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  “I tried to talk to Patrick about it, but it was like part of him had shut down. I think he felt like he wasn’t man enough anymore, though I tried so hard not to make him feel that way. But we started to argue. I think we just lost patience with each other, then finally we lost respect for each other. We were bickering. Sniping over stupid things like whose turn it was to cook or to do the shopping. It stopped being fun, and then it started being stressful.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” Mum asked.

  “I don’t know” I said, and I didn’t. I knew my parents wouldn’t be cross, it wasn’t their way. Concerned yes, but I could handle concern, so I don’t know why I hadn’t told them. “I guess I just didn’t want it to be going wrong, and I felt like if I talked about it then it was real. I kept hoping that it would get better, but it never did and finally I couldn’t take it anymore.”

  My dad was quiet, and I wondered what he was thinking. I mean, he was a maths teacher, I didn’t think he was planning to find and punch Patrick, but I guessed he wasn’t happy.

  “How long has this been going on?” he asked. “Why didn’t you come home earlier?”

  “We started trying after Christmas, so it was only six months. I still can’t quite believe it fell apart so quickly.” My heart was thumping, so I took a sip of wine and tried to calm myself down. If I glugged anymore they were liable to start worrying about that too and given that I could get hammered on half a bottle, that was one anxiety that was totally unnecessary. Talking about leaving Patrick might have been good therapy but that didn’t make it easy. “It just kept getting more difficult between us. My contract at work had almost finished, they offered me an extension but I wasn’t enjoying it much anyway. I started job hunting and there wasn’t much near us. It was Patrick’s idea that I looked further away. I did ask him if he wanted to come with me when I heard that I’d got this job, but he didn’t. It was actually a relief.” I gave up trying to keep it all together then and let the tears flow again. If you can’t cry in the safety of your own home then where can you.

  “It’s his loss, love” my dad said.

  “Pratt,” my mum added, and I found myself laughing.

  “I agree. I’m sad about how it worked out, but if we didn’t love each other enough to get through that then we weren’t meant to be.”

  “That’s very sensible of you, but it is hard to be sensible about love. What the mind knows and what the heart feels are often not the same thing” Mum told me, nailing the issue exactly.

  “It’s taken a while but I’m getting to the stage where I’m more than just sad. I’m hurt, and actually I’m angry. I deserve better than to be treated badly just because his pride was hurt. You brought me up to believe more in myself than that. And much as I’d like to work through any problems, I won’t stay with someone who doesn’t treat me with respect. So here I am.”

  Dad lifted his glass in a silent toast to that.

  “I see you bumped into Sunny again too” Mum said.

  “I walked past him and he gave me a lift home. We’re going to try and catch up properly soon. It’s been a long time.” I knew she still had a lot of questions. I suspected they would be the same as mine. How did I feel about seeing him, did we still have feelings for each other, how did we feel about being separated after his dad sent him off to live with his granddad in China? I just wasn’t sure I had any answers to those questions yet myself. Sunny had kissed me when he saw me, but maybe that was just reflex. And my break up with Patrick had been far from easy, no matter how quickly I glossed over it at the table.

  And with that I was all talked out. I put my empty plate in the dishwasher, kissed them both on the cheek, and headed back upstairs to my room. I went to bed, hoping, but not expecting to sleep. I must have though, because the alarm woke me the next morning, I reached out to shut it off and got up, ready to take my first steps back into my new life.

  Chapter Three

  I went downstairs and helped myself to a cup of coffee. I was at the same time excited about the new challenges of my job, and nervous that I’d get there and they’d spot that I had no idea what I was doing. In other words, the same as the first day at any job I’d ever had. I had a plan though, when in doubt wear the most flattering outfit you can put together, then you simply stuff as much chocolate in your handbag as possible in case you need to sneak off to the loos at any point to regroup and you’re good to go.

  Mum and Dad had already left for their respective jobs, but there was a card on the table. I ripped open the envelope to find a birthday card. Dad had crossed out the pre-written message and written instead an apology for the choice of card, the first one he could find this morning, but that he and Mum were very proud of me and wished me luck for my first day. I tucked that into my handbag too for moral support.

  A quick bagel and a second cup of coffee later and it was time to go. I walked up the road to the station, looking out for the familiar faces. Nodding to a few neighbours. I made it to the station with a couple of minutes to spare before my train, glad I was starting later today and could avoid rush hour. Tomorrow the platform would be crammed six people deep waiting to push on board. Quite a change from the ten minute walk across the park that I’d had at my last job. The joys of London.

  Luckily my new colleagues turned out to be lovely as they talked me through my role. I was going to be working for the council on their plans to regenerate the area. There were a multitude of new groups working to improve things, some aimed to reduce drinking on the streets, others setting up mother and baby groups for the increasing numbers of families in the area. I was going to be responsible for getting out into the community, meeting the groups and seeing how they and the council could work together to improve the area. There had been a lot of regeneration work locally since the 2012 Olympics, and it was amazing to see people starting to become proud of the area again.

