‘Do you know what sociopath means, mum?’
‘Stop saying that silly word, as if James is the sort of person who chops women into little bits.’
‘No, I think you mean psychopath or serial killer, and that’s not what I’m saying. He seems to lack any kind of empathy and certainly doesn’t ever think he does anything wrong. It’s not right. What I’m trying to say, Mum, is that I really don’t like him. I don’t ever want to touch him, and I certainly don’t want his children, which means we can’t have a relationship. His desire for me is all about ego. He only wants me because I don’t want him. If I were attracted to him and I agreed to all this, he would go off me so quickly it would make our heads spin. His crush has nothing to do with me; it really is all about him. I don’t want to see—’
‘You’re talking nonsense. Love, true love, is often a grower. I’ve lost count of the amount of happily married women I know who hated their husband on sight the first time they met him, honest to goodness, hated on sight. And yet they’re all very happily married now, so I think you might be wrong about this. You’ve just got into the habit of being defensive, love. And besides think about the grandbabies, your children. You’d have such beautifully blue-eyed blonde children. You could set them up to model and all sorts, what with his good looks and your style.’
Polly bounded into the room, never short of an opinion and currently sporting jet-black hair.
‘Pippa’s bottle. She’s not a real blonde, so she’s not likely to have blonde children. You should know the colour of your own children’s hair, Mum. When’s dinner? I’m starving.’
‘Exactly, Pippareallylikes blonde. So she’d want blonde children. Honestly Polly, I’m trying to have a very important talk here to help your sister on the path to eternal happiness, and she’s beingveryresistant. I’ll call you when I’m ready to serve up.’
‘Is she still trying to get you to marry James? Ha!’ Polly laughed, laughed hard at her sister’s facial expression as Pippa rolled her eyes and slumped her head onto her folded arms, resting on the table. She was never going to win this battle. Why was she fool enough to think she could have an adult conversation with her mother and make her see that she was no longer going out with James just to please her? Why had she ever gone along with it in the first place?
‘It’s not funny,’ Pippa muttered, muffled by sleeves and adolescent-like hopelessness.
‘It is. It’s hilarious. Mum, why are Dad and Pete waiting outside? And Pips, don’t marry him until he’s sorted me some VIP tickets for Glastonbury. No point having him in the family if he can’t pull his weight.’
Oh, my mum’s been a nightmare today.
Only today? Lucky you! I thought you were going to see Lynne?
I did, baby’s super cute.
Cool. What did your mum do now? Did she bake you more biscuits?
Don’t take the mick!
Pippa started to answer fully but realised Kam was the last person she wanted to discuss the Nightmare-That-Was-James with. Kam was a James-free zone at the moment and the only one it seemed not to be weighing in on her life choices. She was going to keep it that way. She decided to distract.
And anyway it impacts you too.
Your mum?
Yep. She says Marion is vulnerable at the moment and I’m in charge of keeping an eye on her at school.
I didn’t know they were friends. And how does that impact me?
They’re not. We are. Therefore, if I have to do it, you have to do it. And I’ve got to make Marion my New Best Friend.
You can’t have a new best friend. I’m your newest.
Not any more.
But I’ve barely unpacked. Surely that shoots me to the top of the new list.
It shoots you to the top of the most disorganised list.
Ouch. Little bit harsh.
A little harsh and a big fib. You are the most organised person I know. I bet you have unpacked really.
Of course, I have. Still want to be your newest friend though.
Uh-huh and I want a pony and a swimming pool. Life’s tough like that. See you in the morning!
Hmmmm.
