Free Now Is Our Time by Jo Kessel Page A

Miriam to like him. He wanted to get it right, whatever right meant.
     
    A veritable feast had been laid out on the table: warm croissants, scrambled eggs, crispy bacon and a bowl full of melon balls.
     
    “Just to let you know, we don’t normally eat like this,” said Claire as she filled Miriam’s glass with orange juice from a striped blue and white china jug. “It’s a special weekend treat.”
     
    “I made the melon,” boasted Miriam.
     
    “Then that’s what I’m having,” said Jonah, spooning a generous helping of melon balls onto his plate before refilling fresh coffee into the now empty, enormous mug which Claire had brought him in bed.
     
    “What’s Sports Direct?” he asked, reading the blue and red logo on the cup.
     
    “It’s Mummy’s favourite shop,” giggled Miriam.
     
    “It is,” Claire confirmed. “It’s a massive chain of stores which sells the cheapest sports merchandise on the face of the planet. And this mug once came free with one of our many purchases.”
     
    “I bet it’s the biggest mug in the whole world,” said Miriam.
     
    “I think you are quite possibly right,” smiled Jonah, taking a sip from the alpha mug before tucking into his fruit.  “Mm,” he intoned in a sing-song melody, “and these melon balls are seriously good.”
     
    Miriam eyed him as he shovelled a second, heaped spoon of melon into his mouth. Her intense scrutiny managed to elicit the impossible, to both unnerve and relax him simultaneously. Martha would have been no different and that thought made his mouth curl upwards as he matched her gaze head on.
     
    “Do you have any children?” asked Miriam, staring him out.
     
    “I do, a little girl who’s exactly your age.”
     
    “I’m nearly nine.”
     
    “When’s your birthday?”
     
    “July the fourth.”
     
    “Ooh, that’s a very special day in the country I come from.”
     
    “Is it a bank holiday?”
     
    “Yes, it is sort of. It’s American Independence Day, and everyone celebrates with a big party.”
     
    Miriam tore a chunk off a croissant before carrying on with her inquisition.
     
    “What’s your daughter’s name?”
     
    “She’s called Martha.”
     
    There were many other things Jonah wanted to add. Like ‘you’d really like her’ and ‘I’ve got a spare room in my apartment just waiting for you to come visit’, but he held his tongue. Claire was side onto him, but he could instinctively feel that this whole exchange between him and Miriam was being keenly scrutinised by her too. 
     
    “When’s her birthday?”
     
    “She’s just over a month younger than you. She’s nine in August.”
     
    “Cool,” said Miriam, stuffing the torn piece of croissant into her mouth, bringing a temporary pause to her cross-examination. It gave Jonah a chance to turn to Claire, who was wearing a warm smile. She nodded imperceptibly, a tiny gesture which perhaps nobody else would even have spotted, but Jonah knew that it was her reassuring him that all was going well. He was desperate to reach out to take her hand, but restrained himself, opting instead to fork a couple of rashers of streaky bacon onto his plate. He’d always enjoyed Claire’s cooking but one of the things she did best was the full, traditional English breakfast – sausages with baked beans, grilled mushrooms and bacon. Nobody could crisp their bacon quite like hers. He’d just popped some into his mouth, enjoying the way it crackled on his tongue and oozed with smoky flavour, when Miriam recommenced her questioning.   
     
    “Did you used to be Mummy’s boyfriend?”
     
    Jonah nearly choked on the bacon. How should he answer that ?
     
    “Miriam,” Claire interrupted.
     
    “It’s ok,” Miriam continued unabashed, “I already know you were, because Mummy’s already told me.”
     
    Jonah found himself stumped for words. He wished he’d read a manual on the right or wrong thing to say to someone who wasn’t your child but was