The flat feels cool and airy; a world away from the heat stagnating in the air outside.  As I look around the huge open space I wonder again how much this place is worth. Does he own it or rent it?  Does he have a mortgage on it or did he buy it outright with the proceeds of one of his illegitimate business streams? Why don't I feel as horrified about the prospect of that as I once did?

My idea of right and wrong had become far more transient of late I'd noticed. Increasingly, it had become more of a murky grey colour than either black or white.

On the bottom shelf of the the low coffee table there are a stack of Mens Health magazines and so I reach out and grab one of them before relaxing back into the soft grey sofa.  As always, some six-pack possessing greased-up actor grins up from the cover, telling us boldly how to shave pounds off by drinking coconut water fourteen times a day.  Jake seriously reads these? Jake looked far better than any of the men in here.

We'd said goodbye at the park gate, with Caleb waving enthusiastically and inviting me to the zoo with him and Jake to see the lions next time they went. An offer I'd accepted readily of course.  I thanked him for helping me feed the ducks and eat all the food, and for teaching me how to play 'whizzy ball' - the loud bright addictive game on his iPad.   Before they'd crossed the road towards Jake's car, Jake had kissed me in full view of his son.   It was a chaste kiss by his standards, but with a warm lingering intent.  Then he'd given me the key to his flat and told me to go back and wait for him there and that he wouldn't be long.  Vicky lived in Clapton, but he was dropping Caleb by her salon in Hackney so he'd be no more than an hour he'd said depending on traffic.

I kind of missed Caleb already.  His cheeky demeanour and adorable giggle had won me over completely.  The way he watched Jake with a quiet awe like he was the centre of his little universe was something I could actually relate to myself.  Jake was fast becoming the centre of my universe too.  Watching Jake with Caleb was addictive too.  But concerning me still was the conversation Caleb and I had had when Jake had left us alone.  His talk of death unsettled me - and I need to think of how to discuss it with Jake in a way which won't bloody terrify him.  Maybe there was nothing to be worried about?  Maybe he was just an unusually deep little boy, or maybe lots of children pondered the death of their mothers?  Had Jake?

The sound of the intercom screeching its robotic sounding ring at me from the other side of the room makes me start, tearing me from thoughts of Caleb.  It takes me a minute to located the thing, obscured by the large fridge in the kitchen, but after pressing the unlock button I go the front door and unlock that for him too.   As I'm pouring myself a chilled glass of cranberry juice, a sound similar to the intercom, but a little less brazen, echoes through the flat. Why wouldn't he just let himself in? Maybe his hands are full. As I go to the door and pull it open, to my surprise I'm faced with a woman, not Jake.

Well turned out, she's older - late forties early fifties maybe - and dressed smartly in a pale grey suit. As she smiles nervously at me it pulls her high-cheekbones up. Her blue eyes are warm but she looks anxious.

As I smile back at her she shifts on her feet and looks behind me into the house. "Um, can I help you?" I ask politely. She must be selling something. She's carrying a large dark grey bag which matches her shoes.

"Sorry. I, uh, I was looking for Jake?" She says, glancing behind me again. My face falls into a half frown which I try and lose immediately. I pull my shoulders back.

"He's not home right now I'm afraid. Is he expecting you?"  My eyes narrow of their own accord.

She smiles another of her tight smiles and this time shakes her head. Her shoulder length dark blonde hair falls over her shoulders. "No. He won't be expecting me." She says with certainty. She looks at me then, properly it feels like, blue stare levelling at me with curiosity and perhaps suspicion too. There's something familiar about her stare and I don't know what, I'm certain I've never met this woman before in my life.

"Do I know you?" I hear myself ask.

Another shake of her head. "No."

"Ok. Well can I maybe give Jake a message for you? I'm his girlfriend." I tell her. Something flickers over her eyes and she nods an 'ah' like nod and opens her mouth to speak.  She closes it again though and then shakes her head once more.

"No, it's okay. I'll come back another time. It's better I speak with him in person."

