I also do a rapid mental scan of the staff of the clinic and think that if five doctors suddenly become three, then they have far too many medical secretaries to go around. And the ones who workpart-time are certain to go first.
‘Of course, we don’t know for sure –’
Laoise’s trying to talk herself out of the catastrophic thinking but I can’t.
She’s married, so she has the safety net of another person’s salary. I don’t.
It’s utterly terrifying, one of those moments when the pluses of single motherhood get wiped away by the very precariousness of it all.
‘We don’t know for sure,’ I repeat back to her, and I’m not sure which one of us I’m trying to convince.
7
Sid
Five days have elapsed since I met Finn in the coffee shop, and I still haven’t rung, texted or WhatsApped him. His card isn’t exactly burning a hole in my handbag, but it’s simmering in there.
Vilma has texted me about it several times:Did you ring that guy yet?
Busy. Haven’t got around to it.I text back breezily.
On the fifth day she rings. This time, no punches are pulled. ‘Have you been talking to that sexy Finn bloke from the coffee shop yet?’
‘No, I’ve been swamped at work,’ I protest. ‘You have no idea, Vilma: we’re juggling so many projects.’
This sounds fabulous and I immediately wonder why I’m not a professional liar. I’d make a fortune. If only I could play poker, I’m sure I could combine the lying with the gambling and earn a fortune.
‘I smell bullshit,’ says Vilma. ‘Ring him.’
OK, scratch that.
‘Vilma, honey, the decision to ring him all happened after some wine, it was late at night,’ I begin. ‘Your generation can do that sort of thing, but mine? Not so much.’
‘Millennials get such a tough time,’ she says narkily, ‘but your generation are the weird ones. What are you? X? Y? Baby boomer?’
‘I’m not a baby boomer,’ I say, shocked, ‘they’re ancient.’
‘Oh sorry, I forgot, you’re the“Nothing good is ever going to happen, so I’m going to just sit here in the dark” generation.’
I have to laugh. ‘OK, sis. No, I haven’t rung him because I made a decision not to. It was a crazy impulse in the first place. I don’t know what came over me.’ I’m on a roll with the lying again. ‘Plus, I have friends; I don’t need any more.’
‘No, you don’t,’ she says, in the way only a sister can. ‘Ihave friends, loads of friends, while you could probably count your actual friends on one hand and still have a couple of fingers left over for typing.’
‘I have loads of friends I work with,’ I say, stung.
‘What about friendsoutsidework, friends from school, from college?’
‘You’re different to me, Vilma,’ I grumble. ‘You’re good at holding on to people.’
I didn’t hold on to people – I’d jettisoned them all. Being alone was the only way forward for me all those years ago.
‘I thought you were brave and were going to have a new male friend to go for coffee or see a film with.’
I hesitate.
‘Just coffee, then?’ she says. And I can almost hear her smiling down the phone, like she’s boxed me into a corner.
‘You’re very manipulative, Vilma,’ I mutter, ‘has anyone ever told you that?’