  All too soon it was home time. I logged off my computer, hoping I’d be able to remember all my new passwords in the morning. I grabbed my jacket and headed home. As I walked past the takeaway again where I’d spotted Sunny yesterday I couldn’t help but look for him. It had taken years to stop thinking about him every day, and only five minutes with him yesterday to re-establish the habit. He wasn’t there though, and I made it home just as my dad walked in.

  I put the kettle on and made him a cup of tea. We were comparing notes on our day. I think I won because at least no one had sworn at me or walked out when I’d spoken to them, but he seemed to take it all in his stride. I didn’t, I was exhausted. I was just about to curl up on the sofa and watch Neighbours, thank goodness for TV on demand and not missing my fix, when the doorbell rang.

  I opened the door to find Mark standing there. He had a Tupperware box in his hands filled with something that looked chocolatey. I could postpone my soaps if there was chocolate on offer. I hugged him on the doorstep and invited him in.

  Once I’d made another pot of tea we sat down and started tucking in to the goodies that he’d brought. They were gooey and delicious. Dad wandered back in to the kitchen and looked at them thoughtfully. Mark held the box out towards him.

  “Are they..?” Dad started.

  “They’re chocolate brownies” Mark told him.

  “Yes, but do they have any special ingredients? Any, er, illegal ingredients perhaps?” Dad asked.

  “No” Mark reassured him. “Just chocolate, butter, flour, eggs and sugar. Made by yours truly.” Dad took one and wandered back out the room nibbling it.

  “I thought I’d better not bring the hash ones with me this time just to be on the safe side” Mark said. “At least, I think these weren’t the hash ones.”

  I giggled, and Mark sniffed his brownie, trying to make sure.

  “It’s good to see you again” I told him. “I’m sorry I was never very good at keeping in touch when I was away. I always meant to, and I meant to see you when I visited, but then it was always a last minute plan and a whirlwind visit.”

/>   “I know” he replied, “and I always meant to visit you, but I was always too far from my next pay cheque, or too busy with the kids here. I should have tried harder. But it’s good to have you back.” He went quiet, looked down at the floor then asked “have you seen Sunny yet? You know he’s back too, don’t you?” Even Mark had never known all the details, but he’d been there when Sunny had been packed off and he had some idea of how bad it had been.

  “I bumped into him yesterday. It was quite a surprise to see him, but he looked good.” I’m sure I blushed as I said that. “I don’t know what I expected really, I guess I knew he’d come home one day, as soon as he was allowed, but it hurt so much when he had to go I just never had the energy to get back in touch and risk getting hurt again.” Mark’s warm smile and laid back demeanour made him an easy person to confide in. No wonder he was so good with the kids. I found myself opening up to him, just like I always had. “He looked so good.”

  “Yes, you mentioned that already” Mark said, reaching for another brownie.

  “I thought I’d move back, get settled in, start my job, then see about looking him up, maybe see if I could score an email address for him if he was still away. But I literally almost walked into him on the way home, standing by his police car.”

  “Crazy isn’t it” Mark said. “Sunny, a copper. Lucky I’ve got responsible in my old age and he doesn’t have to arrest me.” We both giggled at that, quite loudly, for a long time. “Come to think of it, I’m not sure I remembered to make any legal brownies this time” Mark said. We looked at each other, and both got up and ran to the door. We found my dad upstairs, lying on his bed, empty plate on the floor fast asleep and snoring.

  Chapter Four

  Getting up in time for work the next day was interesting. I hadn’t got stoned in years, I’d always found comfort more easily at the bottom of a bag of maltesers, but it had been a fun evening. I spent the morning in a meeting that was scheduled to last for two hours but I’m sure went on for at least two days. Sharon, my new boss, was feeding back from the most recent local crime survey.

  She clicked through slides on her Powerpoint presentation until she found the one she wanted. “There is some funding that groups can apply for if they have suggestions for crime reduction in their areas. The main priorities are reducing burglary, theft from vehicles and drinking in the streets. There’s also discussions going on about cracking down on fly tipping, but as usual it is a case of how difficult it is to catch and prosecute people for it.” She continued “I want you to think about this as you work with the groups in your area. If there is the potential to put in a bid and get some projects going, let us know.”

  That got me thinking of a great place to start. I decided to call Mark as soon as got out and arrange to catch up with him. I was sure he would have projects he would love to see set up if he could secure some funding. It would be a nice excuse to catch up again if not. Spending time with him the day before had been the first day in ages that I hadn’t felt tense, and it probably wasn’t all due to his choice of baking ingredients.

  The rest of the week flew by in a blur of induction meetings and burying myself in piles of policies that I had to read and get up to speed on. By the time I got home each evening I would watch some trash on TV, then spend some time catching up with my parents and before collapsing into bed. If Dad noticed that I was staying up chatting until I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer in the hopes that I wouldn’t have time to wonder what to do about seeing Sunny, he was too polite to mention it.

  Saturday morning soon rolled around, and all the roads surrounding the park near my house were parked up. Audis rubbed noses with rusty ford fiestas, and there was barely enough room for me to cross the road and squeeze between the cars to get onto the grass. Some groups of men were stood chatting, others were starting to stretch and warm up. I could see red football strips, blue ones, even bright yellow, but to be fair, those were so eye watering you could probably spot them from Hackney. Eventually I spotted a team with the combination Mark had told me to look out for and I wandered over towards them.

