Down London Road

lips that promised more of the same to come later and left me to the rest of my workday.
    Cold latte in hand, I was still standing by the filing cabinets when Mr Meikle stepped out of his office minutesafter Malcolm’s departure. I looked over at him warily. He just stared at me. Almost passively.
Where was the glare?
    Still staring.
    Okay.
    This is officially creepy.
    Meikle cleared his throat. ‘I didn’t realize you were in a relationship with Malcolm Hendry.’
    Oh, balls. Thank you, Malcolm!
I cleared my own throat. ‘Yes, sir.’
    ‘For three months now?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Well.’ He shifted, looking decidedly uncomfortable. I couldn’t help my eyebrows as they rose to new heights. I’d never seen my boss as anything but self-assured and pompous. ‘Well, then. I, um, well, I, um, appreciate your professionalism.’
    Hold the phone.
    What?
    ‘Sir?’
    He commenced with more throat clearing, his eyes shifting around, unable to meet mine directly. ‘Mr Hendry is an important client.’ As his meaning dawned on me, his gaze finally met mine. ‘You could have used that to make your position here more comfortable and you didn’t. I appreciate your professionalism and discretion.’
    It was the first time Mr Meikle had rendered me speechless because of something positive he’d said to me. Usually, I was choking back irritation at his high-handed arrogance and condescension. It was also the first time my boss had ever looked at me without a grimace orpre-emptive disappointment, as though, no matter what, he knew I would never live up to his exacting standards. I’d grown used to that look, so it was strange to be on the receiving end of a compliment from him.
    I eventually found my voice. ‘I like to keep my personal business just that, Mr Meikle. Personal.’
    ‘Yes, well, good for you.’ His eyes filled with irritation. ‘Lucy is always chattering on about that fiancé of hers. As if I have time to listen to such piffle.’ And with that he disappeared back into his office and I suddenly felt sorry for Lucy. Perhaps it was time to start leaving
her
smiley faces.
    Cole had told me he had a presentation for English the next day, so I didn’t want to interrupt his work by asking him to make dinner. Instead, I texted him earlier in the day and told him I’d bring him home a bag of fish and chips. I got Mum a haggis supper just in case she felt like eating. I hurried home with the dinner since I’d bought it from a shop on Leith Walk and didn’t want it to get cold. As soon as I got in the door, I headed for the kitchen, switching on the kettle and pulling out plates.
    Cole appeared in the doorway, his hungry eyes fixated on the fish and chips bag. ‘Can I help?’
    ‘Tell Mum I got her a haggis supper if she feels like coming out into the living room to eat with us.’
    His eyes narrowed at my request, but he did as he was told. After that he sat himself down on the floor at the coffee table and waited for his food, switching the television to a comedy show.
    I had just put the dinner out on the table, along with aglass of juice for Cole, tea for me, and water for Mum, when she appeared. The dark grey long johns she wore were actually loose on her, and she shuffled towards us as though she was in pain. She probably was.
    She sat down on the edge of the couch, the bruised circles under her eyes so prominent I could barely take in anything else. She didn’t make a move for her food – she just looked at the plate with the battered haggis and chips on it. I pushed it towards her, chewing on a chip. ‘Dinner.’
    At her grunt, I turned away and stared at the telly. My brother and I pretended to be watching the show, but I could tell by the stiffness of Cole’s body that he was just as hyperaware of Mum as I was.
    Five minutes later the tension had only just begun to slowly drain from us as Mum managed to eat some of her food, even if it was at the pace of a moonwalker, when she ruined it.
    Like always.
    Focused now on the TV show, Cole had laughed at a joke and turned around to see if I was laughing too. He’d done this since he was a toddler. Anytime he found something funny, he’d look to me to make sure I found it just as amusing. I smiled at him as I always did.
    ‘Pfft.’
    My muscles immediately grew rigid at the sound, as did Cole’s.
    A ‘pfft’ from Mum was usually followed by something unpleasant.
    ‘Look at him,’ she sneered.
    I was sitting on the floor like Cole, so I had to