Peppermint Kiss by Kelly McKain

basically). Still, he kept saying how nice it was and what a good cook Mum was. Then, after we’d eaten, we sat round the table chatting for ages (well, apart from Grace, who sneaked off again to study). Mum gave Liam a cleaned-up account of what had happened back in Ealing and why we’d moved into the flat, with Saff throwing in barbed comments about Dad.
    Then while Mum was getting the kettle on, Liam had another look at the breadboard-covered rat-hole. “You know, it’s probably best to replace that whole piece of skirting board, Kim,” he said. “I’ve got some offcuts from my last job that should colour match okay. I’ll measure up and trim them down to size, and it’s sorted.”
    Mum was looking confused. “From your last job?” she repeated. “What do you do?”
    â€œI’m a builder.”
    â€œA builder?” she cried. “But that’s so…I mean…” She blushed the colour of the tomato pasta then. “Oh sorry, I just assumed…”
    â€œWhat, that because I’m gay I must be a hairdresser or something?” he teased.
    â€œWell, you weren’t exactly manly about the rat!” Saff fired in.
    â€œOooh, get you!” Liam cried, pretending to be really camp. “Actually, building isn’t the greatest career for me at the moment,” he said then. “My back’s really been playing up the last few months, especially with all the lifting I have to do. I’ve been in agony most nights.”
    â€œOh, you poor thing. I could give you a massage,” Mum offered. Then she blushed again. “Sorry, that sounded a bit odd. I mean, I’m a qualified massage therapist. I might be a little bit rusty, but you never forget the basics. And I’d love to do something for you, in return for sorting out the R-A-T situation.”
    â€œThat would be amazing,” Liam said eagerly. “If you’re sure.”
    â€œOf course I am,” Mum insisted. “We could do it right now.” She pressed her hands down on the table. “I think this will hold you, and we can make it a bit nicer in here…”
    Mum, Saff and I sprung into action then. I went and got the rest of the massage oil I’d mixed up recently for Mum’s shoulders – it was a nice warming spicy one with cinnamon, clove and frankincense, just the thing for relaxing knotty muscles. Saff found some emergency candles for power cuts under the sink, and we stood a few along the counter in washed-out tomato tins.
    Then me and Saff made ourselves uncomfortable on the revolting brown sofa and read magazines as Mum got started. Liam seemed to be enjoying it in general, but we couldn’t help bursting out laughing because every time Mum touched a sore spot he shrieked like a banshee.
    â€œFor a big bloke, you’re a bit of a weed,” Saff sniggered.
    â€œHe’s being very brave,” said Mum kindly. “His back’s in a terrible mess.”
    I felt really proud of her then. There she was, really making a difference to Liam, using this amazing skill we’d almost forgotten she had. And she didn’t have that nervous, worried look on her face any more. She was deep in concentration, working her magic, and she just seemed really relaxed. After a while, Liam stopped screeching and seemed to go into some kind of coma, and a bubble of calm surrounded them both.
    When Mum finally finished, he thanked her about a million times and declared that he felt like a new man. He also said Mum deserved a drink after all her efforts, so he popped over to his flat and came back with a bottle of wine.
    I went off to read my mag in our room after that, but I had to go into the kitchen a couple of times to get stuff. Each time I noticed that the bottle had less wine in, the emergency candles were burning lower and Mum and Liam were discussing the total rubbishness of men even more loudly.
    Not that I was listening or