‘I suppose,’ I said, not wanting to admit to the nights I’ve lain awake worrying specifically about that. ‘Maybe you’re right. Maybe I just need to chill out a bit more.’
He smiled, removed his arm and shrugged back down under the covers, happy his work was done, while I continued to sit bolt upright and stare blankly at the wall for another hour.
Chapter Three
One week to go…
‘So, then I said to him, Maurice, I said, if you’re having chest pains again, you need to…’
‘Sorry, Mum.’ I cut across her, grimacing to Layla as I pulled on my boots. ‘I’ve got to head off. We’re meeting Richard and the kids for lunch, remember?’
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Of course. Do send them all my love. Sorry I can’t be there, but Derek’s managed to get hold of tickets toTheMarriage of Figaro, he’s a gold card member of the ENO so gets all these perks – and you know I’m an enormous fan of the opera.’
‘You are?’
‘Well, I haven’t been given the opportunity to attend performances of this quality many times in my life Harriet, but that’s not through want of trying! Just because Daddy was a total philistine, God rest his soul, doesn’t mean that I didn’t yearn for a richer cultural life.’
‘No, of course not, Mum. Derek though?’
‘Yes, Derek.’
‘Another Silver Soulmate?’
She made an indeterminate noise while I wondered about poor Maurice and his angina, and whether he knew that his Soulmate was dating another man, fulfilling her need for arich cultural lifewhile he dealt with his cardiac issues.
‘It’s all above board, darling, if that’s what you’re worried about. Maurice and I, we’re not exclusive.’
‘Evidently,’ I said, shutting the front door behind me. ‘It doesn’t matter, Mum. You enjoy yourself and hopefully I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘Yes, darling, that would be lovely. Although I am meeting Robert for dinner at The Ivy tomorrow evening…’
‘Okay. Got to go. Love you.’
‘Your grandmother,’ I said to Layla, as we got into the car. ‘I don’t know how she keeps up with who she’s dating on any given evening. It’s all a bit baffling.’
‘She’s definitely got a more interesting love life than me,’ said Layla, pulling her seatbelt across her puffer jacket. ‘Especially the last few months.’
‘You did the right thing,’ I said, giving her knee a little pat before I turned the ignition on. ‘Splitting up with Ollie. I know it was hard, but it wouldn’t have been fair to keep him hanging on while you were away for months at a time.’And he wasn’t really right for you anyway, was what I wanted to add, although I knew better than to say something like that – it had backfired on me in the past when the Ollie in question had unceremoniously dumped Layla in year eleven, I’d slagged him off every which way but backwards, and of course they’d reunited during year twelve. A lot of backtracking was required. Secretly there was a part of me that felt pleased she’d been the one to call it off this time. He was a nice enough lad, and I had forgiven him for dumping my daughter so cruelly (I clearly hadn’t), but she could definitely do better.
‘Hmmm,’ she said, already scrolling through her phone, seemingly untroubled.
‘And who knows who you might meet at university,’ I said, half-excited, half-terrified. ‘Maybe your love life will one day be as exciting as Granmerry’s.’
‘I can but dream,’ she said, posing for another quick selfie.
‘Where are you posting those photos?’ I said, gesturing both in the general direction of her phone and out of the window in the general direction of the world.
‘Snap,’ she said. ‘And BeReal.’
‘You what now?’
She turned to me, her face a study in patience. ‘They’re just social media platforms,’ she said. ‘Snapchat?’
‘Yes, I am familiar with that one.’
‘And BeReal. You upload a photo of whatever you’re doing just so people know where you are.’
‘Even when it’s just “in the car going to see Uncle Richard”?’
