THE TRAILER

THE TAGALONG
Looking back now, its strange to think how exhausted George once was by endless parties, fleeting romances, and that endless loop of first dates.
That was partly why, when he met cheerful, clever, down-to-earth Emily, he realisedthis was different.
They spent an afternoon chatting over tea in a small cafe, listened to buskers on the high street, discussed his recent promotion and her passion for contemporary poetry.
When they discovered they both preferred coronation chicken sandwiches with apple slices, they felt fate was nudging them closer together.
The next step in their whirlwind friendship (for such things moved quickly in those days!) was an invite to Emilys flat for supper.
George donned his best shirt, gave himself a neat shave, memorised a few odd verses from one of Emilys favourite poets, and turned up at her door with flowers and a bottle of red.
George walked the cobbled streets with a lightness he hadnt felt in years.
He shrugged off nerves; tonight would be light, easy, full of laughter.
He was as self-assured as a well-loved tomcat sauntering towards its dinner bowl for the fourteenth time that day.
Everything had been plannedeven down to the after-dinner chat.
Everything, that is, except for the moment when the door swung open and a boys voice announced briskly: Evening!
Im Steven.
Mums in the bath, come on in.
George froze.
Towering before him was a square-jawed boy, or perhaps a very young man.
Steven reached out a hand that could have cradled Georges entire head with ease.
For a moment, George wondered if hed knocked at the wrong flat, but then Steven let out a tremendous, comical sneezemouth closed, pinching his noseexactly as Emily had done earlier.
Georges mood crashed, his wine suddenly seemed sour, and the flowers drooped in his hand.
He stepped inside and caught sight of Stevens trainers in the hall.
Good griefthey looked big enough to slip right over his own smart shoes and still be too roomy.
Emily herself barely reached her sons shoulder.
George couldnt help but think what a shame it was that people didnt grow jewellery like thatgive a woman a ring and, after ten years, its a full wedding band (now theres an investment).
Musing on this as he wandered into the kitchen, he saw Stevenunassisted by any chairhanging new curtains.
Five minutes, and Ill be out! came Emilys voice from the bathroom.
After five rounds of “five minutes”, the bathroom door finally opened, and Emily appeared in a lovely evening dress, fresh-faced and elegant.
She caught the uneasy look on Georges face, understood immediately, and any trace of nervesor romancevanished into thin air.
She served dinner quietly, pouring her own wine and beginning to eat without a word.
Why didnt you tell me you had a child? George managed, wounded by the surprise.
Scared of a bit of baggage? Emily replied with a wan laugh.
Thats not baggagethats an entire train! he retorted.
Hes a big lad, isnt he?
Takes after his fatherchap from some remote Yorkshire village.
Even taller than Steven.
Used to wrestle wild boar with his bare hands.
Andwheres he now? George stuttered, his throat tight.
Touring.
Left us for showbiz, took the boar with him!
Occasionally writes.
His handwritings so horrible I cant tell if its from him or the boar, and frankly, the boar probably has a tidier conscience.
And how old is he? George glanced towards Stevens room.
Fourteen.
Just picked up his passport.
Did he have to fight for it? George joked feebly.
Very funny.
They ate in silence, conversation stubbornly refusing to start.
Could I have some more of that meat? George asked, offering his plate.
Enjoying it?
Honestly, never tasted better.
What is it?
Venison.
Steven cooked it.
Blimey, hes got talent.
Inherited from his dadalong with an ancient cookery book, some knives, a fishing rod, a rowboat, and a load of other odd bits of gear.
A boat? George swallowed.
Yep, in the cellar.
Well, sometimes, anyway.
My lads keen on fishing.
Just then Emilys phone buzzed.
Mumbling an apology, she went into the next room to answer it.
Time I was making a move, George thought.
There was nothing more here for him tonight.
Emily soon returned, visibly flustered.
Listen, George, bit of an emergency at workcould you stay with Steven for a couple of hours?
Me?
With Steven?
Whatever for?
Hes still underage.
You never know what can happenthere are all sorts about these days
Afraid someone might try to run off with him, are you?
Look Emilys tone shifted, sharp now, Ill pay you for the trouble, for tonight, and for being a stand-in babysitter, and then youll never hear from me again.
Deal?
What am I supposed to do with him?
Talk!
