Chapter 3

Ryan was at his desk, considering how to approach the design problems related to a hydrogen fuel cell engine. He'd been reading a lot about it and it sounded perfect, just water vapour as the waste product. But he couldn't quite focus, as he was still head full of the conversation with his mum.

He wanted to be happy for her. See her settled, contented, making a new romantic life for herself, just like his dad had done. Except, because it had been a few years since the divorce and his mum hadn't mentioned she was seeing anyone, Ryan had assumed she wasn't interested, had moved on, was going to enjoy her life as a strong independent woman. And yay for her, was what he'd thought. Until Dave had been mentioned…

He'd arranged to see Sam for lunch, their paths hadn't crossed much at home in the last few days. Sam was busy with work, and his mum hadn't long passed away, so there was all that to sort out. Ryan was impressed at how well Sam was coping with it all. Ryan would be wrecked if his mum died. He supposed it helped because Sam's brother seemed to shoulder everything, was practically like Sam's dad by all accounts. Ryan couldn't have managed that either. Some people were just stronger than they first seemed. Sam was one of them, and Ryan envied him that.

The business of the morning at Soleil, seemed to drag along, Ryan made himself numerous coffees, taking the opportunity to chat to colleagues in the office kitchen, see if inspiration struck over his work problem while pouring milk into his drink.

Nope.

At lunchtime he left for the pub halfway between Sam and Ryan's offices. Wouldn't it be easier if they worked together too, instead of this? Maybe he could ask for one of them to be transferred, he wondered, as he arrived at the pub – a Victorian building, painted glass, a saloon bar, family bar separated by different outside doors.

A quick scout about and he couldn't find Sam, so he bought two alcohol-free lagers, then sat at a table by the window and looked at the menu. Maybe it was best if he didn't suggest moving departments, people thought enough rubbish about him and Sam, without that. Jokes about them being like an old married couple. Ryan didn't find it funny though. He decided what he was having for lunch.

Sam walked past the window, waving from the pavement.

Ryan held Sam's lager aloft, shaking it slightly.

Sam joined him, sitting at the table, then ordered their food at the bar, returning to his lager and the table where Ryan was sitting. ‘What's the big problem? What's the rush actually? It's been one of those weeks.' Sam rolled his eyes, took a long sip of his lager. ‘Not bad for alcohol-free, is it?'

Ryan nodded. They'd been severely told off after a long lunch on a Friday when they'd returned to their desks more than a little bit tipsy. This was a place of work, and alcohol during working hours was not permitted. It was in the company handbook, hadn't they read it?

‘What do you mean, one of those weeks?' Ryan asked.

Their food arrived and they ate.

Between mouthfuls, Sam said, ‘It's Mum. Some debt that my brother has to repay. He's done more than enough. I'm going to help him.'

‘Good of you. Is it much, the debt?'

‘Fifteen grand.'

Wow. How were they going to repay that? It was half as much as their graduate salaries and that felt like a fortune, having lived as poor students for so long. Well, his allowance from his dad meant he hadn't been exactly poor as a student, but everything was relative. Sam didn't have an allowance and had worked in a pub. Another reminder for how fortunate Ryan really was.

‘Enough about me,' Sam said, ‘what's going on with you?'

Ryan told him about the conversation with his mum. ‘I want to be happy for her. But I'm worried. This is why I don't bother with dating. Dating's for suckers.'

Sam shook his head. ‘How would you know? Longest you've dated a girl is what, a fortnight?'

‘Two months.'

‘Hardly a long-term relationship, is it?' Sam asked.

Ryan shrugged. ‘Enough to tell me it wasn't for me.' Or she wasn't for him. Or women generally, but he wasn't thinking about that now. Now, he was concentrating on his mum's impending wedding.

‘Have you met him, this Dave guy?'

Ryan shook his head. ‘It's like he's come from nowhere. Suddenly she's marrying him.'

‘Why so fast?'

‘She wanted to make sure it was the real thing before telling me and Sophie.'

‘Does your dad know?'

‘Don't know. Possibly. They get on surprisingly well. Better than when they were married. Towards the end anyway.' He shook his head, that had always baffled him. ‘What's that all about, eh?'

‘Would you rather they were at each other's throats?'

‘No.' A pause, and then: ‘I want to stop her getting married. Or at least persuade her to postpone it. Until I've had a chance to check out this Dave guy.'

Sam finished his food, placing the cutlery carefully on the plate. ‘Don't you think she's done that already? She's been dating him, how long is it?'

‘Coming up for a year.'

‘Right.'

‘But they knew each other before that. He's been her driver for years.'

‘Right.' Sam sounded uncertain.

