The Caravan Trailer

THE TAGALONG
Mike was utterly exhausted from nights out, fleeting flings, and endless first dates.
So, when he met cheerful, sharp-witted Sophie, he immediately sensed she was the one.
They went to a cosy café, listened to some buskers, chatted about his career ambitions and her infatuation with contemporary poetry.
When they both confessed to preferring potato salad with apples, it was clear: this was going somewhere.
Sophie suggested dinner at her flat for the next step in their budding romance.
Mike ironed his best shirt, shaved, memorised some peculiar lines from one of Sophies favourite poets, and bought flowers and a bottle of wine.
He set off feeling buoyant, brimming with that smug confidence only a cat eyeballing his food bowl for the twelfth time that day could understand.
The whole evening seemed mapped out, each detail meticulously anticipated.
That is, until he rang the bell and was greeted by: Alright, Im Harry.
Mums in the bath, do come in.
Mike stopped dead.
Looming above him was a square-jawed face, distinctly male, albeit with a hint of the boyish.
Its owner stuck out a hand large enough to grip Mikes entire skull.
For a moment, Mike wondered if hed got the wrong address, but when Harry sneezed with his mouth shut and nose pinched exactly as Sophie did his worries evaporated, replaced by a sense of doom.
The wine soured and the flowers wilted in his hand.
Stepping inside, Mike caught sight of Harrys trainers.
He could have worn them over his own shoes and still needed to grow into them.
Sophie was about waist-height to her son.
Mike mused ruefully that it was a pity women couldnt do with gold what they seemed to manage with children: give her a ring, and in ten years, youve got a full necklace (what an investment!).
Pondering, he wandered into the kitchen, where the table was beautifully set, and Harry was swapping curtains without so much as a stool.
Five minutes and Ill be out! Sophie called from the bathroom.
Twenty-five minutes later, Sophie emerged in a sparkling dress, her makeup flawless.
Noticing Mikes gloomy face, the excitement in the air evaporated, taking the romance with it as it left.
She silently dished up dinner, poured the wine herself, and started eating without waiting for him.
Why didnt you mention you had a child? Mike managed, feeling somewhat betrayed.
Bit scared of the baggage? Sophie asked, half-laughing, half-sighing.
Thats not baggage, Sophie, thats an entire freight train.
Big lad, isnt he?
Takes after his dad.
He was from a quaint Yorkshire village.
Even taller than Harry.
Used to wrestle wild boars barehanded.
And wheres he now? Mike asked, a lump in his throat.
Touring.
On the road with his new show.
Sometimes he writes.
Though honestly, judging by the handwriting, it could well be one of the wild boars probably has more morals, too.
How old is he? Mike nodded towards the living room.
Fourteen, Sophie replied.
Just got his provisional ID.
By force?
Very funny.
They ate in silence.
Conversation had well and truly abandoned ship.
Could I have some more of that meat? Mike tried, holding out his plate.
You like it?
Honestly, never had anything tastier!
What is it?
Venison.
Harry cooked the whole thing.
Blimey, hes got a talent.
Thats from his dad, along with some ancient cookery books, a box of knives, fishing gear, a boat, and a load of other odds and ends he dumped on us.
A boat? Mike gulped.
Yeah, its in the cellar.
Well, in and out depending on Harrys fishing mood.
Hes an angling fanatic.
At that moment, Sophies phone buzzed.
Apologising, she ducked into the next room to take the call.
Probably time to make myself scarce, Mike thought.
Hed clearly run his course here.
Sophie returned, flustered.
Listen, Mike, bit of a situation at work incident at the office.
Would you mind keeping an eye on Harry for a couple of hours?
Me?
Why?
Well, hes still underage.
You never know nowadays, do you?
People breaking in, all sorts
You worried someone might snatch him away?
Right, lets cut to the chase Ill pay you for your lost evening and your oh-so-heroic babysitting, and Ill never call you again.
Sound fair?
What am I supposed to do with him?
Youre both blokes.
Surely you can bond over something.
