The Fourth Side of the Triangle

Chapter 5.

5.

The months fly by and before they know it Christmas is upon them. Christmas has always been a time for family in the Clare household, and even before James moved in with them at the age of eight, the Clare’s and the James’s would bring their two families together to celebrate the holiday in a rather extravagant way. There were often pushing on twenty people at the dinner table, what with grandmothers and aunts and uncles and grandfathers, cousins and godparents, but as Amy and James had grown older, Christmas had started to become more exclusive. Only close family would be invited for lunch, leaving them with far too much food, but it suited them better that way, so nobody took it upon themselves to complain.

“Will you hurry up?” Amy shouts, “James, I’m going now.”

“Amabelle- wait! Have you got the phone charger?” comes James’s voice from somewhere in the depths of their flat.

“Yes! And we’re going to Mum and Dad’s, not some remote cottage in the arse end of nowhere. They will have chargers for most things.”

“But what about the presents? Your sister will never forgive me if I forget-”

“For Christ’s sake! I’ve got them!” Amy yells exasperatedly.

“What about the-”

“Bye James.”

She kicks her bag out of the front door with unnecessary force as she rolls her eyes when a yelp sounds from somewhere behind her.

“This always happens,” she tells him, forcing the front door keys into his hand, “I thought I was bad. We both know you’ve probably forgotten something. You always do.”

“Not true,” James retaliates, voice muffled by the coat collar he has clamped between his teeth. He fiddles with the keys before shoving the correct one into their front door, twisting it as he does so.

“Right,” he announces, “lets go then.”

-x-

Much to his embarrassment, Oliver’s mother, Elaine, starts to cry very loudly as soon as he steps out of the taxi that has taken him from the airport to the old country house.

“My baby boy!” she sobs, “look at you! So successful and grown up!”

She wraps him up in a tight hug, crushing his body to hers.

“I am so proud of you!” she gushes and Oliver cringes as she cups his face in her hands and places a wet kiss on his forehead.

“Mother-” Oliver starts, but she cuts across him.

“Oliver Haydon, I haven’t seen you for over half a year, so you will be quiet and let your Ma make a fuss of you!”

Oliver opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, struggling to find an answer that will satisfy his mother. In the end, he decides to amend his previous attempt at speech with,

“Of course...” but doesn’t hesitate in adding on, “just... maybe inside?” for good measure. For a second, it looks as if his mother will not comply, but eventually she gives him a watery smile and takes his suitcase from him.

“You must be so tired,” she fusses, looking Oliver up and down, “you’re looking so thin my poor baby, do they not feed you properly?”

Oliver simply rolls his eyes. He knows by now that there is absolutely no point in protesting; if his mother wants to fuss over him then she will, no matter what he says.

“Inside,” he says again, just to accentuate the point, “come on Ma.”

He gives the taxi driver an apologetic smile and shoves a handful of notes through the window- he can afford to do such things now, after all. It is a good feeling, he decides, being home again. Of course he has been away before, and for long periods of time, but this feels different somehow. Like he has earned his place in this household and they welcome him back with open arms.