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‘Not a lot since my GCSEs, is it?’ He looks me straight in the eye, no smile now.
I take a breath. ‘I’m sure there are things, I just stopped looking, you know?’
‘As in a few burnt out roaches, maybe even a couple of used condoms.’
‘Oh, Gethin, it’s not that bad, is it? I’ve just been looking on your Facebook page, seeing as we’re friends again.’ I fire up the laptop to get the photo.
He shuffles forward, nods slowly. ‘I was actually quite proud of that.’
‘It’s beautiful, it looks such a stunning place. I’ll print it off.’
I busy myself sending the image to print. Then I remember that I also have things to tell. Come on then, get on with it.
‘I’ve been meaning to talk to you about my job, Gethin. I was just waiting, you know, ’til you were fully recovered.’
‘Oh? What about it?’
‘Well, it looks as though we’re going to be made redundant. The Council are cutting our funding.’
‘Shit, Mum, I had literally no idea.’ His eyebrows meet in a deep frown.
‘It’s no real surprise. The local government spending cuts are massive, you know. Services like ours are seen as a luxury.’
‘But you help lots of old people and shit,’ he protests.
‘It’s cheaper for the Council to tag it onto their existing services.’
He shuffles in his seat. ‘I don’t know what to say. Other than, that’s crap?’
‘To tell you the truth, it’s not necessarily so bad for me. I’ll get a decent payoff as I’ve been there a while, and it’s maybe time for a change.’
‘Yeah, makes sense. Any ideas?’
‘I’d really like to make a go of my art full time.’ My heart pounds at putting this emerging plan into words. ‘I’ve found this artists’ collective – their studios are cheaper than mine, plus I’d be less isolated.’
‘Oh yeah, where’s that?’
‘Down by the river at the back end of town. One of the artists does feminist collage… she’s been really encouraging.’ I feel myself blush as I say this.
‘And is she responsible for your new taste in music, by any chance?’ He smiles amusement at me.
‘Well, yes, she lent me the CD.’ I feel ridiculously caught out.
‘It’s about time you met some new people,’ he says simply. ‘Go for it!’
‘It’s a big risk. I only met them a week ago, the night I got the phone call from the hospital. But I wanted you to know it’s there as an idea.’
I take a big gulp of wine to curb the jittery feeling this is giving me. Despite the drama of Gethin’s accident, the attraction of Gabriella’s collective has taken hold of me. And I shocked myself by thinking of sleeping with her even on the drive to Inverness. Since we’ve been back, I’ve been obsessing with financial calculations whilst trying to convince myself that sex with Gabriella is not part of the plan.
‘Hey, Mum, don’t over-think it.’ He raises his glass and we clink again. ‘Here’s to both our futures!’
I pour us some more and we drink in silence for a moment. The copper beech glows in the late afternoon light – the air fresh and sweet since last night’s rain. I focus on my breathing, feel my shoulders relax. It is after all such a relief to have told him.
I take the 360o picture and place it near the end of the collage, lay the Cava cork beside it, leaving some empty space after the GCSE photo.
‘What else have we got?’ I go back to his Facebook, click randomly on an image.
‘Hey, me out getting wrecked with the gang, is it? What a surprise!’
