My radio alarm went off at seven. This morning I would have been woken by a jaunty Rick Astley number, but I was already awake, as Freya had rung me at six.
‘Mum!’ she’d said, all chirpy.
‘Freya? It’s really early, darling.’
‘Sorry!’
Freya is almost the exact opposite of me. She’s very organised, has her life super-structured and is always up at the crack of dawn so she can start getting on with things. She was like that when she lived at home and she’s still that way now, living with a bunch of her former Smith’s Economics students at that house in Merton, and working at her first job, as an investment analyst (I know!), in a big company in Hammersmith. She got a first, as I knew she would (Economics! Where did she get that from?) and was doing brilliantly.
My girl. She’s always been a driven, very motivated spirit. On her first ever day at nursery she’d run in without a backwards glance and it was the same at school. She never wanted me to meet her at the gate; she wanted to walk to the car. She resisted hugs and kisses; she was always too busy. I knew she wouldn’t want to move into my new house with me – my hope that she’d be one of those offspring that stay at home until they’re forty, eating their parents out of house and home and refusing to pick their feet up for the hoover, came to nothing. She’s far too independent. But I had a bedroom here for her whenever she wanted it. Even if it was currently covered in Handy Manny wallpaper.
She’d looked after me for the last year – mopping up tears, making sure I was okay, doing things for me – but now it was my turn to mother her again. Starting with supporting her at her graduation on Friday.
‘I was going to ring you today,’ I said. ‘About the graduation.’
‘That’s why I’m phoning you, actually, Mum. I need to tell you something.’
‘Uh-oh, that sounds ominous. What is it?’
‘Gabby’s coming.’
I sat up, violently, knocking my head on the headboard. Ouch.
‘What? She can’t be! It’s only two tickets per family!’
‘I know, but Dad sold the uni registrar’s house for him, didn’t he? So he called him and wangled another ticket.’
I groaned. ‘I don’t believe this! You have to tell him she can’t come!
‘I’ve tried, Mum, but you know what Dad is like. He said it’s his decision and she’s coming. That’s that.’
Thank you very much Jeff, I wailed internally. So he was still attempting to twist the knife. I was all right now, I really was. But this would be very, very tough. I hadn’t seen Gabby since that morning, a year ago.
‘Well, I can’t sit with them, I just can’t! You don’t mind, do you?’
‘I would never expect you to sit with them, Mum, don’t worry.’
‘Okay, good. Oh, god, Freya, it’s going to be awful.’ Then I wished I hadn’t said that; her days of supporting me and all my anguish were supposed to be over. I was being a terrible, needy mother again.
‘Mum, it’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. You’ll just have to ignore them.’
I pulled myself together. Made my voice nice and steady. ‘You’re right. Yes, darling I’ll be fine. I’ll be absolutely fine.’ That’s better. Stiff upper lip and all that; I could do this. For Freya. I could look that bitch in the eye and be strong. I hadn’t done anything wrong.
Oh god.
Oh god. It was going to be bloody awful.
‘So, Mum, why were you going to call me about graduation?’
‘For the times,’ I said, my mind still whirring. Gabby. Gabby was going to be there.
‘Service at seven. Graduation dinner at Caspar’s restaurant at nine.’
‘Okay, darling.’
Seven o’clock. I was dreading the appointed hour already.
‘Hey, what were you up to last night?’ she chirped.
‘How do you mean?’
‘You were out!’
‘How do you know?’
‘I tracked you. On the iPhone.’ Oh yes. Freya and I had both got iPhones. They had GPS and you could track people. For ‘fun’, Freya had said. It was really quite clever. I wished I’d had it a year ago; I could have tracked Jeff.
‘So you know exactly where I was, then.’
‘Yes, The Old Brewery, Wimbledon Village. What were you doing there and who were you with?’
‘All right, Herr Commandant,’ I said. I might as well tell her. She might be impressed. ‘Speed dating night. With Sam.’
I could tell she was choking on her third cup of coffee. ‘Speed dating? Wasn’t that a noughties thing?’
‘They still do it,’ I said. ‘It’s very hip.’ Hip? What on earth was I saying? I was more hip replacement than hip, or at least heading that way. ‘They’ve evolved it. You now have to mime and stare into strangers’ eyes for three hours.’
‘Really? It sounds horrific!’ said Freya, but I could tell she was delighted. ‘I can’t believe you went speed dating. You!’ She was laughing. ‘Oh well done, Mum! That’s fab!’
‘Thank you,’ I said. I was waking up now, despite myself. The heating came on and things began to rumble in the airing cupboard. My tummy began to rumble, too.
‘So. Wow. How did it go? Did you meet anyone or was it just a load of middle-aged losers?’
‘I’m middle-aged, Freya.’
‘Oh, yeah. Sorry. I don’t see you like you that.’
‘Thank you. Me neither.’ I hated that expression, ‘middle-aged’, although it was more than true. I doubted I’d live to ninety – not with the amount of chocolate I ate. ‘And actually, I got myself a date.’
‘Oh wow, well done you! Who with?’
‘A middle–aged landscape gardener called Ben, not that I see him as that, either. He’s really nice. Quite good looking. I didn’t actually meet him at the tables, as they call it. I met him at the end. During the disco.’
‘Congrats, Mum, I’m impressed. Landscape gardeners are so cool. Where are you going?’
‘I don’t know yet. He’s phoning me today. We’re going out tonight.’ Landscape gardeners were cool, weren’t they? All that working outdoors, the creative nature of the job, being good with their hands… I started to feel quite excited about it. I remembered Ben’s face – nice, cute, friendly and, above all, interested in me.
‘What are you going to wear?’ I could hear her slurping her coffee. I could visualise her Minions slippers.
‘God knows!’
‘Send me a photo later, so I can critique you.’
‘If I must…’
‘Right. I’m going to have to go, Mum. I want to do some prep before work. Busy day.’
‘Okay darling.’
I had a busy day, too. Work, a spot of decorating, then a date. I was already feeling quite embarrassed about the fact I had to tell Will I had a date later in the evening. I could put him off, maybe. I could perhaps tell him I couldn’t make the decorating thing now… No, I couldn’t. He’d been so kind to offer, it would be terribly rude.
‘Let me know how it goes tonight.’
‘Will do.’ Oh dear, it was another failure in the whole ‘reversing our roles back to normal’ plan. I was going to keep my daughter updated about a date; I was still Edina to her Saffy, it seemed. ‘Oh, and don’t tell anyone else about it. By that I mean Grandma.’
I really didn’t want my mother knowing. I’d never hear the end of it.
‘Okay, I promise,’ trilled Freya. ‘Oh, it’s so exciting! Byeee!’
It was a little bit exciting, wasn’t it? I placed my phone back on the floor and tried to get back to sleep. Tiny bubbles of nerves started to churn inside me. About Gabby being at the graduation – damn! And about my date tonight. My first man since Jeff. The possible beginning of something. Fun, romance… I suddenly thought about Sam’s love forecast again. Was Ben my ninety-nine percent chance? The thought of falling in love still absolutely terrified me; I didn’t want to be in love again – no way. Look what had happened! Look how it had ended up! No, I didn’t want love, but maybe it would be good to have a (risk-free) man in my life again. Maybe Ben was my ninety-nine percent chance of that.