‘So is this just a tiff, or…?’ she asked.
I shrugged, but then started to cry, and Mum tutted and pulled me tighter.
Eventually, I told her everything, and her response was predictably unpredictable.
‘I think I agree with your Billy,’ she said. ‘I don’t think we’re made for monogamy at all. It’s just an invention, innit, by society, and the Church and that, to make us all feel guilty. It’s bollocks, really, is what it is.’
I thought about this for a while and then sat up and plumped a pillow behind me. ‘But what if I am?’ I asked.
‘What if you’re what?’ Mum said.
‘What if Iammade to be with one person? What if I don’t want to shag around?’
‘Oh,’ Mum said. ‘Right.’
‘You see?’
Mum shrugged. ‘Then maybe Billy’s not the one,’ she said, thoughtfully. ‘Maybe you need to find yourself someone more boring. Not boring – I don’t mean boring. Normal. Maybe you need to find yourself someone more normal.’
I thought about it all day, swinging violently between two extremes, thinking in one moment that Billy was right, and that freedom surely meant the best of both worlds, and then the next thinking,It’s bullshit. It’s just a way for Billy to have his cake and eat it.
At six-thirty, Mum came into the lounge and switched the TV off.
‘Oi!’ I said. ‘I was watching that.’
‘Yeah, well, it’s time you got your glad rags on,’ Mum said. ‘Cos tonight, you’re coming with me.’
‘I’m not,’ I said, laughing at the craziness of the suggestion.
‘You are,’ Mum said, nodding seriously.
‘I’msonot.’
‘You so are,’ she said, reaching out one hand to drag me to my feet.
‘No,’ I said, refusing to budge.
‘C’mon!’ Mum said. ‘Get up! Get out! Just move from that little rut you’re in!’
TWO
BIG FRIENDLY GIANT (BY DAWN)
Mum worked as a barmaid in the Wheatsheaf, a rough community pub sat bang in the middle of our estate. Though it wouldn’t have been my choice of drinking venue, the truth was that I’d never spent a bad evening there. Between the free drinks she’d slip me and the fact she knew absolutely everyone, it was impossible to stay miserable for long.
So I sat at the end of the bar and, between customers, she’d sidle over to whisper all the local gossip in my ear. MrsBurston was having an affair with that new young postie, and Jim Dean’s daughter was plucking up the courage to tell him she was gay. Mike, the man who ran the darts club, suspected that Bill, the Kent County darts champion, was stealing from the cash box in order to buy drinks… And—
‘Hello, Rob!’ Mum said, interrupting a fresh story to serve a massive squaddie type who’d popped up beside me.
‘A pint of the usual, please,’ Rob said, and, as Mum reached for a glass and began to pull a pint of IPA, she said, ‘That’s my daughter you’re standing next to there, Rob, so watch yourself. And she’s on the rebound, too, so be nice.’
Rob frowned at her and then turned to steal a glance at me, but we were so close it was almost impossible to do so politely. He blushed visibly, then turned back to face the bar, and I sensed myself blushing in sympathy.
Once Mum had served him and bustled through to the other bar, Rob said, without turning towards me, ‘Hello.’
‘Sorry about that,’ I said, sourly. ‘She’s an embarrassment.’ I shook my head and turned away to look at a rowdy group coming in through the street door.
When I finally looked back, I was hoping that Rob would have taken the hint and returned to his seat, but he was still there beside me, sipping his beer. I shifted my seat back a little, and glanced up at him. He was big, surprisingly so – well over six feet tall. His bulk, combined with something uncalculated about his smile, made him look younger, I thought, almost verging on simple. There was a naivety about that big, round face of his that made you want to say, ‘Ahh,’ the way you might to a girlfriend’s gurgling baby. I thought about Billy and mentally compared them, thinking that Rob was a teddy bear while Billy was a fox.
