Chapter Thirty-Two

I finish off my coffee and croissant before bundling Arlo into his raincoat and heading out to Gran’s. I may be Babysitter Extraordinaire but I’m not totally confident in my ability to take solo charge of a child, so I’ll need Gran on hand as a backup in case it all goes horribly wrong. We stop off at the newsagents on the way so Arlo can choose a magazine (which is a massive ploy to keep him occupied, to be honest) and I browse the shelves while he decides between the magazine with the plastic mobile phone stuck to the front and the magazine with the plastic stethoscope. Instead of checking out the gossipy mags, I redirect myself to the more ‘grown-up’ publications, selecting a magazine which pledges help with updating my summer wardrobe as well as giving me pointers on saving cash (not buying a shedload of new seasonal clothes should be point number one, surely) and providing me with recipes for ‘5 Fat-Free Treats!’ (which is an oxymoron, but whatever).

Arlo thrusts his magazine of choice at me (the stethoscope is triumphant) and we pay at the counter before heading back out into the rain. I wonder if that summer wardrobe includes wellington boots…

Gran’s thrilled to see us and insists on putting the kettle on as soon as we step inside. I try to do it myself, but Gran’s adamant, and short of wrestling the kettle from her hand, I have little choice but to let her get on with it.

‘Honestly, you’re as bad as James. He thinks I’m an invalid too. It was sweet at first but he’s turning into a bit of a fusspot.’

‘He cares about you.’

Gran smiles. ‘I know he does, bless him, but I’m more than capable of making a cup of tea. Look!’ She points at the table with her good hand, where there’s a plate of home-made chocolate chip cookies. ‘I’ve even managed a bit of baking.’

‘Where is James?’ I grab a cookie and hand it to Arlo before taking one for myself. It’s cookie perfection; crunchy around the edge but gooey in the middle.

‘He’s gone to pick the kids up.’ Gran stoops, resting her hands on her thighs so she’s at Arlo-level. ‘Edith will be here soon, so you’ll have someone to play with.’

Ah, so that’s why Gran’s been baking cookies, which happen to be Edith’s favourite. Why doesn’t she ever bake my favourite treats? My inner monologue sounds extremely petulant, so I give myself a talking-to. Edith is a child and I’m trying to be grown-up. Besides, Gran’s chocolate chip cookies are amazing.

‘We can play with my stevvascope.’ Arlo holds up his magazine, which is a bit damp but still readable.

‘Lovely. I’m sure Edith would like that very much. Now, young man, would you like a hot chocolate to warm you up after all that rain?’ I try – again – to offer my drink-making services, but Gran’s having none of it. ‘This machine does most of the work anyway.’ She pops a hot chocolate pod into the coffee machine and pushes the button to set it going. ‘I might have to buy one of these contraptions when James moves out. Did you know it can make Horlicks?’

The front door opens and Edith comes thundering into the kitchen, her cheeks rosy and her blonde curls matted down from the downpour. Her face lights up when she spots Arlo and she drags him – and the magazine – into the living room.

‘It’s nasty out there.’ James wriggles out of his coat and drapes it over the back of one of the chairs. ‘I only went from the car to the house and I’m soaked.’

‘I’ll make you a coffee to warm you up.’ Gran opens the cupboard and reaches for the David Bowie mug. When James offers to make it himself, I tell him not to bother arguing.

‘The battleaxe is determined to do it all herself. Look, she even baked cookies.’ I offer the plate to James and then Seth, who’s hovering by the door, his soggy coat still on while his face is fixed on the screen of his phone. Somehow, he clocks the plate of biscuits and takes one without his gaze ever shifting. He does, however, mumble his thanks as the biscuit reaches his mouth.

‘Less of the battleaxe.’ Gran shoots me a reproachful look, but I can see the sparkle in her eye. ‘And less of the thinking I’m made of glass. I’m not going to shatter, you know. If a nosedive down the stairs didn’t finish me off, making a cup of tea certainly isn’t going to do the job. I’m a tough old bird.’

‘I think you mispronounced stubborn old bird.’ I arch an eyebrow at Gran, but I take her point and I’ll try to ease up on the worry, especially if it means she’ll make more of these chocolate chip cookies because they really are amazing . As soon as I’m back at the flat, I’m going to whip my bullet journal out and add ‘learn to bake’ to my grown-up to-do list, because nothing will make Paul fall madly in love with me more than something that tastes this good. He’d be on one knee and asking me to spend the rest of my life with him after one bite.

The kids are bored of the ‘stevvascope’ and the magazine and even the TV, so James and I decide to take them out for a bit to give Gran a rest. Edith wants to go to the park to sword fight with twigs again, but it’s still pretty miserable out there and we’ve only just dried off, while Arlo requests a visit to Alessandra’s for ice cream and pinball.

