Before Him

“Eww!” he complains as I wipe it away with my tongue-dampened finger.

“You had a chocolate smudge.”

“Maybe he was savin’ it for later.” I hear the smile in Roman’s words.

“Don’t need to because I decided on the cheese factory,” the kid says triumphantly.

My blood instantly runs cold. “Really?” It takes some effort to keep my response bland.

“It’s the only place in town I haven’t been. I didn’t even get to visit it on the school trip, remember?”

How could I not? He purposely didn’t go. I kept him at home and sold it to him as a day at the coast with his mom and favourite aunt.

“Honey, surely there are better things to do than visit a boring old factory.” I ruffle his hair. “You could head to the coast and investigate the rock pools.”

“But we do that all the time.”

“Only because you love it. What about the waterfall? That’s super pretty on a day like today.” Lifting my head, I realise the sunny morning has passed, and clouds now fill the sky.

“Looks like we’re due some weather,” Jenner adds unhelpfully.

“I don’t mind,” Roman says, not picking up what I’m trying to put down. “My little mate Wilder is in charge.”

“What about the national park?”

“But it’s gonna rain, and the cheese factory is indoors. I’ve never been there, and they have ice cream samples to taste.”

“He had me at ice cream,” Roman adds with a deep chuckle.

“Someone’s a little easy,” murmurs Jenner.

“You can get it at Freddy’s,” I mutter, twisting my head over my shoulder to give Jenner the look. “Exactly the same stuff, branded with Mookatill Ice Creamery.”

“Yeah, but you can’t get it for free!” Wilder retorts. I’m just about to point at the ice cream cabinet, but before I can say also free, Wilder bursts out, “And you get to wear blue Smurf shoes and a hairnet.”

“Wow. Sounds like we’re in for so much fun,” Roman says in almost convincing tones.

“That’s me out.” Jenner fluffs his George Michael hair. “Looks like I am never visiting that place.”

A cold finger courses my spine because once in that place was enough for my lifetime. For one strange moment, I can almost smell the tobacco in his office. See the reflection of my Mary Janes in the burnished desk.

“Shit,” I mutter, swinging around as a familiar figure passes by the window. This day is just getting better and better, and I’m blaming Jenner. “This is your fault.”

“What did I do?” He swaps out an aggrieved tone for a flatter one. “Oh, no. We summoned the wicked queen.”

“It was all your talk of Disney.” The bell over the door jingles as I press my hand to Wilder’s dark head. “Honey, go and sit with Ethan for a while?”

“But—”

“Grandma Tina’s here.” I need say nothing else. But it’s too late.

“Wilder, sweetie.” My mother holds out her perfectly manicured hands, her long nails glistening red. Must be nice not to ever have to work, I think, balling my own stubby-nailed hands into fists. I watch as Wilder dutifully trudges over, and my mother presses her palms to his cheeks. “Give me some sugar,” she demands, bending to offer him her impossibly taut and impressively highlighted cheek. “Now, what did we agree to call me?” she asks without releasing his face.

“Auntie Tina?” he says, his expression shaped by confusion. I can’t say I blame him but being a grandmother isn’t a position she’s interested in. The irony is, she’d be a shitty aunt, too.

“That’s right.” She straightens. “I mean, do I look like a grandma?” She does this game show hostess flourish, and I swear it’s like she’s silently inviting her seven-year-old grandson to gape at her surgically enhanced cleavage.

“No?” my kid replies, bewilderment seeping into the word.

Roman makes to intervene, the movement almost imperceptible. I catch his eye and will him not to. His involvement, at the very least, would only prolong both her visit and the unpleasant experience. Thankfully, he’s a smart man who seems to be pretty good with body language. He settles back, unobtrusive, but doesn’t move away from the counter. I guess that’s the parent in him.

“That’s right, sugar. I’m far too young.” She slides a forefinger down her face, flicking hair the colour of mine away from her cheek. Wilder takes the opportunity to bolt, her gaze following him and snagging on Roman. I guess this is like watching a succubus have her attention tweaked as she tilts her head, her features almost remoulding. Pouty lips, shoulders back, that kind of thing. You’d think it laughable, except my mother is still a very attractive woman, which might account for the wash of acid coursing through my gut.

“Well, hello there.” She folds her arms under breasts ten years younger than she is and gives him a flirty smile. I thank the gods he just nods. I really could do without him unleashing that accent on her.