Ive got to go. And she was gone before Mike could utter a word.
For a while, he just sat in the kitchen, draining his phone battery, finishing the venison and wine, growing ever more convinced Sophie was never coming back.
Eventually, curiosity got the better of him: he drifted towards Harrys door and heard something familiar.
Cant be, Mike thought, and knocked.
Its open.
Cautiously, Mike pushed into the bedroom.
First thing he saw: a big wooden target, bristling with knives and arrows, every single one bang on the bullseye.
On the wall, impossibly, not a nick in sight.
At the desk, a vinyl record player crooned out Iron Maiden (Mikes favourite), and Harry was fiddling with fishing tackle in the corner.
Trophies lined the wardrobe.
A punchbag hung from the ceiling.
Next to the telly lounged a new game console.
Your mum keeps you well stocked, I see, Mike whistled.
Hed dreamed of a room like this even as an adult.
I work over summer, Harry replied, and Mike suddenly felt sheepish.
All those visions of Sophie eternally searching for a bottomless purse for her bottomless son and here he was, entirely self-sufficient.
Er you got a phone charger? Mike asked, brandishing his dead mobile.
Near the train set, Harry pointed.
Train set? Mike repeated, confused then nearly passed out when he spotted the sprawling model railway taking up half the room.
You built it yourself? he whispered, not wanting to shatter the magic.
Yeah.
I buy new bits when I can.
Eventually want a second tier, new bridges.
Only just got a delivery of extra track.
Mike felt heat rising to his head and heart.
Can I have a go? he asked.
Sure, one sec. Harry, with one long stride, crossed the whole room.
***
Sophie was gone well over an hour.
She assumed Mike had scarpered, but peeked into Harrys room anyway and found Mike on the floor, helping rebuild the railway.
It was honestly debatable, at a glance, which of them was the child.
Mike, time to get going, Sophie called quietly.
Aww, but Mumoh!
What time is it?
Half ten, Sophie yawned, exhausted.
Ive got the office first thing, so I need sleep.
She saw Mike to the door, pressed a wad of notes into his hand.
I dont take money from ladies, Mike replied, with the haughty pride of someone on the moral high ground.
Fine.
Thanks for watching my tagalong.
Mike managed a short smile and was gone.
***
Hi, um can I come round again? Mike called a few days later.
You know, Im absolutely buried at work can barely think about dating, and our last encounter
Yeah, but can I come see Harry?
Harry? Sophie echoed, nonplussed.
Yeah.
Maybe he needs some company?
Or a babysitter?
Well, I mean Ill have to ask him.
Already have.
Hes keen.
Ive got a new game for his Xbox.
Well be quiet, you can get on with your own stuff.
Well alright, come by tonight.
That evening, Mike turned up looking very different from his previous attempts.
No shirt, no cologne, no wine or brooding stares just a scruffy tee with his favourite band, a rucksack rammed with crisps and pop, and a daft, boyish grin on his face.
Just keep it down, lads Ive got a two-hour video call in a bit, Sophie greeted from the kitchen, wrapped up in a dressing gown, a face mask stuck on, and a distinct whiff of onions trailing after her.
Mike just nodded and shuffled off to Harrys room.
That night, Sophie had to pry Mike and Harry apart as they argued furiously over whether Guy Ritchie or Mike Leigh was the true king of British cinema.
A six-hour film marathon was threatened, but Sophie managed to assert herself, declaring that both had hopeless taste and ushered Mike out.
And dont forget the bait for Saturday! Harry called after him from the doorway.
What bait? Sophie levelled a gaze at Mike.
Were going after pike.
I told Harry I knew a shop that does proper tackle.
I havent been fishing in ages!
You two really are a pair, arent you?
And time with me doesnt appeal?
You can come too!
Make the sandwiches.
Yeah, thatll be the day.
Fine, go and bond over your rods and hooks.
At least itll keep the kid entertained.
***
A month sped by.
Sophie sank entirely into her job, romance a distant memory.
