THE TRAILER

THE TAGALONG
You know, Jack got so fed up with endless nights out, one-off dates, and the whole exhausting business of swiping left and right, that when he finally bumped into cheerful, clever, down-to-earth Emily, he thought”Yep, that’s the one.” They went for coffee, listened to a busker in the square, chatted about his promotion at work and her love of modern poetry, and when they realised they both preferred their potato salad with apples, it just clicked: time to move things forward.
They decided Emilys flat would be the place to let their new romance bloom, so she invited him round for dinner.
Jack put on his smartest shirt, shaved, memorised a few odd poems by one of Emilys favourite poets, and picked up some flowers and a nice bottle of wine.
Confident and genuinely excited, Jack sauntered up to her door.
Honestly, his self-assurance could make any cat eyeing its empty bowl a little jealous.
Everything seemed thoughtfully planned and easy to predictuntil, out of nowhere, someone opened the door and said, “Evening, Im Stephen.
Mums in the shower, come in.”
Jack just stood there.
In the doorway was a square-jawed boywell, not so much a boy anymore as a teen verging on manhood.
Stephen stuck out a hand as big as Jacks whole head.
At first, Jack worried hed got the wrong flat, but then Stephen sneezeda proper loud one, mouth clamped tight, nose pinchedjust like Emily did.
Yep, right address.
Jacks mood began to nosedive, while the wine seemed to sour and the flowers wilted before his eyes.
Tentatively, Jack stepped in and caught sight of Stephens trainers.
He reckon he could have slipped them on over his smart shoes, and theyd still be far too big.
Emily herself barely reached her sons waist.
Jack couldnt help thinking it was a shame you couldnt do with gold what women do with growing kidsgive her a ring, and a decade later youve got a bracelet out of it.
Good investment, that.
Lost in his daydream, he wandered into the kitchen, where the table was already set, and Stephen was changing the curtains without so much as a step stool.
“Five minutes and Ill be out!” came Emilys voice from the bathroom.
Twenty-five minutes later, the door finally swung open and Emily swept into the room, all elegance in a cocktail dress and glowing makeup.
She clocked Jacks less-than-thrilled face immediately, her own excitement vanishing in a puffalong with the romantic spark.
She silently dished up dinner for them both, poured the wine herself, and started eating without waiting for Jack.
“You might have told me you had a kid,” he finally blurted, stung.
“Worried about baggage?” Emily smiled wryly.
“Baggage?
Its more like an entire train of it.”
“Hes massive, isnt he?
Takes after his dad.
He grew up in some little Yorkshire village, and hes even taller than Stephen.
He once wrestled a wild boar bare-handed.”
“And hes…
where now?” Jack croaked, something sticking in his throat.
“Touring.
Him and the boar went off for the big stage somewhere.
He pops back occasionally with a few letters.
His writings so bad, Im pretty sure its the boar sending them insteadprobably has more sense, too.”
“How old is he again?” Jack nodded toward the living room wall.
“Fourteen.
Just got his first passport.”
“By force?”
“Very funny, Jack.”
They ate in silence after that.
Not much left to say.
“Could I have some more of the roast?” Jack offered up his plate.
“You like it?”
“Honestly, Ive never tasted anything better.
What is it?”
“Venison.
Stephen cooked it.”
“Hang on, dont tell me hes a proper chef too?”
“Ran in the familycame with an old recipe book, some knives, a fishing rod, boat, and a pile of other random bits Stephens dad left with us.”
“Boat?” Jack swallowed.
“Yeah, lives in the cellar.
Or sometimes does.
Stephens mad about fishing.”
Just then, Emilys phone started buzzing and she excused herself to take the call in the next room.
Jack thought, “Yeah, maybe time to head home.
Not much for me here now.”
A minute later, Emily popped back, eyes wide.
“Jack, look, I hate to ask, but theres been a crisis at work.
Could you stick around with Stephen for a couple of hours?”
“Me?
With Stephen?
Why?”
“Hes not eighteen yet, you never know what can happen these days.
And you read the news…
just be a second pair of eyes, you know?”
“Worried someone might try and nick him?”
“Look, Jack,” her tone changed, “Ill pay for the trouble and for the lost eveningplus, youll never have to see me again.
Deal?”
“And what am I meant to do with him?”
“I dunno, youre both blokes, have a chat about man stuffand I really have to go.”
Before Jack could answer, Emily was already out the door.
He sat in the kitchen for a bit, drained his phone battery, polished off the roast and wine, and still, Emily hadnt come home.
Out of curiosity, Jack wandered over to Stephens door and heard familiar sounds coming from inside.
“No way,” Jack muttered to himself, knocking gently.
“Its open.”
He walked in and honestlyfirst thing he saw was a massive wooden target on the wall, bristling with knives and arrows.
Remarkably, not a mark on the wallthe lad never missed.
On the desk sat a turntable playing Iron Maiden at low volume, which Jack absolutely loved.
Stephen was hunched over in one corner, fiddling with his tackle box.
The place, thoughtrophies on the wardrobe, a boxing bag hanging from the ceiling, a brand new X-box gloating by the TV.
“Not bad, mate,” Jack said, a bit jealous.
Hed have killed for a room like that at fourteen.
“Your mum treating you well.”
“I work summers,” Stephen replied, and suddenly Jack felt guilty for picturing Emily struggling to keep up with her sons demands.
Turns out, the lad managed just fine on his own.
“You got a phone charger?” Jack asked, waving his dead phone.
“By the train set,” Stephen gestured.
“Train set?” Jack was bemused, but when he turned, he nearly stopped breathing at the sight of a massive model railway winding through the room.
