The hallway still smelled of damp boots and a jacket that hadnt quite dried, hanging on the lower hook where the sons coat should have been. Margaret Thompson stood there, smoothing the rug at the door, a tentative smile tugging at her lips.
Come in everythings ready. Ive aired your room and put fresh sheets on the bed, she called.
He slipped in almost silentlya compact, closecropped man in a crisp dark uniform. His eyes, usually sharp, now held a wary flicker. He nodded, an uncertain mix of gratitude and politeness, and set his suitcase against the wall. He lingered in the doorway, staring at the faded diamondpatterned wallpaper, the bookshelf packed with childhood novels. It all seemed unchanged, except for the cooler air; the heating had been switched off a week ago.
In the kitchen Margaret laid out plates: cabbage soup hed asked for, potatoes with parsley from the greengrocer. She kept her voice steady as she spoke.
You could have called before you got here I was expecting you at the station.
James shrugged. I thought Id make my own way.
A heavy pause settled, broken only by a spoon clinking against a bowl. He ate slowly, almost wordlessly, offering brief answers about the road, about his unitthe commander was a decent bloke. Margaret caught herself searching for a reason to ask about his future, but she swallowed the question, unwilling to bring up work or plans directly.
After dinner she began clearing the dishes, the familiar rhythm of her hands soothing her more than any conversation could. James drifted to his room, leaving the door ajar; only the edge of a chair and the suitcases corner were visible from the hall.
Later, he stood at the livingroom window, the slight draught from the cracked pane recalling early summer: the sun lingered low, bathing the windowsill where potted herbs waited for a kiss of light.
The next morning Margaret rose before him, hearing his quiet breath through the thin bedroom wall, careful not to clatter dishes. The flat felt tighter; Jamess belongings reclaimed their old spots in the hallway and bathroom, his toothbrush beside her chipped mug looking oddly bright.
Most of the day he sat at the computer or thumbed through his phone, emerging only for breakfast or lunch. Margaret tried small talk about the weather or the neighbours; he responded in halfsentences before retreating to his room.
One afternoon she brought home fresh dill and spring onions.
Lookyour favourite herbs, she said, placing them on the table.
James glanced, distracted. Thanks maybe later?
The greens wilted quickly; the flat grew warmer as evening fell, and Margaret hesitated to open the windowshed always hated draughts.
Dinners became a series of awkward silences, the pauses stretching longer than the words. James rarely praised the food; more often he ate in silence or asked to keep a plate for the next morninghis appetite had vanished. Occasionally he left a cup unfinished or left the breadbox open after a midnight snack.
Margaret noted these small changes. He had always cleared his plate without being asked; now it felt strange to chide a grown man. She quietly wiped crumbs herself.
Little things multiplied unnoticed: a towel disappeared from the bathroom, taken to his room; the mailbox key was misplaced, and they both rummaged through piles of bills and parcels looking for it.
One morning Margaret found the breadbox empty.
We need to buy bread, she said.
A muffled grunt drifted from his room. Fine
She planned to go after work, but a long queue at the pharmacy delayed her, and she returned home exhausted as dusk settled.
James stood by the fridge, phone in hand. Margaret opened the breadbox automaticallynothing inside. She sighed heavily.
You said youd get bread, didnt you?
James snapped around, his voice louder than usual. I forgot! Ive got other things!
Annoyance spilled over her fatigue. Of course you always forget everything! Their voices rose, each word a blade. The kitchen suddenly felt suffocating; both tried to prove their point, yet beneath the argument lay a deeper exhaustion, a fear of losing the closeness that once felt so simple.
Silence fell after the clash, as if the angry energy had evaporated into the night air. The table lamp cast a weak glow, its light stretching a long shadow over the empty breadbox. Margaret lay awake on her back, listening to the occasional click of a light switch, then the faint hum of water in the bathroom. James moved quietly, as if afraid to disturb the fragile peace of walls that now felt both familiar and foreign.
She thought back to the conversations before his servicethings were easier then; she could’ve asked straight, scolded him for forgotten trash, or for being late to dinner. Now every word seemed a gamble, trying not to offend, not to upset the delicate balance. Their tirednessher from a long workday, him from months of silence behind army screens lingered in the cramped flat.
The clock read almost two in the morning when she heard soft footsteps down the corridor. The kitchen door creaked as James poured water from a jug. Margaret propped herself up on an elbow, torn between staying in bed or rising. She dressed in a robe, padded barefoot across the cool floor.
The kitchen smelled of wet clothshed mopped the counter the night before. James stood by the window, shoulders slightly slumped, a glass clenched in his hand.
Cant sleep? she asked in a hushed tone.
He flinched faintly, not turning immediately. Neither can I
The silence hung heavy, broken only by a single drop of water sliding down the glass.
Im sorry about tonight I raised my voice for nothing, Margaret said softly. Youre tired I am too.
He turned slowly. Its my fault everything feels odd now.
His voice was hoarse from disuse, eyes avoiding hers.
They waited in mute again, but the tension seemed to melt under those simple words. Margaret pulled a box of tea toward hima gesture both automatic and soothing.
Youre an adult now, she said gently. I need to learn to give you space I keep worrying Ill miss something or do the wrong thing.
James met her gaze. I dont quite know how to fit in here back in the unit it was simple: they said do this, we did. At home its a whole different game. It feels like the rules changed while I wasnt looking.
A faint smile cracked the corners of Margarets mouth. Were both learning to live together again maybe we should sort something out?
He shrugged. We can try.
Relief softened her shoulders. They agreed out loud on basics: hed buy bread every other day, theyd each handle the dishes after dinner, and theyd each have a quiet evening to themselves without interrogations about where theyd been.
Later, Margaret asked about his future plans. You were thinking of looking for work? Do you still have your service card?
James nodded. Yes. It was handed back right after I was discharged. Its in my bag with my discharge papers I just dont know where to start.
She mentioned the local Job Centre, the free advice and programmes for veterans. He listened, wary.
Do you think its worth a go? he asked.
Why not? If you like, I can go with you in the morning for support or just help sort the paperwork.
He paused, then said, Lets give it a try together.
The kitchen grew a little warmer, perhaps because the overhead light above the stove was switched off, leaving only the lamps soft glow, perhaps because for the first time in days they spoke calmly, honestly. Outside, neighbour windows flickered with latenight lights; some houses still lay in the hush of early spring.
When the conversation dwindled, they cleared the cups together, wiping the counter with a damp cloth. Dawn slipped through thick curtains, bathing the flat in gentle light. The street below was waking slowly, schoolchildrens chatter and birdsong drifting through the open kitchen windownow opening the windows no longer felt threatening. The air held a touch more warmth; the nights chill had fled with the earlier anxieties.
Margaret put the kettle on and retrieved a packet of oat biscuits for breakfast, a standin for the missing loaf. She laid out Jamess documents on the table: his service card in a red cover, discharge papers, and passport. She stared at them calmlysymbols of a new chapter beginning right here, right now.
James emerged from his room, still sleepy but without the old distance, sat opposite Margaret, and gave a brief smile. Thanks, Mum.
Youre welcome, she replied simply. Shall we go together today?
He nodded. That yes meant more to her than any promise could.