Mike and Harry, meanwhile, were thriving finished the railway, went crayfishing, attempted to brew homemade ginger beer from Harrys grandfathers recipe.
Harry taught Mike survival skills, and Mike, in return, gave advice on charm and helped the boy muster up the courage to ask a girl out.
All was calm until one evening, an almighty hammering nearly brought the ceiling down.
Sophie answered the door and was immediately assaulted by the smell of smoked boar.
On the threshold was her ex-husband, Harrys dad.
Ive changed, he declared, dropping to one knee.
Even then, he was a head taller than Sophie.
Me and Brutus are tired, want a quiet country life.
Ive saved enough, Ill take you and Harry back up north.
You quit your job.
Harry and I will fish and hunt.
Hah!
Give it a decade and a mans practically enlightened.
Did the wild boar want to settle down too?
No,” he sighed, “he actually signed a contract with a film studio behind my back, the sly sod.
So thats it, Sophie folded her arms.
Boar dumped you, and suddenly family matters.
Doesnt matter!
The point is
He didnt get to finish: Mike emerged in Sophies borrowed tee.
Soph, I nicked your shirt mine got filthy painting the steam engine and
Does anyone in this flat ever finish a sentence? Sophie sighed, looking from one man to the next.
Whos he? her ex rumbled, fist looming towards Mike.
Thats um Sophie floundered.
Just then, Harry stormed out and, with practiced efficiency, twisted his fathers arm and pinned him flat against the wall.
Hes the tagalong! Harry hissed.
Harry!
Son!
Its me Dad!
What tagalong?
Just the tagalong who helps me and Mum deal with all the stuff you left behind.
But I never left you anything her ex realised, wincing.
Mike and Sophie cringed in the corner, watching the showdown.
Alright, alright, truce, her ex yelped, and Harry let him go.
Youve done well, son.
Takes after me.
Ready for boar hunting, he flexed his hand.
In fact, lets do that.
Let me have a day out with my boy tomorrow?
Maybe we can catch up make up for lost time?
Im still his dad, after all.
Sophie was torn, glancing between her ex and Mike.
I understand, Mike nodded, preparing to slip away.
Sorry
***
The next morning, father and son went off at dawn, but only Harry returned that evening.
Wheres your dad? Sophie demanded, anxious.
He left, Harry replied, kicking off his shoes.
Just left?
Thats it?
Gone?
Sort of, Harry shrugged.
He went off with the boar.
Loaded him in the trailer and drove off to train for his next act.
Gave me a lift to the city and buggered off.
Oh, Im a hopeless idiot, Sophie groaned.
I ought to ring Mike
No need.
I just said goodbye to him.
He brought me home.
Said hed drop by tomorrow.
But you left your phone at home!
How did he know where to collect you?
He said he followed us to make sure I was alright.
And you, too.
He actually said that?
He did.
Also said hes tagged along now, and probably isnt letting go anytime soonSophie felt something loosen inside, the kind of knot that only untying years of worry and expectation could achieve.
She tried to hide her smile, busying herself in the kitchen, but Harry caught it anyway.
Think youll ever go out with Mike just for you, and not as my babysitter? he teased, rummaging for crisps.
Why, you angling to get rid of me? she shot back.
He grinned.
No, just figured you could use a co-pilot too, sometimes.
She considered it, tapping her fingers on the breadboard, letting the hum of home settle around her.
The kettle whistled.
Harry whistled backa single, perfect note.
And for a moment, the flat seemed filled with possibility.
The next evening, when Mike arrivedbeaming, arms full of tackle and comic booksSophie didnt hide behind laptops or laundry.
Instead, she met him at the door, and for the first time, let him all the way in.
Harry caught Sophies eye from the hall, grinned knowingly, and vanished into his room, the thud of laughter and model trains echoing through the walls.
Sophie poured tea for two.
They sat down together, and without needing to speak it aloud, both knew: if youre going to be a tagalong, you might as well choose the right train.
Outside, rain pattered quietly on the cellars old boat, and inside, three lives drifted just a little closer, setting course for something like home.