"So who should I say...?" I leave the question open for her but instead of filling it she just smiles and shakes her head again and steps away from the door and from me. Her shoulders drop as she turns away and then she's moving quickly down the corridor towards the lift. Perplexed and curious, I stare after her a few moments. When she hits the button for the lift something, and I don't know what, propels me after her.

"Wait!" I call, hurrying towards her. "Hold on."

As I reach her side she seems to take a deep breath before turning slowly around to face me. She looks a little scared now, her light golden glow fading a little. "Who are you? What do you want with Jake?" I ask somewhat defensively. I don't care. This woman has turned up at his house, given no explanation as to her presence and now whats to skitter off.

She stares at me a long time, too long. Then she swallows and lifts her head up, almost proudly.

"I'm his mother." she says.

My mouth drops open. Then the bottom drops out of my stomach.

My eyes are open too wide, and my mouth resembles that of a fish I'm sure.

His mother.

Jakes mother. Here. Oh my god.

Suddenly I begin to regard her in a whole new way, examining every feature. They now seem to be screaming their similarities loudly at me. The eye colour - a shade lighter than Jakes, but a close match, the nose is similar too - long and straight and widening slightly at the bottom. Her mouth is different though - and so I gather that he gets that from his father. Stand them side by side I know I'd see more than a passing resemblance. Because she's his mother. Oh my good god.

Despite the hammering in my chest, when I open my mouth to speak to her I sound remarkably calm. "Then you should come inside and wait for him. He won't be much longer."

She looks hesitant but only for moment before she nods once. "Okay then." she says softly.

Dazed, I turn back towards the door of Jake's flat and she follows quietly behind me, her heels making no noise on the carpeted hallway behind me. When I hold the door open to welcome her inside, she steps across the threshold almost like she's entering consecrated ground, not her son's home.

With the door closed, I gesture ahead of her towards the living area and she walks in front of me into the large space, her head turning to look around and up as she does. She turns once full circle before she becomes aware of my eyes on her. She stops looking around and straightens up, dropping her curious stare on me again.

"You live here with him?" She asks. I haven't even properly introduced myself to her yet.  I step forward, ready to shake her hand, but decide at the last second that the gesture is too formal. This is Jake's mother. His estranged mother granted, but his mother nonetheless. I drop my hands back by my sides and offer a soft smile instead.

"No, I don't live here with him. We don't live together," I shake my head. "I'm Alex by the way - it's really nice to meet you."

Her mouth turns up into a smile and she nods once. "Susan. Nice to meet you too."

"Can I get you tea? Coffee? Something cold to drink?"

"Umm, tea would be nice actually. Just milk please." She says, wringing her birdlike hands together. She doesn't have Jake's hands either I notice.

I nod. "Sure, please go have a seat." I point to the sofa behind her and she nods again before moving towards it.

As I make the tea I observe her looking about the room again with rapt curiosity. First at the shelves holding his CDs and records, then his entertainment centre below the large TV on the wall, across to his worn leather chair and the guitar resting in the corner. She even leans over to gaze curiously at the mens health magazine I'd discarded on the coffee table when I'd gone to answer the door.

I hand her her tea and take my own and go sit down across from her on his brown leather armchair. She looks very nervous now, her shoulders are bunched up as she grips her tea cup and her arms are reined in tight by her side as though she's trying to take up as little space as possible in Jake's flat. I wonder if maybe sitting the way I am across from her, as though I might be about to interview her might be adding to her discomfort. Shifting my body into a more relaxed position, I tuck my legs up under me and sip at my tea. Then I study her.

She doesn't look like the alcoholic child neglector Jake's description of her had conjured. Her face is lined yes, but just in the way a fifty-year-old woman's might be without the use of expensive preservation methods. She's well dressed and neatly groomed, attractive even. She brings the mug to her mouth and blows on it softly before sipping quietly from it.

"I suppose you're wondering what I'm doing here?" she asks. "He told you about me I take it?"

"Very little." I admit. The truth. I know very little of her except for what Jake told me on our first date. Since that sad story about cold starving children and football boots that were too small he had never uttered another word about her since. I'm not wondering what she's doing here though because that much is obvious. She wants to see her son.