“You build it yourself?” he asked quietly, a bit scared to break the spell.
“Yeah.
Picked up parts bit by bit.
I want to add another level and a couple of bridgesjust got a new delivery in, but havent had the time.”
Jack felt a rush of warmth in his chest.
“Can I run a lap?” he asked Stephen.
“Yeah, gimme a tick,” Stephen set aside his fishing gear and crossed the room in one giant stride.
***
Emily came home about an hour later.
Honestly, shed been sure Jack wouldve legged it, so bee-lined straight to her sons roomonly to find the two of them bent over the railway, working away, and youd struggle to tell which bloke was the adult.
“Jack, youd better head home,” she called quietly.
“Mum, cmon…
Oh, ohwhats the time?”
“Half ten,” Emily yawned.
“Ive got to be up early to deal with the mess at work tomorrowyoull have to go.”
She saw Jack to the door, kissed his cheek, and offered him some money.
“I dont take money from women,” Jack sniffed.
“Fair enough.
Thanks for looking after my tagalong.”
Jack gave a brief grin and slipped out.
***
A couple of days later, Jack messaged.
“Hey, mind if I pop round again?”
“Works mad,” came Emilys reply, “Barely time for anything, and after the other night…”
“What, can I come see Stephen?”
“Stephen?” Emily was surprised.
“Yeah.
Maybe hed like company?”
“Ill have to ask him”
“I already did.
Hes fine with it.
I bought a new game for his X-box.
Well keep quiet and you can get on with things.”
“Alright,” she sighed, “You can come round.”
This time Jack showed up looking absolutely different.
No fancy shirt, no aftershave, no wine, no mooney eyes.
Just a black t-shirt with his favourite band, a rucksack full of crisps and fizzy drinks, and the biggest, daftest grin.
“Dont make a racketI’ve got a two-hour work call in a minute,” Emily greeted him in her dressing gown and a face mask, breath smelling of raw onions.
Jack nodded and wandered into Stephens room.
That night, Emily could barely tear the two apartthey were knee-deep in a heated debate over who was the better director: Guy Ritchie or Edgar Wright.
They were just about to settle things with a six-hour film marathon before Emily managed to send Jack packing.
“Dont forget the bait on Saturday!” Stephen shouted after him.
“What bait?” Emily sized up Jack.
“Were going fishing.
I told Stephen I know a shop that sells great stuff.
I havent been fishing in agescant wait.”
“So you two are mates now?
Not interested in spending time with me?”
“You could always come, make some sandwiches.”
“As if Ive got nothing better to do,” she laughed, shepherding Jack towards the door.
“Go on thenat least it keeps him out of my hair.”
***
A month passed.
Emily buried herself in work, unable to even think about romance, but Jack and Stephen made the most of itfinishing the railway together, catching crayfish, brewing homemade ginger beer from Stephens inherited recipe book.
Stephen taught Jack the basics of orienteering; Jack, in return, gave a crash course in flirting and helped Stephen ask out a girl from the neighbouring class.
Everything was smoothuntil, one evening, someone knocked so loud the ceiling lights shook loose.
Emily opened the door, instantly hit with a smell of wild game.
Standing there was her ex-husbandStephens dad.
“Ive thought it through,” he declared, kneeling down.
Even then, he towered above Emily.
“Me and Borismy boarare tired.
We want a quiet family life.
Ive got savings, well move back to the village with Stephen, and you can stop working.
Well fish, hunt, just be together.”
“Oh, you comedian.
Ten years gone and he suddenly has an epiphany.
Is your boar looking for a family too?”
“Actually, he signed a contract with a film studio behind my back,” grumbled her ex.
“So thats it,” Emily crossed her arms.
“You got dumped by a boar.”
“Doesnt matter,” he blundered on, “I just want to”
He never finished, because Jack emerged from the living room in Emilys T-shirt.
“Em, I borrowed your topmines covered in paint.
Me and Stephen were just repainting the engine on the train set and”
“Honestly,” Emily rolled her eyes.
“Does anyone in this house ever finish a sentence?”
“Whos that?” her ex snapped, fist clenched.
“Thats, um” Emily stammered.
At that moment, Stephen shot out of his room, grabbed his dads massive wrist, and pinned him to the wall until the man let out a yelp.
“Hes the tagalong!” Stephen hissed.
“Stephen!
Son!
Its me, your dad!
What tagalong?”
“Just the tagalong who helps mum sort out all the stuff you left us.”
“I never left you anything,” his dad admitted, suddenly realising what hed said.
Emily and Jack huddled in the corner, watching father and son square off.
“Alright, alrightbreak time,” muttered his father, rubbing his wrist as Stephen let go.
“Youve got my genes, alright.
Ready to hunt boar.
In fact, can I at least take you hunting tomorrow, son?
Maybe we can catch up”
Emily was speechless, looking between her ex and Jack, utterly lost.
“I get it,” Jack nodded and made to leave.
“Sorry”
***
The next day, dad and son set off at dawn.
Stephen came back late, alone.
“Wheres your dad?” Emily asked, worried.
“He left,” Stephen said, pulling off his trainers.
“Just like that?”
“Not exactly.
He left with the boar.
Loaded it into his trailer and went off to train it.
Got me back to town, then drove off.”
“Honestly, Im an idiot,” Emily sighed.
“I should ring Jack”
“No need, Ive just said goodbye to him.
He gave me a lift home.
Promised to pop round tomorrow.”
“But you left your phone at home!
How did he know where to pick you up?”
“Said he followed just to make sure me and you were okay.”
“He said that?”
“Mhm.
And he said hes pretty much latched onto us, and hes never really going to un-hitch.”