The Mum Who Got Her Life Back. Fiona Gibson
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Название: The Mum Who Got Her Life Back
Автор: Fiona Gibson
Издательство: HarperCollins
isbn: 9780008310974
isbn:
‘She has a fake ID,’ Lori tells me, ‘so she can buy anything …’
‘Plus, she looks way older than she is,’ Jack remarks, at which Lori nods.
‘I’d never get away with it, even with a fake ID. I don’t drink anyway. I don’t like it.’
‘Well, you’re only fourteen,’ I remark, hoping that doesn’t sound patronising – and I’m fully aware that lots of kids of that age do drink. There were certainly a few incidences where both Alfie and Molly had tottered in, clearly tipsy well under-age.
‘I don’t think I ever will,’ she adds lightly, and I catch a quick look between her and her dad, before she blurts out, ‘I forgot! I made brownies for you coming.’
‘Really?’ I am extremely touched by this. Without wishing to read too much into the gesture – perhaps she just enjoys baking, like Alfie used to? – I decide to interpret it as a sign that she really was looking forward to meeting me today.
The afternoon flies by, and when it’s time to leave I am almost sorry to go.
‘Great to meet you, Lori,’ I say, as I pull on my jacket.
‘You too,’ she says with a smile.
Jack sees me out. ‘Did that go okay?’ I ask.
‘What do you think?’ He pulls me closer and kisses my hair.
‘I think she’s lovely. She’s a real credit to you.’
He smiles and shrugs off the compliment. ‘She’s very much her own person. But thanks, darling. We, um, had a quick word, when you were in the loo …’
I feign a terrified face. ‘What about?’
He laughs now, brushing away a strand of hair from my face, the way he does sometimes. ‘She just said you were lovely too. And normal!’
‘She said I’m normal?’ I remark, laughing now.
‘Yeah. “Not weird”, she said. You know how everything’s “weird” these days? I mean, someone only has to scratch their ear in public to be classed as “weird”. She said I was weird, the other day, for singing while I was cooking—’
‘Did she? Christ – I sing all the time …’
‘Apparently you’re not weird, though,’ he says, kissing my lips. ‘But you are very gorgeous.’
I smile, fizzling with happiness. So I’ve passed the test, I reflect, as I stride towards the subway. I am filled with the most delicious, chewy brownies (top marks to Lori), and a feeling that Jack and I have somehow moved along another small but significant step.
So his daughter thinks I am actually all right. I know I am grinning madly – I literally cannot stop – as I descend the escalator to the train. And I also know that if Lori could see me now, she’d think I was far too weird for her beloved dad.
It’s Jack’s turn to be vetted a couple of weeks later, when my sister invites us for Sunday lunch. Jack offers to drive us to her renovated farm on the Ayrshire coast. I glance at him as we near her place, reflecting that a newish relationship presents a series of these ‘firsts’, these meetings during which everyone pretends there’s no ‘checking out’ going on (when of course there is). Anyone who cares about you wants to appraise the person you’ve fallen in love with.
Jack and I have already had drinks with a couple of old schoolmates of mine, plus other friends I’ve got to know through the children, their various activities and the life modelling circuit. He’s handled it well, being his natural, extremely likeable self, despite his slight shyness and the fact that he might have started to feel like a new puppy being given his first tour of the park.
Naturally, he met Corinne and Gus early on. Corinne enjoys referring to him as Mr Lush, even to his face, which Jack always takes in extremely good spirit. A terrible flirt, she made a huge fuss over him that first time we all went out, and insisted on a selfie with him, crammed into the corner of our booth in the pub, later to be captioned: ‘Stole Nadia’s new boyfriend for five minutes, took him round back of pub and God he was GOOD.’
Jack pretended to be mortified when I showed him her Instagram post, but I could tell he was secretly amused. ‘Always nice to get a positive review,’ he chuckled. Meanwhile Gus, who seems to find it hilarious that Jack is all of two years younger than me, refers to him as my ‘toyboy’, a term I’d assumed had fallen into obscurity a long time ago. One lunchtime, when we nipped out for a sandwich together, Gus spotted a portly young man sauntering towards us wearing a T-shirt bearing the charming slogan: ‘MILF-CHASER.’
‘Get one for Jack?’ he whispered, swerving to avoid my punch to his arm. Later, we spotted another guy – bearded and lanky, sporting a wiry man-bun – whose T-shirt read: I’M RAISING A TRIBE. And that, we concluded, was far more offensive as slogans go. Gus took a candid picture of the man with his phone and sent it to me.
‘Look at this,’ I said later, showing it to Jack.
‘Oh, God,’ he groaned. ‘The smugness. It should be banned under some kind of offensive clothing bylaw.’
‘Yeah. We wanted to tear it off him and pelt him with rusks.’
He spluttered.
We just ‘get’ each other, Jack and I; and if we had raised a tribe, I’m pretty sure he’d have just got on with the job rather than wearing a T-shirt to advertise the fact.
And now, as the Ayrshire coast opens up before us on this clear-skied May afternoon, I allow myself a moment to reflect that perhaps this wouldn’t have happened if Alfie and Molly still lived at home. At least, it might not have seemed quite so easy. As it is – particularly as Lori spends at least half the week at her mum’s – Jack and I have been able to spend time together without being answerable to anyone. There was no one else hovering around in the morning the first time he stayed over at mine. I’ve been able to stay at his place without letting Alfie and Molly know I wouldn’t be home until morning. At first it was something of a novelty, waking up in Jack’s light-filled, airy bedroom, and sipping his far superior coffee while he pottered about warming up croissants and festooning me with his extensive selection of jams. (‘I have such a sweet tooth,’ he admitted. ‘The palate of an eight-year-old. It’s embarrassing really.’)
Of course, I do miss my kids, in that I’d love to see them more often. But I have to say it has also been extremely liberating, living my life unpoliced, in this way.
‘It’s the next turn-off to the right,’ I tell Jack, as we pass a familiar row of ancient stone cottages, then a farm shop and a B&B.
‘It’s lovely out here,’ he remarks. ‘I don’t really know this part of the country at all.’
‘We used to come here all the time when we were little,’ I tell him. ‘We loved the coast. It was only a half-hour drive from home but it seemed СКАЧАТЬ