Susan nods and sips again. She doesn't blow this time.

"I always told him I'd come back for him. He probably thought it would be long before now though." She smiles but her voice drips with sadness.

I bite hard on my lower lip and she drops her head, staring hard into her cup of tea. When she brings her head back up her eyes are glittering with unshed tears. I offer her a smile that I hope is one of empathy and not judgment. I can't judge this woman. I don't know this woman. "How long have you two been together?" She asks.

"A little while." I smile. To tell her the length of time Jake and I have been in a relationship wouldn't be a good demonstration of what our relationship actually is. I wonder if I should tell her that I was probably in love with him from the moment I set eyes on him. I decide not to. She'll think me flighty and emotional if I tell her that. That moment is when I realise that I care what Susan Lawrence thinks of me. "I love him very much." I add.

I'm carrying his child. He's going to be a great father. He already is a great father.

A small muscle at the side of her mouth ticks at my admission. "I'm glad," she says, sipping more of her tea. "I'm glad he has someone." a nod to herself.

"He has a son too." The words fall out of my mouth and the regret is immediate. It's not my place to tell her that. It's Jakes place.

Her blue eyes widen in shock. "You and Jake have a son?" she gapes.

I shake my head. "No, not Jake and I. With his ex - partner." Christ why am I still talking? In a few months we would have a son or daughter that I could and should talk about. This though isn't my story to tell. Bloody hell Alex.

"Jake has a son..." She says. It's to herself not me. She sounds mildly amazed by the fact I think.

"That's where he is right now, dropping him back home." As I look at my watch I suddenly feel my own nerves begin to crackle and kindle in the pit of my stomach. He would be back any minute. What would he say? Maybe I should have told her to come back later?  Christ.

"So he doesn't live here? With Jake?"

"Um, no he lives with his mother." I tell her.

"Oh, ok."  She says. Susan takes another sip of her tea and we sit in a strange loud tense silence for a few moments until I hear the sound of a key in the front door, quickly followed by the sound of it opening. My breath falters slightly but I give her as reassuring a smile as I can and reach over and place my cup down on the table. I need to cushion him from the shock that's sitting on the couch. It's essential. I've literally no clue what his reaction is going to be. I'm nervous now.

He comes through the door carrying a plastic shopping bag and a bottle of wine under his arm and beams at me as he kicks the door shut behind him.

"Stopped to get you some wine," he holds the bottle up to show me. "There's none here and I wasn't sure if you were still on your detox thing but I thought better safe than sorry."

I nod but find myself unable to smile back him, my face tight with nerves.

He notices instantly. "What? Was I supposed to get something else?" He frowns coming toward me. I open my mouth to speak but no words come out, none at all. My lips start moving but no sound follows.

I know the moment he sees his mother. I feel it. I see it. The temperature in the room seems to drop and his eyes cloud over. All colour drains from his face; his healthy golden complexion, cheeks kissed from a day spent in the sun, dissipating as his face turns the colour of a rain drenched sky full of clouds.

I'm worried he's going to drop the wine he's holding, but he doesn't. If anything his hand seems to tighten around it, into a hard clenched fist, his mouth hardening into a firm, cold, angry line.

"Hello son." Susan says from behind me in a surprisingly clear and calm voice. It's not how I was expecting her to sound at all.

When I turn my head to look at her she's standing up from the couch, her hands still holding tightly on to her mug of tea. Her colour is fine I notice, she seems bizarrely uplifted by the sight of him.  The shock seems to be all on Jakes side.

Jake doesn't respond to her, he moves directly into the kitchen and places the plastic bag delicately on top of the counter, the wine too, and drops his head, bracing himself against the worktop for a moment. When he finally turns back around he settles his stare on his mother, it's heavy and loud. He looks angry, not surprised or shocked, just very angry. His nostril's flare and he's biting hard on the inside of his mouth and then takes a few strides across the kitchen and comes to stand next to me on my left.

"What the fuck do you want?" he asks her.

