It has been many years since I first recall the way my heart grew weary of fleeting flings, onenight romances and endless dates. When I met the simple, lively, and quickwitted Ethel, I knew at once that she might be the one. We slipped into a little café on Covent Garden, listened to buskers strumming guitars, swapped stories about my recent promotion and her love of contemporary verse, and discovered, to our astonishment, that we both liked a modern twist on the classic British Christmas salad lettuce with sliced apples. We both agreed it was a sign to press on.
Our whirlwind romance found its next stage in Ethels flat in Notting Hill, where she invited me for dinner. I chose my crispest shirt, shaved clean, rehearsed a few eccentric verses from one of her favourite poets, bought a bunch of fresh roses and a bottle of decent red. I set off feeling as buoyant as a sparrow, certain the night would be unforgettable. My swagger could have made any cat, prowling its bowl fifteen times a day, jealous.
Everything was arranged down to the smallest detail, except for one odd line that would later stand out: Good evening, Im Percy. My mothers in the shower, do come in. I paused. A squarejawed, almost boyish face stared down at me, and the owner of that face stretched out a hand that could have easily wrapped around my head.
At first I wondered if Id knocked on the wrong door, but when Percy let out a loud, muffled sneeze, pinching his nose just as Ethel always did, the doubt vanished. My mood, which had been soaring, began to dip; the wine grew sour, the roses wilted.
Inside, I stared at Percys trainers and thought I could have slipped them over my own polished shoes and still have room to grow. Ethel, barely taller than a child, reminded me of the kind of woman who never quite knows how to handle a treasure. Give her a ring and in ten years youll have a wedding band, I mused, halfjoking. I drifted to the kitchen where the table was already set, while Percy was swapping curtains without a stools help.
Five minutes and Ill be out! echoed from the bathroom. After a series of fiveminute intervals, the door finally opened and Ethel emerged in a flowing evening dress, makeup glowing on her radiant face. Seeing my sour expression, she instantly understood, and the nervous flutter that had built up vanished with the romance that night.
She placed plates down for herself and me, poured the wine without waiting for my assent, and began to eat.
Why didnt you tell me you had a child? I blurted, feeling cheated.
What, frightened by the trailer? Ethel replied with a wry smile.
Its not a trailer, its a whole train set.
A big one, then? Thats a story from my fathers side a lad from a quiet Suffolk village, taller than Percy, who once wrestled a bear with bare hands.
And where is he now? I swallowed.
Hes touring with that very bear, left us for the big stage. He writes letters, but the handwriting is so wild I swear the bear himself is penning them.
How old is he? I nodded toward the wall.
Fourteen, just got his passport.
Strong? I asked.
Very funny.
We ate in silence; conversation felt forced.
More meat? I offered my plate.
Do you like it?
Honestly, Ive never tasted anything finer. What is it?
Its venison. Percy prepares it himself.
Impressive talent.
It came from my dad, along with an ancient cookbook, a set of knives, fishing rods, a boat and a jumble of other goodies he cobbled together.
A boat? I swallowed hard.
Yes, stored in the cellar when its there, its there. My sons an avid angler.
Ethels phone buzzed, and she slipped out to answer, apologising. I thought, Time to head home; theres nothing left to catch here.
She returned, breathless, and said, Theres been an accident at work. Could you look after Percy for a couple of hours?
Me? With Percy? I was taken aback.
Hes a minor, you never know what could happen. People are wandering the flats these days
Afraid hell be snatched away unnoticed?
Listen, Ill pay you for the lost evening and for babysitting, and then I wont call again, deal?
What am I supposed to do with him?
Just talk shop, ladstalk. Ive got to run.
I never managed a reply; Ethel was already off in a hurry. I lingered at the kitchen, drained my phone, finished the meat, and polished off the wine while she remained absent. When I reached Percys bedroom door I heard familiar sounds from beyond. It cant be, I muttered and knocked.
The door yielded. Inside the playroom, a large wooden board was studded with knives and arrows, yet the wall bore no holes every shot found its mark. A vinyl record player spun quietly, a lowvolume Iron Maiden track filling the room a band I have always adored. Percy sat in a corner, mending his fishing tackle. On a shelf stood trophies, a punching bag swung from the ceiling, and a brandnew gaming console lay beside the telly.
Your mum does well by you, I whistled, halfenvying. A teens room like this was something Id always dreamed of.
I work in the summer, Percy answered, and a pang of shame rose in me. I pictured Ethel frantically searching for a bottomless purse for her endless child, while the lad seemed perfectly selfsufficient.
Got a charger for my phone? I asked, holding it out.
Theres one by the railway line, he said, pointing.
The railway?! I stammered, and when I turned and saw a fullscale miniature railway set, I could hardly breathe.
You built it yourself? I whispered, not wanting to break the magic.
Yep. Adding extra tracks, bridges, a second tier. A fresh box of rails arrived; my hands cant seem to catch up.
Heat rose in my head and chest. Can we run a little loop? I asked.
