking between her ex and Charlie.
Yes, I get it, Charlie nodded and rose to leave.
Sorry
***
The next morning the father and son left at dawn, and Stan returned home alone late that night.
Wheres dad? Poppy asked, irritated.
Hes gone, he said, slipping off his shoes.
Gone? Just up and left?
Not exactly, Stan shrugged. He took the boar, loaded it onto the trailer, and drove off to train it. Found a new partner for shows, dropped me off in town and vanished.
Oh, Im an idiot, Poppy clapped a hand to her forehead. I should call Charlie
Hes already gone, I drove him home. Hell swing by tomorrow.
How did he know where to pick me up?
He said hed been watching us, making sure were alright.
And he really meant that?
Yes. He also mentioned hes stuck to us now, probably never getting off.