He isn't touching me but he's close enough that I can feel the heat radiating out of his body. I feel the thrum of vibration from him too. To her credit, Susan doesn't waver. Her demeanour from before he arrived has been replaced by a strange kind of confidence I would never have predicted. It's almost like the sight of him has strengthened and energised her. She pulls her shoulders back and walks over to place her teacup down on the kitchen counter and turns to face him again.

"I just wanted to see you, that's all," she shrugs. Like it's the really the most harmless thing in the world. "You look really good son - nice place you have here too." She looks around the flat again briefly before settling her eyes back on Jake.

"Yeah? Mind telling me how the fuck you found out where I lived?" He asks, his voice like rumbling thunder.

"Well, I went down to Sal's - can't believe he's still there," She shakes her head in wonderment. "But anyway, he said he knew you had a place in the docklands but not where. He told me to go see Johnny Forbes, who'd get your address for me. Which he did." She explains. None of these names mean anything to me but I see Jake nod his head slightly. Shifting round to me, he inclines his head but keeps his eyes on her.

"Baby, remind me later to thank Johnny and Sal for being so fucking helpful will you?" Jake says. Despite his surprisingly light tone, I decide to do nothing of the sort later. Susan only smiles. "So you've seen me. Why are you still fucking here?"

"Jake maybe I should go?" I suggest then. "Leave you both to talk? That might be the best—" I go to move but he clamps his hand hard onto my arm.

"You're not going anywhere Alex." He says firmly. The words are an insinuation and Susan seems to understand exactly what he means because she nods in understanding.

"Well, I knew you would probably be a bit angry. You've every right to be, I understand." She says.

Beside me Jake tenses harder, his grip on my arm tightening. It's just on the cusp of painful. When he speaks his voice is surprisingly calm, dismissive even.

"You understand fuck all," He tells her. "Strangers turning up unannounced at my house and imposing themselves on my girlfriend is inconvenient, that's all. Now if you would kindly get the fuck out of here and do us a favour - don't come fucking back yeah?" He says.

Finally something caves in Susan's body, a rumble moving through her as a sort of weary hopelessness settles over her. She nibbles on the inside of her lip, in exactly the same way Jake does, before a look of acceptance comes over her eyes. Letting out a tired breath, she turns and walks back to the couch and lifts up her large bag, hooking it over her shoulder as she walks back to us.

Her face is so sad and so pitiful now that it makes me want to cry. I actually feel on the verge of tears watching her as she reaches into her bag and pulls out a pen and a small black address book. Jake watches her with a mask of cool indifference, his jaw clenching under his thick chestnut beard, as she leans on the kitchen counter and scribbles something between the pages. The sound of her tearing the page out is so loud in the quiet tense space. She folds it over once and leaves it there on the counter before straightening her shoulders and looking back at us. She looks a little more composed now than she did a moment ago.

"If you change your mind and want to talk to me, that's where I'm staying," she points at the piece of paper with her pen.  "My number is on there too. I'll be here a few days before I go back to up to Birmingham.  I'd like the chance to talk to you, explain a few things. I know it's a lot to ask son, I know that. And I know you don't think I deserve it and I don't. But well, maybe once you've a chance to think it over..." She flicks her eyes to me briefly before looking back at her son. She's waiting for something from him but I know with an almost certainty that she's not going to get it. He stands beside me tense and silent still holding on to me tightly.

"You remember where the door is yeah?" He says in a voice so cold it causes a shiver to roll over me.

She smiles a sad smile and nods once more. When she looks at me I give her another of my reassuring smiles - though what I'm trying to reassure her about, I've no idea.

"It was nice meeting you Alex." She says, moving past us both to go towards the door. She looks back only once before disappearing out the door, closing it softly behind her.

It's almost thirty seconds after the door closes behind her before Jake lets go of my arm.

He wanders away from me into the kitchen and begins to put away the contents of the bag he brought in with him. Crusty loaf, milk, eggs, and a tub of bright succulent looking strawberries. I watch him silently, feeling overwhelmed and confused and full of knotted nerves.  For him, for me. Moving across the kitchen to him, I stop behind him and slide my arms around his waist and lean my head into the strong warm expanse of his back. He smells divine. Comforting and warm and familiar. His heat feels vital and this moment feels pivotal and above all, no matter what he's feeling, I need him to know that I'm here.

