Joy

Eddie was like a second dad. I guess that's what happens when there's such an age gap. Like my dad he worshiped my mam and would do anything to please her. If that meant spying on me then so be it. I couldn't do anything at school or round the houses without it getting back. Not that I ever got into trouble. School wasn't a problem for me. I was bright but girls weren't encouraged to follow a career back then. Rebelling was simply more hassle than it was worth.

My mam was very traditional. She was Catholic but she rarely went to church. The opposite of me. My faith has always been sadly lacking I'm afraid. At least the church is a good outlet for my baking. Father Joseph has been a rock for me. I can talk to him about anything, safe in the knowledge I won't upset anyone.

Whenever I bake it brings me closer to my mam. "A mother's place is in the home" she'd say. In her day running a house was a full-time job. I was lucky. Trevor had a good wage so I could fit a bit of part-time work in as it suited us. Trevor covered the bills so anything I was able to contribute went on the nice things. I like to think I had the best of both worlds.

I've been thinking a lot about when me and Trevor first met recently. Those heady days when it was just us trying to keep everything secret. It was romantic. It felt like it was me and Trevor against the world. We developed a siege mentality. Silly really. The effort we put into keeping things hidden. A mother always knows. You spot the little things. Even the tone of their voice over the phone. You just know. You don't dare say anything because you don't want to risk it. Love is very delicate at that stage. It needs space to grow.

Of course, Eddie knew everything and had been delivering detailed reports back to my mam. When I eventually came out and told her about Trevor she didn't even look up from the pot she was stirring. She tutted,

"Your dad says since Trevor supports Middlesbrough supporting a wife should come easy. A man needs a hobby. You won't want him under your feet every Saturday."

Eddie and Trevor began going to the football together. They still do. Me and Eddie have started doing a Zoom call on Sundays. After dad died Eddie and me drifted apart for a while. We didn't fall out. It seemed all we did was share bad news. The fact we've reconnected is wonderful. We talk about the old days and howl with laughter.

"How did my mam meet dad?" I asked.

"Mam was a cook and dad was in the army. You know that Diane."

I didn't say anything. Eddie would never lie to me but you hardly needed to be Richard Evans to realise that story never quite stacked up.

"Look. I don't know the details. Dad just gave me a box of medals when he became unwell. My mam wanted him to bin them but he couldn't bring himself to do it. You know how proud he was of her. He'd have sung about her from the rooftops if it was up to him. She hated fuss. I wanted to tell you. It's our history but I couldn't go against her wishes. She was quite the heroine but she was our mam. That's how she wanted us to remember her."

I laughed, "Eddie, she could have been flying Messerschmitt's for all I care. It wouldn't make a blind bit of difference. Do you mind if I pass your details on to a journalist?"

"Yes! Of course I mind. It's the last thing our mam would've wanted. She was a very private person."

"She's not interested in doing a story. She just wants to perfect her goulash."

"Goulash?"

Father Joseph says I've more faith than I realise. I've always said she was out there somewhere and one day I'd get to meet her. I've no idea what I'm going to wear.

Cameron was like my mam. He was a very private person. He was always top of his class and top goal-scorer for his team but he hated a fuss being made over him. Whatever he was doing in London was his business. Just knowing he'd found his special someone fills my heart with joy.