Charlie was utterly exhausted by endless nights out, onenight flings and a parade of first dates. When he finally met the downtoearth, witty and bright Poppy, he thought hed struck gold. They drifted into a cosy café, listened to a busker playing The Kinks, swapped stories about his shaky climb up the corporate ladder and her obsession with contemporary verse. When they discovered a mutual love for coronation chicken tossed with sliced apples, they both knew theyd have to see where this could go.
The next step in their whirlwind romance was Poppys flat in Camden, where she invited Charlie over for dinner. He dug out his sharpest shirt, shaved, memorised a quirky poem from one of her favourite poets, and bought a bunch of roses and a bottle of decent red wine.
He strutted to her door, selfassured enough to make a house cat envious of its own nine lives. Hed already plotted every detail except for the line, Good evening, Im Stan. Mums in the shower, come on in. That line was a surprise.
Standing in the hallway was a squarejawed teenage bloke with a boyish grin. The owner of that grin stretched out a hand that could easily have wrapped around Charlies head.
At first Charlie thought hed got the wrong address, but when Stan let out a loud, muffled sneezepinching his nose in the exact way Poppy always didhe realised the flat was indeed the right one. Charlies mood began to nosedive, his wine turned sour and the roses wilted in his mind.
Inside, Charlies jaw dropped at the sight of Stans bright trainers. He could have slipped them over his polished shoes and theyd still look too big.
Poppys lad was practically up to his elbows in mischief. Charlie mused that it was a shame women couldnt treat gold the same way men dohand over a ring and, ten years later, youve got a wedding band (not a bad investment). He drifted to the kitchen, where the table was already set and Stan was fiddling with curtains without a stool.
Five minutes and Ill be out! shouted a voice from the bathroom.
After several rounds of five minutes, the door finally swung open and Poppy emerged, wrapped in a simple dress, her makeup glowing. Seeing Charlies sour expression, she instantly understood the cause; his nerves melted away and the romance evaporated.
She placed food and wine on the table without waiting for him and began to eat.
Why didnt you mention you have a kid? Charlie blurted, feeling slightly cheated.
Oh, were you scared of a trailer? Poppy laughed, a hint of melancholy in her smile.
Its not a trailerits a whole train set.
Big, huh? Thats the one from the remotesounding village up northbigger than Stans, who once wrestled a bear with his bare hands.
And where is he now? Charlie swallowed, his throat suddenly tight.
Out on a gig, with that same bear. He left us for the big stage. Sometimes he writes lettersthough the handwriting looks like a bear with a conscience larger than his own.
How old is he? Charlie nodded toward the wall.
Fourteen, just got his passport.
Strong?
Very funny.
They ate in silence; conversation just didnt click.
More meat? Charlie asked, handing over a plate.
Like it?
Honestly, Ive never had anything tastier. What is this?
Bison. Stan cooks it.
Wow, hes talented.
It ran in the family, along with an ancient cookbook, a set of knives, a fishing rod, and a boat hes always bragging about.
A boat? Charlie gulped.
Yeah, we keep it in the basement. Sometimes its there, sometimes it isnt. The lads an avid angler.
Poppys phone buzzed. She excused herself to answer, leaving Charlie to think, Time to head home. There was nothing left for him to catch.
Hey, Charlie, Ive got a favour Poppy returned, looking flustered. Theres been an incident at work. Could you watch Stan for a couple of hours?
Me? Watch Stan? Why?
Hes still a minor, you never know what can happen. People are buzzing around the flats
Youre afraid someone will snatch him?
Anyway, Poppy shifted tone, Ill pay you for the lost evening and for babysitting, and then I wont call you again, deal?
What am I supposed to do with him?
Well, youre both lads, chat about whatever you like, then Ive got to run.
Charlie didnt get a chance to answer before Poppy bolted out, leaving him to finish his wine, eat the remaining bison, and stare at the empty hallway.
He lingered by Stans bedroom door, hearing familiar muffled sounds from within.
Cant be, Charlie thought, and knocked.
Open, came a voice.
He pushed the door gently and entered a teenagers room. The first thing that caught his eye was a large wooden target studded with knives and arrowsno holes in the walls, the arrows always hit dead centre. A vinyl record player sat on a table, quietly playing Iron Maiden, a band Charlie adored. Stan lounged in a corner, tweaking his fishing gear. On a shelf were trophies, a boxing bag hung from the ceiling, and a brandnew gaming console rested by the TV.
Your mum does a cracking job, Charlie whistled, jealous. Ive always dreamed of a room like this.
Summer I work, Stan replied, making Charlie feel a tad guilty. He pictured Poppy scrambling for endless cash to support her kid, while Stan seemed perfectly selfsufficient.
Do you have a charger for my phone? Charlie asked, holding up his dead device.
Near the railway line, Stan pointed.
The railway line? Charlie stammered, then saw a real set of tracks outside the window and forgot how to breathe.
You built it yourself? he whispered, afraid to break the magic.
Yeah. Im adding bits and pieces, planning a second level and a few bridges. A new box of rails just arrived; my hands cant quite reach.
