Gemma checked the clock on the stove and drew a calming breath. As she slowly stirred the pot, she mentally prepared herself for another evening with her boyfriend’s two boisterous sons. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy their enthusiasm, she just wasn’t sure if she could handle them tonight. She’d already had a huge day at work and would rather quietly curl up on the lounge with a glass of wine. Maybe coming over hadn’t been such a good idea.
The smell of simmering onions and garlic made her stomach growl and she realised she’d missed lunch. Again. No wonder she was hungry. Murray’s arm suddenly weaved around her waist and his fingers brushed her neck as he held her hair back. His brief kisses along her ear eased some of her apprehension. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad after all.
“Mmm, something smells yummy.”
Gemma turned and wrapped her arms around his neck as he bent to kiss her.
“What’re you making?” Murray undid a few buttons on his shirt as he stepped back.
“Thai red chicken curry.”
“You know you don’t have to go to this much effort.”
“I know, but I like it.” Gemma loved to cook. She liked to think of each meal as a culinary adventure. As far as she was concerned, food brought people together and she was determined to make this relationship work. It had been over ten years since her last serious boyfriend, if you could call him that. Having an affair with her boss was not one of her proudest moments. But at the time she’d thought it was love. She still couldn’t believe his wife stayed with him, even after Gemma had sent her that nice letter, and the photos. But Gemma had learnt her lesson, and she wasn’t about to blow this relationship. Murray was a good guy.
“Where are the kids?” He guided his fingers over his thick moustache.
“I don’t know. Dinner’s nearly ready, though, so go chase them up.”
Murray didn’t need to, as seconds later the brothers came thundering into the townhouse. They were panting like puppies when they tumbled into the kitchen, and Gemma gasped at the sight of them; sweat and dirt mingled together. “Oh my goodness, you boys are filthy.”
“Where have you been? It’s nearly dark.”
“Sorry Dad, but you won’t believe what happened,” Trent said between breaths.
“You can tell us over dinner. It’s nearly ready. Quickly, go shower.”
“But Dad!” said Max.
“Shower first. Now go.” Murray twisted Trent’s shoulders and nudged him towards the stairs.
The brothers dashed up the stairs, and Gemma fought to hold back her complaints as they bounced their dirty paws off the walls as they went—it wasn’t her place after all. She turned back to her pot and stirred in the sliced chicken breast. “Looks like they’ve had a fun afternoon. How was your day?”
Murray turned to her. “Same as always, just tossing suitcases from one place to another. How was the salon?”
“Busy today. My first customer was so late, I spent the next couple of hours madly trying to catch up.” She huffed. It seemed the kids were the only ones having any fun.
Murray’s townhouse was small, with just a kitchen and living room downstairs and two bedrooms upstairs. The boys were upstairs now and yet she could still hear them laughing and being silly. Max was only twelve, but he was loud. Much louder than Trent, who was the introverted one of the two. What’s it going to be like when they’re nearly men? She cringed at the thought. One day at a time, she told herself.
She scooped out a spoonful of sauce and held it up to Murray. “Here, taste this.”
His eyes lit up and he licked his lips. “Yum. I don’t know what we’d do without you.” Gemma planted a quick kiss on his lips. She knew all too well that Murray and his boys had been living on frozen meals and Kentucky Fried Chicken since his wife died three years ago.
Trent and Max were still giggling when they returned to the kitchen dressed in their PJs, and although she tried not to be distracted by their noise, it was impossible in this small space. Clearly they were excited about something. It took Murray’s stern voice to get them setting the table.
“Dad, you won’t believe—”
“Wait till we’re seated. Then you can tell us.” Murray was a firm believer in sharing the day’s events at the dinner table. She agreed. Mealtime was family time. However, with his monotonous job as a baggage handler and her beauty salon business, where almost every day was a repeat of the one before, they rarely had anything interesting to share. The boys, though, usually had something to offer. Most of the time it stretched well beyond the truth, but she enjoyed listening to their adventures. It was better than sitting at her place all alone with her dog.
From the corner of her eye, she watched Trent set the table. He was meticulous in the positioning of the knives and forks. It was strange that he would do that and yet the room he shared with his brother was like a tornado aftermath.
Finally they were seated and before Trent even tasted his food he spoke. “Can I tell you now, Dad?”
“Sure. Pass the salt, buddy?”
“Okay, so we were under the boatshed playing cars—”
“What?” Murray nearly choked on a mouthful of chicken. “No wonder you were so filthy! I’ve told you not to go there. It’s dangerous.”
“Dad, please can you listen. We overheard some guys talking about robbing a bank.”
Gemma raised an eyebrow. Here we go. Trent’s school results were so extraordinary that he’d been put on an accelerated learning program, yet despite his brilliance he was prone to exaggerating. She placed her hand on Murray’s knee. “Sounds exciting,” she said.
“They did lots of swearing,” added Max.
“Max, I’m telling the story?” Trent glared at his brother.
“It’s true.”
“It was probably some teenagers mucking around,” Gemma said. “They must’ve known you were there and thought they’d have a little fun.”
“Gemma’s right. Now eat up and you can play with your Game Boys for a bit before bed.”
Trent rested his knife and fork down and reached for his water glass. “These guys were talking about how one of them just got out of jail.”
“Really.” Murray glanced sideways at Gemma and smiled.
“It’s true, Dad, and they were swearing—”
“Come on, Trent. This is silliness. I’ve told you a dozen times not to go to that old shed. You’re lucky I don’t ground you both.”
“But Dad,” the brothers said in unison.
“Quiet. Actually, no Game Boys tonight. I’m not happy that you went there again.”
From that moment on, other than the clinking of cutlery, dinner was eaten in awkward silence. By the end of the meal, Gemma was back to wishing she’d stayed home with her dog. Afterwards Trent and Max cleared their plates from the table, then sullenly disappeared upstairs to their bedroom.
“It’s hard to believe their stories sometimes,” Gemma said, grabbing her empty plate and standing up.
“Yeah, I know.” Murray scraped the leftovers into the bin as Gemma filled the sink to wash up. “I wish they wouldn’t play under that boatshed.”
“Boys love playing in places like that.” Gemma threw a tea towel at Murray. “We should check it out with them one day. It might have some interesting things in it.”
“I doubt it. This whole area was flooded years ago. The shed’s probably rotten. It’s a wonder it’s still standing.”
“But they obviously love it there. Didn’t you see their eyes light up when they talked about it? Let them have their secret place,” she said. Gemma hoped she was saying the right thing. Falling for a guy whose wife had died was hard enough, but trying to replace her as a mother was harder still. “They’ve lost a lot. Why not let them have this thing. If it was that dangerous someone would have pulled it down years ago.”
Murray breathed out. “Maybe you’re right. Come here.” He grabbed her around the waist. “I’m so lucky I found you.”
“You didn’t find me, Milo did.” She rose up on her toes to kiss him. Gemma still couldn’t believe the way they’d met. Her dog, Milo, had taken off in the park chasing a scrub turkey and Murray and the boys helped her catch him. She’d tried every which way to meet the man of her dreams and it took her runaway dog to put her into Murray’s arms. Although he was a widower, trying to look after two young boys, she had almost instantly fallen for him. She’d been with enough creeps to know a nice guy when she met one.
Murray tapped Gemma on her bottom. “Come on. Cheers is about to start.”
She smiled on the outside, but a little piece of her died on the inside as she wondered what other twenty-nine-year-old women were doing tonight.