Youre both men, arent you?
Chat about…mens things.
Anyway, Im off.
Before he could protest, Emily dashed out in her dress and vanished down the lane.
George sat in the kitchen for a while, draining the battery on his phone, finishing the venison, sipping the last of the wine.
Emily didnt return.
Eventually, drifting down the hall, he heard a familiar sound from behind Stevens door.
Surely not… George thought, then knocked gently.
Its open.
George pushed the door and entered the boys bedroom.
The first thing he noticed was a large wooden bullseye, pierced with knives and arrows.
The walls were curiously unscathedwhoever practised here hit the mark every time.
On a desk, a record player sat spinning, playing a soft tune by Iron Maidenone of Georges favourite bands.
Steven himself sat in the corner, fiddling with fishing tackle.
Georges eyes wanderedthe shelves were lined with trophies, a boxing bag hung from the ceiling, and by the television lay a shiny, new video game console.
Not bad!
Your mums set you up well, George whistled enviously.
As a teenageror even nowhed have dreamt of such a room.
I work summers, Steven replied, and suddenly George felt sheepish.
All those thoughts of poor Emily juggling finances for her bottomless offspring; it seemed Steven was quite independent after all.
Er, have you got a phone charger? George asked, waving his dead mobile.
Next to the train set, Steven pointed.
T-tr-train set? George barely managed, and when he turned, he was confronted by an elaborate model railway crossing half the room.
Built it myself.
Keep buying new parts when I can.
Hoping to add a second layer and a few bridges.
Got a new box of tracks just last week, but havent got round to it.
A strange warmth bloomed in Georges chest.
Mind if I have a go? he asked.
Course, just a sec. Steven set down his line, crossed the room in two easy strides, and set the train in motion.
***
Emily came home an hour later, certain George must have found an excuse to flee.
But entering her sons room, she found both of them assembling more railway tracks.
From first glance, it wasnt easy telling who was the grown man.
George, its lateyou ought to be on your way, Emily called gently.
Aww, Mumoh!
Sorrywhat time is it?
Half ten, Emily sighed, weary-eyed.
Ive got work at the crack of dawn again, so Ill need what little sleep I can get.
She walked George to the door, gave him a peck on the cheek, and held out some money.
I dont take cash from a lady, George said, wrinkling his nose at her.
All right, thanks for looking after my baggage, Emily replied with a sly grin.
George smiled and left.
***
Hi, Id quite like to drop by again, George phoned a couple of days later.
You know, its chaos at work right nownot much time for romance, always busy, and our last meeting
Well, could I just visit Steven, then?
Steven? Emily sounded puzzled.
Yeah.
Might need some company, keep an eye on the little lad.
Ill have to check with him
I messaged him already!
He said hed be happy.
I even bought a new game for his Xbox.
Well keep quiet, and you can get on with work in peace.
Wellalright, then.
Pop round today.
That evening, George arrived looking nothing like a suitor.
No dress shirt, no aftershave, no wine, none of those moony glances.
He wore a scruffy black T-shirt with a rock bands logo, a backpack full of crisps and lemonade, and the daftest schoolboy grin on his face.
Just be quietIm on a two-hour video call soon, Emily said, meeting him at the door in a dressing gown, with a face mask and onion-flavoured breath.
George nodded and slipped into the bedroom.
By the end of the evening, Emily all but had to drag George and Steven apart.
The two were deep in debate about the films of Ken Loach and Guy Ritchie, each defending his favourite with wild passion.
They were ready to settle the matter with a six-hour film marathon, but Emily insisted they were both victims of questionable taste and steered George towards the door.
Dont forget the maggots for Saturday! Steven called after him.
Maggots? Emily arched a brow at George.
Were off pike fishing.
Told Steven I know a shop that sells proper bait.
Its brilliantIve not been fishing in yonks.
You two really are mates now.
And you dont want to spend time with me?
You can come, make some sandwiches for us, George grinned.
Oh, thats my lifes ambition, clearly!
Go, gooff with you! Emily laughed, ushering him away.
My work keeps me busy, anyway.
At least Stevens got something to do.
***
A month went by.
Emily poured her soul into her job, barely glancing in romances direction.
Meanwhile, George and Steven made good use of the time: finished the train layout, went after crayfish, brewed proper ginger beer from Stevens inherited family recipe.
