Page 7 of Common People

‘You don’t need to be so formal, Mum. Really.’

‘Drink?’ asked Phillip. ‘We’ve got wine, beer, lemonade, or some gin. I think we have some gin. Do we have gin, Sue?’

‘In the cupboard with the rest of the spirits.’

‘Oh, right, yes. So wine, beer, lemonade, a G&T, if you fancy one?’ said Max’s dad, who headed off across the kitchen to the spirit cupboard. The cupboard Max had raided with teenage friends in an attempt to impress girls. Nothing like a two-thirds bottle of Southern Comfort to break the ice at a sixth form party.

‘Umm, yeah, a G&T sounds great,’ replied Emma.

‘Just a beer for me,’ said Max.

‘You can get your own, you know where they are,’ said his Mum. ‘Right, Emma, how are you, love?’

‘Yes, good, thanks. You have a beautiful home.’

‘Oh, thank you. We moved here in ninety-six—’

‘Ninety-seven,’ came a voice from across the kitchen.

‘Oh, yes, ninety-seven, and we've been here ever since.’

‘Right, here we go, gin. Now, let me get the tonic, and I think there’s lemons—’

‘Fruit bowl.’

‘Okey-dokey,’ said Phillip, and Max watched as his parents, seemingly without even realising it, spent the next thirty minutes putting on a show for Emma. A constant barrage of conversation that they had spent years and years cultivating, finishing each other’s sentences, jumping in to correct information, and it all felt so natural, and watching it with Emma, Max felt like he was seeing it properly for the first time. They had always been like that, and when Max had lived at home before he left for university, he had been a part of it too. They were such a tight-knit unit, so closely interwoven with each other, that instead of two individual people they had almost become one. Max watched in awe as his mum glided around the kitchen, slicing carrots with ease while asking Emma questions about her childhood, her career, what she planned on doing in the future, and then his dad would chip in too, while making sure all drinks were promptly topped up. They were like a well-oiled machine, a football team that were so well drilled they knew what the other was going to do or say before they had even done it. It was no wonder Max had always felt so close to his parents, if he had been just like that too.

They eventually sat at the dining room table, laid for a special guest with the finest table cloth and the best cutlery, and mum served her legendary roast. She had perfectly slow cooked roast beef with giant, crispy Yorkshire puddings, herduck fat roast potatoes, which were the star of the show, steamed cauliflower, broccoli, carrots, and her incredible gravy made from the resting juices of the beef. There was nothing quite like his mum’s roast dinner. It all felt so alien to Emma, whose parents had divorced when she was five, and then a series of step-dad figures emerged over years but none stuck, and her father remarried, and she had two step-siblings. She was the result of a blended, mismatched family, and Max the poster-boy for perfect monogamy.

‘This is incredible,’ said Emma. ‘Max said you make the best roast, and he was right.’

‘I’m just glad you’re here, love,’ said Susan. ‘Maybe a toast?’

She looked across at Phillip, who raised his glass of beer in the air. ‘To old love, and new.’

They all repeated the toast, before they sank into comfortable conversation while they ate. Emma, who had been so unsure of herself on the train, so anxious on the walk there, was suddenly so relaxed. Max had always known his parents were good hosts, but they had made Emma feel like one of the family within an hour. Perhaps the gin heavy G&Ts had helped grease the wheels a little bit too.

They finished eating, and Max and his father cleaned up, while his mum took Emma into the living room because she insisted on showing Emma the Lawson family photo albums. Susan had always taken photos over the years, and she had created extensive and organised photo albums. They had albums from every year of Max’s life from one to eighteen, when he had moved out and they had abruptly stopped. They had albums of family holidays, each one beautifully laid out with perfectly curated photos, and small paragraphs of sometimes witty, informative text below:Max at Land’s End, Cornwall, 2008. He ate a Cornish pasty bigger than his head just after this!It was like Instagram before social media was even a thing.

Susan and Emma sat in the living room, devouring album after album of Max’s life from a baby all the way up to adulthood, with every holiday home and abroad. Max was in the kitchen with his dad, and he could hear them giggling like a couple of schoolgirls.

‘What do you think of her?’ Max asked his father, while drying up a plate with a tea towel.

‘She’s lovely, mate, really lovely.’

‘You think Mum likes her?’

‘Your mothers in love,’ said Max’s dad, and with that, Max knew his relationship with Emma had been rubber-stamped by his parents.

They went through into the living room, and with fresh drinks in hand, they ploughed through the photo albums together, long-lost stories were shared, funny anecdotes from holidays, and Max’s awkward teenage years were revealed in all their horrific glory to Emma, who couldn’t get enough. Max’s entire childhood was spoken about with such warmth, love, and just hearing it for himself, Max knew how lucky he was to have been their son.

Eventually it was time to go, and head back to London, and at the front door they had stopped outside of just hours before with such apprehension, now it was hugs goodbye and promises to do it again soon. As Max and Emma strolled back to the station, their stomachs full, both slightly tipsy, they barely spoke because all they could do was hold hands, and share in what had just happened to them. It was like they had been enveloped in a hug, felt the generous warmth of the love that filled that house, and it gave both of them a glow as they got back to the station. For Emma it was something new that she had never had growing up, and for Max a reminder of something he knew he was incredibly fortunate to have always known.

‘That went well,’ said Max as the train to London King’s Cross approached.

‘It all makes sense now.’

‘What do you mean?’