‘Tell you what, why don’t we go and get a cup of coffee?’
‘I’ve got a better idea…’ she said. I close my eyes and pray. If she suggests what I think she will, I’m going to kill Janet’s son.
‘Let’s go to House of Fraser.’
Now my mum isn’t mean by any shot, she’s the most generous woman I know.Butshe is the queen of frugality – she uses her teabags twice – and has always had very firm views on the sort of people that shop in House of Fraser. Views that aren’t always very kind, which often reference Margaret Thatcher, and are another example of her lumping a whole band of people together in one box.
Normally the thought of even looking inside the three-floored department store in Cabot Circus would be enough to bring her out in hives, and now she wants to go there to buy herself something? This is most bizarre. However, if she wants to treat herself to something a little bit more luxurious for her op, then I am all for it.
This excursion has been triggered by her talking about her hospital trip –‘If they think I’m wandering around Southmead Hospital with my bottom hanging out, they’ve another think coming. There’ll be men all over the place ready to take photos and load it up on the internet. Janet dated a porter from up there once and well, the things she said…’
Janet has a lot to answer for.
Ten minutes later we’re in House of Fraser and she’s tutting at the price tags. Despite being in Beelzebub’s den she seems full of the next-level joy that she usually only gets when her strawberry meringue sponge – a cake of a devilish nature – turns out right.
‘Would you look at this – £120 for a sleep set. What’s a sleep set? It’s just pyjamas with less fabric.’ She tuts.
My phone beeps and I pull it out and look at the screen. It’s Chad Charles, the latest loud-mouthed boy to catapult to reality fame who had posted some stupid stuff on Twitter years ago. He can wait. This is Mum’s time.
She grins. ‘Ooh, but look at this…’ She picks up a silk nightie. It’s long and has proper sleeves – she’s had concerns about the tops of her arms for years, even though they just look like arms to me – and is in the palest pink. ‘Ooh, you’d feel like a princess in this. Imagine waking up with this on.’ Then her tone changes, becomes less enchanted-garden, steelier. Hmmm. ‘I’m going to try it on.’ She hasn’t even glanced at the price tag.
‘Go for it. I think that’s a good idea.’ I nod encouragingly. She’s still using a whole load of Timotei she stockpiled about the time I was born. This sort of unfettered spending is uncharted territory.
‘Yup. And you’re going to wait over there.’ She points to the exit.
‘Really?’ Is she scared in case I see a slip of her in silk? Yeah, actually, I can wait over there.
I stand right by the side of the door – doing as I am told – when my phone beeps again. Honestly, celebrities and their need for constant hand-holding. I’ve already written a statement of apology for Chad and told him to slowly give out money to charities, pitch in, do some good and refrain from posting about it on social media. He should be doing good because he bloody can and somehow it will get known about. Self-serving, I know, but you have to work within the realities of life and human nature. And at least some charities get huge chunks of cash out of it.
It isn’t Chad.
I’ve just got a phone call from Greenbank Primary School. They wondered if I could cover a cancellation for tomorrow.
A smile covers my face, ear to ear. This is great news. I can imagine how happy this must make her. I see her face in my mind, excited.
Wow. Can you?
Of course. I’ll have to make it Christmas themed which is trickier than you’d think and somehow make it suitable for infants but yeah!
This is great news. I’m so pleased for you.
Thank you. I wanted to let you know.
Will you let me know how it goes?
Of course.
I start to typeShall I come and help you research… which I know is stupid, there’s hardly anything I can add to the discussion, but sometimes having company is fun. And then my mind flashes to this morning.
I delete the message.
I had a dream about Belle Wilde last night, not some teen dream but one where she had very much been in it and as my girlfriend. We’d been going on some wild goose chase and I couldn’t remember exactly what for or where, or even the point of it; there was something about tinsel and chickens and cupcakes, but I knew from the way I felt that everything was all right because we were together.
Honestly, it freaked me out.
It still is.
I made a conscious decision after Jessica that I was better off on my own, even after allowing myself time for grieving and healing. That level of involvement is not good for anyone. I want to be by myself and I never want anyone to hurt as badly over me as I did over her. That way I can keep myself safe. I can keep everybody safe.
