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Hope had to smile just a little. She’d told her mother she was bisexual when she was seventeen and Caz not only hadn’t batted an eyelash, but had always been careful thereafter to be gender neutral in her assumptions. Which was endearing and supportive and somehow didn’t make this conversation any easier.
“You worry too much about Alice. She’ll be happy if you’re happy. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that. Would you have minded if I’d brought someone home when you were her age?”
“I’m not sure I remember being her age,” Hope said. “In any case, no, I wouldn’t have minded.”
“See?” said Caz, leaning back again.
“Ah, yes, but you never did bring anyone home, did you, mum?”
“Yes, well.” Caz shifted in her chair looking uncomfortable.
“See? Not so much fun when we’re dissecting your life, is it?” Hope laughed. “Fancy another cup of tea?”
“I wouldn’t say no,” Caz grinned.
Hope got up and put the kettle on. “If you want us to move out then all you’ve got to do is say so.”
“That wasn’t what I said now, was it?” said Caz. “Though if you want to talk yourself out of a place to stay, feel free. On my part, I love having Alice here and you’re part of the deal, so I suppose I can put up with you being here too.”
“Ta very much,” said Hope, getting new mugs from the cupboard.
Caz got to her feet and got the milk from the fridge, putting it down on the counter before giving her daughter’s shoulder a squeeze. “You know I love having you here too, little one. The two of you can stay for the rest of my natural life and I wouldn’t be bothered. I’d prefer it, in fact. But the truth of the matter is that you should have your own life.”
“Mum,” Hope began.
“Yes, I know, I know, pot calling the kettle black and all that. But part of the pleasure of being a parent is you get to be a hypocrite sometimes. Or maybe you get to try and teach your kid lessons that you had to learn the hard way. Consider this me teaching you something that maybe I could have learned a wee bit earlier.”
“It must have been lonely,” Hope said, putting teabags in the mugs and not turning around because she didn’t want Caz to see the look on her face. She knew that Caz put her own feelings and wants aside to look after her and bring her up, and she knew what a sacrifice that must have been.
“Sometimes,” admitted Caz, sitting down again. “But then, there was always you. Little chatterbox that you were. Never a moment’s peace with you around.”
Hope snorted. “Yeah, I didn’t inherit that from you, did I?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that one of us spent half an hour bending the poor postman’s ear this morning and it wasn’t me,” Hope said, pouring out the hot water.
Caz grunted in reply to this.
“How about we both stay out of each other’s dating lives?” Hope offered, bringing mugs, a plate for the teabags, and the milk carton to the table.
“What dating lives?” Caz said.
“Mum.”
“Fine, yes, whatever.” Caz sniffed. “You know, you’ll be back to work any day now. If you fancy a night out before school starts again then you’ve only to ask.”
“Mum,” said Hope, her tone more threatening.
“Fine, fine. Stay here watching Coronation Street with me and Alice and going to bed at nine every night,” said Caz. “See if I care. Just as long as you’re happy.”
“I’m happy,” Hope said, with more force than was really necessary. Or really true, for that matter.
Happy wasn’t exactly the word she’d have chosen. Satisfied maybe. Content perhaps. Living in the little cottage she’d grown up in, surrounded by the two people she loved most in the world, wasn’t a bad life. She was no fool though, she knew things could be better.
Making things better would involve risks though. Risks she wasn’t prepared to take. At least until Alice was a lot older than she was at the minute.
“Rosie!” shrieked Caz.
