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The first time he'd ever met Walker's mother, she was in London with a friend, with a couple of hours to kill why the friend had some tests done at a discrete Harley Street clinic. They had been waiting in the generic coffee shop, Walker teasing him a little about his nerves, and the moment she had looked at him without unwrapping her arm from Walker's waist, he could see all the ways Walker was just like her. The shape of his face, his colouring, the way he licked his front right tooth when he realised he was babbling. She called Walker Davey, and pulled Luke into a brief awkward hug when he'd gone to shake her hand, and asked lots of questions, until Walker had rescued him, and asked Luke to please, call her Jamie. Walker teased her about her not bothering to dress up for a day trip to London, and the first time she smiled at Luke it was because he complimented her soft faded denim shirt dress and called Walker a dandy.
The second time he met Walker's mother, the two of them had battled rush hour traffic on a bank holiday weekend, to spend the Easter weekend in Exeter with his family. With his mother, and his grandfather, and the two French exchange students that Jamie was hosting, and her neighbour, Steph, and her twin daughters, who were where the French exchange students had come from, and the friend, who didn't have cancer after all, and the friend's husband, and Mr Walker's lady friend, who was in her seventies and somewhat hard of hearing. He spent most of the weekend quietly in shock and the bustle and hustle of it all. They escaped into town for most of Saturday, fingers brushing in the cool corners of the cathedral, and stealing honeymoon kisses in the car. It rained, so the hoped for picnic on the Sunday became a full dinner instead, and while Luke was forbidden to help with the preparations, he sat in the kitchen and watched Walker and Jamie chat and sing along to Elvis Costello on the radio, and work around each other and he kept their wineglasses topped up and allowed their comfortable happiness wash over him.
The second time he met Walker's mother, the two of them had battled rush hour traffic on a bank holiday weekend, to spend the Easter weekend in Exeter with his family. With his mother, and his grandfather, and the two French exchange students that Jamie was hosting, and her neighbour, Steph, and her twin daughters, who were where the French exchange students had come from, and the friend, who didn't have cancer after all, and the friend's husband, and Mr Walker's lady friend, who was in her seventies and somewhat hard of hearing. He spent most of the weekend quietly in shock and the bustle and hustle of it all. They escaped into town for most of Saturday, fingers brushing in the cool corners of the cathedral, and stealing honeymoon kisses in the car. It rained, so the hoped for picnic on the Sunday became a full dinner instead, and while Luke was forbidden to help with the preparations, he sat in the kitchen and watched Walker and Jamie chat and sing along to Elvis Costello on the radio, and work around each other and he kept their wineglasses topped up and allowed their comfortable happiness wash over him.