Page 32 of Common People

Max hadn’t had much experience painting himself, apart from that one half-term when his parents had decided to paint the house. Half-terms were usually kept for going on holiday or days out in London ticking off all the touristy highlights. If his dad was working, Max and his mum would head into Londonon the train, usually with a packed lunch, and they would go to The National Gallery, the Natural History Museum, the Imperial War Museum, or they would do a walking tour, created by his mum, of London’s famous landmarks like Buckingham Palace, Big Ben or St Paul’s Cathedral. Max had loved those days in London with his mum, who did so much to educate and entertain him. However, on one of those half-terms, when Max was ten, they had stayed in all week to paint the house. They had entrusted Max to help, but only in low-traffic areas where if he messed up, it wouldn’t matter. The best part of everyday that week was dinner. Because they were painting all day, they went out for dinner somewhere new every night. Max vaguely remembered the painting, but he recalled in detail every restaurant they had gone to, and what he had eaten at each.

As Max painted, he thought back to that half-term, nostalgia ripping through him, and it was impossible for him not to feel something. However, as he thought about it, the strokes of each roller taking him back to being ten again, it wasn’t pure sadness as it had so often been before, but instead with a fondness and a sense of joy. The thought of spending a week at home with your parents painting would be absolute terror for most children, but he had loved that week. His mum had moved the television outside with an extension cord through the kitchen window, and he remembered sitting outside while they had lunch, watchingNeighbours, her favourite television show, over cheese and ham sandwiches, crisps and orange squash on old camping chairs. The overwhelming feeling he had was one of happiness that he’d had that childhood.

Eventually they were all done, and it was decided that they would head to Clapham Common for Robbie’s sandwiches and ice-cold Irn-Bru. The shop reeked of paint, and while Pete finished up with the front door, everyone else headed to the common. They found a spot, and sat down while Robbie handedout sandwiches and cans of cold Irn-Bru. Because it was outside and he didn’t have the time or way to prepare them, he couldn’t make his famous ‘The Scotsman’ sandwich, and so instead, offered everyone his favourite cold sandwich.

‘This is my version of a Scotch egg. Youse got hard boiled free-range eggs, a crumbed Scottish ham, a chive mustard mayo with rocket on my sourdough bread.’

Everyone tucked into Robbie’s sandwich, and immediately everyone started nodding their heads, saying ‘ummm’.

‘Mate, this is top-notch,’ said Charlie.

‘A ten out of ten in my book,’ said Anita.

‘I’d definitely tell all my cabbie mates to give this a bash,’ said Joe.

‘I think it’s the mayo that does it,’ said Hope.

‘I make it myself,’ said a pleased as punch Robbie.

‘It’s feckin’ delicious,’ said Eve, and when she smiled at Robbie and he smiled back at her, Max saw the look between them. Something big was happening with them, and it wasn't just about the sandwich.

‘It’s one of the best sandwiches I’ve ever eaten,’ said Bethan.

‘Thanks so much, youse all too kind,’ said Robbie, and when he looked over at Max, he gave him the thumbs up too. Max had tried the sandwich before, and he wasn’t disappointed either. It was delicious, and it made Max confident in Robbie’s ability to be a success. If the shop failed, it wouldn’t be because of the quality of the food, and that’s where Max hoped he could help. Neither of them had any experience running a small business, but Max had been to university, was more studious and liked the details of things, and was good at research. Robbie was an incredible baker and creator of sandwiches, but Max also knew that Robbie had his shortcomings when it came to decision making, and taking care of things like paying bills and staying organised. Robbie had been in trouble more than once becausehe had forgotten to pay bills. Max knew that the success or failure of the shop depended on him to make sure that all the administrative business things got done, so Robbie could focus on the food.

As they sat on Clapham Common, Max thought about telling them all about his parents, as he had planned, but the sun was shining, everyone was happy, and he didn’t want to bring them down. So, he decided to wait for another time, perhaps at run club when it felt more in-tune with the moment. The last thing they wanted with their sandwiches and Irn-Bru was devastating heartache. After they were all done, they wandered back to the shop to finish painting. As they walked, Max and Bethan hung back together.

