21October2025
Im exhausted. After endless nights of flirting, onenight flings, and a parade of shallow dates, I finally met someone who felt different Emma, bright, witty, and surprisingly wellread. We met at a tiny café in Camden, listened to a busker strumming an acoustic guitar, and talked about my modest progress at the advertising agency and her love for contemporary verse. When we discovered we both liked a twist on the classic eggandcabbage salad a version with sliced apples I thought maybe this was worth pursuing.
We agreed to continue at Emmas flat in Shoreditch, where she invited me over for dinner. I chose my sharpest buttondown shirt, shaved, memorised a few odd lines from one of her favourite poets, bought a bunch of roses and a bottle of Bordeaux. I felt like a teenager on a first date, buzzing with confidence, as smug as a cat thats just knocked over the fish bowl fifteen times in a day. Everything was planned down to the last detail, except the line I never rehearsed: Good evening, Im Stanley. My mums in the shower, come on in.
The moment I stepped through the hallway, a squarejawed, boyish face stared down at me. The owner of that face extended a hand that could easily have wrapped around my head. I thought Id walked into the wrong flat, but when Stanley let out a loud, ridiculous sneeze pinching his nose with both hands just as Emma does I knew I was where I was meant to be. My mood, once soaring, began to sag; the wine tasted sour, the roses drooped.
Inside, Stanleys trainers sat by the doorway, massive enough that I could have slipped my own shoes into them and still have room to grow. Emma, halfgrown on the couch, seemed almost a child compared to the height of the room. I thought about how women never learn to handle gold the way they should give a ring, and ten years later you have a wedding band. My mind floated to the kitchen, where a table was already set and Stanley was fiddling with curtains without a ladder.
Five minutes, Im just stepping out of the shower, a voice rang from the bathroom.
Five blocks of fiveminute intervals later, the door finally opened. Emma floated out in an evening dress, makeup glinting, her face lit like a lantern. She noticed my sour expression immediately and the tension melted away, taking the romance with it. Without waiting for me, she poured the wine and began to eat.
Why didnt you tell me you had a child? I blurted, feeling foolish.
What, scared of the trailer? she replied with a rueful smile.
It isnt a trailer its a whole train.
Big, eh? Thats my dads side of the family. From a remote village up north, tougher than a Yorkshire bull. He once wrestled a bear with his bare hands.
And wheres he now? I asked, my throat tightening.
Out on tour with the same bear, left us for the big stage. Sometimes he writes letters, but the handwriting looks more like a bears claw than a man’s.
How old is he? I gestured toward the wall.
Fourteen, just got his passport.
My, thats funny.
We ate in silence; conversation sputtered.
More meat? I offered, passing the plate.
Its delicious. What is it?
Deer. Stanley cooks it.
Impressive.
He inherited it from his dad, along with an ancient cookbook, a set of knives, some fishing rods, a boat, and a few other oddities hes managed to scrounge up.
A boat? I swallowed hard.
Its down in the basement. Hes a keen angler.
Emmas phone buzzed; she excused herself to take the call.
Time to head home, I thought. There was nothing left for me here.
Charlie, could you look after Stanley for a couple of hours? Somethings happened at work and I need someone reliable.
Me? With Stanley? I was taken aback.
Hes a minor, you never know what could happen. People are coming round the flats
Youre afraid someone will snatch him?
Bottom line, Emma changed tone, Ill pay you for the evening and for babysitting, and then I wont call again. Deal?
What am I supposed to do with him?
Just chat about football or whatever men do, and Ill be off.
Before I could answer, Emma was gone, slipping out in the coat shed been wearing. I sat alone in the kitchen, drained my phone, finished the meat, and finished the wine, while Emma never returned.
When I reached Stanleys bedroom door, familiar sounds drifted from within.
No way, I muttered, knocking.
Open.
I pushed the door gently and entered a childs room. The first thing I saw was a large wooden board studded with knives and arrows a target that had never been missed. No holes dotted the walls; the aim was flawless. A vinyl record player spun softly, Iron Maidens riffs filling the air, a band Ive adored since school. Stanley sat in a corner, tinkering with fishing lines. On a shelf sat trophies, a boxing bag dangled from the ceiling, and a brandnew gaming console lay beside the TV.
Your mum does a decent job keeping you fed, I said, halfjealous.
I work in the summer, Stanley replied, and a pang of shame hit me I imagined Emma hunting for a bottomless purse for her son, when he seemed perfectly selfsufficient.
Got a charger for my phone? I asked, holding up my dead device.
Theres a power socket by the railway line, he gestured.
The railway line? I repeated, disbelief in my voice, then turned to see a genuine set of tracks sprawling across the back garden.
You built it yourself? I whispered, not wanting to break the spell.
Yeah. I keep buying bits, planning a second tier and a few bridges. A new box of rails arrived, but I havent found the time yet.
