‘No, no,’ Mum says with false calm into the phone. ‘Don’t send him up. I’ll come down.’
‘Don’t send who up?’ I ask her when she replaces the handset.
‘I’m going on a date.’
‘Same guy as before?’ I go on.
‘Mmm, yes,’ she says distractedly, hunting for her bag.
‘How many dates is this now?’
‘Oh God, I’ve lost count.’
‘And I’m still not allowed to meet him?’ I enquire.
‘Maybe next time? Still early days.’
‘Early days, but you’ve lost count of how many dates you’ve been on?’ I say.
She waves. ‘Night, darling. See you in a few hours.’
I wave my mum off as she enters the lift and then I get up off the sofa and go to the balcony, stare over the edge of it towards the front door and wait for the two of them to leave the building.
When they do so, I don’t immediately recognise the man she’s with. I can only see the top of his head. And then I see him. Then I realise why she didn’t want me to know who he was.
‘Ollie’s dad?’ I question when Mum walks in two and a half hours later.
The lift doors have barely opened. And my mum hasn’t had time to step out. For a moment I think she’s going to let the doors close and the lift take her back to the ground floor again, so she can avoid this discussion. But she steps out at the last minute with a nervous expression on her face.
‘How do you know I’m seeing Ollie’s dad? she asks, followed by, ‘Are you upset?’
‘I’m upset you didn’t tell me.’
‘I know, Princess. I’m sorry. I just didn’t know where it was going to lead and I didn’t want to jinx it, and we didn’t want to mention anything to you and Ollie because you’re friends. And this way, if it fizzles out, then the two of you wouldn’t be any the wiser and wouldn’t have anything to argue about.’
‘I’m not quite sure I understand what you’re saying. Youwere worried Ollie and I might be judgy or moan at each other about the other’s parent, if either of you broke the other’s heart?’
‘Maybe,’ Mum says.
‘Oh, wow! OK, well I hope we’re more grown-up than that,’ I say, slightly put out they’d think that. ‘How long has this been going on for?’
‘A few months.’
‘How?’ I ask.
‘The usual way,’ Mum says. ‘He followed me on social media after the house-warming party. We liked each other’s posts, made nice comments every now and again. Comments turned to messaging.’
My mouth drops open. ‘Does Ollie know?’
Mum shakes her head. ‘We spoke about it tonight. I was going to tell you, and Daniel was going to tell Ollie, because it’s going well and we’d like you both to know.’
‘I saved you that job. I practically dangled myself off the balcony to get a look at him.’
‘Oh, that’s how you found out. Very grown-up,’ Mum deadpans. ‘Are you OK with it?’
‘Yes.’ I don’t think the wider implications of this have hit me yet. Although what implications are there?
‘So it’s all right if Daniel pops over tomorrow for a bit?’
