I kept my voice level.
'There was a girl, Mum, but there isn’t any more.'
She smiled. Romance was a good problem.
We left Starbucks and walked down towards the town. Mum wanted to see where I was staying. I said it was being painted, but promised to take her when the renovations were over. She asked me about the colours the decorators had chosen and I lied my way through an addled spectrum that had her shaking her head. We wandered into Marks & Spencer’s where she clucked at the prices and tried to patch my misery with reduced-price knitwear.
'It’s not my style, Mum.'
'You’re getting too old for style, son. Feel that, it’s lovely wool.'
'I’d never wear it.'
She reluctantly let go of the sleeve of the jumper she’d been holding out for my inspection.
'It’s a nice shade. It’d go well with your complexion.'
I thought it looked the colour of dog sick. But I smiled and said, 'Where do you want to go now?'
She straightened the hooks on the hangers, making sure they were all facing in a uniform direction.
'I still think these are a bargain.'
'Not if they stay in the cupboard.'
'I suppose not.'
Across the racks a smartly dressed shopper stared at us. She looked away as I caught her eye and I wondered if she was the store detective or just a nosy cow with too much time on her hands. I glanced to check Mum’s back was turned then mouthed Fuck you, clear and silent. Mum dug me sharp in the ribs.
'What?'
'You know what. I brought you up better than that.'
'Sorry. She was staring at us.'
'Well, let her stare.' Mum steered me towards the exit. 'And you a bally magician. Did you not know I could see you in the mirror?' She started to laugh. 'Mind she was a nosy torn-faced auld besom.' We were both laughing now. Mum wiped her eyes. 'Honestly, you’ll be the death of me.' She looked the most cheerful she’d been all day. 'Come on,' she handed me her shopper. 'It’s an hour before I need to get the bus. Will I take you for a wee drink?'
The pub was a converted bank. Mum admired the ceiling and gasped at the size of her glass of wine, but she kept a brave face when the barmaid told her the price of the round and managed to pay up without flinching. I carried the drinks over to a corner booth with a good view of the room. It was still early in the day and the last of the sun was filtering soft yellow through the frosted windows of the old bank. The nearest I’ve come to religious experiences have been in pubs in the late afternoon. A few office workers were scattered about the place, self- medicating with cheap bottles of wine and two-for-one lager offers. I’d always said I’d kill myself before I worked in an office. I wondered if I was destined to join their ranks, or if I’d stick to my principles.
Mum folded her coat on the seat beside her, took a sip of her wine and asked, 'Why do you not come back with me for a wee while William? Just till you get on your feet again.'
'You’ve not got the space.'
'That couch folds out into a bed. It’s comfy, I slept on it when your dad was not well.'
'And where would Bobby sleep?'
'He’s not allowed on the couch.'
'Aye right, I bet he’s sleeping on it right now.'
'Just for a wee while, William.'
'I’m fine where I am, Mum.'
She gave me the same look she’d given me when I’d said I was giving up university to concentrate on my conjuring.
'I wish I could believe that. What’s wrong son?'
'Nothing, I’m just having some time out.' I drained the last of my pint. 'It’s a popular twenty-first-century lifestyle trend.'
'For those that can afford it maybe.'
My empty wallet burned in my pocket. I cursed my warped conscience for making deadweight out of the money I’d brought back from Germany. It had been seeing me through my slow decline in the pub and the bookies’ shop. I’d lost count of the times I’d resolved never to touch it again, though I never went so far as to give it away. 'Do you want another drink?'
'No,' she started to gather her things together, 'Bobby frets if I leave him on his own for too long.'
We retraced our steps back towards the bus station. On Buchanan Street the clock was still caught mid-flight, its long legs poised on exactly the same spot, but its hands had ticked round the hours. The Cumbernauld bus was already at its stance, a new conductor issuing tickets to the waiting passengers. Mum glanced at the queue, making sure she still had time to board, then turned back to me, her face serious.
'William, I know things aren’t right with you just now, but remember whatever’s bothering you it’ll never be so bad you can’t share it with your old mum.'
I gave her a hug. It was hard to remember there’d been a time when she’d been taller than me and able to set