‘I think you’ve had enough sugar for one day.’ The only thing Arlo and Edith haven’t grown bored of are Gran’s cookies, which they would have polished off if it had been up to them. I want Arlo to enjoy his day with me, but I don’t think Claire will be impressed if I return her child hyped up on sugar. ‘How about the arcade instead? They have pinball machines there and loads of other fun stuff.’ I look at James to gauge his reaction to the idea, and he gives a ‘why not?’ shrug.

Captain John’s Treasure Chest, like most of Clifton-on-Sea, has been shut up for the past few months, but the arcade threw up its shutters a couple of weekends ago. Captain John, the life-size resin pirate, is sitting on his treasure chest by the entrance, the flashing LED-lit jewels spilling out of the chest and enticing people inside, where treasures of the tatty gift-shop variety lie. Edith and Arlo stand on either side of the pirate while James and I take their photos on our phones. I’ll send it to Claire later – I don’t want to disturb her date, on the off-chance she’s having a good time at the exhibition.

The arcade somehow seems dark inside, despite the billions of flashing lights from the machines and pulsing disco lights above, but there’s a happy atmosphere as families and groups of teenagers gather in clusters, pushing coins into the slots, the little ones whooping with joy as two-pence pieces clatter into the dishes below. Fistfuls of coins are collected and deposited into cardboard cups while strips of tokens snake from the machines, ready to be exchanged at the prize store later. Music is blaring out over the sound system, but you can barely hear it over the roar of collective voices, the clanging of coins spilling from machines and the clunk, clunk, clunk from the air hockey table.

‘What would you like to do first?’ I crouch down to Arlo and Edith’s height and raise my voice to be heard over the happy din. Seth has already wandered over to the arcade games and is sitting in one of the high-backed chairs and clutching the steering wheel in front of him as he waits for the game to start. ‘There’s pinball. Or some little rides. Or you can play some games.’

The kids choose a racing game like Seth, but they’re too short to reach the pedals so James and I have to help out. Arlo sits on my lap so I can control the pedals while he steers, with James doing the same for Edith.

‘Ready?’ James is grinning as his finger hovers over the start button, and I give a curt nod of my head, my gaze moving to fix on the screen in front of me. Arlo and I are going to win this, as long as there’s no parallel parking involved.

On the screen, the red light changes to amber and then to green and we’re off. I can see James’ car ahead of us, moving straight into second place while Arlo and I lag behind in fifth. But not to worry. This is just the start, and who cares if Arlo has just steered us into the barrier and we’re spinning out of control? We’re in last place now, but there’s plenty of time to catch up.

‘Hey, that’s cheating.’ James’ eyes are rapidly moving from his screen to my hands, which are gripping the steering wheel as I manoeuvre our vehicle around a tricky bend. Sixth place and nudging into fifth – yes!

‘What?’ I lift my hands off the steering wheel and shrug, my eyes wide as I attempt to feign innocence. If Arlo steers to the right, we could move into fourth…

‘Hey!’ James’ mouth is a cavern of outrage as I flick the steering wheel to the right. I can see James’ car again, just two places ahead of us. I steer to the left… now the right and quickly to the left again. Third place! James is just ahead. I’m gaining on him, and he’s veering dangerously to the right. If I steer left, I can nip past him and into second place. Except…

My eyes flick to my side, and as I suspected, James is now taking full control of his machine and is steering to the left, blocking me from overtaking. I go right before swinging back to the left, hoping I’ll be able to snatch the second-place position, but James manages to outfox me and sails ahead. I’m not giving up though. We have one more lap to go, which means I have one more lap to claim the victory.

‘Hold on tight.’ Arlo’s ear is mere inches away, but I yell the instruction, both due to the noise of the arcade and the tension that has taken over me. Only the car on the screen is moving and we’re stationary in our seat but Arlo follows my direction and clings on to my knees as I twist the steering wheel fully to the right as we zoom around the tricky bend. I ease up on the accelerator pedal until we make the bend and then I slam it back down again in a bid to catch up with James. He’s just ahead, about to overtake for first position. He can’t win. He simply can’t.

Except he does, giving a victorious roar as he zips over the finish line. He’s waving Edith’s arms in the air and thumping his feet by the time Arlo and I limp over the line in third place.

‘That was fun.’ Arlo’s grip has loosened on my knees, and he looks up at me, beaming painfully wide.

‘I want a rematch.’ I’m not beaming. There isn’t even a hint of a smile on my face.

‘Fine by me.’ James shrugs. ‘I’ve got no problem kicking your butt twice in a row.’

‘No, not this again.’ Lifting Arlo off my lap, I plonk him on the ground and twist my legs so I can wrench myself out of the stupid seat.

‘What did you have in mind?’ James rubs his hands together as Edith clambers off his lap.

My eyes roam the space before us, my mind rejecting each machine until I spy the one thing I’m guaranteed to win at. I spent my teenage years feeding my pocket money into the dance machine at Captain John’s, and there’s no way I won’t be triumphant this time around.

‘Limber up.’ I lead the way towards the back of the arcade, past the fruit machines and the air hockey tables. ‘And get ready to have that smug grin wiped off your face.’