Heat rose to Charlies cheeks.
Can I launch a little circle? he asked Stan.
Give me a minute, Stan said, setting his gear down, standing tall and crossing the room in one stride.
***
An hour later Poppy returned, certain Charlie had already bolted, and rushed to the teenagers room where the two were assembling the railway. It was hard to tell who was older at a glance.
Charlie, you really should head home, Poppy whispered.
Uh right, Charlie sprang up. What time is it?
Half past ten, Poppy yawned, exhausted. Ive got another emergency shift tomorrow, so I need to sleep.
She walked him to the door, planted a kiss on his cheek, and handed him a few notes.
I dont take money from women, Charlie said, looking at her with a hint of disdain.
Fine. Thanks for looking after my trailer, she replied.
Charlie gave a brief smile and left.
***
Hey, can I pop round again? Charlie called a few days later.
Im swamped at work, no time for dating, and after our last meeting
Can I still see Stan?
Stan? Poppy asked, puzzled.
Yes. Maybe I could keep an eye on the lad?
I dont know I should ask him.
Ive already texted him. Hes fine. I bought a new game for his Xbox, well be quiet, and you can go about your business.
Alright, come over tonight.
That evening Charlie arrived in a completely different guise. No shirt, no perfume, no wine, no smouldering glancesjust a plain black tee with his favourite band, a backpack stuffed with crisps and soda, and a goofy, boyish grin.
Just keep it downIve got a twohour video call soon, Poppy greeted him in a cosy robe, a fabric mask covering her face and the faint smell of onions lingering.
Charlie nodded and slipped into the teenagers room.
Meanwhile Poppy tried to separate Charlie and Stan, who were deep in a heated debate about the merits of Balabanov versus Guy Ritchie. Both defended their points passionately, ready to settle it with a sixhour marathon, when Poppy convinced them they were both victims of bad taste and ushered Charlie out.
Dont forget the bait for Saturday! Stan shouted from the room.
Bait? What bait? Poppy asked Charlie.
Were going pike. I told Stan theres a shop with great bait. I havent been fishing in ages.
You two are practically best mates. Want to spend time with me?
Sure, you can slice the sandwiches.
Fine, enjoy your fishing, Poppy smiled, ushering Charlie out. My job always eats up my time, and at least the lad gets an activity.
***
A month passed. Poppy threw herself into work, romance went on hiatus. Meanwhile Charlie and Stan used the time productively: they finished the railway, caught some crayfish, brewed kvass from an old family recipe Stan inherited, Stan taught Charlie basic navigation in the woods, and Charlie gave the teen a crash course in flirting, even helping him ask a classmate out. All went smoothly until one evening a frantic knock sent ceiling lights crashing down.
Poppy opened the door to a whiff of bear stew. On the doorstep stood her exhusband, a hulking man, and Stans father.
Ive had an epiphany, the man declared, kneeling despite his size. Potap and I are tired, we want a quiet family life. Ive saved enough, Ill take you and Stan back to the village. Youll quit your job, well go fishing and hunting together.
Funny you should say that, Poppy replied dryly. Ten years later you finally realise you want the bear back?
No Actually I signed a contract with a film studio behind my back, the husband muttered.
So thats it, Poppy crossed her arms. You just got dumped.
Doesnt matter, the point is I now
He didnt finish; Charlie burst through the hallway in Poppys own Tshirt.
Poppy, I grabbed your shirt because mine got stained while we were repainting the model train with Stan he stammered.
Someone ever finish a sentence in this flat? Poppy asked, glancing between the two men.
Whos that? the husband demanded, fist poised at Charlies head.
Its its Poppy faltered.
Stan sprang from the room, slammed the mans arm against the wall, and the older bloke let out a howl.
Its a trailer! Stan hissed.
Stan! Son! Its me, dad! What trailer? the man panted, clutching his wound.
Its the ordinary trailer that helps us move all the stuff you left behind, Stan replied.
But I never left anything, the man said, finally grasping the meaning.
Charlie and Poppy huddled in a corner, watching the two titans tussle.
Alright, alright, truce, the father snarled, and Stan released his grip.
Youve done well, lad. Ready to hunt a boar? the man massaged his arm. Maybe tomorrow I could go out with the son, talk about lost time? Im a father, after all.
Poppy stared between her ex and Charlie, at a loss for words.
Yes, I understand, Charlie said, standing to leave.
Sorry
***
The next morning the father and son left at dawn, and Stan returned home late that night, alone.
Wheres dad? Poppy asked, irritated.
Hes gone, he said, slipping off his shoes.
He just left?
Not exactly, Stan shook his head. He took the boar in the trailer, drove off to train it, found a new partner for shows, dropped me off in town and vanished.
Oh, Ive been such a fool, Poppy muttered, slapping her forehead. I should call Charlie.
No need, I just said goodbye. He drove me home. Hell pop round tomorrow.
But you left your phone at his place! How did he know where to pick you up?
He said hed been tracking us, making sure everythings alright with me and you.
So he really said that?
Yes. And hes stuck to us now, unlikely to ever detach.