Give me a minute, he said, setting his tackle aside, standing tall and crossing the room in one stride.
Ethel returned an hour later, certain I had already slipped away, and rushed straight to Percys room where the two were assembling the railway. At a glance, it was hard to tell which man was older.
Colin, you should be heading home, she whispered.
Right, ohwhat time is it?
Its half past eleven, she yawned, weary. Ive got another emergency at work tomorrow, need my rest. She walked me to the door, planted a kiss on my cheek and handed me cash.
I never take money from women, I said, grimacing.
Fine. Thanks for watching my trailer.
I offered a brief smile and left.
A few days later I called, Hey, could I drop by again?
She sounded harried, Work is a nightmare, not looking for anything romantic. Our last meeting
Could I see Percy?
Percy? she asked, puzzled.
Yes, maybe keep an eye on the kid?
Im not sure Ill have to ask him.
Ive already texted him. Hes fine with it. I bought a new game for his console, well play quietly while you go about your business.
Alright, come tonight.
That evening I arrived in a completely different guise no shirt, no perfume, no wine, no pretentious glances. I wore a plain black tee bearing the emblem of my favourite band, a backpack stuffed with crisps and fizzy drinks, and a mischievous grin.
Just keep it down I have a twohour video call coming up, Ethel met me in a housecoat, a fabric mask over her face and a hint of onion breath.
I nodded and slipped into the playroom.
Soon Ethel was hustling me and Percy apart, each arguing over the merits of Balabanovs cinema versus Guy Ritchies films. Their debate was heating up, heading toward a marathon film session, when Ethel intervened, calling them both victims of bad taste, and ushered me to the door.
Dont forget the fish bait on Saturday! shouted Percy from the room.
What bait? Ethel asked me.
Were after pike. I told Percy theres a shop with topnotch bait. I havent been fishing in ages.
So youre mates, then? You dont want to spend time with me?
You can join, slice the sandwiches.
Fine, Ive nothing better to do. Go on with your fishing, Ethel smiled, ushering me out. Work always eats up my time, and at least the child gets something to do.
A month slipped by. Ethel threw herself into her job, romance a distant memory. Percy and I made good use of the time: we finished the model railway, went crabfishing, brewed a batch of traditional ale from an old family recipe, and he taught me woodland navigation while I showed him the basics of flirting, even helping him ask a girl from his class out. Life settled into a gentle rhythm until one night a sudden knock sent chandeliers crashing from the stretch ceiling.
Ethel opened the door to a wave of bearmeat scent. On the doorstep stood her exhusband, now a hulking figure, and Percys father.
Ive realised everything, he announced, kneeling. Even on one knee he towered over Ethel. Potter and I are tired; we want a quiet family life. Ive saved enough, will take you and Percy back to the village. Youll quit work, well fish and hunt together.
Ha! What a joke. Ten years later you finally get it? Even your bear wants to return to the family?
No actually I signed a film contract behind my back, the husband muttered.
So thats why, Ethel crossed her arms, they just dropped you.
It doesnt matter, the point is I now
He was cut off as I stepped into the hallway, wearing Ethels old Tshirt, stained from the days work.
Ethel, I took your shirt, my own got ruined while we repainted the train with Percy, I said.
Lord, does anyone finish a sentence here? she asked, glancing between the two men.
Whos that? the husband demanded, fist aimed at my head.
Its its Ethel stammered, unsure.
Percy burst from the room, twisting the fathers arm against the wall until he howled.
This is a trailer! Percy hissed.
Its a trailer, son! Im your dad! What trailer? the man gasped, wincing.
Its just a trailer that helps us move everything you left behind.
But you never left anything, the husband realised, the words sinking in.
Colin and Ethel clung together in the corner, watching the two giants wrestle.
Alright, alright, break, the father shouted, and Percy released his grip.
Youve done well, lad. Ready for a boar hunt? the man patted his own arm. How about tomorrow, you and I go out, talk about lost time? Im a father, not a stranger.
Ethel stared between her exhusband and me, at a loss for words.
Yes, I understand, I replied, gathering my coat.
Sorry
The next morning the father and son left at dawn, and Percy returned home late that night, alone.
Wheres dad? Ethel asked, eyebrows knitted.
Hes gone, he said, slipping off his shoes.
How can he just go?
Not quite, Percy shook his head. He left with the boar, loaded it onto the trailer, drove off to train it. Found a new partner for shows, dropped me off in town and departed.
Blimey, Ive been a fool, Ethel slammed her forehead. I should call Colin.
Dont bother, I just said goodbye. He drove me home and promised to stop by tomorrow.
Didnt you leave your phone at his place? How did he know where to pick me up?
He told me hed keep an eye on us, make sure we were all right.
So he really meant it?
Yes.
He added that the trailer had latched onto us and would likely never detach again. The memory of that tangled night still lingers, a reminder of how love, duty, and a bit of railway magic can intertwine in the most unexpected ways.