  It might have been June, but here on the open grass the wind chill picked up. I pulled my coat tighter and wondered why I’d ignored my mum’s offer of wellies. It served me right for trying to look trendy. Or at least less geeky than normal. It was going to be fun later getting the mud off my sandals, and my toes. Mark smiled when he saw me and I tried really hard to smile back. I thought I’d done a passable attempt at not looking pissed off at least but Mark just laughed and said “come on, I’ll buy you a cuppa at half time and warm you up.”

  I looked around for a café, excited that perhaps the area really had changed and I might be able to score a hot chocolate, maybe a croissant. That would have been worth coming out for first thing in the morning.

  He pointed across to the other side of the field. “There, near the changing rooms, there’s a kiosk that opens up on Saturday mornings specialising in bacon butties and good old builders tea.” It had a corrugated tin roof and was surrounded by men puffing away on cigarettes that would surely not help them play any better. I gave up any pretence of being cheerful.

  “And you decided that we needed to meet out here and not in the pub because?” I asked him.

  “Because of these guys” he replied, pointing at the team. They were wearing pale blue t-shirts, black shorts and blue socks. There were cries of “over here mate”, “on my head”, “nice shot” as they kicked the ball between themselves to warm up before the match started.

  “These guys were all excluded from school at some point, some had criminal records, most would have within a year I reckon. We got them in, found things that they did enjoy. Dan, over there,” he said, pointing at a tall young man in goal, “he took a computer course, first thing he ever passed.” He pointed at another young who was running lengths of the pitch. “Adrian is now studying music technology at the local college, and Lewis who is currently stretching in the hopes that you notice his rear end, has started a food preparation course and hopes to go on one day to train to be a chef.”

  “And you couldn’t just tell me about them when I was sat somewhere warm?” I was labouring my point now, but really I could see what he wanted to show me. The lads were young, fit and keen. Despite Lewis’ best attempts, I wasn’t tempted. The whole bloody lot of us had too much baggage and I couldn’t bring myself to flirt when I knew I was in no state to back it up.

  “If we could secure some of this funding that you told me about, we could get huge numbers of young men involved.”

  “I’m sold” I told him. “Let’s sit down next week and get some ideas together and I’ll go back to my boss and see what we can come up with.”

  The players got into position and the whistle blew. Adrian passed to Lewis and they were off. Within five minutes I’d forgotten that I was cold, I was too busy jumping up and down and shouting. At one point I might have alluded that the referee took pleasure in himself, and Mark steered me off towards the kiosk. “But the whistle hasn’t blown for half time yet” I protested.

  “I think if you stayed til it did you might get banned from watching.” He bought us cups of tea and we stood huddled together drinking them.

  By the end of the match I was a convert, and walked away only after promising that I’d be back to cheer them on again in future, and after apologising to the referee for my outburst.

  Mark walked me back as far as the main road, before heading home. As I walked up my path and opened the front door, I turned back to wave Mark off, only to see him open the passenger door of a Nissan Micra and try to fold his six foot plus frame into the seat. He leaned across, kissed the driver and they drove away. I resolved to drag Mark and Sunny to the pub one night soon and find out more about Mark’s mystery friend. It wasn’t like him to keep secrets. That was more my domain.

  Chapter Five

  A few days in and I was actually enjoying my job. My new team seemed nice and I actually thought that at
some point I might be able to do something that might one day help someone. That made a lovely change. I was also enjoying being back at home with my parents, and the only black cloud on the horizon appeared to be that at some point in the next few weeks I’d need to arrange getting the rest of my stuff from my old flat.

  It was just after six o’clock and as a thank you to my parents I had made them a proper home cooked meal.

  Mum sat down and tucked in. “Thanks love,” she said. “I’ve been flat out all day. One story on the news about bird flu and I swear everyone thinks they have it. I almost told one patient he’d got bubonic plague just to see what he’d do.”

  “Get out the rectal thermometer” Dad suggested. “Guaranteed way to get them to leave you alone next time.”

  “That’s frowned on these days” Mum said, taking a bite of her potatoes. “Especially when they come back the next week and ask you to check it again to be sure.”

  I choked on my juice. Dad just carried on eating, he didn’t even look up. Perhaps he could tell if she was joking. I couldn’t, though I hoped that she was. I passed dad the sausages and spooned myself some salad. “I need to go back to my flat soon” I told them. Dad stopped eating.

  “Want me to come with you?” he offered. I wanted to look strong and independent and grown up, but screw it, sometimes a girl just wants her dad for back up.

  “Yes please” I told him. “I got most my stuff packed up but I didn’t have a car. I think one load should do it. I’ll email Patrick and arrange a time. I’ll go when he’s at work one day.”

  “It’s half term next week, pick a day and I’ll take you if you can get a day off too. The holidays can’t come soon enough. One of the boys offered to give me a break by setting off the fire alarm. Luckily, it didn’t go off until the next lesson so I could deny all responsibility when the head teacher went on the war path.”