‘What’s been happening with you?’ asked Bethan.

‘Oh, you know, not much,’ replied Max, before he knew he had to mention Emma. ‘I did bump into my ex-girlfriend the other day.’

‘Oh, right. Was it awkward?’

‘Surprisingly not, actually,’ said Max, looking across at Bethan. ‘We went for a drink, and it was more fun than I thought, and it was sort of like old times before my parents’ accident.’

‘That’s good, right?’

‘Yeah, it’s good. Actually, we’re going to meet up again.’

‘Oh,’ said Bethan, and this time her voice changed a little. It was higher, with an edge of something.

‘Just before we parted, she asked if we could see each other again, and I said sure. It was just so relaxed between us, and all the drama of the break-up seemed to be behind us.’

‘Yeah, that’s great,’ said Bethan with a smile, but Max definitely detected something else in her voice.

‘Are you OK?’ he asked, as they approached the shop.

‘Fine!’ said Bethan with a bright smile, and the energy in her voice had changed again. ‘Just happy for you. Right! Back to painting.’

‘Yes, back to painting,’ said Max, as they rejoined the rest of the group, but something was definitely off with Bethan. He wasn’t always the best at reading people, and especially not women, but the tension in her voice and the way she acted about his news definitely made him think that she was jealous of Emma. Was it possible? Could Bethan like him more than she had let on? Was there a chance that maybe, after all, she might be ready to date? The problem was, whether she was jealous or not, he didn’t want to put any pressure on her, or keep bringing it up because he didn’t want to jeopardise their friendship. So, as they walked back inside the shop, and took up their paintbrushes and rollers, Max and Bethan worked in a slightly uneasy silence. Something had clearly happened when he had mentioned Emma, but Max was too afraid to ask what. Their relationship was a confusing one for Max because he liked Bethan so much, but she had been through the worst heartache imaginable, and despite his recent gains, he wasn’t sure he was ready for a relationship either. But there was definitely something there he couldn’t ignore, like a nagging itch he couldn’t stop scratching.

Dinner table body language

The following Friday, Max agreed to meet Emma for dinner after work. They had been texting all week, quick one-line messages during the day, and longer ones before bed that felt like they had been getting more and more intimate. There seemed to be a sense that the possibility of athemwasn’t completely off the table, and perhaps was very much back on it. Emma had openly admitted that it wasn’t that she had fallen out of love with him, it was just that she couldn’t watch him destroy his life anymore. They had every reason to be together, and now he was getting better, not drinking and running, he was almost the man that she had wanted and longed for. It was clear that despite the heartbreak, Emma wasn’t against the idea of giving them another go, and perhaps dinner was the first step on the path towards that.

Max wasn’t sure how he felt about Emma again. It was clear they still had a connection, he obviously still found her attractive, and enjoyed being with her, but then there was Bethan. The feelings he had about Bethan were different, and he knew that if there was a chance he could be with her, he would jump at it, but he didn’t know if it would ever happen. If he got back together with Emma, it was closing the door on Bethan for good and he didn’t know if he could do that. There was also the link with his parents. Emma had met them, knew them, and she had been a part of his life when they had been alive. She had been with him at the funeral, and for the horrible days and weeks afterwards when he had been a complete mess. No matter how he thought about it, Emma would always be intrinsicallylinked to his parents. She reminded him of them, and perhaps in time that would be a source of comfort, or maybe a constant reminder that would come between them.

As Max walked out of Broadcasting House and towards the restaurant to meet Emma, he still wasn’t sure what he wanted or how he felt. When his life had been careering towards destruction and oblivion, when he couldn’t get through a day without a drink, these big decisions felt years away, but suddenly with his life back to some sort of normality, he was reminded of what normality felt like, and how it came with its own share of problems and worries.