Steven taught George how to use a compass in the woods, while George shared tips on winning over a girleventually helping Steven pluck up the courage to invite a girl from his maths class out on a date.
Everything was calm until one evening, someone pounded on the door so hard the lights shook.
Emily opened the door and a blast of gamy air hit her.
There stood her ex-husband, Stevens father.
Ive seen the light, he declared, dropping to one knee (even then, taller than Emily).
Me and Boristhe boarare sick of the road, we want a quiet family life.
Ive saved some money, Ill bring you and Steven home to the village.
Well live comfortably.
You can leave work.
The lad and I will fish and hunt, like old times.
Hah!
After ten years, now you want to come back.
What about your boar?
He coming home too?
No, actually, he signed a film contract behind my back, grumbled her ex.
So thats it, Emily folded her arms.
They left you behind.
Doesnt matter!
What matters is
He stopped, gaping as George appeared in the hall, wearing Emilys T-shirt.
Em, I borrowed your topspilled tea on mine while Steven and I painted the train
Heavens, will anyone ever finish a sentence in this house? Emily muttered.
Whos that? her ex demanded, fist raised.
Thats Thats Emily floundered.
Steven shot out of his room, swiftly twisting his fathers arm behind his back, pinning him to the wall.
Thats the tagalong! Steven barked.
Steven!
Son!
Its me, Dad!
What do you mean, tagalong? his father gasped.
Just someone who helps Mum and me cart around all the stuff you left behind.
I never left you anything, her ex saidand then, suddenly, the true meaning of his own words dawned on him.
George and Emily squeezed together in the corner, watching these two giants tussle.
Alright, break it up! her ex pleaded.
Steven let go.
Youre a fellow after my own heartstout as they come, her ex said, flexing his arm.
Tell you whatlets prove it.
Can I at least take my boy hunting tomorrow?
A day out, bit of bondingmaybe theres still a chance we can patch things up?
Im still his father.
Emily hesitated, glancing between the two men, unsure what to say.
Yes, I understand, George nodded.
He quietly gathered his things and left.
Im sorry
***
Next morning, father and son set out at dawn; Steven came home late, alone.
Wheres your father? Emily asked, nerves fraught.
He left, Steven muttered, tugging off his boots.
What do you mean, just lefthe just turned and walked away?
Not quite. Steven sighed.
He did leavewith a wild boar.
Loaded it into the trailer and set off to train it.
Found himself a new act.
Dropped me at the town centre and vanished.
Oh, God, Im such a fool, Emily groaned, slapping her forehead and reaching for her phone.
Id better ring George
No need, I already saw him.
He gave me a lift home.
Promised hed drop by tomorrow.
But how did he know when youd be backyou left your phone here?
He said he kept an eye out.
Wanted to make sure I was safe.
And that you were, too.
Is that what he said?
Yes.
Oh, and he said that hes tagged along with us now and hes not sure hell ever want to untangle himself.Emily stood at the window as dusk settled over the cobbled street, watching the tail lights of a truck disappear and listening to Steven rummage for a snack in the kitchen.
There was a thickness in the aira blend of relief and something gentler, like the hush after a storm.
She smiled, despite herself, imagining George with his awkward grins and rumpled shirt, turning up again with stories and snacks and dumb jokes.
A soft knock at the door startled her.
She found George, holding a battered cardboard box and a sheepish look.
I brought the extra train bridges, he mumbled.
Steven said weernever finished the mountain section.
And, well, I thought I ought to check youre both alright.
Emily leaned against the doorframe, suddenly too tired for pretenses.
You know, we are.
But its a lot easier with an extra pair of hands, she said.
In the warm kitchen, with the smell of toast and ginger beer and the distant click of model train wheels, George set down the box.
You ever get tired of tagging along, George? Steven called from the other room.
He looked at Emily and grinned.
Depends whos leading.
Emily laughed thenreally laughedhead tipped back in the yellow light.
For the first time in ages, she didnt feel rushed, or alone, or out of place.
She saw a future blooming before her: not the wild, impossible romance of old, but a home where people came and went and came back again.
Where a tagalong could belong for as long as he liked.
She reached for Georges hand, and as the train chugged across its new bridge, they stood together in the kitchen with all the lights onbaggage and all, perfectly content.