confiding in each other was second nature.
There were limits, of course. As grown up as Elliot could seem, Wendy would never bother him with work issues or financial concerns, of which there were unfortunately a few as a single parent. And although she was intrigued by the new friendship he’d formed over the summer with Lisa, who was absolutely lovely, she knew better than to pull his leg about her being his girlfriend or even to suggest there was anything romantic between them.
Lisa had a funny habit of calling him El for short, which he’d told Wendy he didn’t mind, although he feared it made him sound like a girl. She’d told him to say something if it bothered him, but she suspected he never had, for fear of offending his new pal. Wendy actually found it rather sweet, just like she did their whole friendship. And how funny that Lisa lived in Christopher’s old house. Wendy had worried how Elliot would cope when his old friend had moved away, but it had worked out perfectly. Lisa had spent almost as much time at their home in recent weeks as Christopher used to. She’d even stayed for lunch or tea several times and, honestly, Wendy found her far more polite and chatty than her predecessor.
‘So let’s start with the bus journey,’ she said. ‘How was that? Did you sit with Lisa?’
‘Yeah, it was fine. We sat next to each other on the way there and then on the way home we were on the back row downstairs with a couple of others.’
‘Boys from your class?’
He shook his head and scratched his nose. ‘No, I was the only one from my year. They were some new friends of Lisa’s from Queen Anne’s: Charlotte and Joanne.’
‘Oh, that’s nice. What were they like?’
‘Um, one had blonde hair and the other one had brown.’ He giggled. ‘I’m not sure which was which, actually. I didn’t say much to them. I felt a bit shy.’
‘Oh, go on with you. What’s there to be shy about? Look how well you get on with Lisa and you two only met a few weeks ago. Plus I’m sure there’ll be lots more boys on the bus when everyone else starts next week.’
Elliot shrugged. ‘I guess.’
He explained that the bus hadn’t been particularly full, since it was just first years and sixth formers on the first day, to help the new starters settle in.
‘What’s the Queen Anne’s uniform like?’ Wendy asked. ‘I’ve not seen Lisa in it yet. Is it green, their blazer?’
‘Yes. Well, emerald they call it, apparently, with a matching jumper and socks and a white blouse.’
‘What about the skirt?’
‘Um, that’s green tartan, a bit like a kilt. Pleated.’
His last comment made Wendy smile to herself. Not many boys Elliot’s age – or older, for that matter – would notice whether a skirt was pleated or not. That came from having a mother who loved fashion and, lacking the budget to buy the kinds of clothes she wanted to wear, had learned to make them herself.
Wendy’s late mother, a heavy smoker who had died a few years earlier from lung cancer, had been a seamstress. She’d taught her the tricks of the trade, as well as the importance of always being nicely turned out and applying make-up well, so as to make the best of oneself. ‘You don’t have to be rich to look good,’ had been her motto, which Wendy had adopted for herself.
Elliot was only too familiar with the sight and sound of Wendy working her sewing machine in the lounge late at night. On occasion, he’d even helped her decide on which pattern or material to use. Her hobby provided them with a little extra income here and there, as friends and neighbours would sometimes ask her to alter clothes for them. However, she wasn’t always good at accepting payment, especially from those she knew well; it felt mean to charge them for doing something she enjoyed.
In the kitchen Elliot had moved on to telling Wendy about the structure of his first day at school. The morning and early afternoon had been dedicated to meeting teachers and getting to know the other pupils in his form, followed by a couple of hours of sport.
Rugby try-outs, to be precise, which she knew Elliot – who’d never been much of a sportsman – had been dreading.
‘And?’ Wendy asked.
Elliot screwed up his face. ‘Let’s just say I don’t think my Saturdays will be occupied by rugby matches any time soon.’
‘What about getting changed?’
He’d confessed to Wendy beforehand that doing this in front of the other boys was something he’d been concerned about, having been teased a few times at primary school for being overweight. She knew Elliot was a little bigger than he ought to be, but she loved to feed him up and thought he was perfect as he was. ‘It’s just puppy fat,’ she often told him, although the truth was that Gary, his dad, had been on the cuddly side too; she found it hard to discourage anything in her son that reminded her of him.
‘It was okay,’ Elliot said, answering her question. ‘I didn’t much like the look of the communal showers, but there was no time for anyone to use them today. The teachers were around most of the time too, so no one was being nasty.’
The boys were probably all still scoping each other out at this early stage, Wendy thought, hoping the situation wouldn’t change. ‘And the rugby?’
‘I wasn’t very good. I kept dropping the ball and I was one of the slowest runners. I got put into a group called Gentleman’s Rugby, which is basically a nice way of saying we’re the rubbish ones.’
Wendy stifled a laugh at this. ‘Oh well. There’s much more to life than rugby. But you made some new friends?’
Elliot ran his middle finger in circles around the rim of his tea mug. ‘Kind of. The boy who sits next to me in our form room seems nice.’
‘What’s his name?’
‘Neil Walsh. He lives down the road from school, close enough to walk.’
‘Super. What’s he like?’
Elliot shrugged. ‘I dunno. Friendly.’
‘And the others?’
‘They’re fine.’ Changing the subject, which Wendy took to mean she’d probed enough about his day, he added: ‘It sounds like Lisa’s going to make the hockey team.’
‘Really? How come?’
‘She said she scored a couple of goals today. She used to play at primary school.’
‘That’s nice.’
Elliot frowned. ‘Not for me. She’ll be busy most Saturdays if she’s selected, because that’s when they play their games against other schools. I don’t get why she’d want to give up so much of her free time.’
‘Oh, Elliot,’ Wendy replied. ‘You should be happy for her if she makes the team. I know you’re not particularly keen on sport, but life would be boring if we all liked and disliked the same things. What about tomorrow? I’m sure she doesn’t have a hockey practice yet.’
‘Not yet, no. We’re going to meet up in
