#bollocking

Opening her eyes to a grey fluff of hair in her face, Kate smiled to herself and pressed a kiss to the back of Malcolm’s head before untangling her limbs from his and getting out of bed. She had slept over at his flat the night before, not feeling like making the trek all the way out to an empty house, and had delighted in the snuggling and aggressive petting that had entailed.  They had both been too tired and sore for any actual sex, which meant that that day they were likely going to need to catch up.

She went into the ensuite and stepped into the shower, trying to wash the previous day’s troubles from her being. Eventually Malcolm came shuffling in with sleepy kisses and half-consciously cursing the sun’s rising. Kate let him soap up her back and grab lovingly at her hips and arse before leaving him to finish off. She nicked his bathrobe and snatched her mobile off the dresser as she made her way towards the kitchen, where Lex was already up and talking on her own mobile while slathering some toast with jam.

“Yeah Granny; don’t worry about me,” she said, her tone indicating she’d said it at least four other times already. She gave Kate a silent wave and kept on talking. “No, you don’t need to come down here and no you don’t need to set any boy straight.” A pause. “No girls either. Now I have to let you go, or I’m going to be late for an early meeting. Love you, bye.” She ended the call and slammed the device on the cupboard with a flourish. “Forget hover-parents; it’s the hover-grandparents that need policing.”

“She just cares about you, that’s all,” Kate chuckled as she made herself some porridge. Microwave; not enough time for her to do things proper either. “She’s a feisty one though—not everyone gets to say their gran’s like yours.”

“People write films about women like Granny and then tone it back because it seems unrealistic,” Lex said. “Women like her are rare.”

“I’ve gathered.”

Kate went on to stir some sugar into her porridge, eating her breakfast next to Lex. A freshly-washed Malcolm decided to join them shortly thereafter, in trousers and a vest, pecking his lady on the cheek and ruffling his niece’s hair before getting something light for himself. Soon as Lex was done she made a beeline for her room and quickly left, making sure she left by the time the other two were putting their dishes in the washer. She knew what would happen if she dawdled, since she had done so once before, and had that sinking feeling her uncle was ready to be thrust up against the wall before she even made it to the lift.

A quick shag and a couple love-bites across Malcolm’s chest later and the couple were dressed and out the door. People had definitely noticed that the two of them would often come into work together, though it wasn’t a thing one commented on freely. The molemen were terrified, the scientists and engineers merely glad they had funding, the aides knew better, and Glenn was just happy to see Malcolm in occasional post-coital bliss. It wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been, having two high-powered people within Mainframe UK trading saliva and other, less-mentionable fluids, but they were enjoying the life that came with empty nests and adult children and no one could blame them for that.

Kate pecked Malcolm on his way out the lift, slapping his rear as she did so, remaining stationary until it went to her floor. Her PA was already in, handing her a couple folders with everything from formal complaints from the Zygon communities in the UK to a Geneva-based memo about expenditures. She took them to her desk and began to flip through them, a coffee appearing by her laptop and the door closing to allow her privacy.

She was nearly done with her coffee and was searching through her email for that precise one she had forgotten to reply to the day before (what was it again?) when her mobile rang. Kate took it from her pocket and stared at it—an unknown number. She placed it down on the desk and allowed it to go to voicemail, making a mental note to ask Glenn if one of his engineers could program something to disable any marketer that decides they want to ring her very private and unlisted number.

A few minutes of silence and the phone rang again. Irritated, Kate picked it up with a scowl.

“Who are you and how do you have this number?” she snapped. “This is unregistered and for official use only.”

“Not when you use it to send naughty texts,” the voice on the other end replied. It was Scottish—a very rough Glasgow if she’d ever heard it—and gravelly. “Now you listen here: you are not going to go about fucking my little boy thinking you won’t have any bleeding consequences, are you?”

Kate’s face grew pale and her voice hushed. “Who is this?”

“Florence, your beau’s mam; considering it took the pulling of a couple strings to get this number, I’d have to say that he really likes you,” the gravelly voice replied. “My little Máel never could resist a powerful woman. That is what you are, correct?”

“Yes,” Kate stated. She set her jaw and controlled her breathing; the last thing she needed was to get cross with an old woman connected enough to force her way into getting her mobile number. “Not that I’m taking or giving offense, but what strings did you have to pull exactly… and how did you even know anything about us?”

“Ach, pet, the Glory Days were glorious and sons can never hide things from their mams for very long,” Florence chuckled. “At least you’re part-Scots yourself—don’t want my son shacking up with some English hussy.” She let out a cough, wet and wheezing and the remnant of cigarettes, before continuing. “If I hear one ill word about you making him unhappy, I’m going to come down there with a fucking claymore.”

“I think Security knows better than to let an angry old woman in brandishing an oversized pocketknife,” Kate deadpanned. She understood wanting to make sure a son was treated well by his girlfriend—Gordon had been half-afraid to bring dates over to the house since early secondary school—but this didn’t exactly seem like the way to go about it.

“I don’t care what you science-fiction fuckers have down there, because I will get through if I want to,” Florence threatened. Kate didn’t answer, instead trying to figure out how to drive conversation away from their jobs. “Yeah, I know you’re those cunts that deal with all the space-aliens and shite like that. I’m not stupid. In fact, I knew about you pissers back when all you’d do is ponce about shooting at shit, playing soldier in the Home Counties and doing security detail on international treaties. Met your da Al on a couple occasions too—that bastard still kicking?”

“…no, unfortunately my father passed away late last year,” Kate replied, trying to stay calm. “Don’t worry Mrs. Tucker; I am not going to mistreat Malcolm in any way, shape, or form, even if we separate. Now may I please get on with my work?”

“As long as you know that while you’re shagging my baby boy, you’re on my radar,” Florence warned. “I’ll leave your nips out of it, but I will make your life cunting miserable if you move my hand.”

“Noted; goodbye,” Kate said, ending the call. She sat there bewildered, staring at the mobile in her hand. After thinking for a moment, she shot off a text to Lex.

‘just got a call from Florence. how did she get my number?’

Not even thirty seconds passed and the phone chirped. ‘fucking granny going cold war again’, followed by a ‘sorry she did that to you’.

‘did you tell her?’

‘fuck no—uncle malc didn’t either, so idk’

‘do I tell Malcolm?’

‘nah. let him be. my granny’s not who you go to for cookies and tea and knit jumpers and provoking them into a fight is not worth our time. I won’t tell if you won’t.’