My Secret Lover

A
     
    And a little bit arrogant if you
think your picture is so great first time. L
     
    Maybe. A
     
    Tell you what, why don't you get
massively drunk and then e-mail me? If you can remember to. L
     
    Not drinking at the moment. Work. A
     
    You ARE boring. As an alternative you
could list three things you have done when drunk. Assume you're not teetotal or
recovering alcoholic? L
     
    Assume correctly. I will get back to
you. AX

22
     
    ‘White chocolate and caviar? I don’t
know why we couldn’t just have gone to the Harvester.’
    ‘Mum, this is about the trendiest
restaurant in the country,’ I hiss at her. ‘Joanna probably had to book it
before Christmas. Can you just try to enjoy it for her sake.’
    ‘Look at these prices!’
    ‘The Harvester’s not cheap.’
    ‘But you know what you’re getting.
And they always have nice loos.’
    ‘I’m sure the loos here will be
fine.’
    ‘Joanna’s taking her time.’
    ‘Can I get you a drink while you’re
waiting?’ asks the waiter.
    ‘No, thanks,’ says Mum, as if he’s
trying to get her to invest in a timeshare.
    He’s very understanding. I think they
must have brought in some off-duty nurses to be waiters for the day, perhaps
expecting a number of elderly mothers feeling out of their depth with their
successful offspring. I hope they’re paying them better than the NHS, although
in the NHS you don’t get tips, apart from great big boxes of Milk Tray, which
would make you sick along with the constant smell of disinfectant.
     
    *
     
    Joanna returns to the table looking
peachy. She’s so beautiful she can get away with jeans and a printed silk shirt
even on Mother’s Day.
    ‘Is that Pucci?’
    ‘I think it probably is,’ says
Joanna. ‘Or Top Shop. Connie gets me some amazing stuff in the chain stores.
It’s the new chic, and costs virtually nothing.’
    ‘Except you pay her.’
    ‘Yes, but I’d pay her wherever, so
the saving is considerable.’
    Who am I to advise a debt expert
about finance?
    ‘I thought you’d both like to know
that the wedding’s going to be in July.’
    ‘July? That doesn’t leave much time,’
says Mum. ‘You’re getting married!’ says Joanna. ‘Fast work!’
    ‘To Andy.’
    ‘Oh. I thought you’d found someone
lovely. Never mind. Where’s your list?’
    ‘We’re not having a list.’
    ‘That’s what you say now, but people
really want to buy you things, and it’s only fair on them. And you really don’t
want a whole load of Waterford Crystal, do you? Why don’t you get Connie to
sort it out?’
    ‘It’s not just the register office,
it’s the reception. They need a bit of notice for the table decorations or you
end up with a dusty basket of artificial roses says Mum.
    Thankfully, the waiter arrives with
our starters. ‘Marmalade,’ says Mum. ‘With duck!’
     
    ‘What is the Harvester?’ Joanna asks
me, when we’ve dropped Mum off.
    ‘You really don’t want to go there.’
    ‘I think we’d better next year.’
    ‘No, I meant... doesn’t matter. Do
you think Mum’s getting worse?’
    ‘Worse? She seemed in the pink to
me.’
    Which makes us both laugh because Mum
was very much in the pink. A deep fuchsia suit with a pale pink blouse,
matching shoes and handbag.
    Not much point in talking to Joanna
about it anyway. She doesn’t see Mum as often as I do. And Mum puts on a good
show for her.
    ‘Do you want to come in for a
coffee?’
    ‘Love to!’
    I don’t think Joanna’s been to my
house since just after I bought it and she brought her architect round to give
me an estimate for the knocking through, except it wasn’t called an estimate
because we had to pretend that we were all friends until he realized that I was
outside his price range. To be fair, his plans did involve taking it all down
except the frontage, and building it back entirely in glass.
    ‘Darling, you’ve made it so... cosy!’
Joanna says.
    ‘I knew you’d hate it.’
    ‘No, it’ll be lovely when it’s
finished.’
    ‘It is finished.’
    ‘You chose yellow for the walls?
Suits the cottage style...’
    ‘It’s not cottage style. It is
a cottage. I know you think it’s hideous and nineties, but I like it.’
    At least I did until about two
minutes ago, and now I think it’s hideous and nineties. Think I’ll go to
Homebase tomorrow after work and get some paint.
    ‘Such a relief to be on my own!’ says
Joanna, plonking herself down on the sofa and kicking off her shoes in one
balletic