A heat rose in my cheeks.
Can we run a little loop? I asked.
One minute, he said, setting his lines aside, standing tall and crossing the room in a single stride.
___
Emma returned about an hour later, convinced Id already left. She rushed to the boys room, finding us amid the railway construction, and couldnt tell at a glance who was older.
Charlie, you really should go home, she whispered.
What oh! I sprang up. What time is it?
Half past ten, she yawned, exhausted. I have another emergency at work tomorrow, so I need to sleep. She escorted me to the door, planted a kiss on my cheek, and handed me a few notes.
I dont take money from women, I said, a hint of disgust.
Thanks for watching my trailer.
I forced a thin smile and left.
___
A couple of days later I called.
Hey, can I drop by again?
Ive got a mountain of work, not much time for dating, and after our last meet
Can I see Stanley?
Stanley? You want to look after him?
I already asked him. Hes fine. I bought a new game for his Xbox, well hang, and you can go about your day.
Alright, Ill be there tonight.
That evening I arrived in a completely different guise no shirt, no perfume, no wine, no pretended intensity. I wore a plain black tee with my favourite bands logo, a backpack stuffed with crisps and soda, and a goofy, boyish grin.
Just be quiet, Emma warned, already in a bathrobe and a fabric mask, the smell of onions lingering.
I nodded and slipped into the playroom.
Emma struggled to separate me and Stanley, who were arguing passionately about Balabanov versus Guy Ritchie. Both defended their viewpoints fiercely, ready to launch a sixhour film marathon, until Emma stepped in and declared them both victims of bad taste, ushering me toward the exit.
Dont forget the bait for Saturday! shouted Stanley from the kitchen.
What bait? Emma asked me.
Were going for pike. I told Stanley theres a shop that sells topnotch bait. Ive never been fishing a thousand years.
Looks like youre mates, Emma mused. Dont you want to spend time with me?
Feel free to join, slice the sandwiches.
Fine, I have nothing else to do. Go on your fishing trip, she smiled, pushing me out. My work will gobble up all my time anyway. At least the kid stays occupied.
___
A month passed. Emma threw herself into her career, romance a distant memory. Meanwhile Stanley and I built the railway, caught crayfish, brewed a traditional brew from a dusty family recipe, and he taught me basic navigation in the woods. I in turn showed him the art of flirting and helped him ask a girl from his class out. Everything ran smoothly until one night a frantic knock shattered the quiet.
The hallway filled with the smell of roasted bear. Standing there were Emmas exhusband and Stanleys father, both towering over her.
Ive finally realised, the man said, kneeling despite his height. My son and I are tired, we want a quiet family life. Ive saved enough money, well move you both back to the village. Youll quit your job, well fish and hunt together.
Ha! Youre a joke. Ten years and you finally realise? Your bears also ready to return to the family?
No actually the studio signed a deal behind my back, he muttered.
Exactly, Emma crossed her arms. Youve been used.
It doesnt matter! The main thing is
He was cut off as I stepped into the hallway wearing Emmas own hoodie.
Emma, I borrowed your hoodie because mine got stained while Stanley and I were repainting the train, I announced.
Is anyone here going to finish a sentence? Emma asked, eyes darting between the two men.
Whos that? the husband demanded, fist raised.
It’s its Emma stuttered.
Stanley burst from his room, slammed the mans arm against the wall, and snarled, Its a trailer!
Its a trailer! the father croaked, wincing. Im just a trailer that helps you move all the stuff you left behind.
But I never left anything, he admitted, finally understanding.
Emma and I huddled in the corner, watching the two giants tussle.
Alright, alright, break, the father growled, releasing his grip.
Youve done well, son. Maybe we can hunt a boar together tomorrow, talk about lost time? he suggested, eyes softening on Emma.
Emma looked from her ex to me, unsure what to say.
Yes, I understand, I nodded, gathering my coat.
Sorry he muttered.
___
The next morning the father and son left at dawn; Stanley returned home late, alone.
Wheres dad? Emma asked, her voice edged with irritation.
Hes gone, he said, slipping off his shoes.
What do you mean gone? Just up and left?
Not exactly, Stanley shrugged. He took the boar, loaded it onto a trailer, and drove off to train it. He found a new partner for his shows, brought me to the city and vanished.
Im such a fool, Emma muttered, slapping her forehead. I should call Charlie.
He already left. He drove me home and said hed drop by tomorrow.
How did he know where to pick me up?
He said hed keep an eye on us, make sure were okay.
And thats it?
Yes. He also mentioned hes stuck with the trailer and probably wont ever detach it.
I close this entry feeling oddly detached, as if Im watching my own life from the back row of a theatre. The nights absurdity has left a residue of laughter and a faint ache for something steadier. Perhaps tomorrow will bring a quieter rhythm, or perhaps Ill end up building yet another railway in the attic. Only time will tell.
