Spring Blossoms at Mill Grange

a regular pink, not all the colours of the rainbow, with weird patterns on every other one.
She’s made an effort.
Tom looked down at his jeans and jumper. They were clean, but beyond that he’d made no effort. He thought about the shirt and new black jeans he’d been planning to wear if he’d come here with Helen. An image of him teasing out one of her long red curls, and watching it spring back into place filled his mind, only to be swept away as a waiter arrived with a bottle of alcohol-free lager and a menu.
‘I assumed that’s what you still drink when you’re driving.’ Sue flashed a smile.
‘Yes, thank you.’ Tom glanced around at the pristine white table clothes and swan folded napkins. He suddenly wondered if Sue would expect him to pay for her meal. Helen he’d have paid for, if she’d let him, but Sue… I suppose I’ll pay for it somehow, whichever way we work it.
‘What do you think?’ Sue asked as she placed her menu open on the table.
Not sure if she meant her appearance or the venue, Tom sat down. ‘Sorry Sue, what do I think about what?’
‘The restaurant. It’s nice, isn’t it?’
‘Very.’ Tom scanned his eye down the menu. ‘I’ve no idea what to have. It’s been years since I had anything I haven’t cooked myself, that wasn’t a takeaway or pub meal, or that Mabel or a guest cooked.’
‘Mabel?’ Sue’s tone was suddenly sharper.
‘The old lady I was waiting in for the groceries for the other day.’
‘Oh. Oh yes.’ Sue pointed at the menu. ‘I can recommend nearly everything in here. Especially the aloo puri for starter.’
‘You’ve been here before?’ He didn’t ask what he was thinking. How could you afford that?
‘It’s where we had our Christmas work do last year. And some of the girls have celebrated birthdays here.’
‘Oh right, yes of course.’
‘You look all put out.’ She fluttered her eyelashes at him. ‘You aren’t jealous are you, darling?’
‘Cut it out, Sue.’ He returned to reading the menu. ‘Apart from the aloo puri, any recommendations?’
‘How about we share a couple of dishes? You’ll be able to try more that way.’
‘Well, umm—’
‘Don’t panic, that won’t make this a date. We’re here to talk about Dylan, remember?’
‘Of course I remember. That’s why I’m here with you and not—’
Sue pounced immediately, her expression curiously unreadable. ‘And not what? With someone else? Oh my God, you didn’t have a date, did you?’
‘No. I told you, I had a work thing. It can be rescheduled.’ Tom hid in his lager for a moment. ‘Let’s talk about what we are here for. How is Dylan, and more to the point, who’s looking after him?’
‘He’s great,’ Sue checked the time on her phone, ‘and about now Harriet will be reading him a bedtime story.’
‘Harriet?’
‘The eighteen-year-old daughter of one of my work colleagues. She’s a lovely girl and Dylan adores her.’
‘Right. Okay.’ Tom suddenly felt as though he knew nothing about his son’s life at all, let alone Sue’s.
Before he could ask more questions, a waiter arrived at their table and Sue ordered for them both.
‘Was the food I chose okay for you?’
‘Pardon?’
‘Honestly, Tom.’ Sue passed him a poppadom. ‘Are you with me tonight?’
‘Sorry.’ Tom cracked his poppadom in two and dipped one half into some mango chutney. ‘Look, Sue, it’s just occurred to me that I know even less about yours and Dylan’s daily lives than I thought I did. At the risk of making it sound like an inquisition, can I ask some questions before we do the rest of it?’
‘Shoot.’
‘Okay. So, your job. I know you work in the local supermarket.’
‘Tesco.’
‘And you are on the tills, yes?’
‘Ah.’ Sue shuffled uneasily, taking rather more time balancing some chutney on a small fragment of poppadom. ‘I was, but I’m not now.’
Tom stopped eating and laid down his food. ‘Sue, if your job changes, you’re supposed to tell me. It affects how much maintenance I pay. And while I don’t begrudge Dylan a penny, I’m not exactly affluent here.’
‘Don’t go arsy! Work is one of the things I wanted to talk about.’
‘So, what’s the job and how long have you had it?’
‘In the admin office. Payroll Assistant.’ Sue blushed. ‘I thought I should train for something better, you know, for when Dylan is over eighteen and you don’t have to help us anymore.’
Stunned, Tom repeated, ‘When did you start?’
‘Two months ago.’ She crumbled a fragment of poppadom between her fingers. ‘I should have said but—’
‘But you didn’t want me to pay you less each month!’
‘No!’ Sue looked around, aware that other diners were staring at them. ‘It’s more that, well… I didn’t want to tell you and then find I was rubbish at it. I’d have been so embarrassed if I’d lost the job before I’d even finished the training.’
Being surprised by Sue was beginning to become a regular experience. ‘Are you enjoying it?’
‘I am. It’s challenging. There’s so much to remember, but if I can do it… I want Dylan to be proud of me. Do you think that’s silly?’
‘Not at all.’ Tom hesitated before saying, ‘You’ve changed so much, Sue. What brought this on, it can’t just be Dylan?’
‘Well it is. I want the best for him.’ She took a deep draught of her glass of wine. ‘Talking of which, I put you on the school list as promised, and, if you’d like to, I’d be open to you having Dylan 50 per cent of the time.’
Tom put his glass of lager down in slow motion. ‘Did you really just say 50 per cent of the time? As in, split custody?’
‘I did.’

Nine
Saturday March 21st
A ray of morning sun streamed through a gap in the curtains, waking Tom in his attic room. Blinking with a groan, he pulled his pillow over his head. It was becoming increasingly difficult to sleep in the bedroom next to Helen.
Last night, as he’d driven home from Tiverton to Upwich, he’d realised how ridiculous their situation had become. He knew