He stops moving and takes a deep breath before he turns around and wraps his arms tight around me. He presses his lips to the top of my head and takes another deep breath. My head is pressed against his chest now and his heart beats fast and loud. When I look up into his eyes, they're still a little dark and inscrutable but they're lightening and softening slowly. He lowers his mouth to mine and kisses me roughly and deeply, his tongue and lips greedy over mine. He holds my head before moving his hands down and across my body in the same urgent fashion, stroking and caressing the bare skin of my shoulders and back as pulls me against him. When he begins to pant against my mouth I finally begin to feel the tension in his body start to melt.

Reluctantly, I pull my head back from his, separating our mouths, and settle my hands flat on his chest.

"What are you going to do?" I ask, peering up at him.

He frowns a little, but then his face relaxes and a slow smile spreads over his mouth so that he's smirking at me.

"Well first I'm going to take your clothes off slowly, or quickly, yeah definitely quickly... mmmm then I'm thinking I'll lift you up onto this counter and fuck you right here." He licks his lips and leans forward to kiss me again. I let him, but when he starts to slide up my dress from the back I pull back from him, my eyes asking the question this time.

"I know what you're thinking," He says. "I wanna fuck you in the kitchen far too often, and you're probably shitting it that I have some sort of kitchen fetish or something, but I don't honest. We can fuck upstairs if you'd rather? I don't really care to be honest..." He murmurs, leaning forward to kiss me again. This time I take a full step backwards away from him and give him an expectant look. He blatantly ignores it. "So you do want to go upstairs then. Fine by me.. lets go." He grabs my hand and starts to pull me with him towards the spiral staircase.

"Jake. Stop it, just stop." I plant my feet into the ground and pull my hand out of his. He stops. Sighs. Then slowly turns round to face me. His mouth is tight again. "Talk to me, please." I urge softly.

"There's nothing to talk about Alex."

"Seriously??? Jake you can't just pretend she never came." I say. My voice is too high and too emotional. I hate when it sounds like that - it gets nothing done when it sounds like that. When I speak again I calm it. "You can't just go on like nothing happened, you haven't seen her in what, twenty years? She's your mother for god sake."

Instantly, the dark cloud from earlier rolls across his face again, his eyes turning cold and hard as stone. He looks like he's angry at me now. There's a look of something like betrayal on his face.

"My mother?" he sounds incredulous. "Alex, that woman was never a mother to anyone, least of all me. Actually you're wrong about everything you just said baby, because I can very easily pretend she never came. In fact, it's exactly what I'm going to do. Now are you coming upstairs or not?   I'm hard and I really need to fuck you right now." He states before pulling his t-shirt up over his head and draping it casually over the nearby bar stool.

The dark shapes of his tattoos look striking against the smooth golden skin, the light from the huge window behind him framing his body magnificently. Of its own volition my mouth waters, and my heart which is already pounding loud and hard in chest, begins to speed up like my breathing. As he begins to unbuckle the belt holding up his shorts, a look comes into his eyes so hot and bloody sinful that my whole body starts to scream at me to do as I'm told.

"And after? Will we talk about it then?" I ask, a little breathless.

"No."

"Jesus Christ this is bloody ridiculous!"

"No Alex, the only thing that's ridiculous is the fact that I'm hard, you're probably wet, and we aren't upstairs already. Now move, or I'll put you over my shoulder and fucking carry you up there." He widens his eyes in warning.

Something wet and warm explodes between my legs and the image of him taking me roughly and angrily plasters itself on my brain. Oh my god.

Okay it's not like this is surprising reactionary behaviour from him. I know him well. I know how skilfully he distracts me from talking with sex, it's what he's always done. Except, I also know exactly what he's like afterwards. His defences crumble just as completely as my own do. We'll see about not talking about it afterwards.

"Fine!" I snap, charging past him to the stairs. "Let's go have sex then!"