The Love Shack by Jane Costello

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Chapter 7
    Dan
    As I head into the house, I remind myself that I spent sixteen years living with my mum, so a few months isn’t going to kill me. It’s not like I don’t love her – plus, I’m hardly alone. If I believe what I read, loads of people in their twenties and thirties are doing this to get on the housing ladder.
    I enter the hall and cross the big oak floor that my friends and I would fight on as kids – not usually to the death, it was more your average rough and tumble. I breathe in a dozen childhood smells: furniture polish and old wood, cut grass and my mother’s freshly-cremated biscuits. The house was always full when I was a kid: of her friends, my friends, the sound of scraped knees and laughter, usually after we’d done something we weren’t allowed to. The list – from burying the contents of Mum’s entire cutlery drawer in the garden to taking a selection of her bras to school to attempt to trade them for football cards – was endless. My eight-year-old self was an arsehole, I’m afraid.
    I abandon my bag and enter the kitchen, as a magnetic force pulls me to the fridge. I bypass a couple of ambiguous, home-made lumps and grab a Kit Kat, which is an undeniable improvement on the underwhelming ‘treats’ I’m used to when Gemma’s on a healthy-eating kick (pro-biotic yoghurts, I’m talking to you).
    I look up as Gemma and Mum walk in chatting – and experience a bolt of optimism that makes me wonder if this set-up might be tolerable.
    ‘While I remember,’ Mum says, ‘we need to talk about the birds and the bees.’ I splutter asthmatically as a piece of chocolate becomes lodged in my windpipe. ‘Obviously, I’ll expect both of you not to partake in any conjugal relations under my roof.’
    I let out a sigh as Gemma’s mouth forms a perfect O.
    ‘PAH! GOTCHA!’ Mum hoots, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. ‘Seriously, Gemma. You can go at it like rabbits for all I care.’
    I just love this sort of thing, as you can imagine.
    ‘Dan knows,’ she continues to my girlfriend, ‘that I have a very relaxed attitude towards anything like that. And despite the circumstances, it’s important to keep your sex-life active and interesting. You’ve been together four years – if you don’t make the effort now, you risk things becoming stale.’
    ‘I think that’s enough, Mum,’ I say calmly, turning to Gemma. ‘She hasn’t taken her happy pills yet today.’
    ‘Don’t be cheeky,’ Mum says, swatting me over the head. ‘Besides, I’m serious. If you want to experiment with some alternative locations, Dan’s grandma and I will go out and give you free run of the place. The pool might be nice. Just make sure you check the pH balance afterwards. Of the water, obviously. Ha!’
    ‘Mum, stop. Please.’
    She nudges Gemma conspiratorially. ‘He’s so old-fashioned. It was like the time I told him about the lesbian affair I’d had at school . . .’
    ‘MOTHER!’
    ‘Oh God, it only lasted a week,’ she tuts. ‘I don’t think that even made me bi-curious. More bi-couldn’t-be-bothered .’
    We have been on the premises for nine minutes. It already feels like nine weeks.
    ‘Where’s Flossie?’ asks Gemma, diplomatically changing the subject.
    ‘Good question.’ Mum strides to the side window and thrusts out her head in the direction of the converted stable block where my grandmother lives.
    ‘MUMMM!’ Mum shrieks.
    ‘Why don’t I go and get her?’ I offer.
    ‘She’ll have her hearing aid off again,’ Mum tuts. ‘We’ll all go. It’ll be a nice surprise.’
    We trail after her through the hall and I reach for Gemma’s hand. ‘We’ll say hello to Grandma then start unloading, is that okay?’
    ‘Course – we’re in no rush. The landlord said as long as everything’s out by tomorrow morning, it’ll be fine.’
    We head around the side of the house to the granny flat which, when Gemma first saw it, she said was enough to make her want to