‘You think I'm mad, don't you? You think I should meet this Dave, give her away at the wedding, and accept I've got a new step-dad, don't you?'

‘I think if she's been dating him for that long, and known him before, she's sure of who he is and what she feels about him. She's not stupid, is she, your mum?'

‘One of the brightest people I know. I reckon she gets people because she's pretended to be so many. In her acting.'

‘Right.' Sam nodded. ‘So maybe, what I'm saying is, perhaps, don't do what you're thinking of doing. And come up with an alternative plan.'

‘But what if he's a gold digger?'

‘Could you quietly suggest they have a pre-nup? If they stay together, it's moot, but if they divorce, your mum keeps everything she had before.'

‘I know what a pre-nup is, thanks.' He couldn't keep the terseness out of his tone.

‘All right, just trying to help. You wanted to talk about it, this is me giving my opinions. Unless you only wanted me to listen and not give advice.'

Ryan shook his head. No, he'd wanted Sam's advice. Always valued it. Needed to talk out his feelings with Sam, to see how he really felt. About most things, everything in fact, except the whispers of that night in the lifeguard's car on the family holiday, which he kept secret from everyone. Including himself, only returning to the memory when he had no choice.

There was silence.

Sam checked the time. ‘Better get back.'

Ryan was conscious he'd hogged the conversation, wanted to see how Sam was. ‘Stay for dessert. How are you doing?'

Sam checked his watch. ‘Are you back on sugar again, or what?'

Ryan had been on a sugar-free diet to help with his bodybuilding and had been pleased with the results. He'd put on a few kilos of muscle, gained bulk in his biceps, thighs, and pectoral muscles. But it was hard keeping up the diet all the time. Going to the gym three or four times a week was easy enough. He enjoyed it.

‘We can share one,' Ryan said. ‘I've blown it anyway with the beers and the pie. I'll have a smoothie for dinner, even things out.'

Sam smiled. ‘I don't know how you do it. I can eat anything and never seem to put on weight.' He left for the bar to order dessert.

Sam was the exact opposite shape from Ryan: thin and slender, ate whatever he liked, never exercised, except walking, and remained enviously slim. Bloody metabolism. Ryan had said when Sam turned thirty it would all change, having spoken to gym friends. Sam shrugged it off, eating more chocolate and ice-cream.

Now, Sam returned carrying their sticky toffee pudding with two spoons, and they ate.

‘So, it's been quite a week. What are you doing about your mum's debt?' Ryan asked.

‘That's what I'm talking to Graham about when we meet.' He looked at the table, obviously something bothering him.

Ryan wanted to reach out and touch Sam's hand to comfort him, but didn't. Couldn't. Because that's not what men do for each other. He coughed. ‘What's up?'

Sam shook his head. ‘We've gotta go. He'll be fine. I'm worrying over nothing. Stupid.'

‘Who, he, your brother?'

Sam nodded.

There was a long silence and Ryan wasn't sure whether to ask more, or just leave it until Sam said what was really wrong.

Finally, Sam said, ‘He wouldn't say. He'd just do it. I mean, he rang to ask for help. But he knows I've got no money. So, I don't know how I'm going to help him. He…' Sam looked out the window, shaking his head. ‘I forget sometimes that he's my brother and not my dad. He seems so much older, more sorted than me. Than Mum ever was.' He shrugged. ‘That's why he did what he did, and he's still doing it.'

He meant raising Sam himself, when their mum couldn't. Bringing up Sam from two years of age, looking after him, juggling school and looking after the home, when his brother should have been enjoying becoming a teenager, discovering who he was. Instead, Graham was looking after Sam and their mum. Ryan didn't know how Sam's brother had done it.

Ryan didn't know what to say. His family problem seemed trite in comparison. Was trite. Nothing really. Compared with what Sam and his brother had been through, Ryan's childhood was like a Disney movie.

Sam stood. ‘I've paid.' Nodding towards the door, he said, ‘I'd best get back.' He left.

They usually shook hands, hugged briefly, slapping each other's backs in a manly reserved manner. It had started as a joke at uni, then became how they always greeted and said goodbye to each other. Ryan wished he could have said something useful to help Sam. But it was way beyond his capability. Even imagining what Sam had gone through had Ryan's throat choked with sadness.

The part that Ryan found most difficult was that Sam didn't seem to have the anger about their mum that his brother did. Sam couldn't remember their mum's behaviour, didn't know that Graham was his brother and not his dad until Sam eight or nine. Then he'd become used to it so assumed it was normal.

Families were difficult and messy at the best of times, and lately they seemed far worse.

Ryan returned to work where he managed to break through one of the problems he'd been grappling with that morning.